Country!Simon who did absolutely nothing but leave every hickie and bite mark imaginable on your thighs, and since it’s too hot to wear pants, you have to walk around with them showing.
cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw, lite cunt eating (whatever that means just stay with me)
Simon loves you to death, can’t get enough of you— proof of that being the map of little bruises and bite marks left on your thighs. He turned you every way but loose to eat that sticky syrup between your legs and he loved every second of it. Even when you were choking him with your trembling thighs when he you keened, ‘too much’ his blonde strands every which way, your cum dripping down his chin and him heavy panting. The pain on your poor pulsing clit only getting worse as he gave the little thing a little roll with the pads of his fingers.
“Come on lucky,” he breaths out, licking a looong stripe up your meaty flesh, “don’tcha want me t’ take care of you?” He’d ask so sweetly, almost mocking you.
How could you say no, when you so desperately needed to cum. So desperately had to feel his pretty licks suck you up like a milkshake that has you creaming in his mouth.
Fucking filthy.
Course he was staring when you’d left out the house for your bike ride to the neighbors to deliver your baked goods, watching your hips swish in those short jean shorts on that hot summer day. Why wouldn’t your husband stare at his intricate work while you watered the flowers in the front yard? And why wouldn’t you have his damn farm hands gawking while you bent over to get the eggs from the chicken coop, or moving the bale of hay, fat off your ass just barley hanging out of your shorts, a bite mark that could’ve been tattooed on it sat on pretty globe. You were delectable.
“Your eyes should find somewhere else to look if ya wanna leave this property alive today.”
Simon Riley’s voice was too chummy, inviting them to try him one more second. He was making a good earned promise. Of course they group of men all ran off to where they were supposed to be, Simon so casually waltzing up to you like he didn’t just promise to kill seven men so only he could admire you like only he should be doing. He takes the woven basket from your hands, hand trailing front your hip, to your braless shirt, uo your neck and cupping your pretty face— every second of it making your heart burst at the seems.
Simon nods, giving your cheek a tender kiss, “Look real pretty Lucky.”
You giggle, helplessly in love, your legs going down your pretty and long legs, “You think so Mr. Riley?” Your fingers graze along the little love bites, voice quieter in worry, “It ain’t too much is it?”
Simon shakes his head, pecking your lips, “Course not sugar,” he takes a small step back to get a good look at you. God you’re too damn sexy, “All mine any way, ain’t it Lucky?”
The end of your lips curve upward, eyes lowering as you lick your top lip, “Today.”
Simon grumbles, shaking his head, “Baby, I could fucking eat you right now.”
Can I request SAHRSAU Aventurine with a reader who's also very lucky (on their wishes, at least)? Like, the reader is VERY into the lore of the game and practically has it and every character's story memorized. So whenever the reader decides to pull, they go to a spot that's significant to the character they're pulling for and replaced every party member with ones significant to said character (I do that lol. It works).
This usually ends with them either almost always winning their 50/50 or getting an early five star or the character they want.
So they're wishing on Aventurine's banner, and they're pulling out ALL the lore relevant stops? Hell, they even have his trailer or theme playing in their room in the background?
“Was It Luck, or Was It You?”
Summary: When you decide to pull for Aventurine, you go all-in—lore-accurate team, lore-significant location, his theme blaring in your room. It works. First pull. But something’s different this time. Aventurine isn’t just smugly grateful. He’s aware. And worse—he remembers every detail you laid out to summon him. Now he’s watching. Speaking in ways no other character does. Testing the limits of the code… and of you. Because for a man who treats life like a game of chance, the most irresistible gamble might just be you—the one who rigged the odds and played him like a card.
or: Country!Simon catches you attempting to tag his property, of course he has to teach you a lesson.
cw: 3.6k words, 18+ mdni, Country!Simon, alt universe, no use of y/n, some plot with smut, dub-con, spanking, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, age gap (Simon 29, reader 23), primal play & reencounter (if you tilt your head), pet names (little girl, city broad, lucky), fingering, lite pussy pronouns, degradation, lucky!reader
a/n: a scrapped Drabble turned into a full story cause I love plot
part 2!!! <3
You were running like your life depended on it.
It was dumb for you to even attempt to tag the Riley barn to begin with.
You knew that, your friends knew that, anyone in town would’ve warned you otherwise.
It all started with a little end of college fun, wreck havoc like the good ole days. Nothing out the ordinary. Something that supposed to be a silly little prank, saying goodbye to college and hello to adulthood by spray paint and a little egging.
Was it a little too much for your liking? Yes.
Just plain rude and disgusting because at the end of the day, what exactly did Ghost do to deserve any of this? But peer pressure is a nasty, annoying, bitch. Regardless of age.
The Riley Ranch had been rumored as evil and haunted, the only people who really interacted with the land being other farmers. Even when Simon Riley, the last standing of the family, came to church (on the rarest occasions), people kept their distance. Afraid his families “bad” energy would spread over to them.
They called him Ghost.
There was a fire at the families home, started by Ghosts father who was always in a rage. Your father made sure your family stayed clear of him when you visited, he wasn’t too kind to quote, ‘big headed, posey, no good, city slickers.’ No one thought his rage would grow so large into trying to kill his whole family.
No one one besides Ghost made it out that night, there was rumored to be a large burn mark on his back to prove it.
You’d gotten found too fucking quick, “What the hell do you think you’re doin?” His voice booming on the highway road.
Simon Riley was blessed to have ears like an owl. Heard the car pull up and stop on his property, the rumbling of the engine— a beat passes— the car doors slamming shut and the far off hushed giggles. Nothing new, people had passed his property to spook whoever the hell they were with. Try to show how “evil spirits” ran rampant on his land, even if they were, he hadn’t ask for them to be there. But they’d never stop. They’d do it before.
They’d do it again.
But he heard that can of spray paint shake and his boots hit the floor before he even realized it.
Not the brown farmhouse gate he’d spent so long sanding down as a child with the help of his grandfather. Not the white ranch fence he’d spend so long getting together as soon as the land was properly handed to him and in his name, that’d he hand painted himself and fixed up the grass so people knew better than to drop any litter there.
No fucking way.
Your friends were already in the mustang you’d arrived in, those bastards, revving the engine and zooming off. You dropped the can, more spray getting on the grass fuck, fuck, fuck— your brown eyes slowly looked up, meeting a more than livid pair blue eyes.
You wanted to squeak out, ‘im sorry’ but where would there be room for that? Not in between the ranch fence that already had a squiggly line and crooked smiley face with black spray paint on it created by yours truly. There would absolutely be no room for an apology when his face was already screwed up, jaw clenching from underneath the bandana that hid his face, eyes narrowing into slits.
Well duh, babe. Move those feet!
And you did, turning at a 90 degree angle and sprinting like it was the end of the world. Ghost mumbled a ‘god damn it’, and ran right after you, his boot quickly meeting a carton of unopened eggs.
Oh you were definitely in for it now.
You ran through the Egyptian wheat, tall as the eye can see, green leaves scratching your arms and legs. You prayed to God there wasn’t any crazy animals hiding in there. You were panting, taking a quick glance behind you and you could only hear rustling of the large plants that surrounded you, feet hitting the floor.
Then you heard a distant yell in the field, “[+], you get back here!”
Well it wasn’t exactly the hardest to spot you out, you looked like your mother— who looked like her mother. You came from a family known for actually being good people, never hesitating to help or providing when need be. You’d met Mr. Riley a couple times in your 23 years of life. Quick instances that you vaguely remember. But you knew his face, and he knew yours.
Your mom had been one of the few good people making sure he was well taken care of when he was younger, she couldn’t raise him like she had wanted to with having to travel back and forth from the city for work as a children’s author. But she’d made sure he was taken care of in whatever home he was placed in, encouraged him to join the Boys and Girls club, something to ground him.
“Just needs someone to look after ‘em is all,” she’d ensisted while braiding your hair one night before heading to meet him at his group home, fingers weaving through your curls with purpose, you were around eight. “Some kids need a lil extra love, show ‘em someone’s there for ‘em. Simon’s one of those kids, so is your older brother, even though he’s a pain in my side at times. They’re all good in their core— their heart. It’s important to have someone nurture it. Gods called me to do that.”
Though, the relationship strained when the foster system let him go. “He’s just having boy troubles. Boys go through those weird hormones when they hit a certain age. Wants to prove ‘imself as a man. They get real hard headed [+]. He’ll get over it ‘nd pull through. He always does,” she’d say. So certain. Undoubting. Like a sixth sense.
And Simon did manage well enough, clearly, for him to have a proper farm for himself, one that was properly taken care of and thriving. You’d visited with your mom two years back. It was so clear to you now. Your mother practically smothering him in a hug when she got close enough. Simon was awkward at first, but accepted it. His eyes and whole body softing by her touch. She’d been family when no one else would be.
He looked towards you, you met a gorgeous shade of blue, long blonde lashes to match his short blonde hair, face with a few noticeable scars and half his face hidden under a black bandana. You were standing a ways off so you couldn’t hear what he or your mother was saying, but you saw him nod toward you. Your mother saying something and him nodding in response. She waved you over,
“[+] you know Simon— I mean, Mr. Riley since you’re a grown man now, ain’t that right.” She laughed.
“Whatever you want ma’am.” He looks down at you and extends his hand. You take it, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and give it a firm shake.
“Good seein you.” It wasn’t just words, he was sincere, caring. Like seeing an old friend.
You nodded, “ ‘S good seeing you too.”
He showed you the farm after that in his truck. The big house that was farther toward the woods, properly fixed after the fire a decade ago, the Egyptian wheat field, the horses and chickens and the new blue barn he was building to accommodate them, the horse training area used to break in horses no one else would. It was a lot of land, a lot of work, but you could tell by the sound of his husk voice, he was proud of himself and the work he’d been able to accomplish. Even more happy when your mom praised him.
It finally clicked: that barn— and right on time, you’d caught sight of it. Not the one Mr. Riley had been fixing when you visited, the old one. Large and in charge that had old wood, and was definitely falling apart. But you made a bee line for it anyway.
What other option did you have?
Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, nerves on a high because you didn’t even notice how close Ghost was to you before you ducked so he couldn’t grab you. Kicking his shin and dashing towards the barn that was bones.
“You damn brat! fuck me!” He cursed, hopping to ease the new pain on his leg before running right after you.
You undid the large wooden latch, sliding the doors open and immediately trying to slide them close. But his hand shot through the opening, a shiver runs down your spin.
Up the steps you went, the only place you could go, and Ghost was right on your heels, quick, almost silent— didn’t call him Ghost for no reason. You tripped and fell on a pile of hay and wild chickens went fluttering and clucking down to the barn floor, clouding your vision. Next thing you knew, Ghost finally caught you. His hands grabbed hold of both of your arms as you rolled around and thrashed underneath him.
“You fuckin asshole! Let me go!” You grunted, trying to kick your legs where the sun didn’t shine but completely missing when the older man closed your legs, gripping them together under your knees in his hands. He had you like a pig about to be roasted.
“You ruin my property but I’m the asshole?” The fucking audacity of you. “Gonna teach you a fuckin lesson cause clearly they don’t teach you city folk manners.”
With ease, Ghost sat himself down on one of the old hay bails, bringing you over his lap. He grunts, keeping you as still as you can, and then like thunder— his large calloused hand comes down to your plump ass, echoing in the empty barn.
“Mr. Riley!” You gasp, your head shoots up, eyes widening— there’s no way- was he giving you a spanking? The next one yanks you out of your thoughts, brutal, harsh, that makes you scream his name again, “Mr. Riley, that’s enough!” But he’s completely ignoring you.
You’re crying and whimpering, as his hand continues forming ripples in your ass. You’d gotten one singular whopping your whole life, from your grandma for breaking her good vase when she told you no ball throwing in the house. Life altering from one incident that made you into the goodest girl there ever was.
And then there’s this predicament, one that ripped your soul in two. One half fueled with hatred for doing something so crude— so audacious. And then the other that’s struggling to keep itself contained. one more hit that meets your tender bottom, one that hits you in a place you didn’t realize was boiling over— a smack to the ass that forces an egregious moan out of your trembling plump lips.
Simon stills, his eyes flicking over the state of you. You’re shaking, head down and legs finally not kicking. But he sees the way you try to hide yourself further into his lap, because you and he both know you just moaned because of a little whooping.
Oh— you're crazy.
You’d unknowingly created a fire and Simon would add lighter fluid to it.
He lifts the bottom of your short flower patterned dress, just to peak, you jump but still, your heart pounding even louder than it had before. And it’s a sight for the man to behold— your underwear soaked like the damn ocean. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to bring the hands down to hide the slick that was ever growing.
“D-don’t look.” You sniffle. Too damn cute.
But there’s a snicker, something that makes you look back at him and his eyes are shining with mischief, “My god, you’re a filthy lil thang, aren’t’chu?” It’s almost rhetorical, he’s not asking you, he’s asking your cunt. “Didn’t know you city broads were like that, learn somethin new every day, don’t you?”
You yelp when he yanks your underwear down to your knees, thrashing around once again, but Simon keeps you still. Your pretty pussys glistening as bright as sun on water, slick all over your fat second pair of lips. He brushes his fingers against them, sending shivers up your spine, you cant help but arch further into his touch.
You whine, “Mr. Riley-“
“—Shhhhh, gotta hear her,” he murmured, slowly slipping a finger in your drenched hole. Your pussys practically sputtering out with every thrust of his finger, slipping another one and coating it perfectly. He takes them out, sucking up the juices on his tongue that you’ve left on them, spitting down on your hole before stuffing his fingers back into you. He hums in satisfaction as you lose your mind, “such a fuckin slut, you just get this wet for anyone, don’t you?”
Your eyes reach the back of your head, breath hitching, “Nooo, I don’t- I wouldn’t!— ooh- agh- Mr. Riley!” your interrupting yourself with your own moans. Whatever anger you had before, folding into nothing.
He finally let’s go of your hands and you grip on to his leg, nails clawing at his jean cover thighs. Your stomach tightens running away as your orgasm builds but Simon follows, thrusting his fingers into your gummy walls even more, curving them to find your sweet spot with determination.
“Eaaasy now, don’t want to hurt you. Be good ‘nd cum. Know you want to, make a mess all over me darlin’.”
And that’s all it takes, with a twitch and a squeal, your cumming all over his hand. Simon thrusts his fingers a couple times, watching the wave of euphoria wash over you before sucking one of fingers clean, then bringing the other to your mouth.
“Come on, don’t be fuckin uppity, taste it lil girl” he tsked, you take the middle finger in your mouth, tasting your own arousol, swirling your tongue around it. Slowly pulling your head back with a ‘pop.’ It all goes straight to the blondes aching dick.
You hear it, the unbuckling of his belt, your stomach touching the tint that had built because of you. your mind finally snaps out of the trance he’s got you in. You barley manage to get out of his lap, scrambling through the hay, tripping over your underwear, on your as knees. Giving Simon the perfect view of your tender ass and the slick that’s dripping down to your thigh before you turn when you meet a wall. Pushing yourself into it.
“We- shit- someone- someone’ll come!” You ramble out, panting, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm. Your eyes avert to anything in this barn besides the man infront of you. But he made his way over to you, slow, stalking. And once he’s on his knees and hovering above you, he springs his cock from from his boxers. The blonde is hung, large and girthy, his tip strawberry red and leaking pre cum.
He bends down, sliding his fat cock between your wet folds, and then smacking his tip on your clit creating a plap, plap, plap. You can’t help but whimper at the sensation.
“You want it don’t you?” he whispers in your ear, taunting you, goosebumps wave over your skin. “Don’t want me all the way,” he traces over your belly, and then pokes right where your uterus is, “up here, hm?”
“Don’t want me to make you feel good pretty girl? Don’t wanna feel it once?”
Maybe it’s the adrenaline that’s pulsing through you, the way he’s looking down on you like you’re pathetic, dick crazed maniac. And maybe that’s exactly what you are, just once— you just want feel him stir your guts just. this. once.
“I do.”
And your soft voice is just enough for the brute to yank your legs open, Simon throwing your legs over his forearms and spreading your pretty hole open with just the tip. The man starts bullying himself inside the tightness of your pink walls.
He’s big. He’s too big. You hiccup, shoving at his shoulder while he’s splitting you in half, “Mr.Riley, ‘s so much! hicc- can’t. I can’t.”
He croons, slowly thrust more and more of his veiny length into you. “Come oooon city broad, thought you could take it? Don’t go runnin. Been runnin from me alllll this time little girl.”
“Bet you won’t do no shit like that again, ruining my damn property,” Simon hissed, smacking down your clit a few times. “Gonna fuck that nonsense outta that lil brain ‘f yours.”
“I won’t! I promise! Mmmph- I’ll be good! S-so good just for you. Always for you.” You mewled, one hands clawing at the wall behind you and other hand at his shoulder. He finally feels it, his cock reaching the very hilt of you, balls smacking your ass crack. The damn obscene sounds your syrupy pussy is making to keep him inside you, and his tip giving your cervix the messiest and he’s sure, the first kiss it’s ever received.
A baby.
You’d look so fucking sexy, being all plump with his fucking baby. He pushes your thighs back to you head further, jackhammering into your heat rough and mean.
“Five,” he mumbles, groping at one of your tits in his hand. Squeezing and kneading it like a vice.
“Wha-“
“You’ll give me five ‘f ‘em, won’t’cha? Make me a daddy.”
He’s talking nonsense, partially. Simon wasn’t dead set on five, he’d wanted a baseball team but he’d settle for whatever you wanted. One would do if it caused you too much strain. He’d take care of you and the baby, buy you whatever you asked for, have you sat on that back porch, in a rocking chair. Your hand on your full belly, watching him as he worked all lovingly.
Simon breath hitches, rolling his hips into yours with a grunt, fucking drunk at the thought of it. The thought of you, all while your pussy was squeezing on him like you were reading his fucking mind.
“C-christ almighty, I got lucky with you huh? A snug lil cunt like this deserves to be up filled up with my cum.”
You still couldn’t believe it, thee Simon Ghost Riley, was with you in this old barn fucking your brains out like you were fucking Eve in that damn garden, on top of a pile of hay. Both of you letting out moans and groans like animals that you’re sure anyone who stepped foot on property would be able to hear. It’s hot, and sweat is forming on both of your foreheads, your skin is sticky. Simon’s big balls hitting your ass every punch of his tip into you G Spot. both of your eyes hazy, stupid off the other getting off.
“Feel so gooood M-Mr. Riley! So much!” You keen, reach for the bandana hiding his face. He always pushes your hand away but then he remembers what you’re about to be— his lover, his wife— the mother of hic children.
“Mamma’s gotta know the face of ‘er children’s daddy right? pull it off.” And you do, tugging it. And god, maybe this whole ordeal got you lucky.
So damn pretty. A scar on his nose, another one at the end of his pink lips, blonde strands swaying everytime he ruts into you, “Mr. Riley’s sooo pretty,” you slur, talking to him like it’s some secret. You’re lucid in his cock, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure while you stomach coils up.
“Uh-uh, eyes on me city broad, look at me!” He squeezes your cheeks together, planting a fat kiss on your smooshed lips. He snaps his hips forward, and your head would’ve hit the wall from how good you feel. But Simons still got your pretty face in his hands.
“Gonna have ya allll bare foot ‘nd pregnant, waddlin yer cute ass ‘round here with a ring on that finger.” He’s telling you, as if this is already happened and he’s seein it with his own eyes. All you can do is moan at his words. You can’t even form a sentence at this point. Just nodding your ditzy little head while he gives you his dick.
“Gonna be a pretty fuckin mamma too, fu- shit baby, your pretty tits all full with milk for our kin— damn, you love the sound ‘f that dontcha? You can deny it all ya wont, but she’s achin for it.”
God, you are. She is too. You didn’t even know how greedy your pussy was being as he pistoned in and out of you, “Gonna— gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna-“
“-Yeah, thaaat’s it lucky, come all over your husbands cock.”
All you can utter is a ‘s-shit’ when your orgasm smacks you, your toes curling in your converses, thighs shaking in Simons hold.
The blonde gets you in a headlock, smooshing you down into the floor further, brushing your curls with hay out of your gorgeous face. rutting into you as your walls clamp onto him, begging for his all milk he’s able to give you.
Simon growls, and the strings of cum fill your womb. Your clammy bodies are still stuck together as he rocks the last bit of cum into. Mumbling while kissing your neck, “take it lucky it’s all yours. Gotta keep you nice ‘nd full if you’re gonna get pregnant.”
It’s quiet finally. The barn itself is old and creaks but you can hear the chickens right down the steps clucking, the cicadas chirping, the breeze passing through the trees. The only think you hear are his and your pants,
Simon scoops you up in his arms, adjusting your dress to cover the mess he’s created thats dripping down on that barn floor with every steps he takes.
“Mr. Riley, where are we- where are we going?” You hiccup, gripping onto his shirt. All you can look at is him, a little in shock, a little blissed out. The only thing your able to focus on is the handsome man holding you against his chest. The way his heart pounds louder as he looks down at you.
“To the house. It just won’t take after one go.”
a/n: a draft that’s sitting since last month. Luv you bubs. Can’t wait to write more country!simon
Lesson Learned | cw: 18+ mdni, country!simon, cursing, excessive spänkíng, angry sêx, sèx against the wall, dâcryphília, dégrègàtíon, (slight) edging, pet names (lil girl, Lucky, darlin, baby).
Truthfully, he wouldn’tve been so angry if you’d didn’t show up so nonchalant. Gave him that pout you do when you’re upset, and explained why you’d disappeared off the face of the earth for two days without telling him.
Well not disappeared, you’d gone to your side of the family two days ago, it was just supposed to be lunch. But you didn’t do much as call to tell him what was going on, he knew you were a “free spirit.” You needed space to do as you wanted, but this wasn’t fucking city anymore, and Simon was gonna be your husband soon.
You’d showed up to the house in a car, a different outfit on and a couple shopping bags in hand, waved a ‘hi’ like nothing was wrong. He’s waited all fucking day for your ass, was gonna call the police if he hadn’t heard from one of the farm hands hadn’t seen you in town. Simon lazily took a sip of his beer from the rocking chair he sat in.
“The hell ‘ve you been [+]?” His voice barks out, voice booming over the open land.
Your eyebrows furrow at the tone, shrugging, “Was out Riley, I told you.” The other day. In your head.
Wrong fucking answer.
Simon clenched his jaw, another swing of beer down his throat. He stands from the chair, “Have you lost your god damn mind [+]?!”
“I don’t hear from you for whole a day Lucky, a full 24 hours! Not a call, not text, a god damn letter from the sky— do you not know where you’re gonna fucking live in the near future!? We’re in the fuckin back country where anything can happen! ‘Nd then another 24 rolls by and I think you’ve gone ‘nd died! And you show up with not a care in the world?! Use your fuckin brain and communicate where the hell you are!” He yells.
Your mouth opens once, processing everything, then closing, then opening again, looking at him like he’s the god damn idiot. You do a take a look around the nearly empty property, flabbergasted—
“Who the fuck are you talkin to?!”
“[+]—“
“I’m not a little fuckin bitch, I’m my own woman! I do what the fuck I want when the fuck I want! I don’t need your stamp ‘f approval for what the hell I wanna do! Shit, maybe I should get back in the car and go have fun, again!”
“[+],” he drawls deathly low, eyes glaring down at you, “Get on the fuckin porch. Now.”
And suddenly, it’s like your feet are rooted deep in the dirt road, throwing your shopping bags back in the car. You fold your arms over your chest. “No!”
Stubborn little city broad, Simon was gonna sort you all out.
Boots heavy with every step down the porch, he’s quite as a mouse and swift as ever getting over to you and throwing you over his shoulder. You gasp, hitting his back, “Put me down you ass hole! Put me down right now or I swear to God!”
Sure, he puts you down. right in his lap once he got to the top step of the porch, ass up. He used one hands behind your back as you try to wiggle out his grasp, the other yanking your jeans down.
“Count em.” He grumbles.
Before you can even get another word out, there’s a heavy smack! to your ass.
“Riley—“ SMACK!
“Mr. Riley!—“ SMACK!
And you let out a yelp in pain when another ache from his heavy hand lands on you.
“Told ya t’count. That’s three, or should we start from the beginnin?”
You didn’t even bother saying a word, just putting your head down and letting out cry of, ‘four’ when you felt his hand come down once more.
“Such a god damn brat [+], all you had t’do was apologize, but youre a fuckin hardheaded brat.” His teeth clenched, adjusting you after the tenth are so spanking.
“I-“ you hiccup, tears blurring your vision as you grip onto his legs, “I’m not a brat.”
“Bitchin at me when you’re dead fuckin wrong is bein a brat Lucky.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!
“Ya want respect? then use that brain ‘f yers and show me mine. What I say goes, I’m not doin this back ‘nd forth shit over you runnin off when ya want to. I’m your husband. And I don’t mind straighten you out over and over till you fuckin get it, ya hear?”
You let out a sob, nodding your head and clawing at his jeans.
Simon huffs. “Use your fuckin words.”
“Yes sir, mmph- I understand.” You wipe your nose, looking back at the blonde to see if he was done. But his eyes were low, flickering between your tears stained face and yout the wet spot in your underwear. His calloused hand grabs the back of your neck, guiding you off his lap and having you stumbling up the steps to meet his strides like a stray kitten gripped at the neck.
“Come on, ain’t done with you yet.”
The screen door slams behind you once you get inside the house, Simon pushing you into the nearest wall face first. You can feel him panting in your ear, hands sliding down your body after yanking down your pants along with those blue panties he likes to your ankles. Your hands lay flat against the wall trembling all from the burn coming from below.
“Spread ‘em.”
And you do, widening your legs as you tremble.
He cursed, dipping his thumb in your drenched hole, “Shit baby, ya don’t change. Spanked ya fuckin raw ‘nd ya still yearnin’ for it. A little slut for it yeah?”
You get so god damn mouthy, your pussy does too, soaking his fingers as he slots two inside you, working them in and out roughly. You claw at the wall, hips bucking for more movement then he’s giving you. You’re delirious, from the stark difference of Simon giving you the second whooping he’s ever given you to him finger fucking you right in the houses entryway. You don’t even realize your chanting a ‘please, please, please’ as he thrusts fingering inside you.
“Heh- Almost fuckin pathetic how fuckin needy you are right now. Should be greatful your husband is willin t’ help you, take care ‘f ya like ‘m ‘posed to.” He hisses once you clench down on his fingers, pulling his fingers out just as you felt your stomach tightening.
“M-Mr. Riley-“
He lays an Another smack to your ass, laughing at you, “Aht- aht- ahh darlin, that’s where you go it wrong. Why would ya even think ‘f cummin first when this is a punishment?”
You let out another whine, pushing your pump ass against him as he strokes his hardening length. You feel the cockhead push into the globe, Simon smearing his pre-cum. You groan, so desperate, “Please Mr. Riley!”
“Keep it up ‘nd you won’t get shit lil girl.” He grumbles, circling the strawberry tip on your hole. This was already hard enough trying to keep you in check, but edging you was just edging himself— all to have you dumb on his cock.
And that you were, as soon as he slid into your gummy walls. He perfectly stretched you out and filled you to the brim, you could every ridge and bein of his pulsing dick.
“Jesus baby, fuckin chokin me here.” He hisses, his hips pounding into you mercilessly. You trembling in his hold, head thrown back as you moan so loudly you’ll spook the chickens that are just across the yard.
Simon hikes your leg up higher, strokes getting faster, meaner, the loud ‘fwop, fwop’ fwop’ filling your ears everytime he slams back into your oozing hole. His jaw is clenched, seething at how good you feel, “Fuckin pissed me clean off Lucky, was- shit- was worried ‘boutcha ‘nd then you just had to act all big ‘nd bad. Like you run shit.”
Simon tilts your head up, scuffing at your fucked out face, your eyes glazed over as you while you keen his name.
“I bet you ain’t even thinkin, poor thang, been drunk since I been in ‘er.”
“Shit- uugh! Mr. Riley you’re just- it’s so biiiig!” You croon so sweetly. He can’t help the smirk on his pink lips, kissing your shoulder blade.
He lets out a snicker, finding your lips and sloppily kissing you, spitting in your mouth and making sure you swallow it. “ ‘Posed to be a punishment, hckk- but you always get what you want, huh Lucky?” He teases.
You finally catch his ocean blue eyes, your lips purse, looking up at him with those pretty puppy dog eyes, slurring, “No- I- hmm- hngh fu- I’m sorry Mr. Riley. Was wrong. I really am sorrry.”
God damn it, you really are the cutest person on the planet. Simon kisses you again, hitting your g-spot with a thwack that makes you sob.
“Yeah baby, I know. ‘S okay, such a good girl for ‘pologizin.” He coos, kissing you all over.
You can feel it, your orgasm building as he ruts into you wild as ever. You gasp, pushing at his thighs and inching closer to the wall, hardened nipples brushing agasint it, “Wait- wait- it’s- I’ll cum-“
“Nooo, don’t run, fuck darlin, ya can’t run. You g-gotta cum on it.” Simon rasps. He can only push deeper inside you, your face flesh against the wall as you have to take every down right nasty stroke of his cock inside your velvety walls.
“O-oh shit!”
Your orgasm knocks into like a harsh wave, hard and unforgiving. Walls tightening as Simons milky cum paints the inside of you.
“That’s my girl.”
a/n: atp call me “can’t-write-a-simple-Drabble-teddy.” I love plot too much. This request *chefs kiss*
“No one puts baby in a corner.” | cw: 18+ mdni, fluffish with tiny smut, country!simon, mentions of víólence, slútshâming.
If it’s one thing Simon Riley doesn’t play about it’s you, his dear wife, lucky!reader. It’s his job to protect you and love you unconditionally, what the man has vowed to do for the rest of his life.
But there are sometimes when he can’t be there to protect you, because he’s not with you all the time. Shindigs are just not Simon Riley’s thing, he knows that, you know that. But you love to drink and do those line dances and Simon can only smile under his bandana because, hell, did he love to see you happy. There shouldn’t have been an issue as long as you got home at around 2 or 3. So he sent you off on your own, made sure you were all straight. It was some day party you’d been itching to go to and you’d drove yourself.
Simon didn’t expect for you to come back to the house only 4 hours later, makeup smudged and pouting.
He quickly made his way from the chicken coop over to you, who was stomping up the steps, grabbing your wrist, “Woah there dolly, what’s going on? Thoughtcha texted me ‘nd said you were havin fun.”
You sniffle, groaning when you recall what happened, “I was Mr. Riley! But- but-“ you cut yourself short with a sob. Fiercely wiping your tears and stomping your foot.
“But what honey?” he speaks so soft, comforting, gently tugging you to sit in his lap on the steps.
“But that Bishop boy he- he was so fuckin mean Simon!” And you go and on, sobered up but tipsily explaining how rude the man was and how he called you quote, ‘a lil whore, dressed like you were ready to fuck any damn body and sleepin under a good for nothing.’ And of course, you raised hell, cursing the man out and causing a scene. But the venue ended up kicking you out for the disturbance, which led you here.
Crying in Simons arms as he wiped your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He knows it’s a lot for you, you have big emotions and it’s frustrating and tiring when you get them all out. Simon sits you on the steps, kneeling beside you and lifting your chin inbetween his fingers, “Lookey here Lucky, yer husbands gon’ figure this allll out for ya, m’kay? Just wait here f’me, my pretty girl.”
You nodded, letting the older man kiss your lips as a promise before taking the keys you had to the truck and driving off down the dirt road.
It was less than an hour when Simon came back, cigarette between his lips and gripping the steering wheel. He hopped out the car and slammed the door shut before heading back the trunk to retrieve something—
Well someone.
Bloodied and bruised, coughing up blood into the dirt of the pathway and begging for help as Simon drags him towards the porch. But the other farmhands are simply ignoring the whole ordeal and praying to never end up in the same situation. Simon spots you already watching from behind the screen door of the house.
“You come ‘ere lil girl!”
And you do, rushing over to the scene fast. Simons knuckles are bloody, wounds slightly open, he holds the Bishop by the hair, steadying him by he collar of his plaid shirt.
“Alright,” Simon starts, “I clearly don’t take too kindly fer no one t’be talkin out the ass bout my wife, but for you t’ make my baby cry? I should just kill you.”
Simon sighs, making the man kneel and then taking the cigarette between his fingers, “But ‘M better than that. Lucky knows it, ain’t that right precious?”
“It’s true!” You nod and sniffle, rocking on your feet.
“ ‘Xactly baby. Now,” he knees Bishop in the face one good time right in the nose, the man crying in agony. “Say what you ‘posed to.”
“I-I’m sorry Mrs. Riley! I mean it! I’m really sorry! I’ll never say anything ridiculous bout you again, I s-swear!” He begs, hands in prayer positioning while he’s crouched down beside you.
“You accept it dolly? Ain’t got to.”
You think for a moment, maybe this is why Soap and Gaz call you spoiled because Simon Riley will very literally do anything to make sure you’re alright. And if beating someone to a pulp makes you feel reassured, so be it. But right now, you don’t wanna deal with this anymore.
Your hearts not in it at all but nod slowly, just wanting it over with, looking over at Simon.
“Words darlin.”
“I accept your apology, this time.” You clarify.
Simon scuffs, fixing his hat but has resolve in your answer. For now, sure that this idiot won’t try it again. Especially with the windows to his truck shot. He puts out the cigarette, gives you a kiss on the cheek and pat on your plump ass.
“Could you wait inside f’me a lil longer sweetheart?”
He’s asking but he’s really telling you to go, so you don’t have to see him clean up the mess nor how he’s getting Bishop back in his truck.
And of course, when Simon comes back he’s finger fucking you into a much needed nap. Thick fingers getting drenched in your wet slick while you lay your head on his shoulder, soft moans and whimpers filling his ears as he slowly works three digits in and out of you. Telling you how strong you are for dealing with everything and that you’re such a good girl for waiting for Simon to come back to you. Your release comes slow but strong, clenching onto Simons shirt as your walls tighten around his fingers, a little wet spot forming on his jeans from how wet you got.
And Simon licks his fingers clean, kissing down your neck,
or: getting married to Country!Simon wasn’t as easy as you thought it’d be.
“baby I’ve been waiting my whole life, for you and I.”
a part 2 to ruthless.
cw: 6.4k words, 18+ mdni, a lot of plot with smut at the end, Country!Simon, au universe, no use of y/n, fake southern town names, lovey dovey sex, mating press, p in v, creampie, masturbation, against the wall, some of your cousins are shitty, engaged!reader (to Simon), age gap (Simon is 29, reader is 23), pussy pronouns, mentions of religion, lucky!reader
a/n: it’s really been a short amount of time but I thought a part two would be right. I hope you like it. Also won’t make sense without reading the first, sorry. I like building plot.
Simon Riley learned early in your already quick relationship, that you were headstrong.
You’d come downstairs of the house, wobbly legged and doe eyed after he fucked you into the mattress with absolute promises of getting you two married and soon, in nothing but a sheet covering you. And the blonde was sure you there was cum dripping your sore cunt, a smirk danced on his lips as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips.
“I wanna get married in a church.” Your voice was horse as ever, scratchy but you’d sounded so deadset. Knee deep in certainty.
Simon simply gave you a nod, “sure thing lucky.”
“And I don’t want a big fancy wedding, something small. A little quaint.”
“Perfect,” He hummed.
“And I want to get married after my graduation so my family can come.”
“If that’s what you want.”
You laugh nervously, yanking the sheet you almost dropped up and scratching the back of your neck with the other, “A-And it’s my first time gettin married so- so I’m a bit nervous.”
“ ‘S my first time too.” You could’ve melted from his southern accent alone, he set his mug down on the counter and stepped towards you. Cupping your face in his hands, precious girl, “let’s take our time so you can have the perfect weddin, alright?”
You gave a bashful nod, you two meeting half way to kiss each other and laughed. Pretty sweet.
Loving you was so easy. Too easy. You were the sunshine after the storm, a good balance to whatever mess that Simon saw himself as. You were sweet, loved all the animals he had, listened attentively when he spoke about the farm and he did the same for you. Hearts practically growing in his eyes as you talked about your life, your friends and the things you loved what you wanted the most.
You’d decided to have a June wedding, eager to be a June bride above anything. Waiting another year to have some big wedding wasn’t something either of you wanted. You’d settled on the chapel an hour out in Millbrok, your colors would be baby blue and sage, you’d have a small wedding and then a reception under some tents next to the church.
Your mother and father were genuinely shocked, you, their daughter who refused to settle for anything, eager to feel the breeze in your wings, first to move out at 18 (and not on a college campus) was actually settling. And with Simon Riley at that. But they accepted it, felt in their guts that he was a good person for you. Your mother and father themselves had a quick marriage since they fell pregnant with your older sister, they didn’t have much room to tell you, you were wrong.
And if all went to shit, they’d come and scoop you up. And beat Simon’s ass in the process. Your father assured the older twenty year old of that. Simon swallowed the fear down.
“Who are you invitin Ms.— I mean future Mrs. Riley?” Soap asked you after you properly handed him his wedding invitation. Simon was off, collecting another stray horse that was disturbing John Price’s cattle. Soap was one Simons farm hand, he was his top man. A good guy, a little wild. You’d met him one night out dancing and he drove you home. Simon had casually told him from the doorframe, right as your cowboy boots hit the front porch, that you two were getting married and that he should finally get himself a proper tie.
Simon slammed the door shut once he got you inside while you mouth was wide an agape. “Why did you tell him like that?! He’s probably shocked!”
The blonde scuffed, pulling your boots off himself and lifting you to take you to bed, “Idiot won’t believe it till I say it a second time either way.”
And then right on que, there was howls of laughter that came from the brunette. “There ain’t no way on gods good earth you, Ghost, of all people, is gettin married!”
But then he came the next day, for work. And there you were saying your goodbyes because you had just a couple days before graduation. And Soap’s sharp eyes caught it, a fresh, a round cut diamond with a traditional gold band ring on your finger.
“You two- Shoot- You two really gettin hitched, ain’tcha?”
And you beamed, glowing even more than you already had from not just the sun glowing off your brown skin but Simon fucking you silly as a proper send off, squeezing at Simons larger hand.
“Of course, and soon!”
Johnny was more than happy for the two of you, somehow snagging your number from Simon’s phone so bombard you with questions Simon wouldn’t answer. He was a funny guy, a golden retriever. You’d warmed up to him perfectly in Simons eyes.
You couldn’t help the heat that grew on your face, “Well,” you practically sung, “my mom and dad, my five siblings, my grandparents from up north and those aunts ’nd uncles and then my family from down here. I’m pretty sure I can get one of my cousins to cater the reception for us so it really won’t cost much—“
“—Your family from here? From Pinewood?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Just-“ Soap clears his throat, hesitant, “Just the folks in Pinewood, your folks included— they just- They ain’t the kindest to Ghost, especially with his family- you know… Think you should be weary of ‘em, is all I’m sayin.”
Pinewood was the town Simon, Johnny and your family were from. You always knew someone’s family, had the essentials; a bank, a grocery store or two, a library, post office, mayors office, police department a dollar store, a few salons and barber shops, a bakery, a bridal store, and few town known restaurants and bars— a small town. A little too small, that seemed to dunk of Ghost for being. That would change.
You’d make sure of it.
You’d all be family soon enough, they’d have to understand.
You were ambitious of sorts— and most of the time, you stuck the landing after your rushed dismount. When you learned how to properly ride a horse and kicked Ace, a wild thing, too hard, and you went flying full speed down the road— you managed to get a hold of him just fine. When Simon taught you to carve by hand and you almost cut your thumb clean off 4 times, you finally got the hang of it, and made that crooked and polished bowl for your keys at the front door.
Other times, not so much.
The chickens had a weird beef with you, and you forgot to feed the horses on time leading to the ranches whole schedule being off. Or when Ace really did send you flying and you almost broke your fucking arm and neck.
Giving out your wedding invitations would be just like that.
Simon properly told you that, that night on the porch after dinner. Rocking in one of the hand crafted rocking chairs he made, he’d call you over with a sigh, ‘lil girl come ‘ere!’ Like he always did. And you came, now in one of his shirts, with those damn invitations in hand. Already knowing what he was going to say. But you waved him off.
“They just don’t get you like I do Mr. Riley.”
That’s a given. But it didn’t mean others would understand you, a hopeful city girl from a loving family, marrying the likes of him. A cursed man, from a more than broken family, a tarnished name he was trying to rebuild with new foundations, with his own ghosts wandering around.
He’d known your family from down here. Some of them were understanding, like your mother and grandmother but there were others. Hypocritical bitches, who’d go to church on Sunday, sing the church hymns and preach about loving and caring for one another and then curse down the neglected and those who didn’t fit in the box on Monday. Real righteous alright.
But you had that look on your face, big brown eyes, bottom lip sticking out and eyes full of pride— begging him to let you invite them yourself. Practically stabbing him in the heart with cuteness.
He sighed, “Fine, you do what you want.”
You grinned, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly and kissing his cheek, you’d kill him at this rate, “Thank you Si! Let me go call ‘em so we can have lunch! Ugh, it's been so long!”
And you practically ran off into the house, leaving Simon alone in the rocking chair. All the more worried about you.
••●••
You’d looked pretty, almost too pretty to let Simon let you leave the ranch to go talk to a bunch of high strung, stuck up people. Curls perfectly defined in a side part, a long white skirt, a red croquette milk maid top, with necklaces on your neck and all your ear piercings in, a white wedges heels, plump lips beautifully glossed. God, he could’ve lifted that damn skirt and fucked your right then and there.
Simon’s hands hung low on your hips and then lower, squeezing your ass. “Oh, come on Simon! you can’t feel up on me like that! You’ll wrinkle my skirt!” You playfully whined, pushing at his shoulder.
“Fuck the lunch, just stay here with me. We got food here too.”
“Though I’d love that, I already promised with my cousins. Plus,” you give a little point, “your workers are watching,” you keened, pointing over to the men and women a couple yards away, leaning against the horse corral with smirks. Whistling and catcalling away.
“God damn it.” He groans, hands going back to your waist. His ears turned bright red under his cowboy hat at you gushed, fuckin adorable, kissing each of them. And he pulls away, just a little bit to get a good look at you and then pulls you against his chest, putting his head in the crook of your neck, sniffing. He should’ve told you no.
He grumbles, “don’t let them talk to you crazy now. I’ll come ‘nd give them a talkin to.”
“I can do it on my own! It’ll be fine!”
Bless your little heart.
You loved your cousins. And you thought they loved you too. Teeny (Tina) and Gabriella, both a little older than you but you spent so much time playing together whenever there was a family reunion or when you came to see the family. You just knew they’d be the perfect bridesmaids, in fact, you and Teeny were Gabriella’s bridesmaids at her wedding a few years back. You were like sisters.
You had fun catching up with them face to face, your heart pounding more and more. Wanting to find the perfect time to tell them the big news.
Gabriella gave you an all but knowing look, smirking, “Don’t tell me you got more excitin news to tell [+]. You never take a break, do you?”
“Naw, do tell! I wanna hear it all about that city life! Oh! Don’t tell me! You’re gettin yer masters or some shit?! Marryin a big top lawyer?!” Teeny claps her hands with excitement.
You let out a breath, “Sort’ve. Actually it’s somethin a little closer to here as of the last two months.” You reach in your bag, pulling the two cards out and handing them each one.
“I-I’m getting married and you’re all invited! Hopefully you’ll be my bridesmaids!” You squealed, handing out the little invitations. “Well it’s for you and your spouses, and I plan on telling Aunt Julie and ‘nem soon enough. It’s in June! Just like we all talked about!” And you spent so much time picking those invitations out, making sure the signatures of your names together were perfect. Yours practiced and did the calligraphy yourself, the cards were perfect. The picture of you and Simon’s hands on it were perfect, the sage and baby blue bows that held the cards were perfect— so you were hoping for more squeals, more excitement, tears of happiness.
You were met with the exact opposite.
Confusion, disgruntlement— vexation.
“Yer marryin… that Ghost boy?” Gabriella blinked slowly, after a few moments of silence.
“Yes? And It’s Simon, not Ghost,” you corrected with a nervous giggle, waving them off. The nickname was stupid to you, Simon never corrected people when they called him that. Even though the name was making fun of him for simply being, for not dying with the rest of his family and that tragic fire. You’d always made it a point to correct people though, especially when Simon wasn’t there and wouldn’t tell you to just let them talk. Especially when it was with people who were supposed to be family saying it.
“A-Aren’t you happy for me?” You’d felt small, a little lost. This was a happy union. Both your grandmothers said that, your grandfather, your mom and your dad, aunts and uncles and cousins from up north supported you. Most would be at the wedding. Your siblings were a little protective and so were your best friends (all in their own right) but they’d get over it soon enough they’d see how well Simon treated you. How much you truly loved each other. Why was it hard for your cousins down here to understand?
“How could we be happy for you when you’re marryin a man like that [+]?” Teeny spoke, handing the invitation back to you.
“That boy might as well be a demon, [+]. Yer settin yourself up for failure.” Gabriella adds.
“You shut your fuckin mouths.” You cursed, just below a whisper. Why were they being so hateful- so- so—
“—We’re tryin t’protect you! His father was a bastard who terrorized folks ‘round here, who knows what that man’ll do to you! Might do to this town.”
Teeny nods, “He even killed his family—“
“—That ain’t fuckin true Teeny, why would you say that?” Your lip quivered, almost slumping in your seat.
“Oh come on [+], one of those rumors got to be true now. Somebody ain’t lyin. That man barley talks!”
“Cause y’all talkin ‘bout ‘em like this! Why would he want to say shit that’ll fall on deaf ears?!” Your ears were practically ringing at their words. How could they? How dare they?
“Fucks sake [+]! I can't go to no weddin were I gotta watch you marry someone— someone so sinful! Hes got bad energy ‘round him ‘nd suckin you up right with ‘em! You’re still a child. Just don’t know any better.” Gabriella shook her head.
“Then don’t fuckin come! I wanted you there cause you’re my family, clearly that ain’t the fuckin case!” You snatched yourself up, harshly standing from the table with a screech of your chair.
“My grown and adult marriage will be the best fuckin thing and love filled marriage this shitty fuckin town full of gossiping cunts that think they’re holier than thou, has ever laid eyes on! You got the fuckin gall to talk about Simon when he’s nothin but kind and polite to everyone he interacts with, and cares about the stupid fucking town to help with their stupid horses they don’t know shit about! Can’t say the fuckin same for your fuckin wife Gabriella, who’s cheatin on you with Lisa-Ann Cambridge and Yolanda Peterson! All the while, trynna uproot people who’s been here for decades through gentrification!”
Your eyes are frantic darting from both of your cousins and then you point, fuming, “And you, Teeny, supposed to be a future preachers wife, but here you are judging and cursing down folks when you don’t even know ‘em! Haven’t even bothered to check on ‘em! It ain’t fuckin God like, and the likes of you will end up in fuckin hell before the fuckin word reaches anywhere near that man, God be my fuckin witness!”
Your chest heaves up and down fast, rummaging through your purse and throwing whatever bills on the table.
“Now you two have the day you fuckin deserve! I’m gonna go be the best damned fiancée there ever was!”
And you leave out the diner to the bright and sunny day, the diner filled with whispers and disapproving glares.
••●••
You’d couinsidently ended up in a bar, wanting to just have a little something to ease your troubles. Sadly enough, you ended up in your cousins bar. Gaz, to be exact. He saw you walk in, passing by the drunks who also were in at 1 pm and you plopped yourself down at the bar stool.
“How can I help ya cous’, what’re you doin here?” He asked while whiping off the counter, an amused look written on his face.
You sniffed, looking up at him, huffing, “Don’t start with me Kyle.”
“I ain’t start nothin,” he sets the rag down and throws his hands up, “Just, the family group chats gon crazy cause of you.”
You groaned, practically slamming you head down on the bar counter, “I know that, just shut up!”
It’s not like you meant to do that. Yell and tear everyone in that diners ear off. You were just tired. Tired of them being bullies. Tired of them not understanding that you were marrying someone that you so deeply loved.
You weren’t asking for their permission, you were telling them.
For them to out right reject it was just wrong. You didn’t think they’d blab their loud fucking gums in the 50+ family Facebook group chat. Now, you had cousins, aunts and uncles from all over wondering what the hell you were doing. Blowing your mom and dads phone up. Then they were in turn, blowing your phone up. All of which, you declined.
“I’m marryin him Gaz. I’m not backin out.” You rested your head in your hands, taking the napkin Gaz had set down for you and blowing your nose as harshly as you could.
Your cousin winced at the noise, immediately grabbing hand sanitizer and a bin for you to throw the tisheue away. “Yeah, I know. Ghost went ‘nd told me that just after you graduated.”
Your eyes shot up, glossy, “What?”’
“Yup,” he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, “Came back and told me ‘nd John first. The man wouldn’t even take your eyes off you, and he was just sharin that graduation photo you took together. To me, it wasn’t nothin special. Just looked like two folks hanging out after a while. But that guy was blushin, you know how scared I was? I thought he was fuckin mad at me, thought I fucked with him one too many times! Then he got all serious, still blushin, said you were the love of his life and that you two were gettin married one of these days.”
“Said you’d made up your mind and he just could not say no to such a gorgeous face. Think he really fell in love with you right then ‘nd there [+].”
Your heart swells, a warm and fuzzy feeling radiating off of your skin, you speak weakly, “I really love that guy a lot.” You dab at your face, so sure your makeups already done for.
Gaz rolls his eyes, “I knoooow, no need to cry jeez. Here,” and he slides you a shot of whiskey. “One for the road.”
••●••
There’s a hand that meets the back, gentle and calloused, “Yer drunk Ms. Trouble, let’s go home.”
Your lashes flutter open, body immediately relaxing at that husky deep southern drawl, “ ‘M not drunk,” you shake your head sitting up, “Just had a little shot.”
Yeah, four little shots of whiskey. It was only 3:00 pm.
You were not driving home like that.
So Kyle called your soon to be husband to come get you.
“Oh, right,” you mumbled, going through your bag once more. Clumsily looking for an invitation, then handing one, still new and wrapped up, to Gaz.
“You’re invited to our weddin. So is Auntie Mary and Uncle Derek. Come, or don’t. Cause it seems like no one from the rest of our family wants to go.” Your voice broke, putting your head down yet again. Simon gave him an apologetic look from under his bandana. Lifting your all but exhausted body after paying your tab.
Gaz took it, laughing down at the card, and smiling, “I’ll be there [+]!”
You looked over Simon’s shoulder, mouthing a ‘thank you’ and waving goodbye.
“You alright?” Ghost asked ten minutes into the drive. He’d let you try to get comfortable in the quiet of the car. The radio low, the road practically empty, the engine could be heard. The afternoon summer breeze was hitting your face through the cracked windows of the old truck, sobering you up.
Simon had sent you to the wolves, already knowing how’s they’d react before he sent you off with a hug and a kiss. He’d known you wouldn’t get the answer you wanted, people were mean. But you only learned the hard way, you’d let them bite at you and let them think you were a sheep. Till it got to be too much and start biting back. Pulling limbs, he’d known you’d get out there with blood in your teeth, but your heart scratched up.
You were thankful he didn’t go and say it, ‘I told you so.’ You despised hearing it more than anything.
You bit your lip, bottom lip trembling while you looked out the window. Simon frowned, looking at the road because you didn’t like when looked at him as you confessed, “gon, say what you got to or you gonna hold it?”
Your breath immediately hitched, cries leaving your mouth before you could even get a word out.
“God why did they have to be so fuckin mean Simon? They were callin me childish for wanting to be with you and you- you some demon! You ain’t a demon! You’re human. Why would they treat you like that? Why would they talk about you like that?” You sobbed, tears rapidly falling down your face.
Simon sighed wiping one side of your face with his free hand, you wiping the other but it did nothing. Tears still fell, your voice moaning like you were in agony. You sat back in your seat and closing your eyes.
“I’m sorry dolly, everyone here- they- they ain’t as sweet as you. Can’t help themselves. They don’t know no better.” He cooed genuinely, rubbing your thigh with his thumb.
You shook your head, wailing now, hard. Loud. “Not knowing any better is just a fuckin excuse so they can treat you that way Simon! You didn’t do anything wrong! You’ve never done anything wrong! Do you even know that? That fire was never your fault! It could never be your fault! You were just a child! Why would that be your fault?!”
You let out an annoyed and strangled groan, “Ughhh! Why’d they have to go ‘nd treat you like that!? You were a fuckin baby!”
Not once. Not once in his life had Simon had someone cry for him.
There were people who understood his situation when he was younger, people who looked out for him and he was more than thankful to have some source of kindness in his life even when he felt like he didn’t deserve it.
But to have some cry like this, like you were the little boy who saw that house go up in flames, the one who heard the screams and the yells across the way for help. And you were telling that little boy that it was alright. That that his fathers doings weren’t his, that people shouldn’t be mean to him for something he didn’t do. The short amount of time you’d been together, you’d never judged him. Not when you realized it was a little harder for him to open up to you, not when you realized how hard it was for him to go into Pinewood without a little bit of a stare.
You’d love with all your heart, creating your own little moments of happiness with him on the farm whenever he was free. Silly little things, swimming in the creek, racing against the cows at the farm over, teaching him how to line dance in the house. All but accepting of his faults, and he of yours. Always right there to catch you when you tripped over your own feet while running off.
But sometimes he could wrap his head around it. He’d asked once, while you two sat on the porch after dancing the night away, a bottle of bourbon sat on the steps after burning the back of your throats once.
“You deserve nothin but kindness and the truth, don’t you Simon? Who would I be to judge you?” Your brown eyes twinkled right along with the stars that shone in the sky.
“You’re just you, I’m just me. We’ll be figurin this loooong journey together from now on. Running with coyotes with you, I’m excited.” And you laughed so beautifully, swinging your feet back and forth.
It made that little boy in his heart tremble. Like he was finally okay.
Tears swelled at the brim of his eyes. He took a shaky breath, sniffing before grabbing your hand in his and kissed it.
“Jesus, [+], I love you. Truly I love you.” And he couldn’t stop himself. Whispering it against your knuckles like a prayer.
Maybe, just maybe, God was allowing Simon this pure and utter happiness for the first time in his life. He’d been to hell and back and only god knows why. But someone out there had sent him an angel— a savior, and he was more than happy to be called yours and only yours for the rest of his life.
••●••
With less than half the people you’d intended to come, your wedding was, in every single way, perfect.
You were surrounded with nothing but love and support, so much so, you could see Simons eyes watering no matter how hard he tried to hide it. John was the officiant, a man Simon had trusted with everything in him, it was only right to marry the two of you. You even asked for his blessing, through a deep belly laugh he told you yes.
The only real debate was if your wedding cake should be carrot cake or red velvet.
You told Simon, carrot cake was too old and too picky to be a wedding cake.
Simon told you red velvet cake was just chocolate cake with red food dye.
Yes, there was a great, presidential-esc debate about it. So much so, you had to leave the bakery and come back two days later, both of you with unwavering opinions. The only thing you did agree on is that having the cake half carrot half velvet would be gross.
“Why don’t you two just have two small cakes and the guests can have cupcakes?” Offered through a huff, tired of the bickering.
And that’s what happened.
Both of you cutting your own small, two tiered cakes and feeding the other.
No, Simon did not wipe your face with cake.
Just a little icing on your neck, and he sucked it clean off. Naturally, you had to match it. A hickie being seen on both of your necks in all your wedding photos then on.
You’d go on a honeymoon at a later date, till then, Simon carried you princess style over the threshold. The biggest smile he ever had on his face.
Up until you two saw the state of the first floor. Fully, and obnoxiously decorated with fake lanterns, beach balls, fake grass skirts around the tables, a little container full of sand with a umbrella, blue streamers on the ground of the living room to represent “water” with a paddle board and shot glasses that said, ‘aloha’ and the like— to top it off?
A large sign having on the walls that said, ‘Welcome to paradise! (adjacent :) )’
“Who the hell did all this?” You scream laughed, clutching your stomach. It was ridiculous and Simon rubbed at his temple, voice laced with annoyance, “Soap and Gaz I’m fuckin sure.”
You looked around the island of the kitchen, spread out with pictures of your siblings, a few of both you and Simon from when you were younger, your sure Gaz brought over to decorate this mess.
“Oh John’s here too!” You smile at the picture of John, Soap ad Gaz all too big and muscular but crowded in the small frame.
You took another look around, giggling at the silliness of it all. And then the quiet filled the air, heart pumping. Almost like the air completely shifted.
“Mrs. Riley,” oh, didn’t that just roll off the tongue ever so nicely?
You, Mrs. Riley. didn’t it sound good?
Simon’s hands found your hips, moving your hair out the way, lips trailing from the back of your neck to your chest.
“You mind,” kiss, “if I” another, “take my sweet wife,” another, “upstairs? Think it’s bout time I treat her.”
Your stomach could’ve fallin out your ass. You gulped, slowly nodding only to yelp right after, Simon throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“I-I got a little surprise for you Mr. Riley, if a wait a little.” You giggled, patting his back as he slowly went up the steps.
“How long I have to wait?”
“Like ten minutes.”
What a lie that was. A flat out lie. You were ready fifteen minutes ago. Why? Well you were eager. Wanting, and now have spent the last five minutes pacing the bathroom like it was your first time.
This was the opposite of that.
Just the first time as husband and wife.
“I don’t mind fuckin you in there darlin, ain’t a issue.” Your legs almost gave out from his voice alone. But you made sure the door was locked, doing another revamp of your hair.
“You can’t! We have to do it in bed first.”
“Yeah, first.” Simon scuffed, sitting on the bed just like you told him to. His buttoned shit found it’s was to the laundry bin, shoes and socks off.
“Your eyes are closed?” You asked from the bathroom, fixing the last bit of your lingerie.
A groan, “Yes ma’am.”
“You sound like you’re lyin!”
Another groan through the door, followed by a huff, “they’re closed I swear it, lucky. Come on now, been waitin for ever.”
You let out a sharp inhale, slowly opening the door.
“No peaking” you warn, tip toeing to lean yourself against the wooden dresser.
“[+], I ain’t peakin,” he was, but he could only see your damn socks, so he settled with being surprised. Following your voice across the room. He was already half hard.
You cleared your throat, adjusting yourself one last time. “Okay, you can open.”
Maybe this was the after life. Maybe you were an Angel.
A sight for sore eyes, you were against the dresser in an off white two piece lingerie hugging your breasts and hips, matching lace knee highs with bows on them, a lace garter hugging your thigh, with a pinned veil in your hair. Delectable.
Beautiful.
“Well, say something Mr. Riley! I’m embarrassed!” Your cheeks flushed, eyes looking elsewhere.
The blonde stood, slowly crossing the room to trap you inbetween his large build and the dresser.
He gave you a little smile, a scar that ran through his pink lips moving upward, “You’re cute as shit when you blush.”
“You can’t even see it!”
He presses your foreheads together, holding your chin in his fingers, “You look real pretty [+]. Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen my whole life.”
And you decide to melt, right in his arms, right then and there. He catching you, laughing against your lips. Kissing you soft. Slow. Slipping his tongue in your parted and your mouth ever so sweetly.
He lifts you by the hips, then setting you in his lap at the end of the bed.
You gently pull away, hands on his “I’m tremblin so much. I’m sorry, can’t really think straight.” You giggle, you feel foolish. You’ve done it with Simon countless times but felt so nervous right now.
But he’s sweet, rubbing your back, he kisses you once more, “We can take our time dolly, let you get comfortable.”
You thank him, god what a fucking sweetheart. His large hands slowly foldles all over you, squeezing and pulling. Slowly taking everything off, everything but that garter and knee highs. Simon would need to engrave the sight in his brain. Your pretty nipples all hard, long lashes peeking through to him. He sticks two fingers in your mouth, you suck on them for a bit before he pulls them out trailing down to your already gushing cunt. You let out a ragged breath as he easing his fingers inside you.
He thrusts his fingers inside your tight walls “Come on darlin, take mine out. ‘S all yours.”
You do, taking hiss length out of his boxers. It’s hard, rushing with blood and veins, a strawberry red mushroom tip.
You gulp, eyes stuck on his his large length. Practically salivating, “Always so big Mr. Riley.”
“Ain’t shit you can’t handle,” he whispers in your ears and you shudder at his words, Simon gives your gummy pink more thrusts. You grind down on him, finally finding a bit of your senses and pumping your hand around Simons dick. You’re both panting, rocking your hips against each other, both needing, desperately wanting more.
You whimpered, biting your lip as your head fell on his shoulder, “Mr. Riley- please-“ you walls tighten around his two fingers and he slowly drags them out. Sucking them both while looking right at you. You shudder, head feeling dizzy, panting and grinding down in his lap.
“Aht, aht, Mrs. Riley don’t be so impatient. Gotta take my time with ‘er sweetheart.” He smirks against your lips. Pecking them once before laying you on the bed, getting in between your legs land slapping his aching cock on his slick clit. A hiccup of a moan escaping your mouth while he rubs his dick between your pussy lips.
“You’re not bein fair Simon.” You pout, trembling at his badly you wanted him inside. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
“Guess I’ll have to listen when you call me that. Right baby?”
You give another sheepish nod, Simon stretched your dripping hole with his tip, sliding right in your velvety walls, that clung to him with every inch he gave you. The blonde’s tip brushing against your cervix. He almost losses his vision at how good you feels how fucking warm you are. He curses, caressing your hips while he takes a deep breath,
“Christ, lucky, who’s makin you so wet lil girl? Huh?”
“M-my husband,” you slurred, toes curling while he pushed your knees to your forehead, folding you half and splitting you open with his large cock.
“That’s right honey. Yer sweet ‘nd lovin. Husband.” And he rams it into you, deep. Giving you harsh thrusts, torturing your poor cunt as the loud slap, slap, slap of your thighs smacking together hits the walls of your bedroom.
“Mr. Riley, hold me!” You mewl, your arms already reaching out for him. Fuck, he can’t get enough to you’d already fucked out and wanting to feel him on you. He does so, making sure to press more of his weight into you as he fucks— no- loves into you juuuust right. His mouth reaches your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips before trailing to your ear. Sucking and biting at it that makes you moan.
He curves his dick into you, swiveling his hips just for his tip to brush against your g-spot. You claw at his arms, shivering and tears form in your eyes. Your sobbing,
“Fuck, Mr- aanh- mmph- Mr. Riley! ‘M gonna cum!” You claw at his back, thighs shaking and Simon bites at your jaw. His hand, adorned with his wedding band, pinches your clit. Grunting once you clench around him and he rubs at it vigorously.
“Fuck baby, show your husband how a good wife makes a mess. Yeaaah pretty, alll over my dick.”
The knots in your stomach finally release themselves, you shudder, clamping down on the blondes length and clinging onto his cock. Milking him for what he’s worth. “That’s it girl, shi- thaaaat’s it. Gonna take my fuckin cum, deep. Damn pretty,”and his tip twitches inside you, ropes of his seed flying inside you womb. And he gives you deeper thrusts to make sure sticks.
He pays your stomach that’s already starting to bulge, “Gonna keep you nice ‘nd full tonight lucky.”
Please, do. But you couldn’t even babel it out. You just yanked Simon closer by his blonde strands as you attach your lips to his. Molding you two together.
••●••
Your hand loudly bangs against the wall of your bedroom. The sun was creeping up in the sky, the crickets ceasing to chirp while the birds begun their songs.
You were drunk on his dick, looking back while he worked into you. One hand on your hip, the other mushing your face into the wall. You don’t even remember getting over here. You’re sure you’d been running half way through and made up so excuse, mumbling that you had to go to the bathroom. That 6’4 freak of a man couldnt wait, a couple seconds for you to hobble back to the bed so he met you half way.
Fucking you right on the floor before pressing you into the wall, nipples brushing the cool paint with every thrust. You shimmied your ass back on him, smirking stupidly as the loud sound of your juices sloshing was heard. Simon groans as you fuck him back
You hiccuped, sputtering out your words, “Mr hicc- Mr. Riley?”
“Yeeees Mrs. Riley.” Simon teased, giving your ass a nice slap, plummeting into your sobbing cunt. There was a ring that formed at the bottom of his dick, your mixed cum down his thighs and clinging to his dark pubic hair.
“I fuck- fuckin looooove you soooo much. Gonna make you happy for- hicc- hmm- the rest of your life. I pwomise.” Your lashes were wet with tears, so gorgeous. So adorable.
Simon croons, ocean eyes finding yours and wiping a stray tear away. “I love you too, my lucky girl. So fuckin amazin. All for me. I’ll- damn it- gonna be good to you too.”
You nodded, dumbly. Barley hearing his words before your eyes closed. He yanks you back by your hair, giving you a sloppy, wet kiss. Pulling away with a smack, Simon growls, bullying his cock into your faster. Harder. Sobs escaping you as you feel it, that electric feeling coursing through your veins. Your toes curling, and you shake, walls suddenly coated with Simon’s white cum while you spasm around him.
He entertains both of your hands together, holding you against his chest while you both cum. Simon leaves soft pecks on your cheeks, rocking you both through climax. Your skin is sticky and hot.
“Fuck, so happy to be married to ya darlin.”
a/n: As always lmk what you think. There’s also plot in this that will make more sense (imo) in little drabbles so I’ll do those soon. Oh, fully inspired by II Hands II Heaven by Beyoncé. I highly recommend. I love yew <3
or: you want a dog, Country!Simon has other plans.
cw: 2.6k wrds, 18+ mdni, smut with plot, no use of y/n, country!simon, use of vibrator, handcuffs, p in v, unprotected sex, safe word (check in), overstim, squirting, pet names (lucky, lil girl, baby, darlin), lucky!reader.
“Can we get a dog Mr. Riley?”
Simon Riley pauses, taking off his black Cowboy hat to look at you.
The day has finally come to a close a little early for once, the sun was still up. Simon had ravished you so wonderfully this morning, you barely had the strength to put the pot roast in the slow cooker.
You’d been a little dumbfounded all day, spending most of the time after a shower, wrapped up in a thin sheet reading, napping, and thinking. But the other day, you’d encountered someone in town who had the cutest, fluffiest and biggest saint benard you’d ever seen. You spent at least 15 minutes petting it and then the elderly woman offered to let you walk it for a bit and you got overjoyed.
You could do it, be a dog mom. Probably.
You had fun in those 30 or so minutes, and they looked like they were having fun, so you wanted one too.
“No. No we can’t.” He continues, setting the hat down on the little coffee table you’d placed on the balcony to your bedroom. It faced the back of the house, and thank god it did, because no one would be able to see you half nude and stunning, you legs propped up on the banister in a rocking chair, looking up at him with those big brown eyes.
Made his dick twitch in the tight dress pants he had on.
You pout, “But Mr. Riley-“
—Don’t ‘Mr. Riley’ me now lucky,” he chided, setting his bolo tie down too and taking off his mask.
“Your job is t’take care of them cats and the 4 chickens, ain’t it?”
“They’re barn cats! And a chicken isn’t a pet!”
“ ‘N all seven ‘f them barn cats are yours cause ya didn’t wanna just get that one little bastards nuts cut off! Plus, you begged me to keep that Joansey horse, said you’d take of ‘em and all, and now look who’s takin care of ‘em?” He cocked an eyebrow.
You huff, folding your arms across your chest, “You.” You murmur.
He turns his head, pulling his earlobe, “I’m sorry?”
“You, Mr. Riley.” You sit back in the rocking chair.
“That’s what I thought. ‘Nd fuck are we gonna do with a dog? Kids gonna be runnin ‘round here soon enough.”
You can’t help the silly grin that grows on your face at that, turning slightly in your seat, and covering yourself and your face more with the sheet.
“Ain’t pregnant yet.”
And you feel his hand touch your back, the other large hand lifting your chin upward. He pulls his mask down, finally revealing that handsome, scar ridden face. He kisses you long, letting his tongue glide across your lips for quick access into your mouth.
He pulls away, low ocean blue eyes staring down at you, “Soon, baby soon.”
And he says it like it’s just, like he’s seen it before. You were worried at first, you’re not trying per say, the both of you are lolly gagging. If it happens, so be it, if not? Oh well. But Simon loves the idea of you waddling around with a round stomach, him having to help you put your shoes on and a little yous running around the big house and farm. He can almost taste it at the tip of his tongue. Has you all lost in his gaze and heart pounding out your chest, you almost forget what the he’ll you’re talking about. Almost.
He walks back into the bedroom and you’re following him in a hurry, snatching the hat and bolo tie to be put on his side of the long dresser, “We need a dog to play with the kids! And it’s lonely bein in here all day.”
Well sure it’d be lonely, but you’re lying because you’re not, in any shape or form, a home body. You’re out and about around town or at home, by the neighbors, or feeding the few cows at the farm nearby. You’ve always got something to do.
He rolls his eyes, while he takes off his button down shirt, he hates the formal shit. Truly hates it, but Price dragged him along for connections, have more people buying horses off him so he went. He thinks for a moment, pure mischief on his mind as he turns to face you.
All doe eyes, curls still a mess from this morning because you couldn’t bather to fix it.
“How about,” he starts, slipping his hand on your bare waist and pulling you closer, “if you call me by name for a week. And try that little thing I been wantin’ to use and not pass out on me, I’ll get you whatever dog you want.”
Aw, hell.
It should be easy, really fuckin easy. But the only time you call him by name is when you’re mad or dead serious about something, you never say his name casually. You’ve tried, but it makes you all jittery, can’t even bother looking him in the eye.
And that little thing— so embarrassing. He’d brought it up a few times and you immediately refused.
But to get a dog? Come on [+], woman up!!
You clear your throat, hands tightening around the cloth that’s been covering you “S-sure. I can do it.”
And he gives you a devilish grin, pecking your lips to seal the new promise.
“Let’s start tomorrow then,” he playfully squeezes your cheeks and winks, “Know it takes some time for you get used to it.”
You gasp, smacking his shoulder, “Fuck you! Get out a face!”
And he does, chuckling away, while you throw yourself onto your fluffy bed.
Fuck, it’d be a long week.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🍀 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Damn it, you should’ve just told Simon no and threw a fit to get that dog.
Better yet, just go to the adoption center two towns over and get one. Deal with the repercussions later. But you've got yourself a relationship belt of communication and trust. So that wasn’t really an option.
You tried really hard that first day, a stuttering blushing fool you were trying to say his name in a normal manner. Even practiced before he got up for the day, whispering his name on the couch till you fell a sleep.
“Mr. Riley?” You mumbled, half sleep as he lifted you up to put you back in bed.
You’d already failed. He’d give you another chance.
“Yeah baby, I got you. You can go back to sleep.”
You woke up later that morning groaning, all the practicing gone down the drain.
The second day, Simon had got you flowers and a card, how were you supposed to face him head on when he’d gone and given you that sweet gesture? Lunch came and you couldn’t bother looking at him, a scowl on your face as you look out the window, “Mr- I mean- S-Simon. Thank you for the card. A-and the flowers. They’re very nice.”
And he comes and hugs you from behind, you’re sure he can feel your heart through your chest, “You’re very welcome [+]. See? Ain’t too hard t’say my name.”
And you shoved him off you, sick of his teasing because he knew exactly what he was doing.
You’d given up the third day, tired of it all. But willing to let him do that little thing. All to get what you wanted.
“Fuck, should I ‘ve handcuffed your feet t’the bed too?”
You whimper, chest rising and falling, “No.”
“Then keep those legs open lil girl.”
It was so, so embarrassing, having him take you in like this. You’d be “gifted” handcuffs from your friends on your wedding night, and thankfully hidden them in the little box you kept in the bathroom closet. So sure, Simon wouldn’t know what was in there.
But sure enough, he approached you one night with that stupid box in his lap. Handcuffs, some vibrators and a dildo. It was the second time he’d seen you so bashful.
The first being when he caught you moaning after spanking you raw.
You went on rambling, how they were just rewards you got for buying some lingerie sets, and one of the vibrators you used in college was broken and just in there for good memory.
A bunch of fucking nothing, the older man just knew he wanted to be the one using a couple of the objects in the box with you. Ease you into tying you up more in bed.
You’d look real pretty in bondage.
Till then, he had you naked as the day you were born, handcuffed to the bed, biting your lip and slowly opening your legs to get inbetween them.
“Oh darlin,” he coos, blue eyes fixated on the pretty drool coming out of your entrance. “All nervous ‘nd shit but yer all wet down here.”
His thumb glides along your pussy lips, spreading them open to see that cute growing little button.
“Fuck, wanna eat you so bad baby.” He mumbles to himself, tracing his fingers around you. You flinch, the handcuffs ‘clang’ against the metal of the headboard, but you let out a little moan, more slick coming out of you.
“But I can’t be greedy, not yet. Gotta take me time.” He murmur again, eyes stuck on you, desperate lil thang.
You whimper again, “Need it Si- mmm- please.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “Need what?” Fingers still caressing your pussy.
“Need your fingers Mr. Riley, please.” You hiccup, pushing you pussy into his hands for some type of traction but to no avail.
And then you hear it, the vibrating wand in his hand turned up just a little bit.
“Let’s see how wet you can get, baby.” A cynical grin on his face, bringing the wand to your clit. And it’s electric, your eyes widening as you feel the vibrations on your sensitive bud. Your hips buck, mewling and huffing as Simon rotates the wand on you,
“Feels so, it’s so-“
“I knooow lucky,” he practically sings, “fuck, your cunts fuckin beggin t’be full of me, clenchin ‘round nothin ‘n all.”
You cry out in pleasure, you hole clenching and unclenching as you cum. But Simon doesn’t give you a break, bringing the vibrator down to your entrance and back up to your clit, then back down again, watching as your eyes roll back to your skull, your legs shaking.
“So fuckin slutty, haven’t even given ya whatcha wanted and yer a fuckin mess.” He snickers.
“It’s- angh- o-oh! Shiiiit!”
And he slips a thick digit in your wanting hole, slowly slipping it in and out. Your hips buck, uncontrollably cumming again.
“I can’t- wait- I- ahh- please-“ you sob, pussy trembling, and body quivering, pulling at the handcuffs.
“Please, what dollie?,” he smacks his lips, he bends down closer to you, keeping the vibrator steady. He smirks in your waterlined vision, “We’re just gettin started.”
And he’s not stopping, finger fucking you, long fingers hitting your sweet gooey spots and rubbing that vibrator rotating around your swollen clit. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, till—
“ ‘S mmph- ‘s weird, so weird” you mewl, panting, trying to back yourself out of the older man’s grasp, but he pulls you against his chest. Wraping his arm around you and then bring the vibrator back down to your button like a magnet. Licking down your chest and bringing a hardened nipple into his mouth, his other hand harshly pumping his three fingers into you.
“What is?” He asks innocently, nibbling around your areola, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s been trying to get out of you the last 4 orgasms. Your stomach coils, and you sob, shaking your head, “Fuck, Mr.- hicc- aaaangh- Mr. Riley!! Mr. Riley!”
It’s as if it’s the only thing you knew how to say, you don’t know what’s come over you, that little feeling in you releases, head falling back into the pillows as your entire body trembles at the violent orgasm. Water spraying all over his arms and the bed.
“Oh thaaaat’s my girl,” he purrs in satisfaction, peppering kisses all over your skin. “My beautiful, beautiful darlin. Knew you had it in you.”
He pulls his fingers out of your abused cunt, sucking up every bit of juice you left on him. He groans, “So damn sweet, such a good girl f’me.”
His hands trial all over you as he climbs in between your thighs, up to your arms then down to your hips. Kneading you in his hands, “You with me baby? Hm? What’s your color?” Simon says sweetly, so soft.
You’re still coming down from your high, you feel like you're floating, head in the clouds. You open your mouth to say something but only a croak comes out, a soft mewl.
“ ‘S okay honey. Can you find your words? Here,” and he finds the water from the nightstand, taking a sip of it and then feeding it to you. Making sure you swallow it properly.
Your big brown eyes find his, slowly blinking, “Green.”
The blonde curses joyfully, letting out a breathy laugh against your lips, “You’re so fuckin good f’me lucky, love you so much.”
And he attaches his lips to yours, tossing the vibrator to the side and pulling his jeans off. He grinds his pre cum stained boxers onto you slow and you whine, hooking your legs around his waist.
“God damn, so needy for me huh? Need to be stuffed properly.” He rolls his hips into yours, getting a sweet keen.
“Yesss please.” You say deliriously.
Damn, such good manners since he married you. Simon slides his boxers down just enough to while his aching member out, stuffing you as best as he can in your pussy that’s clinging onto ever inch of him for dear life.
He throws his head back as your back arches off the bed, both of you consumed by the amazing feeling of each other. Simon’s jaw clenchs, rocking into you further, deeper, smacking your ass a few times.
“There we fuckin go baby, therrre you fuckin go.” He drawls out, pushing your curls back as he rests his head on your shoulder.
You’re already gushing, the squelching sound filling your ears as he begins to ram into you, holding onto you tightly as if you could go anywhere. “So- hck- soo fuckin filthy Mrs. Riley, she’s fuckin cryin up a storm when that pretty pussy’s enjoyin this more than me” he groans.
All you can do is moan, clutching onto the headboard as it bangs against the wall, the cuffs stinging around your wrists but it just ads to the pleasure happening all over your body. The bed creaks as his mean hips meet yours. Simon’s curved and thick cock fills your mushy walls so perfectly.
Simon low eyes take you in, fully gone on his dick, you whimper, “Ah- It’s not gonna- I can’t cummm, too muchhh!”
You’re just babbling nonsense, your cunt is saying otherwise, getting tighter by the fucking second while he drills you.
“Naw, naw, nawww baby, you got it, just feel it.” He reassures you, fucking you faster, sucking your neck.
“Mr- uuughhh- shiit- Mr. Riley I can’t!” Your cry out, tears flowing down your face.
Simon scuffs, not stopping for a second while he lets his hand find your little button, rubbing the sensitive little thing in between his fingers as you sob and shake and then pinching it.
“Like hell you can’t.” He hisses, shivering as you squirt on him one more time, your juices drenching his abs. Clamping down around him so desperately, practically begging for his cum. With a twitch of his dick, globs of his white substance enter deep in your guts.
And you’re out like a light after that, the mess you’ve both created running down your thighs.
You weren’t getting a fucking dog, poor thing didn’t stand a chance.
Simon liked pussy’s so much more.
a/n: a couple things: I know I said I was gonna write lucky!reader pregnant. Let me write one more thing first😭. Is this what I wanted out? No but this is fun! Is this some variation of a sir kink? idk!🤭😭 like I got southern cousins who do that with their husbands, it’s hot!!! If you made it to the end, lmk what you think!! Love you💕💕😭
