Julienne | 21 | taurus | cat mom | tea enthusiast | witch | daydreamer and book lover | on spotify 24/7 | this blog is a mess | soon to be a nurse | I love blonde men but it's not official so shh...
Thinking bout Simon's truck being so big he has to lift you up by the waist to get you inside every time. The thing is, you can't even reach the fucking handle, so you don't bother trying to get in anymore after failing miserably a couple of times. His Ford's just impossible to get into gracefully.
So, you simply wait by the door, standing there pretty and patient until he's towering behind you, and you feel the warmth of his tattooed arms effortlessly scooping you up to sit your ass on the seat.
It's actually funny because you're perfectly capable of getting in yourself, but over time you started doing it on purpose. He'd never tell you that, but he knows it too. The way your face lights up every damn time you wait for him gives you away immediately. Still, he'd never dare ruin your little game.
"Si, come pick me up, please?"
You stood in front of the monster he drove until you heard the door to your house click shut and his heavy boots against the driveway.
You didn't even bother to turn around. The low, amused huff that left Simon told you everything you needed to know.
The car unlocked with a click.
"Y'know," he drawled, coming to a stop behind you, "for someone who runs their mouth as much as you do, you're awful helpless, love."
A grin tugged at your lips as you felt his hands settle on your hips, giving them a light squeeze.
"Mhm."
He snorted.
"Such a fuckin' brat."
One second your feet were planted firmly on the ground; the next, they were kicking in the air as he hauled you up against his warm chest. A squeal escaped you before you could stop it.
"Simon!" You grabbed onto his forearms.
"What?" His voice was full of that stupid satisfaction he got whenever he managed to get a reaction out of you. "Thought you wanted me to help." He murmured close to your ear, sending shivers through your body.
You loved how easy he made it look and hated how your stomach flipped every time.
But fuck, what you loved most was being manhandled by him.
By the time he set you down on the passenger seat, your face was red and warm.
His hand lingered on your thigh for a second longer before he stepped back.
You narrowed your eyes. Simon looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Creep."
"Got in the truck, didn't ya?"
You pouted.
"Buckle your seatbelt!" Simon barked out a laugh and shut the door.
"You fuckin' buckle my ass," you huffed under your breath.
Also, shoutout to @wooceanic becuase she requested, and i got inspired ;P
The first time you realized Simon was actually making love to you was after your first big fight, when you had given him the silent treatment for almost two days.
You didn't live with him then, so you tried to ingore his texts and calls, simply choosing to rot at work until the dead of night just to keep your brain from obsessing over him.
Oh, but how naive you were to think you could escape him, or that he could last a day without seeing you.
He still had a key to your place just in case, a fact you totally forgot about until you walked in and found him waiting on your couch like a lovesick puppy, with an order from your favorite Chinese restaurant.
You really had him completely wrapped around your finger, you realized, smiling to yourself.
By the time he actually started begging for forgiveness, you were too far gone to remember why you were even pissed.
He had you down bad, too. So dumb of you to think otherwise.
Your bodies moved in sync and with the way his hips rolled with every drive, sinking deeper with every movement he gave you, you simply forgot your own name.
He had your legs spread wide, bent almost to your shoulders, creating that sharp, sweet tingle in your belly every time he slammed into your sweet spot. And oh god, that fucker knew exactly how to hit it perfectly.
Every. Damn. Time.
He did that thing where he would curve his hips up and hold there for a moment, whispering into your ear, "It's right there, huh? I found it again." His head was buried in your neck, and the pathetic, desperate whimpers he let out after he felt how wet and warm you were, filled with his cum, made you clench your pussy around him even more, turning him into an animal obsessed with dragging every last orgasm out of you.
Then it hit you. That this time was different.
Usually, sex with him was hard and rushed. It wasn't bad, but this? Yeah, it was something else.
He never whimpered like that. He was taking his time, watching every twitch of your body, caressing you slowly until you fell apart again and again, and it was so fucking hot seeing him like that.
He practically begged for your forgiveness by fucking you slow and deep into the mattress.
"Si, look at me," you managed to gasp between moans, yanking at his messy blonde hair until his eyes met yours.
"You feel so good, love," he whimpered while looking into your half opened, glazed eyes, his pace growing slower. His hand was on your breast, squeezing and rubbing your nipple between his fingers. "Will you forgive me, and let me cum inside again?"
"If you keep fucking me like this I might."
His hips stilled, but his cock remained buried deep inside while he started grinding slowly, so you could feel every inch, every vein, and that delicious curve of his cock pulsing inside you. Almost as if he wanted to prove how good he was for you.
"Please, love, forgive me." He hooked your thigh around his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin and already leaving red marks.
"Fuck, let me just fill you up, pretty girl," he groaned into your ear while gently nibbling your lobe.
You gasped, eyes rolling back, but you could not care less because you felt so incredible. You dug your nails into his bare back, tracing lines along his muscles and scars. They moved along with him, and you smiled, feeling the goosebumps erupt on his skin.
"God, you're going to make me cum if you don't stop, Si." You bit into his swollen from kissing lips drawing a little bit of blood, the pleasure forced its way down your body. You tugged harder seeing how he wanted to hide in your neck already, his eyes were completely lost, and it made you clench around him. Usually, you were the one who struggled with eye contact.
"Yeah? - thrust - You're gonna cum again? - another thrust, this time he reached for your puffy clit. You felt his thumb rubbing delicate circles, not to overstimulate you - You can cum - thrust that pulled the filthiest and loudest moan out of you - as much as you need, baby. I've got you."
"Oh god, Simon, I'm..."
"I know. Fuck yeah, cum on my cock, sweet thing. Please, cum on me, I'm begging you." He whimpered.
Since then, everything changed. He would make love to you on every occasion, simply because being that close and intimate with you became addictive in a way. Fuck it, he just loved it. After all, he felt like your relationship was turning into something serious, so it was only fair to care for your needs in every possible way. God, he loved giving it to you. Just looking at you in the bathroom brushing your teeth wearing nothing but his shirt made his cock go rock hard, and hearing your pretty moans and sighs was a different story entirely.
Yeah, he was obsessed with making love with you.
Well, and shame on you it took such a small effort for him to bribe you...
Simon was such a heavy sleeper, which honestly made no sense. With the kind of work he did, you would have thought he had developed insomnia years ago. It was something you secretly envied. The way he could fall asleep so effortlessly felt almost unfair. The second his head touched the pillow, he was gone.
Actually, he could sleep pretty much anywhere, and waking him up was another story. It usually took a few gentle nudges and a couple of soft kisses pressed against his jaw before those pretty, sleepy eyes finally blinked open. And he snored, too. Not loudly, just a low, rhythmic rumble against your ear. It secretly became your own little lullaby, a sound that meant you were safe, he was home, and the rest of the world could not reach you here.
When he slept, he was basically a human weighted blanket. He was so big you often felt like you disappeared between the sheets and his massive frame, but you did not mind. You loved the way his hands always knew exactly where to find you. An arm draped heavy across your waist, his face in your tits or tucked into the crook of your neck, his chest a solid wall of warmth against your back or legs tangled up with yours.
He had this subconscious reflex: even in his deepest sleep, if you shifted or shivered, his arm would instinctively tighten, pulling you flush against him as if his body was wired to protect you from the very air around you. Seeing the man who could stare down a threat without flinching melt into a puddle of softness just because you were near? That was a sight that never failed to make your belly swim.
You used to be a notoriously light sleeper, tossing and turning for hours. Nothing helped. You tried everything. Different pillows, white noise, herbal teas, sleep schedules. It always ended the same way: staring at the ceiling at some ungodly hour while everyone else seemed to be asleep.
That was until you started sleeping next to Simon.
The moment you curled up against his warmth, your eyes would begin to drift shut on their own. It felt like your body had finally found something it trusted enough to let its guard down around. There was a profound, quiet magic in his steady breathing, and the way his raspy voice would whisper "g'night, luvie" or "c'mere, sweetheart, it's time to sleep" right before he drifted off.
And the mornings? Those were the best. He would wake up slow, his eyes heavy and hazy, and before he even fully registered the daylight, he would seek out your hand, lacing his thick fingers through yours. He would pull you back down for lazy, lingering morning kisses that tasted so sweet you could melt right there on the spot.
Somehow, between his snoring, his death grip on your waist, and the way he would steal almost all your blanket which you hated the most, Simon had become the only thing in the world that could keep you grounded. He was your home, your warmth, and the best part of every single day.
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x exchange student!reader
⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-66
a/n: Let me know if you want more of this! Requests are open and I’m also totally down to make a masterlist for him bc this might be the only acceptable place to be head over heels for a blonde man
Summary: Back home, no one ever looked at you twice. So when you arrived at Briar as an inexperienced exchange student, you decided to seize the opportunity and let the campus playboy teach you everything about casual sex. What could possibly go wrong?
Classification: Smut +18 | Nipple play, bathtub sex, use of a vibrator, orgasm control/denial, casual sex / FWB conversation
Word count: 2k
Divider by me ;)
You still couldn’t understand what had possessed you to agree to this in the first place, getting completely naked in a shared house and climbing into the bathtub with a guy you were barely starting to know, all because you were determined to stop being so uptight now that you were away from home.
You also didn’t know when you’d started thinking out loud or why you’d picked this exact moment to bring it up in conversation anew.
"Explain it to me again," he murmured, flicking the vibrator to life, one he’d stolen from your dorm, making a point to drag the buzzing tip in a feather-light path along the sensitive skin of your neck, letting the vibrations sink in slowly to relax you and hopefully distract you.
A shiver raced down your spine even though the bathwater stayed hot, bubbles cresting just below your collarbones as you leaned back against the solid wall of his chest.
"What part? The ‘casual is all we’ll be’ speech or the part where I told you not to snoop in my drawers?" Your words came out clipped but your body betrayed you by melting further into him.
He continued trailing the vibrator lower, now submerging it underwater and tracing lazy circles around each nipple, the low hum making the peaks tighten and ache. His mouth followed, pressing open kisses along your throat, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot just below your ear while one hand cupped the weight of your breast, squeezing the soft mound.
"Couldn't hear your rant about the drawer mid-sex," he whispered against your damp skin. "Your moans took over and I'm pretty sure you stopped speaking English at some point. So...the former."
You let out a soft, humorless chuckle that dissolved into a moan when he focused the vibrator on one nipple, buzzing toy tormenting the peak with relentless and slow circles, while he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it with firm pressure and tugging just enough to draw a helpless gasp from your lips.
"I'm not sure what there's to explain," you managed, squirming as he guided the toy lower, skimming it over your stomach now. Bubbles hid everything below the surface, but you felt every inch of its progress. Your thighs parted on instinct when the vibrator finally reached between your legs but instead of pressing where you needed it most, he teased along the inner skin of your thighs, drawing slow lines that made your hips twitch.
"Humor me," he insisted, voice low and calm.
You looked to the water even though the bubbles didn’t allow any visibility and swallowed, trying to gather your thoughts. "Guys don't look at me in my country–"
"You should check the blindness statistics then," he cut in, a mix of seriousness and dry humor in his tone as his free hand moved to cup both breasts fully, squeezing with just enough force to make the flesh spill between his fingers. "I know you're not worried about it, but someone should be."
The vibrator hovered near your pussy now, the steady vibrations a maddening promise just out of reach.
He’d decided so the moment he first saw you on campus, because the second you stepped into his line of sight, his eyes had locked onto you. He still couldn’t believe an entire country had somehow overlooked your beauty.
"Hilarious," you replied flatly, though your breath hitched hard as the toy brushed your outer lips. He circled without touching your clit, keeping the pressure light and teasing. "Uh...this is merely me learning how to be okay with being seen, touched…and... and–"
Your words fractured when the vibrator edged closer to your swollen bud. Dean's grip tightened on your breasts again, kneading slowly while he waited.
"Go on," he prompted.
"And getting to do what all of my friends got to do in high school," you finished, voice breathy. "This isn't a relationship…or fuck forbid, a situationship."
"Right," he agreed easily, no trace of resentment in his words. He lowered his hand to your stomach and pressed you back against him as he finally settled the vibrator's tip directly on your clit. The sudden focused buzz made you whimper and drop your head to his shoulder as water rippled around your spread thighs. "Because you're only here for a total of ten months," he continued, voice steady. "You wouldn't want to waste your time with me."
"Fuck...yes," you moaned, hips rolling instinctively toward the toy. "Yeah…yeah–that’s it." He pulled it away at once, tracing your pussy lips with maddening patience instead. "Please, Dean–"
"I'm trying to focus," he said, a grin audible in his voice. One hand shamelessly claimed your breast again, squeezing and lifting the weight while his thumb brushed the stiff nipple. "This is a serious conversation...can't have you moaning and ditching English altogether."
"The conversation's over. Get back to work," you demanded, though the words shook despite your best effort. “Isn’t this what you’re good for?”
“So bossy,” He chuckled behind you, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back as the vibrator hovered once more, circling just outside your clit without granting full contact. “I’m sure there’s more to this conversation, considering how eager you were to bring it up again.”
The warm water sloshed softly against the sides of the tub as Dean's fingers adjusted the vibrator once more, the low buzz sending ripples straight through your swollen folds.
"Um…" You blinked hard, struggling to focus while the vibrations teased the edges of your puffy clit without granting any real relief. "Uh okay, yeah…the second I catch feelings I’m out. We’re done."
"Oh really?" His voice stayed calm, almost conversational but he pressed the buzzing head firmly against your clit this time. The sudden pressure made your hips jerk forward, a sharp moan tearing from your throat as you nodded against his shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered shut, lashes damp from the steam.
"I need to…learn how to be casual about things," you managed between shaky breaths. The denial from earlier still throbbed through you, leaving your body hypersensitive and desperate.
"This having an expiration date should already make it casual," he noted, thumb circling the stiff nipple in slow strokes that matched the vibrator's teasing pace. He obviously didn’t mention how often the thought of your eventual departure slipped into his mind or how frustrating it was that you refused to let yourself get used to his attention, too afraid of missing it once you left the country.
"'S not enough," you shivered, a whimper escaping as your thighs tensed around his wrist. Your pussy clenched around nothing, aching for more at the thought of what his dick could offer.
Dean clicked the vibrator up to the next speed. The stronger pulses dragged a broken mewl from you that went straight to his hardening cock pressed against your lower back. "Better?"
"Didn’t mean that, fuck…" Your voice cracked, hips rolling instinctively toward the toy as your hands gripped the edge of the tub for leverage.
"What did you mean then?" He pressed the question while dragging the vibrator in tight circles over your clit, never letting it settle long enough for you to build real momentum.
"I need to see other guys," you admitted, voice breathy and strained. “...and sleep with them casually.”
He immediately slowed the vibration back to the previous setting, the sudden drop in intensity making you whine in frustration.
"But not on the hockey team."
You shook your head, fingers digging into his thigh. "Dean, we can talk about this later…just let me come."
He ignored the plea entirely, instead kneading your breast harder, pinching the nipple between his fingers until it ached. "Actually, it’s even better if he’s not a hockey player at all."
"Fuck…okay! Dean. Can you–" You tried to ask for steady pressure, anything to push you over but he kept the toy moving in lazy patterns across your clit and down your slick lips, denying you the focus you craved.
He shook his head. "I can’t know who he is. I can’t vouch for what I’ll do if I see you with some–"
"Nobody knows about me and you. I can keep a fucking secret," you gasped between moans, grinding your hips upward in a futile attempt to chase more friction. Water splashed over the edge as your movements grew frantic. “Dean, come on.”
You felt his gaze burning into you as he pulled the vibrator away again and a needy whine slipped out of you. "No dates."
"Why would I–?I don’t even have dates with you." you replied flatly, arching your back away from his chest in protest. The moment you did, he brought the toy right back to your clit with perfect pressure and your body melted instantly with a shuddering sigh, thighs spreading wider under the water.
"No talking about them either when we’re together."
You moaned louder, head tipping back as your body began tensing, preparing for its release. "I won’t moan their names during sex, don’t worry."
"I’m serious. Not even as a joke…you can badmouth them, sure." He felt you nod but from the way you bit down on your lip to hold in the sounds, he knew he had room for one more demand. His hand left your breast only to return with a firmer grip, lifting and massaging the weight while the vibrator circled your swollen bud. "But I do wanna know about the sex."
"Why?" The word came out as a drawn-out moan, your pussy fluttering with every denied pulse.
"I wanna know how I can make it better for you."
"That won’t keep me from looking elsewhere." Your eyes snapped open as he removed the vibrator completely. Your hand shot out to catch his wrist, desperation clear in your grip. "Okay okay!…you arrogant prick."
Your breath hitched sharply as he pressed the vibrator back on your clit again, harder this time.
"Did I make myself clear?" He watched your chest heave, lips parted and glistening, your hand tightening on his wrist as he ramped up the speed once, then twice. Your breath hitched sharply with each increase, body trembling on the edge.
"Crystal," you breathed, voice breaking. Your body tensed hard, back arching as the orgasm finally crashed through you. A raw cry escaped your lips while your pussy clenched and pulsed rhythmically against the buzzing toy. Dean kept it pressed firmly against your clit through every wave, drawing out every last shudder until you finally sagged boneless against his chest, your grip on his wrist going slack.
"That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?" he grinned, switching the toy off at last.
“No, but I’m sure you are...” You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. "Asshole," you panted, sliding down and fully submerging yourself beneath the bubbles.
He let out a slow breath, trying to push down the frustration tightening in his chest because…he was good at casual.
He only did casual, so why the hell was this getting under his skin so easily?
Dean kept one arm draped over the edge of the bathtub, gripping the vibrator tightly in his fist as if it could anchor him. His other arm rested along the opposite rim, fingers clenched white-knuckled against the porcelain. He was trying, really fucking trying, not to reach for you, not to pull you up and bury himself inside you.
Still, restraint be damned. His free hand slipped beneath the water, fingers slowly gliding over your submerged shoulder and along your collarbone, savoring the warm, slippery skin.
Just as he forced himself to pull back, your fingers wrapped firmly around his throbbing cock forcing a low, involuntary groan to tear from deep in his chest.
His head dropped back, eyes squeezing shut in anticipatory pleasure.
Oh, he was so fucked.
a/n: Comments, likes and reblogs really do mean the world and help more than you know! My inbox is open if you want to chat or request something. Thank you so much for reading!
Hey I saw you were looking for ideas for off campus fics
How about, sitting on the off campus boy’s backs while they do pushups for totally valid reasons I’m sure 😏
As a Dean girlie since day 1, expect more of him from me. There's fun boys content in this one! Keep the requests coming
The Frozen Four was coming up, so the boys were doubling up on the training. More skating, more lifting, more cardio…and more proteins.
‘’Come on, Tuck!’’ you yelled, standing near the patio steps as the goalie started slowing down on his push-ups. ‘’Ten more, you can do it!’’
Tucker glared at you from the grass, his hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. ‘’You’re enjoying this way too much.’’
You grinned as he lowered himself for another push-up. The boys had turned today’s backyard training into a stupid competition: the one to do the most push-ups will get a paid massage by the losers.
On Tucker’s left, Dean and Garrett were showing no signs of difficulty, which didn’t surprise you. Garrett trained hard to outrun the nepo baby label attached to his last name. He didn’t want people thinking he’d been recruited by the Bruins because he was Phil Graham’s son. He wanted to be known for his skill — for himself.
As for Dean, you knew he and Beau practically lived in the school gym. And it showed. Every flex of his arms beneath his grey training shirt looked unfairly good, sweat glistening over muscles you knew very well by now. That body was a work of art.
To Tucker’s right, Logan wasn’t doing much better. His arms trembled violently every time he pushed himself off the grass, face tight with effort like pure stubbornness was the only thing keeping him going.
‘’Not you too, Logan?” you called. ‘’Now is not the time to give up. Think about the Cup!”
He lifted his head from the grass long enough to glare at you. ‘’The cup can kiss my ass.’’
You gasped dramatically. ‘’That’s not championship mentality.’’
‘’Championship mentality left thirty push-ups ago,’’ Logan groaned before lowering himself again with shaky arms. ‘’I can’t feel my arms.’’
Beside him, Dean smirked without missing a beat. ‘’You know, hearing you yell motivational speeches is weirdly attractive.’’
You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.
‘’Everything’s attractive to you,’’ Tucker muttered. ‘’She sounds like a military drill sergeant.’’
Garrett laughed, shaking his head. ‘’Stop flirting and focus on your reps, boys.’’
‘’Oh, I am, G,’’ Dean said easily, lowering himself again. ‘’I’m focussed on the reward blowjob I’ll get after I—’’
Tucker made a gagging noise into the grass. ‘’Jesus Christ.’’
“Be nice to my girl.” Dean shot back immediately, finally lifting his head to look at him.
He nudged Tucker with his foot hard enough to throw him off balance, sending him collapsing flat onto the lawn with a groan.
‘’Ow! Fucking cheater!’’
Dean laughed, reaching seventy without even sounding winded. “Should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
Logan followed Tucker not long after, collapsing dramatically onto his back. Seventy-three wasn’t bad, you told him as you handed him a water bottle. He took it with an exhausted but grateful smile and downed half of it immediately.
‘’Seventy-eight! Seventy-nine!’’ you counted aloud.
‘’This looks too easy for them,’’ Logan said, watching the last two standing.
‘’Agree,’’ Tuck chimed in. ‘’I think we need to raise the bar for some real competition.’’
A slow smirk spread across his face as he looked at the other John, who mirrored it instantly before both of them turned toward you.
Dean’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not.”
Too late.
‘’That’s cheating!’’ He barked out a laugh as you sat your full weight right on his back, adding weight to lift.
You’ve done this a couple of times while you were training in the gym together, but it never stopped doing something to you. There was something unfairly attractive about the way Dean handled your weight like it was nothing.
‘’You can handle it. You lift more than that,’’ you teased, believing in him. ‘’Show off.’’
That crooked grin appeared instantly. ‘’Careful. You know praise turn me on.’’
You could feel every muscle in his shoulders, arms, and back flex beneath you as he kept going, body tightening with every controlled push upward. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt, heat radiating off him while he powered through rep after rep like he genuinely wanted to impress you.
A low grunt slipped from his throat as he pushed into another one, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes and head dipping briefly before he looked back at you over his shoulder. ‘’You comfortable up there, babydoll?’’
You hummed, squeezing his shoulders lightly. He’s got this.
Logan crossed his arms, watching with amusement. ‘’This is foul play.’’
Tucker nodded solemnly. ‘’Absolutely dirty.’’
Dean smirked through another rep. ‘’Why doesn’t Garrett get someone too? This is favoritism.’’
You glanced toward the captain. ‘’Dean’s right. Get some weight on him too.’’
‘’I’ll go,’’ Tucker volunteered, still sweaty and breathless from his earlier push-ups, but clearly not done being annoying.
‘’Wait—what?! No!’’ Garrett protested, grunting as Tucker dropped onto his back with all the grace of a collapsing building, grinning as Garrett nearly face-planted into the grass. ‘’Ugh, fuck.’’ He groaned dramatically under 190 pounds of goalie muscles. ‘’I hate all of you.’’
══════════════════
Off Campus taglist: @f1rewhiskey @formula1-motogpfan @schinug @skyesthebomb
when you told simon you wanted to go on holiday, you weren’t expecting a cold coastal town in the north of england in may. the sun kept trying to come out, and failing, leaving you tucking yourself into simon’s side for warmth. grey skies, rolling waves, the scent of salt in the air.
you’ve been at the pub, day drinking despite the shit weather, tucked in a conner table in the heated beer garden with a view of the sea, sipping on cocktails like you’re in palma and not scarborough. simon’s been nursing a pint - his second all day - whilst his arm rests around your shoulder, heavy and warm whilst you people watch over the pub wall.
you’re tipsy, giggly; leaning into his side like you need him to keep you propped vaguely upright, making up ridiculous stories about locals and tourists that are wandering past.
“see that one?” you point with your straw at a innocent enough looking man in a yellow raincoat, “definitely cheating on his wife with the woman who owns the souvenir shop. i’m getting… guilty vibes.”
simon huffs a quiet laugh before pressing a kiss against your temple. “yer a fuckin’ menace when yer pissed, y’know that right love?”
you’re mid laugh when a family walks past - smiling, happy, holding hands, pushing a pram with a teeny, tiny baby in it.
a teeny, tiny baby in a bear suit.
your breath catches, your eyes burn slightly as tears fill your eyes.
“oh my god simon.” you whisper, voice wobbling as hard as your lower lip. “look. look at the baby. the baby bear. the baby dressed as a bear. i can’t… that’s so… oh i’m going to die. i can't stand it. it’s so cute.”
a tiny, tipsy little sob slips out of you - half laugh and half tears. you’re drunk and emotional and completely undone by a baby bundled up warm against the breeze. simon goes completely still beside you, arm tightening around your shoulder. when you peek up at him, his usual guarded expression has melted. brown eyes soft, lips curved upwards, jaw relaxed. his hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing gently along your jaw.
“think it’s time?” he asks, voice low, but sure. like the question has been sitting heavy in his chest for months and finally found its way out into the open between you.
you blink up at him, surprised enough that the tears pause. “...what?”
“you ‘eard me.” his voice doesn’t waver. “want to start trying. want to put a baby in you.”
the words hit you like a spark. you make a soft, overwhelmed noise and throw yourself at him, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as you kiss every inch of his face you can reach - his scarred cheek, the corner of his mouth, the bridge of his nose, his temple. he lets out a rough protest, one hand settling on your waist even as his ears go pink.
“love - we’re in public - ”
“don’t care,” you mumble between kisses, half laughing, half crying happy tears. “say it again.”
“gonna get you pregnant. knock you up. put a fuckin’ baby in you. ‘appy?”
you kiss him properly then, slow and deep and tasting like the citrus in your cocktails, until he gently eases you back before you climb into his lap right then and there.
the hotel room door barely clicks shut before simon’s hands are on you, guiding you backwards towards the bed, hands sliding under your jumper to run his fingers over your goosepimpled skin. you’re giggly, loose, tugging clumsily at both of your clothes before he intervenes and strips you both with careful hands, pressing kisses on each new patch of your skin he uncovers until he’s laying you down on the sheets.
he settles between your thighs, cock hard and heavy against you, one had braced beside your head, the other gripping the base of his cock, running the swollen head over your slit, lubing himself in your slick. the sensation of his bare skin on yours is enough to make you gasp, none of the usual latex separating you.
his pupils are blown when his eyes meet yours, forehead resting on yours as he presses forward, stretching your cunt open in one slow, steady thrust. he shifts as he bottoms out, hands sliding down your waist, your hips, landing on the back of your thighs to push your knees to your chest. you gasp again, back arching off the mattress’ he feels so deep like this, like you can feel him in your stomach.
“gonna fill you up t’night love.” he murmurs against your throat, starting a slow, rolling rhythm that grinds your clit against the blonde hairs on his pelvis with every thrust. he presses down with one hand on your stomach, feeling the shape of himself inside you, making the head of his cock drag against your g-spot with every snap of his hips. “gonna cum so deep in your sweet little cunt there’s no choice but for it to take.”
“simon - ” your voice breaks into a moan as pleasure coils tight and hot in your pelvis. he fucks you deep, steady, whispering rough praise between kisses.
“gonna look so fuckin’ good carryin’ my kid,” he mutters. “want to see yer belly all round. tits full. want everyone to know yer mine.”
you shatter around him with a gasped cry of his name, walls fluttering and squeezing him tight. simon curses as he follows, hips stuttering as he fills you full of thick, hot cum, pressed right up against the entrance to your womb. he stays buried deep, rolling you both so you’re draped over his chest with his cock still plugging every drop inside you.
you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, humming contentedly as his hand strokes slowly up and down your back. after a long, quiet moment, simon’s voice breaks through, chest rumbling under your cheek.
“…don’t know if I’ll be any good at it. bein’ a dad.” the admission is quiet, soft. “didn’t exactly ‘ave the best example.”
you lift your head, cupping his scarred cheek so he has to meet your eyes.
“you’ll be a good dad, simon,” you say softly, firmly. “you’re loyal. protective. and when you love it’s… with all of you. you’re gonna be great.” you lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “and i’m gonna be right here. we’re doing it together.”
he exhales shakily, arms tightening around you. the tension in his shoulders eases as he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, hips giving one lazy roll that makes you feel the warm mess of his cum shift inside you.
“yeah,” he murmurs, voice impossibly tender. “alright. let’s do this. new mission parameters: don’t fuck the kid up.”
you smile against his skin, already dreaming of tiny booties and skull-patterned baby grows.
as someone who's been an active fanfic reader for this long, it blows my mind that formatting is still a work in progress for some. and no, this is no insult to anyone whose first language is not english, that's not what i'm saying whatsoever.
1) when dialogue is color coded.
"i can read," partycatty said. "i know how to use context clues for who's speaking."
"it adds definition to the character," you defend.
"no, it doesn't," partycatty frowns. "it makes me feel like i'm reading a children's book."
2) when dialogue doesn't have a paragraph break.
"it's not like it ruins the quality of the conversation, necessarily," partycatty said. "it just... ruins the flow of the reader's inner voice?" you replied, finishing my sentence.
3) use of (Y/N), (F/C), or (H/C).
i saw this a lot in my middle school wattpad days, 2013 is calling and wants your formatting back. just say "this dress is in your favorite color," instead of having me play madlibs!
4) assigning the reader's appearance.
no, i did not put my long blonde hair into a messy bun before jumping into my size medium sweatpants. i have a butchered mullet and i am fat as fuck.
5) disguising your oc x canon as an x reader.
im sure your oc is lovely, but i didnt make an entire character to insert into this media just to read about yours.
6) MISCHARACTERIZATION.
he would not fucking say that 😭 girl i'm bored, let's study the source material!
7) "listen to this song while you read."
i'm guilty of using songs and lyrics as inspiration, but i don't want to give you the aux while i'm trying to read,,, i don't need a soundtrack, but thank you.
8) emoji use & author interjections
i don't need sparkles around something ✨ for comedic effect ✨.... also, author's notes exist for a reason lol
—•—
spending a lot of time reading fanfic lately due to personal reasons, but the longer i scroll some of these tags, the more frustrated i get. i know damn well i'm no professional, i'm just a gooner, but i'm a gooner with standards. we can do better!
janainaart
yousharknotpass
jbbartram-illu
snowghoul
2087
titsay
areudirty
germansingergirl
gummygunk
annaxmalina
kianamaiart
