simon riley x teacher!reader
lowk kinda shit but enjoy after 2 months of no posts (which btw i've gone thru a tragic failed talking stage recently that's been making crash out, so i'm thinking writing hella smut may fix that..? we'll see).
content warnings: vanilla (sort of but not really), fingering, praise kink, sliiiight degredation, mean simon but only playful, time skip cuz i'm lazy like that!
Often, parent-teacher conferences were the bane of your life. Excruciatingly painful hours spent (after an already long day) talking to the children's parents, some of whom were particularly difficult in nature. Still, it had to be done, and it was just another part of your job that needed doing.
However, you did enjoy seeing the parent's faces lighting up when you spoke well of their child, pride becoming one of the most common recurrences in your classroom as most of the kids were perfect. One little girl in particular had a (secret) special place in your heart. The girl in question, Emma Riley, had been an absolute delight to have in class.
She shared her crayons. She said "please" and "thank you". She hugged everyone good morning. That kind of kid made teaching feel like bliss. So naturally, even when you were slightly apprehensive on the night of parent-teacher conference, you were excited almost to meet who had raised such a polite little girl. You expected someone gentle. Maybe a bit shy. Probably the kind of man who read bedtime stories to her every night.
What you weren't expecting was him.
He walked into the tiny classroom with heavy boots and a quiet kind of weight. Broad, muscular shoulders stood out the most on him, and the black hoodie that was layered under his jacket made him seem even bigger. The skull print balaclava peeking out from his pocket wads enough to make you blink twice. Interesting.
"You must be Mr. Riley," you said, standing quickly and offering a smile. "Thank you so much for coming."
His gaze flicked over the cheerful posters on the wall, all hand-made and coloured by the children, before it landed on you. Soft lavender knit sweater, pastel yellow painted nails, and a small dainty necklace resting on your chest. You looked like you belonged in a picture book.
"I try not to make a habit out of it," he said dryly shaking your hand, "But Emma insisted."
That made you laugh. "Well, she's very persuasive. And, honestly? A complete angel. One of the sweetest kids I've ever had."
Simon raised a mock brow. "Emma Riley? My kid?"
You pulled out a folder of drawings. "She helps everyone, always cleans up after herself, she even wrote the cutest story about a unicorn who makes sure everyone is included at lunch. Would you like to see it?"
He stared at the glitter-covered paper you gave him, silent.
"She's such a sweetheart to have in class, really. You must be doing a wonderful job with her. And her mum too, of course. I'd love to meet her one day..?"
A tightness set in around his mouth, something that shifted his expression. "I do my best," he muttered. "Emma's mother hasn't been in the picture since she was a couple years old, so you won't be meeting her."
You paused, unsure how to respond, fingers still brushing over the glittered corner of the drawing you had taken to put back into the folder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume- "
He shook his head gently, the edge of his mouth lifting. "No s'alright. Just... not something I talk about much."
For a moment there was quiet, the kind that lingered. Then his eyes found yours again. A little softer, less guarded.
"She talks a lot about you, y'know. My kid. You've certainly made an impression."
That made you smile, a warmth blooming inside your soft cage of bone. "She's a special one. Honestly, I feel lucky."
There was a brief look he gave you, unreadable, before his mouth twitched into qa small smirk.
"You really are sweet, aren't ya?" His tone dipped. "Almost too sweet."
You blinked at him, like a deer caught in headlights, caught off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Simon leaned in slightly, teasing and curious. "Just noticing. Makes me wonder if you're like that all the time... or just in a classroom full of six-year-olds."
You felt your face go warm, heart skipping a beat, as a warmth spread past your core and downwards to somewhere much more private.
His eyes dropped to your mouth for a second too long. "Mm. That's what i thought."
The last thing you had ever expected from the conference was to end up back at Simon's house later that evening, tucked underneath him on his sofa as his daughter slept soundly upstairs.
Arching into every touch, gasping at his hands on your skin. You were so utterly sweet about it. No attitude at all, just soft whimpers and wide doe-eyes like this was the first time someone had ever really handled you.
"Let me walk you back in here like a little lamb, didn't you?" he murmurs. "Didn't even ask what I'd do to to you. Just nodded and followed."
"I trust you," you whisper out into the room.
He chuckled softly. "That's the stupidest part, sweeth'art."
"You're clearly so vanilla, it hurts. S'pathetic how turned on you get just from my voice," he says, hand dipping into your panties, disregard to the skirt that he'd slipped off of you earlier (that was now crumpled up on the floor). "You wanna be used a little, don't ya?"
You moaned, nodding helplessly.
"Course you do. You're too soft to ask for it. You want someone to make you dirty instead."
He was kissing you all over, drawn to your lips over everything, hands moving effortlessly atop your pearl making you gasp in an unexpected pleasure.
"You walk around all day giving stickers out and singing songs, actin' like you've got a single thought in that head of yours that isn't being touched like this."
He was being mean in a playful way, and you knew it.
'Si-" you whimpered out, eyes closed and breathless.
He grabbed your jaw with his free hand, gently but firm, tilting your head to make you look him in the eyes.
"No." he said. "Don't get shy on me now. You're the one who let me bring you back home with me. You're the one who begged me with those pretty eyes."
Your lips trembled slightly in the feeling.
"You knew exactly what you were doing. All soft and innocent like some little doll. And now look at ya. Letting me pull you apart string by string like it's the first time anyone's made you feel good."
You let out the tiniest noise as your thighs clenched together with his hand almost trapped in between. You felt another gush leak from your slit, a wave of embarrassment hitting your cheeks in a pinkish blush.
"Fuckin' hell sweeth'art. You're soaked" he teased, curling his fingers back into something reverent.
You were so utterly embarrassed. Laying on the sofa you even resorting to panting now you were that desperate. But he didn't rush. He didn't stop, either.
"God, you're so fuckin' soft. You don't even fight it do ya? Y'just give in." Simon leaned in closer, his free hand now stroking your side, grounding you as he kept you on edge.
"Don't you dare close your eyes."
You looked at him, barely, tears brimming out of pleasure with your pupils expanded wider than ever.
"Good girl," he whispered, breath hot against your lips. "There she is."
He sped his movements up, not much, but enough to just tip you over the edge with enough pressure to make you gasp and try to twist away from him. But his grip held you firm.
'Ya gonna come for me pretty girl, hm?" he asked tauntingly.
"I- I can't-!" you gasped, hips jerking upwards.
"Yes you can," you said, voice firm and reassuring. "You're doing so good, love. So fuckin' good, just let go. I've got ya."
And just then, like his words were the key to your soul, you broke.
Your whole body arched as you called out his name, softly but with an intensity only Simon could cause. You clutched at him blindly, pulling him in as waves of pleasure rolled over your body.
Simon held you through it, murmuring soft filth against your temple.
"Look how pretty you are when you come for me hm?"
As you collapsed back against the sofa, heart racing and legs trembling, Simon kissed your temple again.
"Did so fuckin' well f'me," he murmured. "Messy little thing. Bet you'll be thinking about this next time you're handing out stickers in that classroom."
You let out a breathless laugh, burying your face in his neck.
"Mm," he hummed, smug. "Didn't seem to mind me runnin' my mouth five minutes ago, love."
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