Everyone knows that heat takes a toll on a hybrids body, smaller and more fragile breeds especially. So when Price’s little bunny hybrid is panting on the bed, exhausted after a straight three rounds of his caring love?
He knows he should stop.
But she really is begging.
She’s so pretty like this, silky ears and little pink bows, hair all messy and sticking to her skin. So pretty, little lashes fluttering in overstimulation, and that puffy little pussy just oozing out his cum.
It makes Price swell with pride.
Seeing her take it so well. Watching the way her sweet little eyes glaze over, his little bunny getting all cock drunk and woozy as he slaps his fat tip back against her pussy lips.
She squeaks, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard.
Price grins as she whimpers, hips both trying to get away and pull his cock back in, all at the same time. He maneuvers his tip up, red and angry and definitely sore, just from the grip this little cunt has on him.
“Calm down pretty mama… gotta make sure it sticks, yeah? That’s what heat is for…”
He makes it another couple of inches before she squeaks again, panting and straining. He knows he’s big, but with the way her pussy flutters she makes it seem like he’s forcing a lot more in. He chuckles darkly, smoothing down her hair.
Another soft thrust of his hips, forcing in another inch or two.
“That’s it… you need a big cock, yeah? A big cock? For such a small bunny?”
Her frantic nodding is what motivates him to shove the rest in with a groan. Hips to pelvis, balls up against her as his body begs to fill her up again. Breed her. Make her carry his kits.
Hybrids only have heat for one reason, anyway.
“That’s it… let me help you sweetheart… let me help you out…”
And sure enough, all it takes is a few weeks time. She’s out of heat and back roaming around base, being all perfect and cuddly to soldiers that need emotional support.
It disgust Price when the other men try and touch her, talk to her, wave to her. But he knows that swelling in her belly is his.
Simon has made plenty of mistakes in his life, one of them being leaving you for another hookup. But when he shows up again, baby in hand and a duffel bag in the other, what can you do?
Because even if that baby isn’t your, it certainly feels like it is. Only when Simon’s there.
Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader
Tags: technically baby trapping, parenting, single parents/co parents, reference to parental neglect, details relating to breastfeeding, pregnancy symptoms, smut (eventually), reference to previous injuries during intercourse (not between characters), tension that doesn’t quite count as angst but is tense enough to raise some eyebrows, second chance romance 🩵
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.
XoXo-Razz.writes
The guest bedroom wasn’t huge, but it certainly wasn’t small.
Simon could make do. No, he could treasure it as the gift it was. Soft blue covers with fluffy white pillows, a cream colored blanket draped over the edge of the bed.
It was perfect.
You clear your throat, still holding the door for Simon as his mind seems to clear, blinking a few times before hiking his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder. He readjusts his grip on Kai’s carrier, sighing softly and pushing into the room.
He lets the duffel bag fall into the corner, placing the carrier on the bed too. It’s always tricky to get Kai’s buckles undone, but when he’s tired, stressed and practically shaking with the shock of you actually letting him stay, it’s a new type of struggle.
Kai looks up at his dad, those same soft blonde locks falling in small wisps over his head. He blinks up at Simon. Coos softly.
Simon sighs.
“I know buddy… this shit’s tricky. Give me a sec…”
You sigh, watching Simon in his struggles. The weight of the world on his shoulders, the tiny hand wrapped around his finger, looking up at the man you used to know with expectations. A tiny little life… that he has to care for all on his own.
You slip from the door, swallowing hard. It feels odd to want to help… heart pounding with the fear of overstepping. But Simon just looks so damn tired… probably busy traveling and trying to find a place to stay. Trying to find a way to raise a small baby by himself.
And as much as you’re scared, you can feel for him. Because that’s still the man you used to know, the one that used to whisper into your ear after sex. Hold you close and press kisses to your neck. A kiss for a secret… and he told you all of them.
Your hands reach out, brushing past Simon’s as you work the carrier straps. The click of each clip, slowly maneuvering the black strips out from under Kai’s arms. The little baby’s eyes go wide, cooing softly as he looks up at you.
Those same hazel eyes as Simon’s. Fuck it hurts, seeing a tiny version of him… a tiny version that has nothing to do to you. No ties to you or your life with him.
He’s not yours.
You clear your throat and take a step back, looking up at Simon and blinking a few times to clear the weird fog taking over your vision. A few heartbeats pass as he stares back at you, shoulders relaxing and war hardened eyes tracing over your face.
Your hair is shorter, cropped right above your breasts. Are they bigger? Is it just the shirt you’re wearing? Simon can’t tell. But your eyes are just as fucking gorgeous as the day he left, lashes just as long and wispy despite the pain he watches you hide. Every glance at Kai that makes your heart swell and deflate in a matter of milliseconds.
“…thank you. Means a lot to me, sunshine…”
You nod, glancing down at the small baby that he picks up. Kai is dwarfed in his father’s arms, tiny and wide eyed, curious about the world.
“Yeah… of course.” You look over to the duffel bag on the floor, sighing softly. Simon’s entire life, along with his sons, packed up into a single bag. “Do you have formula? I can heat up some water if you want…”
Simon nods, hoisting Kai to his hip and moving to his duffel bag. He grunts softly as he picks it up, placing it on the bed and rustling through it. A few minutes later, and he holds out the package to you with a small smile.
“I’ll come and heat it up if you show me where your microwave is-”
“I got it.” You say suddenly, almost surprising yourself with the sincerity and determination in your voice. For a moment, you panic… maybe you overstepped. “Y-You just look really tired… you can take a nap, I can feed him and put on Tv, it’s fine if not-”
“Thank you.”
Simon says softly, cutting you off. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are tired, but for the first time since he stepped onto your porch, he looks like… Simon. Hardened, yes… a soldier through and through. But almost… calm. Peaceful just to be in your preach as. Happy.
He hands you Kai carefully, smiling and grabbing his bottle too. You cradle Kai with both arms, hanging onto the box of formula and his bottle with a free hand. One last look at Simon as you walk to the door.
And the first smile he’s seen from you in a while.
The door closes with a soft click as you exhale slowly, looking down at the baby in your arms, now that you’re alone. Kai looks up at you carefully, tilting his head and cooing.
And then he giggles.
Your eyes widen in surprise as the baby giggles up at you, tiny hands fisting your shirt. He’s definitely curious, and eyeing your breasts like his next meal. You snort, because he probably thinks they are.
“Sorry baby… no milk for you there. Come on.”
You pat his back, walking downstairs and back into the kitchen. Placing the formula and bottle down, you pause and think. You said Simon could stay a week… maybe you shouldn’t buy a baby bottle heater.
It doesn’t stop you from wanting to.
Kai coos up at you again as you sigh and nod, daring to press a soft kiss to his head. It’s irresistible, the soft forehead with the same fluffy hair as Simon.
It takes a few minutes for the water to heat, and you scoop powdered formula into Kai’s bottle while you wait. He rests at your hip, starting to get more and more demanding, pawing small hands at your breast and even tugging down your shirt to reveal your bra.
You just shoot the baby a look.
“Just like your father… you like my tits a little too much.”
When the water finally heats, you’re able to pour it into his bottle and shake it up. The previously peaceful baby boy is now on the verge of tears, soft little coos turned to hungry cries as you try and shush him. Rock him and bounce him at your hip, finally passing the bottle to his lips.
The relief on his face is immediate, and so is the relief on yours. Sighing, you hike him up higher against your chest, moving to the living room with a once again peaceful baby. He suckles his bottle noisily, looking up at you with wide eyes all too similar to Simon’s.
But the pain they leave behind is slowly ebbing.
You find a nice seat tucked into the corner of the sofa, grabbing a spare towel from the laundry basket on the floor first. You’re sure Simon has a burping cloth, but it’s not like you’re going to go and wake him. That man needs a nap more than his son right now.
Kai suckles against your chest as you scroll through the Tv, finding an episode of some reality show you were busy watching. Nothing life changing, surely not… but a background noise as your attention is trained on Kai.
With him so close to your chest, it almost feels like you’re the one feeding him. Like that pulse and beat of your heart matches his… and the want to care for the small baby like a mother he doesn’t have. You shouldn’t get attached, you took Simon and Kai in because he had nowhere else to go.
Because deep down, you still love him.
You know you shouldn’t. He hurt you in a way no one else ever has. Because of some mistake along the way to what you hoped would someday be permanent. But you understand why he had to… he had a son. Has one… the small boy cradled close in your arms, head pressed against your chest and tiny hands wrapped around yours. Feeding him a bottle.
A bottle you know you’ll heat up again and again and again. Maybe a baby bottle heater is a good investment… scratch that, it has to be. It cost £60 anyways, so it might as well work.
This next week is going to be hard. And exciting, and wonderful. Painful, to be so close to Simon again.
Simon has made plenty of mistakes in his life, one of them being leaving you for another hookup. But when he shows up again, baby in hand and a duffel bag in the other, what can you do?
Because even if that baby isn’t your, it certainly feels like it is. Only when Simon’s there.
Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader
Tags: technically baby trapping, parenting, single parents/co parents, reference to parental neglect, details relating to breastfeeding, pregnancy symptoms, smut (eventually), reference to previous injuries during intercourse (not between characters), tension that doesn’t quite count as angst but is tense enough to raise some eyebrows, second chance romance 🩵
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.
XoXo-Razz.writes
Simon didn’t plan on showing up back in front of your soft blue apartment door ever again.
Well, he had dreamt of it. A few times in fact, never intentionally. It was like you were just trying to pry yourself up, open and back into his life.
And yet here he was.
Most definitely not dreaming.
The door looked more imposing than he remembered. Still pale blue, windows shiny and clean despite the occasional speck of dirt that met the glass by the way of the wind. If he wanted to, he could bend down and peer inside, maybe catch you dancing around the living room in socks and a book in your hand, humming to music like he knows you often do.
But the baby carrier in his hands stops him from doing much.
He sighs and sets his shoulders again, duffel bag straps digging into hardened, muscular shoulders. He feels like his hands should be shaking harder than they actually are as he reaches out to press the doorbell, letting the sound reverberate through your apartment.
Instead, it’s eerily steady.
His finger waits on the button, almost frozen against the small pad for a couple of seconds before he takes it off. His rough, gloved hands go back to resting on the straps of his duffel bag, a small baby in the carrier beside him looking up and cooing.
Simon looks down. Blinks at the baby once. Huffs softly.
Looks back at the door.
“…she won’ let us in, mate. If she’s even here… I doubt it.”
He says to the baby, though he holds no eye contact with it. Just stares at that soft blue door, watching the wood and letting his eyes follow the grain. Watching the way the spirals guide him, all the way down to-
A very, definitely female chest.
His gaze snaps up to where you stand in the doorway, shock written all over your face. The same, gorgeous face he has never, and will never forget. He’s sure of it.
He clears his throat, opening his mouth to say something. To introduce himself? No… you already know him. Explain? Yes… but you might need to sit down for the length of it.
You beat him to it anyways.
“Simon? What the hell are you doing here, and-is that a baby?”
Simon sighs, previously set straight and tall shoulders dropping, but not relaxing. He looks tired… defeated. Burnt the hell out.
You swallow hard when you get no answer, taking in a sharp breath as you both just stand there. Looking at each other, exchanging the same glances that give you nothing. Tell you nothing.
Just standing. Watching each-other. Your intense stare trying to read anything Simon will give you, any notion of a hint.
His. Staring blankly back, tired. Relief, maybe… tugging at the corners of those dark hazel eyes. Relief that you’re okay… all in one piece. Safe… even though he shouldn’t care.
So slowly, you step out onto the steps in front of your flat. Let the soft blue door close behind you, shutting with a soft thud as you look up at Simon. Swallow… what? You’re not sure. Maybe your pride, maybe just the awkward lump in your throat constant around Simon.
“What’s going on, Simon?”
He sighs, meeting your eyes as he readjust the straps on his shoulders. He slides the duffel bag up, stretching and rolling his shoulder a bit before fixing his grip on the baby carrier. You look down at the pudgy yet sleeping face there, taking in a soft and unsteady breath.
Simon clears his throat again.
“He’s mine. He’s uh… he’s Charlotte’s… and mine.”
Your gaze snaps back up to Simon, lashes blinking in what might be surprise, a little bit of hurt. Maybe shock at his audacity… though it’s something you should have expected.
Charlotte. The woman he left you for.
Well… not technically.
“…of course. Charlotte, how could I forget…” you scoff, tone laced with venom. Icy, cold venom you hope conveys the message to want to say to him. What you think about Charlotte.
Simon sighs and nods, swallowing hard. “She left.”
You freeze.
“…four months after Kai was born. She wasn’t really present for the four months anyways… never home. Drunk when she was, high in between. Tried to bring guys home twice… still postpartum. An’ five days ago… she just didn’t come home. Sent… sent one text. Bye. An’ left.”
The information that’s been dumped on you leaves you spiraling, and you reach out a hand to grip the doorframe beside you, hoping to ground yourself. To prove that you’re really watching Simon, Simon Riley in front of you. In front of your house, carrying a duffel bag and a baby.
Kai. His son.
“…you should come in.”
Simon nods.
You step back, pushing open the blue door and stepping inside first, letting Simon and Kai squeeze in, duffel bag and all. You don’t know what you just did, or at least not the weight of it. Because Simon Riley hasn’t been in your home for about a year.
Not since the breakup.
Well, breakup is not the right term.
Hookups aren’t exclusive, no matter how long they go on for. For you and Simon? About a year and a half, maybe two. Night after night in the beginning, Simon winding up in your bed or you in his. It was fun, it was distracting. It was free.
you both saw other people on the side, you knew that. You were fine with that, it was just a little fling.
Until it started to get real.
Nights spent over. Staying with eachother when you’re already spent and tired, sweaty and boneless. Baths and soaps and breakfasts in Simon’s clothes. Touches lingering too long, words whispered too intimate.
And slowly, all your other hookups dissipated. His did too, for a while. It was just the two of you, heading in a downwards spiral. Too close. To fast, to high, to heavy. Like a meteor destined to crash.
So you saved it all up for one night, sitting on your kitchen island, fingers tapping against marble. You were going to tell him how you felt… that you wanted more. A relationship.
If you knew anything, it was that he felt it too.
But on that same night, he broke the news to you. That one of his hookups was pregnant… that he needed to make a choice. For the baby… he needed to be a present father. You knew what his childhood was like.
So with a fleeting glance and a hurried kiss, he was gone. And your heart was shattered, even though it had no right to be. He wasn’t yours… never had been. You may have sworn off others… he didn’t.
You let the door shut behind you as Simon walks in, the heavy duffel bag finally slipping from his shoulder. He lets it fall onto the hardwood floor, following you into the kitchen, baby carrier in hand. You guide him to the island, the same one you had talked all those months ago.
You don’t know whether you hope this conversation will go the same way or not.
You take in a shaky breath as you fill up the kettle with water, placing it onto the stove. You turn up the knob, waiting for it to click before letting the water start to heat.
Simon’s voice startles you.
“I know you don’t want to see me.”
Fuck no, you don’t want to see him. The man who hurt you more than you thought he ever would. More than you thought someone like him even could. You didn’t want him sitting here in your kitchen, with some other woman’s baby.
You take in a sharp breath.
“But I need your help, sunshine-”
“Don’t call me that.” You snap, shooting him a harsh glare. His eyes flutter a bit in surprise, but he raises his hands as a gesture of surrender.
“I need your help… please, just for a week. A week… just a place to stay, to keep Kai settled. The moving around is stressin’ me out, I-I don’t have anywhere to go… just some help, to get me back on ma feet.”
You suck in a sharp breath, hands gripping the counter in front of you. You watch the kettle start to steam, waiting for it to start huddling and whistling before you turn down the heat to the stove.
it’s a lot to process, Simon needing your help. So you try to, grabbing two mugs and two tea bags, throwing them in as you pour out the water. Make sure it steeps nice, turning around and walking to the island. You slide Simon a cup, letting silence stretch between you.
“…why me, Simon? And why should I help you?”
He sighs, but hands wrapping around the mug and dwarfing what you sometimes struggle to hold comfortably. His fingers grip the mug, tense as he glances over to the sleeping form of baby Kai. His eyes study his son before glancing up at you.
“I needed someone to trust… and I trust you. I do, sunshine… just ’cause I fucked up don’t mean I don’t lo-trust… trust ya any less.”
He sighs softly, taking a small sip of tea that earns him a soft yet stern look from you. Simon… being Simon, sipping still seeping tea without sugar or cream. He gives you a small smile. “And you have no reason to help me. Hell, ya could kick me out and I’d thank ya for lookin at me. But please, sunshine… I need your help.”
You sigh softly, grabbing a spoon from the counter to stir your tea. You walk to the sink, scooping out the bag and squishing it against the ceramic of the mug, before dropping it in the sink. You’ll clean it later.
You walk back to the counter, holding the warm mug between your hands in a hope to warm the sudden chill over your bones. You know you shouldn’t relent, you should kick the bastard out, your house already festering with enough bad memories.
You take a sip of your tea. Simon style.
“…you know you’re a fucking asshole, right Simon? That you can’t just come in here and storm my house with a baby and expect me to just let you stay the night.”
Simon opens his mouth to protest, but you hold out a hand to silence him.
“You left me. For your son? Yeah… doesn’t mean it hurt any fucking less. What you did wasn’t heroic, it wasn’t medal worthy, it was the decent thing to do for your child. It just sucks that I was your ladder to that goal.”
Another sip of tea. Another burn of bitter, steaming leaves down your throat. You won’t meet his eyes.
“…but you need help. And for some fucking reason… now felt like the perfect time for you to realize that I will always help you.”
Simon freezes, hands stilling against his cup. You finally turn to meet his gaze, taking in a shaky breath, glancing at the baby carrier. You can’t help but swallow hard.
-Simon “Ghost” Riley who isn’t as dead as you think
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆-NSFW-MDNI-⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Simon is supposed to be dead.
Scratch that, he is dead. Your boyfriend of nine months is as dead as they get, and the dog tags hanging around your neck are proof of it. The call three weeks ago from his captain is proof, and the recurring nightmares of his dead body are hard cold evidence.
The nightmares never stop.
The image of his body in front of yours. Every night he dies in a different way, bloodier than the last. He dies protecting you, always. But that makes it worse.
You don’t want to think about his death, but you catch yourself doing it more often than not. When you’re petting his-now your- dog Riley, who is in a constant panic about when his owner is going to come back. The German Shepard stays up later than you, whining throughout the night.
You don’t blame him.
You haven’t been to work in weeks. Three weeks, since the day you got the call. And yet somehow money keeps appearing, and your rent has been paid in full. Like magic.
You just lay in bed, wake up. Sit on the couch, order pizza. Watch whatever channel is on. Walk Riley.
And then you cycle back through.
So today, getting Pizza for breakfast is something not too out of the ordinary. The doorbell rings, and you pull out your wallet. A twenty dollar bill? You didn’t order that much… you can’t really temper what you order anymore.
But when you open the door, it’s not the pizza boy you see. Not at first.
You huff, stepping out a bit in a pair of Simon’s boxers and one of his shirts, RILEY in bold on the back. You fist the twenty dollar bills, reaching for a pizza before you freeze.
There is no pizza, only a hard, muscular chest that your hand collides with. Your gaze snaps up, and the money slips from your hands.
“Trying to pay me to go away, luv? Ain’t that rude…”
You let out a startled cry of surprise, eyes wide as you stumble back against the door. It pushes open, your foot landing inside the foyer to stable yourself. Because that certainly isn’t a pizza delivery guy.
That is the man you love.
Tall, no mask. Bloodied face, fried and caked onto scarred skin like sticky, gruesome mud. A cocky grin but eyes that speak every other emotion he can’t say, filled with longing, pain and relief.
He takes a step forwards. You take one back. Watch him flinch.
“…jus’ me luv. Nothin’ else…”
He says as softly as he can, holding out his hands for you to inspect. They’re cut badly, burns trailing up his arms, dipping between tendons and muscles, disappearing under his sleeve. Tattoos duller. Bloodier.
“Y-You’re dead, Simon… you’re-this isn’t real, this isn’t real-” you say, panicked breathing rising. Hyperventilating.
His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, reaching out. He looks cautious, but reaches anyway. Wraps his hands around your wrist and tugs you to his chest.
“Sh-sh-shh… hush, baby… I know, I know… I can explain it all, I’ll tell you it all…”
The tears in his eyes catch you off guard. Is much so, that you’re crying too. Fisting his shirt and burying your face into his chest. Clinging to him as he grunts in pain but pulls you impossibly tighter, closer. Pushes into your apartment and holds you against the door, kisses you like he might never again.
Because you never thought he would again.
You’re a sobbing, whimpering and sniffling mess as Simon hikes your legs up around your hips. Riley is static, bouncing around and barking as he follows the two of you into the bedroom, whining and crying. Simon laughs, a teary laugh, patting Riley’s fluffy head.
“Ya’ did good, boy… took good care of our girl…”
You sniffle into Simon’s shirt as he rubs your back, pressing kisses to your face and neck. He’s exhausted, bloody and hurt but home. Home, with you and Riley.
He takes in a raspy, shaky breath that’s more labored than it should be. Presses a kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin.
“They couldn’t find my body… saw enough blood and flesh to count me dead… found my mask… I was alone in the fucking wild for weeks, baby… and all I could think of was getting back to ya.”
You pull back a little, still hiccuping over tears as you cup his face in your hands. He looks like hell, bloody and torn. Shredded.
You take in a ragged breath, because God it hurts to look at him like that. “D-Does your team know?”
Ge nods stiffly.
“…you need a bath, baby…”
Simon snorts, a grin splitting over his weary face. He rubs your back, pulling you closer with how you straddle his lap. Riley is just happy to be here, wagging his tail as it thumps steadily on the bed.
“Yeah… I do…” he sighs softly, but his smile starts to fade. He meets your eyes, swallowing hard. “…look, baby… this is a lot to take in. I don’t want to overwhelm you, I want you to trust me but-”
You cut him off with a quick kiss to the lips, whimpering softly. Your hand slides down his jaw, thumb tracing over his jumping pulse point as you shake your head.
“I trust you, Si… trusted you the minute I say your eyes… know those eyes anywhere.”
He sighs against your lips and nods, standing and hiking you higher up him, legs tight around his waist. He pats Riley once, moving to the bathroom with you in his grip. Riley whines, and he chuckles softly.
“Sorry pup… adult time.”
You whimper softly, sniffling as he moves you both into the master bathroom, shutting the door so that no pesky dogs can get in. He sets you on the counter, pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving to the bathtub and turning on the faucet.
You watch him do it, watch Simon as he strips off his shirt and throws it to the side. You grimace as you see He scars that mar his chest, but he just smiles in your direction.
“Every one to come back to you, Luv…”
You nod, letting him pull off your shirt, another on of his really. Then he peels off the hovers you’re wearing, groaning softly. You whimper.
“I need you, Si…”
He nods, carrying you both over the bath. He tears off his cargo pants and throws them to the side, peeling of his boxers and leaving them to pool on the floor. He groans as the two of you sink into the warm, bubbly water, rubbing your back.
“I know… gonna fuck this pretty cunt right… been too long without me.”
You go to protest that he shouldn’t be fucking you, especially not when injured, but he ignores you. Grabs soap to start scrubbing your body, lathering some on the dried blood along his skin too.
And then he’s lifting you up as you squeak, dusting his cock with one hand and lining it up to your soft pussy with the other. You gasp and grip his shoulders, sinking down onto him with a low moan and a soft cry. You’ve never felt fuller than when you’re with Simon, and it feels different when you thought you lost him.
You cry out as he groans, pulsing inside of you. You’re sticky, gummy walls are too tight, and fuck he thinks he could come right here, right now. But with a shaky pant, he meets your eyes, kissing along your chest and fondling your tits.
“Gotta get clean love… gotta get clean…”
You whimper a soft yes, nodding and reaching for the soaps. Simon grips your hips, thrusting up as you do and sloshing water out of the tub. You cry out in pleasure, slipping a little.
“Simon!”
“Can’t help it luvie… missed ya too much…”
You huff and pin him with a teasing glare, squirting shampoo into your hands. You reach out, running them through Simon’s hair and trying to late her up the bloodied short blond strands as best as you can. It’s difficult when Simon’s cock won’t stop fucking up into you.
You whimper, soapy hands falling to grip his shoulders again as he grunts. His thrusts get more erratic, more intense. He shifts a bit, gripping your thighs and helping you ride him. Water slow shed out of the tub, soaking the floor around you both.
You cry out as the tip of his cock nudges against your cervix, testing the limits of your spongy walls. You whimper, panting softly.
“‘s too much Si…”
Simon grunts and shakes his head.
“Nah… you can take it luv…”
He continues at his harsh pace, panting as your hips move up and down through the water. He’s addicted to the feeling of your thighs smacking against his, the wet noises and the water soaking every surface it can. Soon enough your cunt is clenching around him, and you’re crying out in pleasure.
“Simon-”
“That’s it… come for me…”
Simon grunts, coming as you do, his cock forcing into your pussy as it spasms around him. You’ve never felt cry out and pant, sweaty forehead falling to his, the water now tainted with your cum.
You whimper softly as Simon sighs, strong arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, murmuring softly.
“never gonna die while you’re alive, luvie… not on ma’ watch…”
Simon has made plenty of mistakes in his life, one of them being leaving you for another hookup. But when he shows up again, baby in hand and a duffel bag in the other, what can you do?
Because even if that baby isn’t your, it certainly feels like it is. Only when Simon’s there.
Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader
Tags: technically baby trapping, parenting, single parents/co parents, reference to parental neglect, details relating to breastfeeding, pregnancy symptoms, smut (eventually), reference to previous injuries during intercourse (not between characters), tension that doesn’t quite count as angst but is tense enough to raise some eyebrows, second chance romance 🩵
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.
XoXo-Razz.writes
The next week was a blur.
Simon and you were tense at first, of course. Living with your ex and his son that isn’t yours, what else did you expect? But slowly, through those fateful seven days, you grow.
And seven turns into more.
You and Simon had sat down on the couch at the end of those seven days, the sun setting outside your window and casting a soft yellow hue over everything. A glass of wine in your hands, a mug of tea in Simon’s.
Soft silence fills the room, Simon sipping his tea. Watching you as you watch the sun sink lower and lower over the horizon.
And then he speaks.
“…I’m sorry, Sunshine.”
You look up, hair slipping from your messy bun and falling over your face, lashes fluttering in surprise. Simon is still staring at you, studying you. And you swear you can see his hands tighten on his mug, tension coiled in his body.
You clear your throat. “…thank you, Simon. I-It doesn’t fix things… the way you left it. But I appreciate it.”
Curse you and how easily you gave in. Simon left you for another woman’s kid, and fuck does that hurt. It burns your soul up like some sick little pyre of his love. The love that’s long rotted and decayed, some discarded scarps of meat not good enough for a sacrifice.
Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s just you and the way you cling to him in the last few weeks of what used to be. The way you wanted more because you swear he did too.
You take a sip of whine, trying to swallow the harsh reality that’s been crippling you for a week now.
Simon sips his tea again too, and you’re both back to silence.
“…I loved you when I left, Sunshine. Fuck…” Simon takes in a shaky breath, hands trembling and mind screaming with the words he can’t say. I still do. “But I din’ want to let Kai down… before ‘e was even born. My dad had eighteen fucking years to make himself better for me and Tommy, and ‘e went and fucked it all up.”
You pause as soon as the word love leaves his mouth, hands stilling on your wine glass. Simon meets your eyes, soft hazel and rimmed with the same deep brown as his morning coffee.
He loved you.
“…kind of shitty to tell me now, Si.”
he clears his throat and nod. “I-I know… just thought you should know. That I didn’t want to leave you… that you were never really just a hookup. Not at the end.”
You nod again, taking another sip of wine, and another. Until your glass is empty.
Simon Riley tends to up your alcohol consumption.
“…you’re not like him, you know that Si.”
You say after a few minutes of more tense silence. Over the years, Simon has told you more and more about his father. Opened up in the soft nights that you had together, wrapped your hair around his fingers as he whispered in your ears.
Told you that not all the scars he had were physical, not all of them from the military. That deep down, a little boy had gotten hurt first. A little boy that was scared that every time he drank, he would hurt you. Stayed away from alcohol unless things were bad, never smoked around women.
And you had listened.
“…I think I am.”
Simons voice is so hoarse it surprises you. His hands have a deathly grip on his mug, and he looks so damn stressed it makes your heart clench. He looks desperate.
“…Kai don’ have a mum, sunshine. I’m livin’ in the spare bedroom of the woman whose life I fucked up, and my kid has one failed fucking parent.”
“Simon-”
“No. You know it’s true.” Simon stands from his seat, brushing off his pants and walking swiftly to the kitchen. You hear the sound of the sink turning on, and his mug being set onto a dirty plate. “You know I’m a fuck up. Kai doesn’t have a stable place to live, I’m strugglin’ to find a job, I can’t work with a babe that small, I just-”
“Stay.”
You say, one sharp word with a shaky breath. Wine glass clenched so hard in your hand that you’re scared it will break. Curse your stupid heart and curse that part of your mind that still loves Simon Riley, and is slowly starting to love his baby like the gift he is.
Kai sleeps quietly, in a cot next to Simon’s bed, down the hall from yours. He sits on the rug and coos as he shows you his toys, his favorite one a soft, plushie dinosaur. He can’t walk or crawl, but he can babble.
He nestles into your breasts when he’s hungry, paws at them like he knows he wants food from there, like he knows that some mother has to take care of him. Simon watches as you feed him, a sense of awe in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.
So you shouldn’t be surprised when you let your thoughts slip out your mouth, but you’re too far gone now.
“…you know I can’t. We agreed a week, this is your damn house-”
“Stay, Si.”
“No, sunshine. We can’t-”
“Simon.” You say sternly, standing from the couch and turning around, locking eyes with him and where he stand in the kitchen. “Stay. You said it yourself, you can’t raise a kid out on the streets with no job. So stay, don’t go bouncing around from couch to couch, you have everything you need here. Get a job, rent a place. Then you can go.”
“Sunshine.”
“I’m not arguing. And I’m going to feed Kai.”
Within the next two months, you and Simon work out the kinks in your relationship. Not fast, just day by day. Learning to work with eachother, instead of around.
And when Kai starts crawling? You crash into eachothers arms like it’s normal again. Simon presses a kiss to your forehead, laughing with you as Kai coos from the ground. Claps his hands happily, giggles like he knows what’s going on.
Simon starts taking you out for dinner, Kai strapped into the little buggy that he can push around. You three sit at the table like a proper family, and somehow, you start to feel like one.
Whilst you look over the menu, Simon passes Kai one of his stuffed toys. A little bluebird that you picked out, one that Simon noted looked like the color of your soft blue door.
You have to admit he’s right.
You scan the menu, sighing and biting your lip as you look over the options. Simon is watching you, like he always does, a cautious eye studying the way you move. The way your nails tap against the side of the table, thinking.
Fuck, you’re as beautiful as the day he left.
He regrets it more than he should, leaving you. He loves Kai… and he’s trying to be there for him, he is. But who was there for you… was there anyone?
He clears his throat, and you look up.
“You never told me… never told me what you did. When I was gone.”
“When you left.” You correct him, looking back down at the menu. You could go for some fish and chips right now, for sure. “And what do you mean?”
Simon clears his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck. Kai starts to chew on his plush.
“Yeah… yeah, I know… I mean like, did you have a boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend?”
You freeze, narrowing your eyes as they dart up to Simon. He looks out of place and awkward, more so than you’ve ever seen him before. It’s almost… laughable.
“If I had a boyfriend, you would have noticed by now.”
“Right… um-”
“And I got with one guy, the night after you left. Got drunk, fucked a stranger like it would save me from having to think about you, and didn’t go for it again.”
Simon nods, picking up the menu after you, and looking over the options. Fish and chips… nice. “…why not?”
“I got hurt. Tore something… my lining, I think? I’m not sure, but I-”
“He hurt you?”
You look up, your nonchalant attitude starkly different from the way Simon has frozen in place. Stopped, muscles locked and jaw ticking with the force of his teeth. Your brows furrow, because you can read Simon like a book.
He’s furious.
Some fucker touched you, and that could be excused given Simon’s behavior. Was he happy about it? No.
But the fucker hurt you? Hurt you in a space only Simon wanted to be in?
“It was just an accident-”
“He could have killed you.”
You scoff, the crease between your brows deepening as you frown. Your arms cross, and the waitress notices your table. You’ll have to talk quick.
“it’s sex, not deadly-”
“But it could have been-”
“Hey! What can I get you two eat and drink?”
You both pause, simmering at each other in a slow burning sort of anger that sinks in a haze across the booth. You brush off your old injuries in a way that Simon hates, and he digs them back up with an intensity that you despise.
The waitress is oblivious to your obvious tension, all happy and smiling. Simon clears his throat, rubbing his temples and glancing back at the menu.
“Fish and chips.”
“Fish and chips.”
Your voices overlap with the same words, making your focuses shift to eachother. Simon’s harsh gaze softens slightly as the waitress nods, and Simon orders a cup of fruit for Kai, in case he wants to try some.
When she leaves, you’re left in a tense silence, Simons gaze taking up and down your body. You’re not wearing something overly dressy, just a pair of jeans and an oversized shirt. It might be his, having ended up in the wash in a recent load.
Finally, he breaks the silence.
“…I’m sorry. I overstepped, that’s not…” his hands clench, and his jaw ticks. The eyes previously tracing your figure drop down to the table. “That’s not my place anymore.”
You nod, sipping on one of the glasses of water in front of you, unsure if it’s yours or Simon’s.
“…thank you.” You sit there in another beat of silence, Kai cooing softly and patting his hands against his high chair tray. An unusually quiet baby, you think suspiciously. And this time, it’s you who breaks that quiet, your voice soft.
“…this all feels… weird. It’s new, but at the same time it’s just like… before.”
Before.
What a small word for how heavy it feels in your chest, settling down like a dead weight. The way you used to know Simon, talking and laughing in the kitchen still in your sleep clothes, early mornings and late nights pressed up against the counter.
Now you both laugh as you try to feed Kai, popping your new vitamins into your mouth and making that face Simon loves at their taste. The soft bumps and touches against exposed skin in the haze of the morning, Simon running off to job interviews and you running around late for a work call.
The little gifts Simon litters around now. Flowers, no longer the roses you used to know but baby’s breath and lilies, sweet and soft scents that match the coziness of your flat. Tidying the kitchen before your home, keeping a pad full of everything you’ve ever ordered from takeout places, so that he knows the best meal for the two of you.
“I don’t know what this is, Simon. C-Co-parenting a kid that isn’t mine with my ex, letting him-you-live in my spare bedroom. And I love Kai-” like your own son, you realize. The little boy has imprinted on you in more ways than one, but you don’t say that. “-and he’s a sweet boy, but don’t you understand how it is-”
“Sunshine.” Simon says, and suddenly his tough hands are on yours. You don’t realize how panicked you’ve gotten, all worked up into a tizzy with a messy mind and trembling hands. Simon meets your eyes, and slowly your body starts to relax. “It’s not normal. I know… we’ve never been normal. You were never a normal hookup to me and I coped with it by hookin’ up with the first pretty lass I could find.”
He swallows hard, glancing at Kai as his hand tightens on yours. He’s never bared himself open to someone like he has to you, never let someone love him or his son like he’s let you.
“I don’t regret Kai… how could I? Look at the lil’ man, he’s a looker.”
That forces a shocked giggle out of you, your lips suddenly quirking into a slight, reflexive grin. Simon meets your eyes again, his own smile soft and… somber.
“…I regret you thinking he’s not as much yours as he is mine.”
Simons words bounce around in your head like a marble, rolling and clicking against the sides of your skull as you try to wrap your mind around it. The words he said so casually that mean so much, that make your heart race as you look at the little boy at the table.
Kai giggles up at you, reaching out for you. The woman who now, is helping to raise him. The one he won’t have to remember as some co-parent stranger.
To Simon, you’re already his mum.
“…I don’t deserve you, Sunshine. I never will. But I’m willing to try and be the man I want to be for you, because I won’t let one fuck up define us. I still love you.
You can’t breathe. Someone had to shut of the oxygen supply to your body because there’s no other reason why your lungs shouldn’t be able to expand, just from a few words.
Four words, that shouldn’t exist. It’s too much, it’s sending your mind into a detrimental spiral of spinning and overwhelming and convulsing. You can’t process it, no normal person should be able to.
You need to breathe.
You’re out of the booth before you can register, hands grabbing your bag. Hurriedly, as Simon’s eyes go wide and the realization slowly sets in, his shoulders slump. He can’t do anything but watch you, he can’t overstep. He can’t say anything because at the end of the day, he’s the one that fucked up.
You grab a twenty from your bag, throwing it on the table. A ten too, for good measure as you back away with shaky steps.
“F-for the food, I’m sorry-I need air-I-Sorry-”
you can’t force anything else out as your vision blurs, and you push onto the street. The brisk evening air hitting your face, flushing your skin with the contrast of your heated body and frigid sky.
And you sprint, as fast as you can, to the train station.
Footballer!Simon who has a habit of acting out on and off the pitch, despite being the team’s star striker. Millions of fans crowd the stadium to watch him play, but really to watch the way a man like that can throw a punch.
Footballer!Simon who is too good of an asset for the team to loose, but the coach is so fed up with his attitude that he needs some rehab. Sends him to a training camp for little kids, to volunteer coach put in the country and hopefully get his act together.
Footballer!Simon that wasn’t nothing to do with little brats and a summer camp, until he meets her. The camp counselor that treats him like just a man, no fan of fortune attached. Counselor!Reader that knows why Simon is here, and treats him like a little boy who needs an attitude adjustment.
Footballer!Simon that finds out he’s extremely, extremely attracted to finally being the one getting yelled at, but only by her.
Counselor!Reader who loves her job, and will not let some rich snob with attitude issues get in the way of it. He will make crafts at seven, he will serve dinner in the mess hall at eight, and he will read spooky stories at ten campfire until curfew at twelve.
Footballer!Simon that slowly wins her over. Does as she says, yes ma’am and all. Teases her about being uptight, pokes fun at her around the kids. Makes her laugh. Teaches them how to play a good match, turns into the football dad coaching from the sidelines.
Footballer!Simon that realizes the way to her heart is the kids. Takes them on as his little ducklings, doesn’t do autographs because that’s for fans, and these are his children now. Apparently, he tells them he lost the birth certificate but they’re definitely his
Counselor!Reader that slowly begins to warm up to him. Scooting closer during dinners, walking back to the cabin with him after the bonfire and talking about everything under the sun. ‘Oh, my brother used to play’… ‘met a guy once at a bar, now I support Tottenham’… ‘I think I’ll take you to one of my games, lass… gimme’ a pretty prize to win for’
Footballer!Simon who knows that he’s here as a punishment, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore. He knows he shouldn’t break anymore rules than normal, this is supposed to help, not hurt. But that zero fraternization policy? Maybe he just missed it going over the rules.
Counselor!Reader who knows she shouldn’t be hooking up in her cabin with the broody rich asshat sent here for a spanking, but maybe she just missed that in the rules. They didn’t specify the volunteer that they were taking on was this annoyingly endearing.
Hallo!! i was curious if you’d do maybe like a teen au with simon x reader? not like under 18 tho:< maybe like Bully/popular!simon x Loner/nerd!reader? :3
Ahhh!!!!! Ofc my sweet anon!! 🥰 I’ve seen other reqs like this to some other creators and I LOVE it being my first one! So of course and I hope you enjoyyyy ❤️
this will be told using the American school system Bcs that’s all I know well 😣
~tags: heavy smut, bullying, cnc if you squint, squirting, semi-public, unsafe sex, humiliation, degradation, spanking, spitting, descriptions of parental neglect/abuse, MDNI
𓍢ִ໋☕️✧˚ ༘ ⋆📓⊹ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Two weeks until you got out of this hellhole, and two weeks until you would never see him again.
As your senior year starts to come to a close, the holy grail of freedom from crowded halls, ugly looks and… him.
Simon Riley.
You may be a loner, yes… but not everybody hates you. You couldn’t say the same about Simon, though.
Tall, brooding, held back a year because of the amount of absences he had. A senior, just like you, but a 19 compared to your 18. Always wearing a mask, always hiding somewhere off to the side, never stepping into the light, except for you.
Because it was clear that Simon hated pretty much everybody, but he hated you especially.
you weren’t sure why, because you had never talked to him before the bullying started. Sure, you had caught him looking at you, but after the messy breakup you and your friend group had? A lot of people looked at you, and not in the good way.
Then the bullying started. Simon, always appearing on your way to class, bumping books from your hands and making sure his elbow drove deep into your stomach. He was the cause of your tears, more often than not, but he didn’t give a shit.
And then he stopped hiding it.
Came right up to you, just to shove you into the lockers, spinning you around and shoving your face against the metal cabinets. You would squeal and cry and plead, but it was useless. Simon was relentless.
“Oh, cry all you want baby… no one’s gonna help ya’, eh? No… they don’t care… they don’t care like I do…”
His twisted words made you hiccup over your tears, just as he chuckled behind you. The skirt you were wearing as suddenly a lot shorter than how you remembered it, and shame flushes your cheeks as you realize that Simon’s practically displaying your lacy pink panties to the entire hall.
The whispers grow louder as you squirm against him. Simon just chuckles, letting the crowd find their way to class… class! You’re going to be late, the teacher is going to kill you-
Simons hand flies down to your ass before you can react, making you cry out in pain. He shoved your short little skirt up and tugged the back of your panties high, only to tighten his grip and tug. Again and again, until he had wedged the fabric between your asscheeks.
Thank god the hall was clear now.
You sob and squirm as he forces a wedgie right up into you, your clit burning through the lacy fabric as he spanks you again. Why was he doing this?
“s-stop! Stop, stop Simon please-”
His hand comes to your throat, not tight enough to choke you, but to force your gaze up to his grin. He grips your cheeks, pressing into your soft flesh to open your mouth, before spitting into it.
You whine and sob harder.
“That’s it whore, swallow.”
You try not to, but you can’t close your mouth. You start to drool, tongue lolling out as tears stain your cheeks, your previously neat bun now messy and disgraced. Simon just tsks at your behavior, sighing before shoving two thick fingers to the back of your throat, making you gag.
Now you have no choice but to swallow, and he doesn’t release you until you do.
“Fuckin’ bitch… can’t just follow orders, now can ya’…”
You fall to the ground, heaving in raspy breaths as your skirt flutters back down around your thighs. Your throat is sore and your hair is a mess, and tears track mascara all the way down your cheeks.
Simons taste lingers on your tongue, like pine and cigarettes, mixed with stale beer. It should taste disgusting… but it doesn’t.
Simons scoffs and spits one more time at your face, shoving you against the lockers for good measure. And you hate the part of you that liked it, despite struggling to stand and collect yourself after. Some hidden daddy issues sort of kink, it had to be.
You couldn’t be turned on by him.
That was the first time Simon Riley bullied you like that, and he hadn’t stopped since. It carried on during lunch and during class, and sure it got him a few detentions… but it was public school. What were they going to do, care? Definitely not.
But now, here you are, two weeks away from graduation. Your finals are all done and taken, and you’re so sick of sitting alone, from begging for mercy from some sick bully that plagues you. Sick of school, but really, truly down with it.
So it doesn’t help that in your mind spiraling tangent, you push into the men’s bathroom.
You don’t notice, of course, it’s empty. And the bathrooms look practically identical of your not looking for the urinals.
Most of the other seniors are off for the next two weeks, they’re optional days of school. But you’d rather take the time to study at home, instead of risking your paperwork for college and your wrist for writing to your dad’s drunken rage.
You just need a break, a splash of water on your face. So you tug off your jacket and fix your pants, having bothered to never wear a skirt again, not since the… incident.
You splash water on your face with a low groan, slumping over the sink as the bathroom door opens. You don’t look up, you don’t care enough to. It’s probably just some teacher or underclass man that you don’t care about.
But the rumbling chuckle that you hear behind you makes you look up with fear, catching his reflection in the mirror.
Simon’s hand grip your hips faster than you can bolt, bending you over the sink and forcing you to throw your hands up against the mirror with a cry. You struggle in Simon’s grip, but it’s no use, especially when he pins your hands with one of his.
“Must be ma’ lucky day, hm baby… little fawn like you, stumbling into my bathroom? On the day everyone else has off?”
You cry out, struggling more fervently.
“Let me go! Let me go, Simon you’re sick, you’re so fucking sick-”
“Ah-ah-ah…”
He says, chuckling and rolling his hips against you, making you cry out. He had you pressed against the sink, legs around yours and pinning you down, your pants staring against the force and stretch of your body.
“Tha’s a lot of attitude baby… you wanna be punished?”
You sob against the mirror and sink, face still wet from the water. Two more weeks, two more weeks to survive Simon. You had to survive, you had to make it through.
“Stop! Stop you freak, w-why are you even doing this!”
You cry out, trembling beneath him. That makes Simon pause, looking down at you with a frown. You really couldn’t be that daft… could you?
Unless he was the emotionally constipated one that thought that this was flirting.
Simon didn’t have the best examples of love, growing up… his father being the dick that he was and his mother slowly losing herself to depression. So obviously Simon wasn’t going to know exactly what to do… right?
It was no secret that he was attractive. He was an asshole, yeah, and most people hated him. It didn’t change the fact that he was objectively handsome, a few scars here and there, and scrappy golden blonde hair that women wished matched his personality.
And Simon had like you for a long time, no doubt. He swore that at the beginning of the year, you had smiled at him. You were in the tutoring program that he had enrolled in, and fuck you just seemed so different… didn’t glare at him like the rest of them.
Not yet at least.
So he did what he only knew how to do, and led by violence. Knocked down your books ma then knocked down you, and it got to the point where he did have you up against the lockers, flashing your panties to the school. But when he tugged the pink lace up between your ass and you squealed like that? He could see the way that perfect pussy had jumped, leaking onto the fabric like a fountain.
So you had liked it.
And that only motivated him more.
But the thing is, that you just kept running from him. See, Simon was already here for an extra year, and he wasn’t going to waste it. He’d have you by graduation, or he’d track you down until you were his.
He chose the former.
So when he walked into the surely empty bathroom and saw you? It was a chance to claim you in a way he hoped no one had before, and make you his. Finally
“…you really don’t know, baby?” He said gruffly, still grinding up against your pert ass. You could feel it through your leggings, and suddenly you knew a lot more than you wanted to. “Because I need you… a’ haven’t tracked ya’ down all year just to let you go, no baby… gotta take ya nice and hard.”
He shoves you hard as you cry out, but it sounds suspiciously similar to a moan. You can feel him reaching down to you with the elastic of your pants, tugging it slowly.
You whimper, shaking your head.
“d-don’t, Simon don’t-”
Simon clucks his tongue, just tugging them harder until he reveal the soft white lace of your thong. It was the only thing you had to wear, everything else in the wash as you cry out.
“Ye’ say that… yet yer cunt’s soaked baby…”
He’s right. You’re so wet right now that your underwear clings to the outline of your puffy, needy pussy, drenching the fabric. Simon chuckles, reaching a thumb down to toy at your clit, pulling a needy moan from you.
“Tha’s it ye’ slut… there’s almost no one here. Moan for me.”
You don’t want to listen to him, but you can help it. The way his fingers are working, the way he’s teasing you. The way he pulls your thing out of the way to slip a thick finger inside, then two. The way he makes you clench and moan, back bowing against the sink.
“Simon!”
you cry out with pleasure, panting and squirming beneath him. He chuckles and groans, leaving one hand inside of you, pumping steadily, as the other one reaches down to undo his belt. You can see your reflection in the mirror, eyes red and puffy from crying, lips red from biting them, trying to keep back moans. Cheeks flushed with pleasure as the smell of sex coats the air.
Simon makes quick work of his belt and the buttons of his jeans, tugging them down to reveal a pair of black Calvin Klein and a very big, obvious bulge.
You whimper, and his thrusts speed up.
Simon moves his thumb to rub your clit as the coil in your lower belly starts to tighten, and you moan out with whimpery need. You need to come, but you don’t want to. Not on Simon’s hands.
But you can’t really control it, not when he grins and speeds up like the knows what you’re thinking, because he does. Gets you to the edge before slowly pulling his cock out
The sight of it makes you gasp with pleasure, body tightening as your orgasm rolls over you. You don’t moan or squirm or scream, just tense and arch back into Simon with a soft gasp. You come hard around his fingers and he chuckles, letting you slump back against the sink.
And when he takes out his fingers, the head of his fat cock replaces them soon enough.
Your eyes go wide, even as you pant and try to protest, but Simon just cuts you off. Forces his cum slicked fingers into your mouth and down your throat, choking as he forces his heavy, fat tip up into your tight pussy.
You cry out around his fingers, drooling down them and your chin, sobbing harder as you look at yourself in the mirror. You hate that it’s hot, you hate how turned on you get knowing the man that you hate is fucking you in the school bathrooms, your cum coating his fingers.
Simon loves it too.
“Yeah baby? Ya’ see how fuckin’ pretty you look, boutta’ be all dumbed out on ma’ cock? Yeah?”
You can’t stop yourself from nodding, sucking harder at his fingers as he starts to force more of his thick cock into your right channel. The stretch is like nothing you’ve had before, and you’re definitely not a virgin. But no other guy matters, now that you’ve felt this.
Simon groans as he shoves himself all the way in, balls smacking against your clit and already dripping with your slick. He can smell it, your sweet and seedy sex, and he can feel the way you tighten around him.
So he keeps his fingers in your mouth as he pulls back, and starts to fuck your pussy like you’re nothing but a flashlight for him to use.
Your hiccupy moans are all muffled by Simon’s fingers, broken up with each slap of skin against yours and each deep thrust that forces Simon’s thick and ruddy tip up into your cervix. Your tears don’t stop, only increasing with the painful pleasure that digs itself deep into your bones.
It roots itself there like a parasite, feeding off of the depraved pleasure you get from Simon. From your bully fucking you in the bathroom in the middle of the day.
Simon’s thrusts increase in speed, and your moans get higher and louder.
Two weeks till graduation, and Simon’s already completed his goal, already got you right where he wants you, fucking into your tight little pussy as he forces you to watch your cock drunk expression in the mirror. You’re drooling over his fingers, already sucked all of your cum off of them. I guess he’ll just have to add more.
It’s not long before Simon starts to climb to his peak, but he knows he has to get you there first. So he keeps a hand on your hip, moving the sloppy one from your mouth, down to your puffy little clit.
“Yeah baby? Gon’ come again, let me fill up this pretty lil cunt? Yeah?”
You nod weakly, eyes glazed over as he groans and grunts, pace starting to stutter. He speeds up his circles on your clit, body doubling over as he shoves ball deep, coming with a loud groan.
You come too, gasping and panting and whining like a bitch in heat, your overstimulated pussy not only coming, but squirting all over him. Simon’s abs are drenched, along with his jeans around his thighs and your leggings pulled down only to your knees. Not to mention his cock and balls now, too.
Simon groaned and chuckled, panting as he looks down to the mess that you made. He looks up at you through the mirror, your fucked out face starting to return to normal, eyes no longer glazed over as you blink away tears.
Simon leans down, forcing a kiss agaisnt your temple.
“Tha’s it baby… my good slut. We’ll do it again before graduation, a’ promise.”
𐙚‧₊˚📜✩ ₊˚⊹♡𐙚‧₊˚📜✩ ₊˚⊹♡𐙚‧₊˚📜✩ ₊˚⊹♡𐙚‧₊˚
A/N-hoped you liked it! It took a bit of a deranged turn… but it’s fine! My first rec and I think I did good myself, even though I’m sick and already pumped out another fic today!
based on this (mdni~heavy smut~Johnny is a horny mf)
Johnny never knew when to stop.
He had rutted into you for hours on end, bending you over the couch in your living room right next to the entry way as soon as you had gotten back from the bar. His mates were drunk, so Johnny wanted to be too.
You told him no.
And he told you not to be a brat.
Of course you didn’t think you were being a brat. You just wanted your boyfriend in the right headspace when you got back, you hated drunk sex. You couldn’t feel it, couldn’t remember it like you wanted to. Couldn’t relive every inch of Johnny’s thick cock fucking up into you like you wanted to.
Well now you definitely could.
You hiccup, spent and limp as he ruts into you with a final groan, thick fingers bruising the backs of his thighs that he uses like handles. Fingerprints spotting your skin, soft pink and pale marks that mar pretty flesh. He doesn’t mind, just jewels for his little lass.
Johnny comes with a groan, panting as he rolls his hips with a sense of finality, grinding every essence of both of your releases up into you. He pants like a dog in heat, leaning over to suckle another hickey into your sweaty skin.
“Pretty lil’ thing ya are… ain’t ya lass…”
He grunts into your ear. You nod dumbly as he reaches over to fist one of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and muscle between his large palms as he slowly slips out. You whimper, gasping softly at the loss of his size, pussy fluttering and gapping at the space he’s left. He only chuckles.
“Ya cunt looks like she still wants ma’ cock, don’t she? Needy lil’ thing…”
You whimper, nodding again as Johnny moves his hands to your thighs, hiking them up over the arm of the couch. You squeak in surprise, tumbling into the soft pillows that greet your face. He just laughs, giving your ass a firm smack to make you jump again.
You would shoot him a glare, but you’re a little bit too fucked out to move right now.
Johnny chuckles, groaning softly as he fists the fat of your thighs, opening your legs up and spreading the lips of your pussy like he’s unwrapping a present on Christmas. You just know his cock is weeping against the side of the couch. Fucking Johnny will need to buy you a new one…
“D-Don’t tease, Johnny…”
You whimper, pressing your face into one of the pillows you’ve begrudgingly been introduced to. He grunts into response, teasing a finger through your slit in retaliation. You jump, definitely overstimulated already.
And that was before he knelt down.
“‘s okay lass… just tryin some dessert… be a good girl for me… only good girls get rewarded…”
And with that, he dives in, tongue teeth and all, making sure he’s not the only one ruining the side of the stupid couch.
