Ox!hybrid!Simon Riley x Farmer!reader (18+ MDNI) (poll winner)
CW - smut, monsterfucking tbh, unprotected sex, yay. There’s kind of a plot but really it’s just bs. I just write bullshit guys sorry. Just put me down if you hate it. I’m kidding. Love u
Say it with me now, Isle doesn’t do beta read!!! If you see any typos, no you didn’t.
“Yea Beth, yea I can take him,” you muttered, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder, sat on the dusty barn floor. You had a bottle in one hand, and a feisty lamb in the other, trying to squirm out of your hold towards the milk.
“Thank you, I’ve called everywhere, not many people are interested in an ox hybrid that hasn’t been socialized…”
The lamb bleated while you situated yourself, allowing it to suckle on the bottle as strands of your hair found their way into your mouth. You spit a few times, attempting to clear them.
“I’ll be at yours in maybe.. an hour?”
You furrowed your brows, nearly dropping your phone as you replied to your friend.
“An hour!? Beth, I thought I’d at least have a couple more? I’ve still got to take the old hay out of the stall is I’m taking this hybrid,” you groaned, standing up after the lamb eagerly finished his breakfast.
Brushing your hands on your pants and quickening your pace towards the older stall at the end of the barn, you finally grabbed your phone to hold it near your ear.
“Yea, well, rescues aren’t convenient. See you shortly.”
The line cut, leaving you to stand in front of the stall, sighing. Goats bleated from the pasture, and a few of the older horses sounded from their trough. The dust seemed to never settle, swirling in the air as you rolled your sleeves up.
Fingers wrapping around the pitchfork, you begun to empty the room of the older hay. You’d used that stall for a sheep that recently given birth, not having the time to clean it since. She’d been back with the flock a few hours later. It’d only been dirty two days, but you felt a little ashamed.
You knew this wouldn’t be the size an ox hybrid usually needed, but it would have to do for now. It wasn’t uncommon for you to accept rescues, especially hybrids. While you didn’t keep hybrids on the farm long-term like you did other animals, you had developed quite the reputation as the last hope for emergency situations.
When Beth had called you, begging you to take an ox hybrid from a repossessed farm, you agreed instantly. Your biggest rescue to date, for hybrids at least.
Once you’d cleared out the stall, you set it up with fresh hay, and a few good scoops of feed. It smelled like straw, smelled clean.
Beth would be getting there any moment, prompting your brisk walk to the driveway as you heard rocks from the long road crunching under tires.
You brimmed your eyes with your hand, recognizing Beth’s white truck, muddy and nearly brown, with a large trailer in tow.
A cloud of dirt kicked up behind the truck as she pulled up to where you were standing, and switching off the engine. Beth hopped out of the drivers seat, slamming the door as she walked up to you, squinting her eyes a bit.
“I know it was short notice hun, but this one was bad,” she spoke as she hugged you, pulling away and setting her weight on her left hip, “not really sure what they had this guy doing, but he won’t speak, and he snorts whenever we get too close. Big boy, too. Probably 250lbs, well over 6 feet.”
You followed Beth to the trailer, crossing your arms as she unlatched the door. Birds sang around you, warm heat shining down at the hinges groaned at the movement.
Shit, she wasn’t kidding.
A hybrid larger than any you’d ever seen, standing in the center of the trailer, hands bound, and a collar with two chains attached to the sides of the car to keep him stabilized during travel.
His eyes were low lidded, instantly trained and tracking both of your movements. His body was covered in a thin, yet solid layer of hair. It was blonde, matching the top of his head. Loose, tan trousers hung from his hips, dirty and torn. His thighs were large, strengthened from years of labor, as well as his biceps and forearms. His nose was slightly rectangular, emphasizing his bullish roots.
But what really caught your eye were his horns. Long and smooth, about a foot each, curving forward at the tips.
Beth stepped up into the trailer, moving slowly as she unhooked the chains connected to his collar, and started to walk him out.
“He hasn’t tried to hurt anyone, only huffing when we get too close to him. About three feet is as close as we’ve gotten. Not terrible,” she called to you, eyes trained on his movements as he exited the trailer.
Beth spoke as if he couldn’t understand her. A lot of people did that around hybrids, people who didn’t understand.
His hooves clacked against the metal until they met dirt, changing to a muffled thump. You were rather intrigued by his hooves, as he still had human hands. Hybrids never failed to surprise you, as they really had no specific look outside of characteristics.
“You’re big, aren’t you?” You asked him, tilting your head as he snorted quickly when Beth moved up to try to remove his collar. He didn’t respond.
Beth sighed, walking over and handing you the chains attached to the poor bulls collar.
“Look, I got shit to do, and none of it involves getting the collar off this brute. Thanks again for taking him, I’ll see ya,” she says all too quickly, packing up her trailer and hopping in her truck.
You grumble and wave her off before your eyes meet the his, which haven’t left your form since you took the chains.
“Do you know why you’re here?” You asked, half expecting not to get an answer, before a gruff voice sounded.
You paused for a moment, before blinking and nodding your head.
“Right, it is hot out here. I’ve got a stall fresh and ready for you, water too,” you replied, gesturing to the stable with your head, maintaining eye contact.
Though he still looked as tense as before, he grunted, taking a step forward, but not another until you did. The chains rattled quietly, and you eyed his neck.
“Would you let me take that off of you? It’s inhumane,” you said, turning to face him before you would walk to the stable.
He seemed to ponder for a moment, before taking a knee, and then fully kneeling. His eyes, blue and apprehensive, bore directly into your soul despite his obvious cooperation.
You carefully approached him, keeping your hands visible. You held one out, allowing him to get your scent before touching him.
His face and body were littered with scars. Some were shallow, some were deep, and one cleared his upper lip to his eye, giving him a cleft. It almost looked like he was sneering.
You battled with the thick leather for a moment, listening to it drop to the ground once it gave. You made quick work of the bindings on his hands, trusting that he wouldn’t get crazy.
When you stepped away, he stood again. He didn’t thank you, but rather gestured to the stable with his chin as he looked at you.
You nodded, offering a gentle smile while you led him to the stables. His heavy hooves sounded behind you despite his calm pace.
As you entered the stables, he ducked his head, attempting not to hit his horns on the wooden beams. You held your hand out to present the small stall, swallowing thickly.
“I know it’s not much, far too small than you’d like, but I’ll get you situated in a bigger stall in the main barn soon. This is temporary,” you explained, watching his cautious entry into the building, and the stall. He glanced at fresh hay, and then the water.
He moved slightly quicker than he had before, dropping to his knees and dipping his head to the container. He slurped up the lukewarm water in gulps, his eyes fluttering closed.
You watched for a moment, noticing how his long, floppy ears would flick as a fly landed, or how his fur ran up the flat bridge of his nose.
The hybrid stopped drinking, his hands holding the sides of the bucket as he looked up at you.
You nodded, introducing yourself to him. When he didn’t say much else, you took that as your cue. You imagined he was tired, and wasn’t exactly in the mood for a chat.
“Well, Simon, I’m going to tend to my chores, but I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. Please, familiarize yourself with the stables, I’ll be out in the pasture, if you need me.”
He just stared at you, not moving from his kneeling position.
You’d give him some space.
You had been fixing a couple posts in the far corner of the pastures for the last two hours, barbed wire snagging your thick gloves every now and again. You’d gotten pricked twice on the forearm, the small cuts dried up by this point.
Sweat beaded down your forehead, and you grumbled softly to yourself as you yanked out a rusted nail from the post, putting the object in your toolkit so none of the sheet got into it.
Normally, the sheep would be coming up behind you and trying to see what you were getting up to by now, but they hadn’t come. You were a little confused, hammering in a replacement nail before turning to see your flock, only to be met with him.
He was standing a few yards from you, staring you down. You weren’t sure how long he’d been there, but a lamb grazed near his hooves, meaning he didn’t just get there.
You wiped your forearm across your forehead, standing up fully and packing up your toolkit. You carried the box over to where he stood, your hand covering the sun from your eyes as the lamb bleating in excitement to your feet.
“Found your way into the pastures, did you Simon?” You asked, offering a light grin as he blinked at you.
Hybrids were a mixed bag. Some spoke as humans did, others spoke sparingly, and some not at all. But they all understood.
You hummed, chuckling softly as you knelt down to pick up the lamb, cradling her to your chest.
“You know why you’re here, right Simon?” You questioned, wanting to make sure he wasn’t confused with his situation.
“Yes,” he replied, glancing down for a moment before his eyes met yours again, “owners before, did not pay. Lost land.”
You nodded, setting the lamb back down and grabbing your toolbox once more while beginning to walk down the hill towards your farmhouse.
“You know, I’ve rescued a lot of hybrids, Simon. But none have been as big as you,” you complimented, fanning your face slightly from the heat, “did your previous owners work you?”
He didn’t respond for a moment, still following you over the grass.
“Something like work,” he replied, clearly not looking to speak about it any further.
It had been a few weeks since you’d gotten Simon. You’d moved him into a larger stall in the main barn, to which he seemed pleased. He didn’t speak much unless prompted, and enjoyed watching you work. He would stand for hours, keeping an eye as you fixed up areas around the pasture.
One afternoon, you stood in front of a rather large hay bale, too exhausted to move it into the barn. You’d already done 10, the smaller kind that were easy to transport. You needed the large bale after a deep clean, it was the stall straw.
Simon had been watching, his ears flicking slightly in interested when you had stared at the bald for over ten minutes.
The hybrid walked up behind you, you could hear his hooves, and smell his musky scent. You turned your head slightly, noticing he was closer than he ever had been.
“I can move it,” he offered, looking at you with neutral eyes, though something in his tone hinted that he wanted to.
You shrugged, stepping aside and gesturing to the bale.
“That’d be a great help, Simon. I need it in that stall,” you spoke, your finger pointing to the stall near the end of the barn.
Simon just huffed. It wasn’t a warning, but an acknowledgment. Like he was proud to do it.
You expected the bull to push it, as that was the easiest way, yet he didn’t. Simon made his way around the large bale, eyeing it for a moment before turning his back, kneeling, and hooking his hands into the twine that held the bale together.
Suddenly, he stood, exhaling loudly, and picking up the bale with ease. His muscles flexed through his skin, showing even through the layer of hair. His hooves thudded against the barn floor, his thighs magnificent as they carried Simon to do what he was built for.
In less than two minutes, the bale was settled in the hay stall, something that would’ve taken you at least half an hour.
You followed behind him, a large grin plastered on your face.
“Simon, that was amazing! You lifted that like it was nothing!” You gushed, watching has he shook his head, dislocating the straw him his hair as he stepped closer to you.
He didn’t reply immediately, just peering down at you for a moment before he knelt, looking up at you.
“Touch..” he said softly, blinking at you with long, thick lashes.
You were a bit speechless for a moment, tilting your head as you cleared your throat. You couldn’t deny the hybrid was attractive, his body nearly fully human aside from his hooves, horns, ears, small tail, and hair. He looked like the burly ranch hands you’d employ for seasonal work, just hybrid.
You reached out, carefully touching his head before he pushed upwards, his eyes closing as a whisper of a smile graced his lips.
He groaned softly, enjoying your fingers now confidently threading through his hair, drifting down to scratch behind his ear.
“This what you want?” You ask softly, kneeling to be at his level.
His eyes opened slightly, still leaned fully into your hand.
“Want you,” he mumbled, barely concentrating on words with your fingers so delicately scratching him, “mate..”
He suddenly moved closer to you, knocking you backwards from your knees onto the floor. You caught yourself with your elbows as Simon’s nose began to press against your neck, mindfully keeping his horns away from your face.
He took a deep breath, his thick arms wrapping around your waist as his tongue gently lapped at the sensitive skin.
“S-Simon!” You squeaked, unsure how you felt about the situation, despite knowing you were surprised.
“Nice to me.. let me help.. want you for mate..” he muttered as he scented you again, nearly drunk off of your scent. But just as quickly as it happened, he pulled back, shaking his head slightly.
He huffed slightly, the warning snort he first made when Beth was getting him out of the trailer.
“What..? What was that?” You asked, scrambling to your feet.
You looked down at him, and he huffed again, looking almost scared.
“Stop snorting, I’m not going away. What was that about?” You asked, this time taking a step closer to him.
Simon clenched his teeth slightly, blinking a few times before a low groan came from his throat.
“Need mate.. want you.. but..” he trailed off, glancing down at your body, and then at his, “I think too fragile..”
Your brows furrowed for a moment before your heart nearly stopped, and you swallowed thickly.
You had heard that bulls often got kickstarted into their rut from random things, especially showing off to a potential mate. That was exactly what the hybrid was doing, showing off his strength to impress you.
But now, Simon was fully restraining himself, especially after he’d gotten a whiff of your scent. Warm, sweaty, straw. You smelled good, you smelled like what he had grown to become fond of in the last few weeks.
He had to pull himself off of you, a moment longer and he wouldn’t have stopped.
He was grinding his molars, panting a bit as he looks towards his stall, and back to you. He stood, chest heaving as his nose twitched.
“I’m not fragile,” you replied, taking a deep breath, “I agreed to rescue you… and that means taking care of you.”
That was all he needed to hear, quickly hoisting you up over his shoulder with a surprised yelp from your lips. Simon carried you to his stall as if you weighed nothing, and set you down on the packed up straw in the corner.
His nose was pressing into your neck again, with surprising awareness of his horns in relation to yourself. His hands ran along your body, pointed black nails dragging against your clothing. Simon huffed in your ear, his tongue lapping at you again. The taste of your sweat on his tongue was driving him mad, the salt satiating his desires for just a few moments every lick.
He groaned and grunted, fat bulge already grinding against your core through your jeans and his trousers. The smell of straw was intense, but his musky scent was even more so. Simon couldn’t help himself any longer, but whimpered slightly, not wanting to rip your clothing. He didn’t want his mate to be angry.
“Clothes.. please.. need them off..” he groaned, nudging your jaw with his nose as he began to pepper kisses to it, his tongue running along the angle.
Your fingers quickly begun to undo the buttons, gasps and soft moans being pulled from your lips as his hips rut against yours. You finally managed to slip off your shirt, and hastily unbuttoned your jeans, shoving them off.
He immediately began to nip and lick at your chest, your hands curling into his hair. He groaned in satisfaction as you gripped, feeling his tongue swirl around your nipple while his hands fumbled with his pants.
You knew this wasn’t about you, you knew not to expect anything crazy. But when his large hands secured themselves to your hips, pulling cunt up to his mouth, you realized you were wrong.
Simons nose nestled into your folds, breathing you in deeply. His eyes were fluttering closed as his fingers dig into your skin. His mouth opened, tongue immediately plunging inside you to lap up everything he wanted.
He didn’t care that you weren’t showered, didn’t care about the unshaven hair on your mount, in fact he wanted it. He needed it. His needy moans sounded as he ate you out, his nose bumping your clit as you whined.
Your hands gripped his hand, hips bucking as he made out with your cunt sloppily. Spit and arousal began to drip down his chin, landing on the straw beneath.
You’d felt yourself getting close quickly, but when his eyes opened again, looking down at you as he ate you out like a beast starved, you knew you were done for.
Orgasm ripping through you, your thighs clenched around him, and one of his hands left your hips. You felt your womb contracting, while his tongue still wriggled inside you. His free hand began to stroke himself dryly, the cock you hadn’t even seen.
As you panted and whimpered, he gently set you back down, moving to press his forehead to yours, and kissing you. His lips were soaked, and his tongue tasted like your sweet cunt. His tip suddenly bumped your folds, and he huffed softly, nuzzling you.
“Want to.. want to.. need to..please need to..” he whined, his thumb brushing over your hip. Simon nipped at your jaw, begging for the okay.
You nodded, spreading your legs to accommodate his as he began to press in, hip head easily slipping through due to your arousal.
Simon was immediately stretching you, his teeth baring as you gasped, gripping onto his hair. His fat tip nudged into you more, begging for your walls to open up without struggle.
“Mmmmf…mate.. my.. mate..” he huffed out before his hips snapped forward, burying his cock up to his knot, which bumped at your entrance.
His hips began to rut wildly, intense, controlled thrusts filling you up each time. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you up like a ragdoll as his cock rammed into your womb over and over.
All you could smell was his musk, the way he smelled of everything barn. Growling and grunting he kept up his pace, pulling soft mewls from your throat. You wanted to moan, you did, but each sound kept getting caught in your throat.
He pulled away for a moment as he thrusted, looking down at you as your eyes rolled back into your head, your tits bouncing in time with your body. Each time your hips connected he grunted. Simon’s eyes raked over you in what looked like adoration, and protectiveness.
His head dipped back down to lap at your neck, huffing as the straw scratched at your back.
“Gonna knot you.. knot my mate,” he groaned out, his thrusts becoming harder as he pulled out farther each time.
You began to moan now, somehow finding your voice again as your fingers moved to your clit, his fat tip rubbing against your walls perfectly. You rubbed the small bundle of nerves before his hand reached over yours, and rubbed with you, guiding your fingers to go faster.
You felt his thrust stutter for a moment as he pushed something thick against your cunt despite already tapping your womb. He did this a few more times, grunting and whimpering before his hips snapped forward, forcing his thick knot into your squelching entrance.
You gasped loudly, your legs twitching as you came again, the bulbous portion of his cock throbbing inside of you as he came, spurting thick white ropes against your cervix, locking the two of you.
His groaned, panting slightly as he nuzzled against you, whimpering as you clenched rhythmically. Your body collapsed, but he was eager to hold you.
He lapped affectionately at your neck and jaw, before rolling over and allowing himself to lay back on the straw, keeping you firmly situated against his chest.
His knot wouldn’t go down for a while, keeping you connected as he hummed in content, huffing proudly.
“Mate happy?” He asked softly, nudging your face with his nose.
You mumbled tiredly, curling up a bit closer to him as your eyelids drooped.
