Simon Riley X Chubby Reader - Blog Posts

I read all 3 parts and it’s delicious (^‿^✿)

I love your writing, it's so fucking good. you write abt plusize ppl so well I'm jealous- ANYWAYS

can you please write chubby puppygirl who's desperate for simons approval? she already knows price likes her. she's got the man tamed as if he was the pup. but simon??? he's so nonchalant about her that she can't help but go insane trying to get praise from him. whining and yappin at his feet, giving him big puppy eyes, doing whatever he tells her to???

(if you wanna get real nasty, you could write him taking advantage of her. pushing past her limits/making her do embarrassing things)

also congrats again on 500!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

WAAAA THANK YOU!!!! my biggest inspo for plus size puppygirl reader fr ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ohhhh this is soooo delicioussss bc its so true 0-0

priceghost/plus size puppygirl reader, emphasis on ghost/reader. mdni, simon is a meanie, a little angsty but i'm a cheesy sucker for happy endings and cuddles. there's sex in there, i swear, you just have to be patient WEHGFVWKFHB wordcount: 2.8k 💀

price dotes on you like you're royalty, pouring all his money, time, and affection into you. he loves to pull you onto his lap and let you shower him with kisses. he'll have you rest your head on his thigh while he works so he can pet your hair. he buys you a pretty collar with your name on the front and his name and number on the back, as if you'd ever wander far away enough to get lost—but one name is noticeably absent.

simon is completely nonplussed by you. your pretty whines are met with scoffs, your head nuzzling against his knee earns you a pinch on your poor, sensitive puppy ears. the only time simon really pays you any attention is when price brings the two of you together, too tired to do anything but stroke his own cock and watch ghost ram into you, calling out harsh commands when his boy gets a little too rough with you. even then, when he's bullying you with his cock, tugging your tail to make you whine in pain or smacking any inch of skin he can see to watch it ripple and bounce, you're on you absolute best behavior for him.

you crave his praise more than all the pets and treats in the world, likely because it's been withheld from you for so long. puppies have a constant desire for things they can't have like, and the same is true for puppy hybrids. while real dogs beg for chocolate when it's being eaten, all you can think about around ghost is earning his approval.

ghost, of course, barely notices at first. once he's brought you to price, he considers his mission complete--all he planned to do was bring his captain a special present, and maybe fuck it from time to time. it wasn't until he observed your behavior with the other members of the 141 that he recognized your behavior. you were friendly and playful with gaz and soap, but you never fought for their attention., and with price you never had to fight for anything. no, it was only with him that you begged and pleaded for attention. only then did he become interested.

he starts small with little grunts of approval when you followed an instruction particularly well. he sees how your eyes shone when he didn't push you away as you nuzzled up to his calf, amused that just the barest touch was enough to make you dizzy. what a fun little game it could be, he thought, to see how far you would go to gain his love.

the game began when price flew out for a week for a training seminar, giving lectures to recruits and overseeing their exercises. obviously he couldn't bring you, he'd cooed as he'd wiped the tears from your round face. he would need to focus all his time on the recruits, and he simply couldn't do that with his soft, precious girl around; but don't worry, simon would take good care of you. this is where simon finds his opportunity, with no captain holding his proverbial leash. he insists you stay in his quarters for the time being--there's no use letting you lay in price's bed for the whole week, snuffling at his pillows and crying until he returns. what kind of owner would simon be if he let you do that?

instead, you stay in ghost's quarters, and this is where his fun begins. needy puppies don't sleep on human beds, he condescends on the first night. your look of confusion is met with amusement as ghost produces a big, fluffy dog bed for you to sleep on. you don't want to be ungrateful, do you? and of course you don't! so you curl up in the dog bed, the roundness of your belly and thighs making it difficult to properly tuck you body in to fit, but the words good girl that follow make you beam with delight. you're a little squirmy the next morning when he makes you eat your breakfast on the floor, but all discomfort disappears when ghost strokes your ears while he eats.

when price puts you on your knees, he puts a fluffy pillow under you to stop the pain. simon purposfully chooses a hard surface and spreads his legs wide, slapping his thighs to invite you to worm between them and mouth at his cock. he gets mean about it, forcing it too far too fast and making you gag and tear up, but you keep going like a champ the whole time, desperate to hear his praises.

its only that evening when ghost begins to feel guilty. the way you stumbled and crawled after he forced you to stay on the ground all day made the pain you were in very obvious. his cold heart cracks just a little when he hears you muffle sobs of pain and loneliness into your pillow on the dog bed. it’s worse the next morning when you're sluggish and achey, eyes puffy from tears and lack of sleep. still, you settled on the ground like a good girl, anticipating his command and biting back the little sounds of distress caused by your throbbing muscles. fuck, he did't want to do this anymore.

"up," he commands shortly. you tilt your head, confused, and ghost grunts. "i said up."

you stand slowly, half from your protesting joints and half out of concern that this is some kind of trap. simon sighs, rubbing his hand over his face and feeling the fabric of his balaclava catch on the callouses.

"go on, back to bed. my bed," he clarifies when your lip begins to quiver. he brings in a bowl of cereal for you, exasperated to find you perched gingerly on the very edge of the bed, ready to slide onto the floor at a moments notice. "stay up there, lovie, get comfortable. there you go."

he hands you the bowl and watches your tentative movements as you wriggle your fat thighs around to sit more securely on the bed. your sleep shirt clings to your round belly, making it even more apparent as you begin to eat your cereal. god damn, you really were the prettiest little thing. with your thick thighs and arms, ghost thought you would be a sturdy girl, able to take his cruelty, but looking into your sweet face he knows he had been wrong. you poor little thing, so obedient and fragile. he resolved to be at least a little gentler with you, his new favorite toy. he really ought to make it up to you, coax you back in to him, but ghost doesn't do apologies.

he's always thought actions speak louder than words.

his hand is slow when it creeps to your hair as you eat, his eyes drawn to the way your ears twitch when he scratches at the base of them with dirty fingernails. you drink the milk from the bowl, sweetened by the tooth-rotteningly sugar cereal price indulges you with, and ghost wipes the milk mustache from your upper lip with the rough pad of his thumb. your pink tongue pokes out to lick it obediently off of his fingers, just like you would do with price. god, he wanted to make you cry, those big eyes would look so pretty glassy with tears, but he'd already hurt you enough in the past day.

simon considers your face for a moment. he doesn't really do kisses either, unless price makes him, and even then his favorite place to kiss is the sole of the captain's boot. instead, simon scratches your ears absentmindedly until you nuzzle into his palm. you seem content to lie in his bed all day with his hand in your hair, but frankly, he finds that a boring solution to his self-made problem. instead, he trails his hand down your face and thick neck to where your collarbones are barely bumps under soft fat and skin. he draws circles there for a moment, watching your reactions to his touch with feigned disinterest. he'd never bothered to learn you before, leaving that up to price, but now... well, getting to know his favorite chew toy a little better couldn't hurt.

his hand moves down, cupping one of your tits in his hand. even his big palm didnt cover the whole thing, so big and soft, and that interested him more than the thought of your pretty tears.

"take this off, yeah?" he phrases it as a question, but the way you jump to do as he says makes it seem like gospel. you're even prettier underneath, rolls on your sides and your tummy hanging over the waistband of your sleep shorts, littered with stretch marks that remind simon of his own. your nipples are already pebbling, fuck you're so pretty. he pinches at them more gently than he usually would, trying to mimic what he's seen price do to you. the satisfying little whine you let out tells him he'd probably doing something right, eyes flitting back up to yours. oh, sensitive thing, you're already eager for more, he can see it in your eyes.

he's seen price lavish your tits with his mouth and he's seen how you squirm and preen from it, so he rolls up his mask over his nose and dips down to seal his lips around your swollen nipple. he rubs his tongue against it and when that doesn't elicit the response he wants, he sucks on it with a little more force than necessary. now you let out that lovely little noise, and he feels his cock twitch to life. his mouth waters at the taste of you, sucking and licking your nipple with an almost clinical focus, trying to figure out what you like. his fingers tweak your other nipple and, there, there it is again, that precious little moan. he salivates over the taste of you, his spit dripping down when he bites at your skin, enjoying how you squirm.

"simon, simon" your breathy voice breaks through his focus and his eyes turn up to meet yours. he huffs when all you do is stare at him and squirm, and he pinches your nipple meanly.

"you want something, lovie?" he snips, "you ask."

"please, touch me?" he rolls his eyes. you're so vocal with price. are you really so scared of him?

"words, pet, or i'll leave you like this," he warns. "be specific."

"please, please touch my pussy," you whimper. what a lovely sound. "or let me touch you?"

ghost considers having you suck him off. he's seen you wrap your lips around price's cock and hump his leg until you cum, rutting against his boots like the desperate little pup you are, and he has to admit it’s tempting. he's already hard in his boxers, fuck is he hard, but he reminds himself this is supposed to be for you. instead of responding, he pushes his hand on your plush belly and forces you down on your back, shuffling his way down the bed. he yanks your panties and shorts down and off your legs with little ceremony, forcing your thick thighs wide enough for him to get a look at your pussy. he spreads the folds apart, watching how you glisten.

"please, simon," you whine, rolling your hips forward to try and get his thick fingers inside of you.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he tuts, but relents. he's forced his fingers into you many times, but after a moment more he realizes that he's never put his mouth on you, never licked into your cunt or sucked on your clit. has he ever eaten cunt? not to his memory. shit, maybe he should stick to what he knows--but you look so sweet weeping for him. there's a first time for everything.

he leans down, unsure of where to begin, and licks a long stripe up your cunt. your hips buck into his face and he does it again. you taste good, he decides. he wants more.

ghost buries his tongue in your pussy and you make a delicious noise. he licks in and out, getting more of that tangy sweetness in his mouth and dripping down his chin and fuck he loves it, no wonder price spends so long with your thighs pressed tight around his head. you clench around his tongue and he groans. soft and wet and sweet, he could stay here forever. only the dissatisfied whines from your lips tear him away for a moment realizing he's been neglecting your poor, throbbing clit. how mean of him. he scrapes his teeth across it just to hear you cry out before pulling it into his mouth, forcing his tongue under the hood to rub the nerves hard enough to make you weak. he grinds his own hips into the bed, his cock so hard in his pants that he considers pulling away entirely to shove it inside you--but all thoughts of forcing his cock in your pussy fly away when he feels you gush out more of that sweetness he wants.

simon sinks back down, slurping pornographically against the folds of your cunt. the fabric of the balaclava, still rucked up over his nose, grinds against your clit.

"simon, simon, si," you babble his name and he finds that he enjoys sound of that too.

"i know, lovie, i know," he grunts, muffled into your cunt. he could go on like this for a while for his own pleasure, and maybe one time he will, but right now this is for you, so he pulls his tongue reluctantly out of your cunt and goes back to licking your throbbing clit, hard and swollen under his touch. his thick fingers find their way to your weeping entrance, working in slow enough to make your head fall back in a noise of anguish. he pumps them in and out faster, luxuriating in the wet sound. in and out, in and out, and soon you're chanting for him. his name, his callsign, babbled sounds that barely sound like words at all, and he devours each noise with the same enthusiasm that he eats you out with. your thighs tighten around his head, squishing tight over his ears and he begrudges the slight loss of those precious noises. oh well, he'll just have to make you scream.

his fingers move faster, so long and thick that he manages to find that spot inside you that makes you sob above him, panting and squirming like you're unsure if you want to get away or drive yourself closer. ghost doesn't care--if you tried to pull back right now he'd just drag you back. you're close, he can tell, so close he imagines he can taste the change on his tongue. he wants to pull back and encourage you to come with his words, but he just can't seem to pull away from your clit, sucking and sucking and sucking and--

you do scream for him, loud and trembling and gushing over his fingers oh-so-sweetly, and simon feels his boxers fill with warmth. christ, he came in his fucking boxers from eating your pretty cunt, he'd have to make this a habit--maybe with price fucking into him from behind, wouldn't that be something? he sits up, panting and licking the wetness off of his mouth, finally seeing the limpness of your body and that deliciously fucked-out look on your face. he pats your thigh.

"need a nap, hm?" he suggests, though you seem like you're not quite back to coherence yet. what would price do right now, he considers. food and water and a warm washcloth come to his mind, though price usually has those prepped and on hand. still, he's pretty sure he could scrounge up a water bottle and some fruit for you. he slides off of the bed, surprised to hear a distressed whimper when he does.

you're holding out your weak arms to him, lip trembling. he stares at you, confused. the fuck are you asking for? cuddles?

oh. right.

ghost considers for a moment. cuddles are on the list of things he doesn't do, right up there with kisses and apologies, but you look vulnerable and warm and so, so soft. naked in his bed, eyes wide, begging to be held, he can't deny you, can he?

he sighs and slides back in with you, grunting when you press your face to his chest in delight.

"gonna be fuckin' gross when you wake up," he grumbles, thinking about the stickiness between your thighs and in his boxers, but wraps his arms around you nonetheless. your ears twitch and under the blankets he can hear your tail thump, eyes closing right away. you're just as soft and warm as you looked.

he's fucked.

AMERICA (￣^￣)ゞ(￣^￣)ゞ🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 but this is so funny XD like Kyle crashing out is so funny XD

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

Delicious \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

H A U N T E D ! ♱✮♱

in which your ex seems to be popping up in the most odd places. your dreams, the coffee shop you frequent in the mornings, your bedroom while you sleep.

summary! you broke up with simon due to his possessive and toxic nature. despite him not taking it well, a year later you believe you’re getting over it, beginning to move on to better things. that is, until, he seems to be popping up everywhere you go. he’s at your every turn, every corner, and you’re sure there’s little you can do to escape him while still having the willpower to deny the way your body calls out to him.

pairing! simon ‘ghost’ riley x chubby fem reader

warnings! 18+ smut, minors DNI. p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), creampie, degrading (use of slut, whore, and more), praise (use of angel, my love, baby), heavy dumbification, heavy stalking, toxic relationship, fingering, oral (f receiving), spanking, impact play, marking/hickey giving, absolutely filthy smut, squirting, humiliation, dubcon, heavy dacryphilia, slight bondage, heavy body worship, simon is actually unhealthily obsessed with you, no use of y/n, masturbation, mutual masturbation, manipulation, thigh riding, slight daddy kink, breeding

author’s note! sorry i haven’t posted in so long, i was scrapping for ideas and then i listened to haunted by beyoncé and came up with this. this fic is going to be my most unhinged and filthiest yet so i hope you guys enjoy!! <3 the end is kinda rushed because i want to get this out and give you guys an update but in time, i will edit it and make it better! it’s also not proofread :,)

word count! one day i’ll count, i promise :,)

you awake with a shudder, your body jolting up and immediately reacting to the same dream you’ve been having for the past year. goosebumps covered your body, but not because of the steady flow of cold air coming from your air conditioning, no.

you’d been having the same fucking sex dream of your ex since the day you left him.

you just couldn’t understand it. the dude was a prick, constantly groveling and pining for your attention, whether it be through trying to keep you away from your friends or starting arguments with you whenever you planned to go out just to keep you home. he would’ve done anything for you to be solely focused on him. he didn’t care if you were yelling at him, if you were screaming, if you occasionally slapped him whenever he got out of line, as long as you were talking to him, he was perfectly content, which was the problem. most couples saw arguments as things they didn’t want to have. they didn’t enjoy fighting, they didn’t enjoy the screaming, the crying, the yelling. but he reveled in it.

your every yell seemed to ignite a sick type of flame in him, the volume of your voice only growing louder when he’d smirk and poke and prod at you to coax a more unhinged and volatile reaction out of you. and god, you never missed the way his dick would create a tent in his pants when the frustration became too much and you began to cry. the way he bit his lip as you sobbed, the way he’d palm himself over his pants when he thought your vision was too blurred with tears to see him, how he’d say whatever mean shit was on his mind to keep you crying.

and yet, every night when you settled into bed (sometimes a bed that didn’t even belong to you), you’d have the same dream. it didn’t matter if you were alone, if you were asleep beside someone, if you’d fallen asleep at the library, your desk, or even your car, it was the same reoccurring dream.

when you first began having the dreams, you chalked it up to you just missing him. the breakup was still fresh and the sex was phenomenal, how could you not? you thought that as you moved on in your life and forgot about him, they’d just stop. but no. he plagued your mind like a goddamn disease. every time you shut your eyes, he was there, his face buried into your neck whispering nothing but dirty things into your ears as he drilled into your cunt, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your whoreish moans echoing off every single wall of your once shared apartment.

you couldn’t forget about him even if you wanted to and it was beginning to drive you insane.

what left you on the brink between sanity and insanity, however, was when you saw him in public again for the first time. you were out getting your daily salted caramel latte, the way you had every morning for the past four years. it was early fall and you were six months post breakup, your body protected from the cool wind by a knitted white cardigan he’d bought you a few weeks before your inevitable end, and black leggings. as usual, you sat at a table, your eyes focused on your phone and occasionally flickering up when the bell at the door would chime. you smiled at the normal customers you’d grown to occasionally create small talk with but when your eyes raised and you saw him, your blood ran cold and you found yourself fumbling to the nearest bathroom to avoid him even catching a glimpse of you.

you thought it was a one off incident, brushing it off after a short-lived freak out and moving on with your life.

then you went to a club for your friend’s birthday. you were all clad in the skimpiest dresses you could find, intending to bring a guy back with you at the end of the night for drunk and meaningless sex. the purple lights of the club mixed with the one too many gin and tonic’s left your vision slightly blurry, but as you let some random man come up behind you and grab your hips, you allowed you head to fall over his shoulder and you went stiff when you noticed him sitting at the bar, beer in hand as he watched you intently. it wasn’t like he pulled his eyes away or left, no, he stared into your damn soul as this guy rutted into you from behind, making his intentions clear. what made it worse was that the fucker had the audacity to raise his hand and teasingly wave at you, mouthing the words “always told you that red was your color” after his eyes scanned your dress from head to toe.

but whatever. just another coincidence, right?

wrong!

the third time you noticed him, you were getting a little hot and heavy with some random date in an alley. his hands were grabbing at your hips, his mouth peppering hot open mouthed kisses to your neck as you moaned into the cool night air. it didn’t take long for him to slide his fingers up the slutty skirt you’d worn just for that reason and enter your cunt. sure, it was good, but there was something.. missing. sex had began feeling that way after your breakup. you could moan as loud as you wanted, you could squirm in someone else’s hold as much as you wanted, but something was always missing.

when you felt what you knew was going to be a short lived and unfulfilling climax coming on, you saw him. the brit had his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall as he watched you with a smug smile. when your breath hitched, your date saw that as you enjoying yourself, so he continued, unaware of the man standing just a few feet away from the both of you. and it was wrong, it was so wrong, but what brought you closer to the edge was the way he watched your every movement. the way your every gasp seemed to make his smile grow caused an unexplainable pool of heat to grow in your lower stomach and you hated yourself for it.

“you close, love?” he mouthed, nodding his head to your date who was biting and sucking at your neck. when you nodded, he silently chuckled to himself, lowering his head for a moment before raising it, shrugging as he spoke. “go on then. cum for him, love.”

and you did, but not because of your date. because your ex was sat watching you cum for another man, his expression nothing short of snobby as your mouth went agape and you let out a squeal, unable to squeeze your eyes shut the way you normally did when you came because you wanted to see him, wanted to watch him as you came.

it was as if he’d ruined you for another man. he knew everything about you. you every nervous habit, your every like and dislike, how you liked to be touched. no other man knew how to touch you the way he did and it drove you insane.

you never saw him again, but he was always there. in your head, in your heart, and in your dreams.

oh, but if only you knew.

you were always just the silliest girl there was to him. to think that he’d just left you alone after he watched you cum on another man’s fingers, to think that he hadn’t been watching you long before the first time, to think he hadn’t continued watching you after the last time. you thought you’d finally gotten a grip, going out and living your life ever so fucking happily without him, and yet he still had all the control. you think he didn’t allow you to see him those three times? you think he would’ve have made himself known if he didn’t want to?

his poor sweet and naïve silly girl.

he was always there, you just couldn’t see him. he wouldn’t allow you to. not after the way you’d broken up with him when all he was trying to do was keep you to himself. was that so wrong? to not want to let something so perfect go into the big, bad world? the day you moved into your new apartment, he was sat in the lobby, newspaper just high enough to cover the lower half of his face as he watched you lug your suitcase inside. every time you walked to the nearest gas station at three a.m because you were hungry, he was sat in the shadows, his eyes following the sway of your hips and his feet following your every step. every time you went to get your morning coffee, he was sat in the furthest booth from your normal table, laptop open while his eyes watched the way you’d sometimes talk to different daily customers.

and oh, that flimsy little lock on your apartment door was too easy to get past. after you’d shut your curtains, signaling that you intended on going to sleep, he’d slip his way into your home, his footsteps light as he crept into your room, standing over you as you slept. if he got lucky, he sometimes managed to slip his hand into your panty drawer, cock in hand as he watched you sleep, sometimes in just one of his old shirts and a pair of shorts. he knew he was sick, knew that he shouldn’t be stalking you, but he couldn’t help it. you were just so pretty, so perfect, and so fucking stupid. if you weren’t going to properly protect yourself, he would just have to watch your every move and ensure that someone was still watching over you.

for the year you’ve been broken up, for 365 days, he has been with you at every point. even if you didn’t know it. he’d watched you slip one too many men in your sheets, watched you drunkenly turn the stuffed animal he’d gotten you around whenever you had company, watched you sink your fingers into your pussy whenever you needed release.

and he was just about ready to make himself known, but not yet. he wanted to watch you just a bit more, hence why he was currently sat in his car while you got into yours, eyes trained on the flimsy and thin tank top you were wearing that allowed the sun kiss your skin. it was late spring and he knew you weren’t one for modesty, hence why he’d driven closely behind you, sometimes taking a few turns to avoid detection before ending up a few cars behind yours.

while you sat in your car and grabbed the exact amount you’d need in cash, per usual, he stepped inside and perched himself in his usual spot, eyes trained on you and your tits as you smiled at the cashier and ordered your usual before sitting at your usual table. maybe if you weren’t such a sucker for routine, this wouldn’t be so easy for him.

when your friend, kelly, entered and sat across from you, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. he didn’t like kelly. kelly talked too much, kelly was annoying, kelly always filled your pretty little head with such stupid ideas, like how he was toxic and how it was good that you left him. kelly encouraged you to go out, kelly thought it was good for you to wear such slutty and skimpy outfits out, kelly wasn’t protecting you.

“hey.” she smiled as you put your phone away and tucked it into your purse. “new club opened up a few blocks from here, wanna check it out with me?”

when you sigh, he’s hopeful that you’ve finally learned. that you’re days of being naïve and prey to the world were over.

“i’m not sure. i’ve been.. weird lately.” your voice is low, as if you’re trying to shrink away from whatever is on your mind. when kelly quirks an eyebrow, it implores you to continue speaking. “don’t say i’m crazy or anything, but i’ve been having these dreams—“

“so?” kelly snorts. “are they nightmares?”

kelly talks too much.

“no, kelly. they’re sex dreams about..” trailing off, you’ve definitely got his attention now. his eyes are trained on you as you sigh once more and lower your head, your expression one of what looks to be embarrassment. “about simon.”

aww. you’re thinkin’ ‘bout him.

how sweet.

he could feel himself smile as he watched you, the words music to his ears.

kelly groans. “not that guy. not again. do you not remember how terrible he treated you?”

kelly fills your pretty little head with stupid ideas.

“i know, i know, but still. i started having them after we broke up, but they just.. didn’t stop.” shrugging gently, you avoid eye contact with kelly, clearly not wanting to hear what she’s been saying for almost a year.

“you are too beautiful to be tied down to such an ugly person.”

he snickered to himself. ugly? sure, kelly. sure.

“you wanna forget about him? then come out with me! we’ll find you a sexy little dress, you can take someone home with you, and you’ll forget all about him!”

kelly encouraged you to go out, kelly thought it was good for you to wear such slutty and skimpy outfits out, kelly wasn’t protecting you.

“okay. i’m in.” smiling, you grab kelly’s hand as she squeals while he sighs. he’d truly thought that you’d learned. thought you’d realized something as beautiful and precious as you needed to be hidden away. thought you’d finally stopped needing him. but as usual, you proved him wrong. you still needed him. you always would, apparently.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“kelly?” you groan, arms wrapped around your body to protect your skin from the slightly cold air. You’d went out with the girl and everything was fine and all fun until she disappeared and didn’t come back, which you wouldn’t have cared about if she was your fucking ride. of course, you had a few to drink. not enough to completely render you incomprehensible and not in your own control, but enough that you wouldn’t dare to sit behind the wheel. and it didn’t help that she had your phone as well.

so now you’re left outside the club with no concept of time, no phone, no friend, and no ride.

fucking fantastic.

“god, why am i even friends with her?” you shake your head, unable to wrap your mind around the fact that she’d just leave you here.

“pretty sure I asked you that at least 56 times when we were dating.”

when you look up to see simon, your body goes rigid and your mind is racing. how did he know you were here? why was he here? why is being so causal as if you two hadn’t talked in over a year?

“aht. It was actually 653.” he hums with the cockiest, shit-eating grin. “654 if you count you just asking.”

“go away, simon.” is the only words you’ll let fall off of your tongue. of course, your mind is filled with the usual confusion at the feel of seeing him again, but what was currently on your mind were those stupid dreams and your last few encounters. You wanted to scream at him, to ask him what he’d done that would curse you to always remember him, to ask why even after being broken up, he was stuck in your mind, but that wouldn’t do anything besides cause an argument, and you knew exactly how that would go.

“been away for almost a year, my angel. haven’t you missed me?” he takes a step forward and tilts your chin up, the frown on his face is.. genuine. like he’s actually upset that you don’t want him around, but of course you wouldn’t! he was possessive, toxic, jealous, almost borderline narcissistic, hot, caring, annoying loving and—

“no. no i haven’t.” you push his hand away from you, crossing your arms as he shakes his head. “cut me some slack, yeah, baby? i miss you.”

“well i don’t fucking miss you! i don’t miss the way you’d argue with me to keep me in the house, i don’t miss the way you’d try to tell me what to wear! i don’t miss the way you’d get mad at me if any guy even looked at me! i don’t miss the way you’d get hard and touch your fucking dick when i cried because i was so, so done with you!” you tried your best, but you ended up yelling. his audacity made you throw your want to not argue out of the window. now it was all you wanted to do. you wanted to scream at him, to make him feel like nothing but shit for what he’d done to you.

“but you don’t miss the sex? the way id fuck you into nothing but oblivion? until you couldn’t remember your own name? you don’t miss the way i’d hold you after and tell you how beautiful you were? the kisses on your head as i cleaned you up? the way id carefully re-dress you?” he hums, attempting to remind you of the very little good he did.

“none of that was worth it. it wasn’t worth the bullshit i put up with.” you grumble back to him. instead of arguing further, you find your feet stomping away from him. you had no idea where you where going, but as long as it was away from him, you couldn’t have cared any less. your feet carried you through that same alley where your date and once fingered you, sending a shiver down your spine and making you pause to look behind you. when you see he’s not there, you settle on walking home, content with the fact that he didn’t know where your apartment was and couldn’t bother you there.

at least, that’s what you think.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“i believe we were having a conversation.”

you groan, rolling over in your bed and shoving your face deeper into your pillow, the silk duvet wrapped around you protecting your legs from the cold as you slept. you truly believed you were just having the same dream. “right there, si.” you mumbled, shifting in your sheets.

“right there, baby?” simon snickers, standing over you as you sleep peacefully. he’d overheard you saying that you’d been having dreams about him and so he put the rage he felt towards you for walking away from him aside. for the first time since he’d first found his way into your apartment, he reached his hand out and rests it on your thigh, grinning at the way you hum and relish in it. you may have hated him, but your body didn’t. “that feel good?”

the moment he puts his hand on you, you’re snapped awake. the dreams were vivid, but they’d never felt this real, hence why you shot up only to find an empty bedroom, causing you to groan and stand to your feet. “why are you fucking haunting me?” you whisper to what you think is the empty bedroom, standing in nothing but one of his old hoodies and a pair of panties, having been too tired after walking home to properly dress yourself for bed.

“because i fucking miss you.”

you’re nothing short of surprised when simon emerges from the shadows, hands shoved into his pockets and his expression nothing short of enraged.

“how’d you get—“

“shut up. i heard you talk long enough in front of that club.” he cuts you off as he strides over to you and clamps his hand over your mouth before pushing you onto your bed. “you think i like being all possessive and jealous? i wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t so fucking stupid. you’re so naive it’s a wonder how you’ve made it this far into adulthood. i took care of you, for fucks sake. made sure no one fucked with someone as pure and as innocent as you. every time i yelled at you, i was just trying to protect you. that so wrong?”

“simon-“

“i swear to god, ill gag you.” he snaps, reaching into your bedside table as he continues talking. you unsure why you’re even listening, why you’re not screaming at him to get out. “do you think it’s easy to watch you fuck other men?” he raises an eyebrow as he pulls a silk hair ribbon from your bedside table and grabs your wrists, one of his large hands managing to fit both of yours in his grip. “watch them kiss the pretty tummy i love so much? watch them miserably fail to eat the pussy i adore?” he ties your wrists together as he continues his angry rambles as he lays you down on your bed ever so gently, a contrast from his sharp and harsh words. “you’re stupid, angel. you’re the silliest girl i’ve ever met and you aren’t ready to be alone. been following you since the day you left and you still manage to make all the wrong decisions.”

“you.. you’ve been following me?” your voice is hushed, a simple and soft whisper. since the day you left, for over 365 days, he’d been following you. and for some reason, you’re not mad. you’re sat on your bed, wrists tied and simon still angrily rambling, and you aren’t mad. no.

you’re turned on.

the way he’s degrading you, his words humiliating and insulting, but you can’t deny the way it makes your cunt pulse and throb. you’re wet and you hate it. hate that your body still reacts to him like this, hate that your mind is still fixed on him, and you hate that you can’t hate him. your facade of hate and rage is crumbling quickly and you hate it. you’re unsure if it was his words from earlier, him reminding you that he wasn’t all bad that was making you rethink your decision, if it was the image of him following you around to protect you, but regardless of what it was, it was making your cunt warm and your eyes watery. your feelings were confusing and as much as you tried to act tough, you couldn’t. you crumbled completely, breaking out into soft sobs that finally made simon stop his rambling.

you felt so.. stupid. so, so stupid for ever leaving him. all he wanted to do was protect you and you failed to see it. your sobs grew louder as you succumbed to your own mind, allowing yourself to feel everything you tried to hide, including your attraction to simon who was looking at you sob, his fingers itching to touch his dick that was growing hard.

“you know i always loved it when you cried.” his voice has died down a whisper before he slaps you. “you’re an idiot. can’t believe you said all those things about me when all i wanted to do was keep you safe? how could you?” he mocks a pout, causing you to sob harder, your words incoherent as your wrists rub against the silk ribbon around them. “i’m sorry! ‘m so sorry.” you manage to choke out, which makes him click his tongue and shake his head.

“sorry’s not enough. been watching you whore around for a year. do you know how much of a dirty slut you’ve become? now i hafta ruin you all over again. make sure you remember it’s me and it’s always going to be me.” standing, he sheds his black sweatpants and sits right atop your thighs, palming himself over his boxers as he looks at you, his hand cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your cheeks. “so pretty when you cry.” he hums before he slaps you, the impact causing you to sob harder and your cunt to ache for some kind of attention. “that’s my fucking girl.”

it doesn’t take long for simon to pull off his boxers, using your tears as a lubricant as he brings his hand up and down his cock while watching you closely, his smile nothing short of cocky as he slaps you once more, this time on your thigh. “you’re a fucking whore.” his voice is a whisper as he grins at you, his words so cruel and his tone so soft that all it does is make you sob harder. “had so many men in and out of this fucking apartment, so many inside of your cunt, i’m surprised it still works. you were such a good girl when i met you, but now you’re nothing but a slut.”

“no, ‘m not.. ‘m not a slut.” you hiccup. “i just..” you trail off, the words dying on your tongue and making simon mock a pout once more. “you just what? wanted to open your legs to any man who gave you attention? that’s practically the definition of a slut.” sighing, simon speeds up the movements of his hand, his soft whimpers and moans echoing in your ears as you writhe beneath him. it’s complete torture to have to sit there and watch him jerk off while you don’t get an ounce of pleasure.

“si, please.” you beg through broken sobs.

“i’m not touchin’ you, love. after all the men you’ve had, you don’t deserve me in you.” he shakes his head as you let out cry after cry, making him grow annoyed. he suddenly sits up before shoving his cock between your trembling lips. “tired of hearing you cry because of shit you’ve done. shut up and suck my dick.”

though it’s what got want, you settle for it, wrapping your lips around his length as you run the underside of your tongue up and down his shaft, your teary eyes looking up at him for his approval as he nods. “there you go. atta fuckin’ girl. just how you used to.”

it’s not long until he’s fucking your face, no care for how you’re doing as he pushes his cock in and out of your mouth, reveling in the way your spit pools down your chin and your tears slide down your cheeks. it’s all so erotic to him. after watching you for so long, dreaming about this very moment, he finally gets to live it, gets to feel your lips wrapped around him once more. “missed this pretty mouth.” he hums out before pulling away. “but i’m so disappointed in you.” he sighs, using your spit as lubricant to pump his cock. “such a stupid girl to think you could live without me.”

“simon, please.” you beg. you’re utterly humiliated and all you want is for him to bury his cock in you as you bury yours in his neck and try to forget what you’ve done. when he slaps your thigh, you jolt and let out another sob.

“whores don’t get my cock.” he growls. “but i’ll admit, i do like seeing you like this. all helpless and crying so fucking beautifully for me.” it’s odd how his demeanor changes so quickly as he moves away to press kisses to your tear-stained cheeks before moving down to your neck. “you’re wearin’ my hoodie.” simon’s voice goes soft as he pulls away, looking over the fabric he adored to see you in.

“yeah.” you sniffle.

“always looked so pretty in it.” he slightly smiles. it’s a genuine smile and simon hates that he can’t keep up his composure either. he wants to be mad at you, to call you every degrading name in the book while he forces you to sit there and watch him touch his cock, but he goes soft. he grabs your wrists, pressing his lips to yours for the first time since you’d broke up and it only further breaks through his rage and anger. he’s.. softer than you thought he would be, his lips moving in a gentle synchronization with yours as his hands slip under the hoodie, his touch sending goosebumps across the gentle skin he’s tracing soft circles on as he slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring the crevices he knows like the back of his hand before he breaks the kiss to look at you. “you’re gonna ride my thigh like the dirty fucking whore you are, yeah?” his hands moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you nod. “atta girl.”

he allows you straddle his thigh, his hands on your hips as you sniffle and rock your hips against his thigh, wanting to complain that he hadn’t taken off your panties, but you knew this softness wouldn’t last long, so you took what you could get, finding a steady rhythm as your still ribbon tied hands were sat higher on his thigh, trying to reach for his cock before he pushed them away, giving you a warning glance that made you pout as you continued to rock against him. your anger towards him melted completely as you looked over him. despite how much time had passed, he still looked at you with love and admiration. his eyes were stuck on yours and his hands were still on your hips, gently stroking your skin in a way that made your cunt flutter as you let out a shaky sigh and lowered your head. “si..” you hum out.

“what is it, baby? what do you need?” he lifts your head and strokes your cheek.

“gonna cum.” you breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut before he slaps your thigh and you re-open them.

“no, baby. need you to wait for me, can you do that?” he’s so gentle right now, which you know is about to fade because said gentleness is what makes you cum, your climax washing over you in waves. it’s so much more intense than the ones you’ve had without him and it sends you falling into his chest, your legs shaking around him and the damp spot in your panties growing as you let out a soft cry, your body shivering when you finally come down and catch sight of his expression.

“never fuckin’ listened, did you?” he sighs, placing you back on the bed and tearing the hoodie in to, causing you to yelp. “simon! i wanted that.”

“shut up, i’ll give you another one.” he hissed as he pulls your panties and bra off. you expect him to eat you, but you’re surprised when he just.. stares at you. his eyes roam over your entire body like you’re a piece of artwork that was meant to be worshipped.

which to him, you were.

he loved every inch of your body. the way your tummy sometimes protrude through your dresses or shirts, how your thighs would rub together when you’d walk and how they’d expand when you sat down, how plush and warm you were. you were a bigger girl, but you never let it bother you. you wore what you wanted and did what you wanted without letting your weight stop you, which is what drew simon to you in the first place.

he had been at a club and he noticed you arguing with a guy for whatever reason. when the taller male began sizing you up, simon jumped in to protect you, despite not knowing you. he watched the way you immediately clung to him, continuing to yell at the guy who didn’t want to even look simon in the eye before he’d just walked off, leaving you to thank him and ask him for a drink, which is how you both hit it off. you were so confident and so sweet, all you needed was just a bit of protection, and simon became that. you became his everything from that night on. you were all he thought of, all he dreamed of, all he saw when he shut his eyes. he wanted you and that was all he would ever want. he loved you, for fuck’s sake, hence why he was so hurt.

he adored you, every inch of you, and you’d just.. left him. he worshipped you, he kissed the ground you walked on, he was obsessed with you. he always would be.

“hate how fucking pretty you are.” he sighs, leaning in close to your neck and peppering kiss after kiss on your body as his hands explore every inch of as if trying to re-familiarize himself with the way you feel in his hands. “makes it impossible to be mad at you.” when he reaches your thighs, he spends a lot of time kissing your inner thighs and grinning at the way you whimper and try to carefully buck your hips up to help him reach the area where you need him most, but all he does is move further away.

“simon.” you try to say sternly but fail, your words coming out in a distasteful whine that makes him slap your inner thigh.

“shut up and wait.” he snarls, continuing to kiss at your thighs while his thumb runs over the area he’d just slapped in an attempt to soothe it. it feels like forever before he finally begins to hover over your cunt, smiling at the warmth before pulling away and grinning wickedly at you. “gotta tell me somethin’ first.”

you groan, but look back at him. “what?”

“gotta tell me you missed me.” he hums, hands squeezing and kneading at the skin of your thighs.

“i missed you.” you groan, clearly trying to get this over with but pout when he doesn’t budge, imploring you to talk more. “simon, ive been having dreams about you since we broke up. of course i miss you.”

“really? what kind of dreams?” he feigns innocence, pretending he hadn’t overheard you at the cafe.

“the last time we had sex. for some reason, every single night and every time i fall asleep, no matter where i am, im forced to relive the last time you were buried in my cunt.” you grumble, growing embarrassed by the admission. when simon stays quiet, you find your embarrassment growing, feeling even more stupid than you already had.

but the feeling fades when he shoves his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at you eagerly, as if he’s been starved of you for far too long.

it’s then that you finally find out what you’ve been missing.

and its simon.

he’s completely ruined you for any other man. no tongue feels as good between your legs as his, no fingers curl the same way his used to, no one’s cock feels as good as his because no one is him. simon is truly the only one who can fulfill you and the thought of that mixed with the feel of him between your legs infills you with shame. you’re so disappointed that you’ve let him back into your life, your home, your legs. and yet, you feel so stupid for having walked away from him in the first place. he protected you, kept you safe. and there was nothing wrong with that. you were crazy for thinking that there was an issue with that.

“god, missed the way you taste so much.” he growls out, continuing to lap at you as his hands grab your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. “you were always so wet f’me. did you get this wet for them?”

“no—no. never.” you shake your head. “only—nghh—you.”

“just how i like it.” he hums, pulling his lips off of your clit with a pop! “just for me. only for me.”

sitting down, he grabs your wrists and pulls you over his lap. “think i owe you a punishment for running away in the first place, don’t i?”

the punishment in question is a spanking that leaves you wracked with sobs after, all while simon told you just how dumb you were and told you what a slut you were, the words now ingrained in your mind. you felt so disgusting. like you’d betrayed simon. you were nothing but a slut, a complete idiot for leaving him.

when he helped you up, all you could do was fall into his chest, letting out different choked apologies as your hands fought against the ribbon tied around your wrists. your body was wracked with sobs as he held you close, shushing you and rubbing your bare back.

“i’m sorry, im so sorry.” you whisper. “i’m an idiot, im an idiot.”

“it’s okay. we all make mistakes, angel.” he whispered. “i forgive you.”

“need you to fuck me. please. i—i don’t want anyone else. i want you.” you look up at him with teary eyes he can’t refuse, which is why he lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs before pushing in, cooing at the feeling of your cunt re-familiarizing itself with him.

it burns slightly, the once comfortable stretch slightly burning as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“hey, hey. eyes on me.” simon hums, grabbing your chin and smiling as you look up at him. “there we go. that’s my girl.”

it doesn’t take long until he’s pounding into you, his gentle touch a stark contrast from his rough thrusts. “tell me, love, did they feel the way i do?”

“no! no, never.” you cry out, a mess of broken moans and occasionally sobs as your cunt squeezed him. you’d would’ve forgot the way he felt inside of you if it weren’t for those dreams, but having the real thing is so, so much better. you’ve missed him. you were an idiot for leaving.

when simon noticed a tear slipping down your cheek, he smiles. “what? my baby realizing how stupid she is?”

you nod at his words. “ ‘m sorry for leaving.”

“it’s okay, silly girl. i forgive you. i’ll take care of you.” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he continues to pound into you. he pushes his head into your neck, immediately biting and sucking at your skin the way he used to, marking every last inch of your neck before moving down to your chest. “missed your tits so much. so heavy, so fuckin’ pretty.” his lips wrap around your nipple for a few moment before he moves to the rest of your tits, sucking and nipping wherever he could. this was part of simon’s possessive nature, every time you had sex, he made sure to mark you, to make sure other’s know that you weren’t on the market.

“you wanna be my good girl again? wanna be my pretty baby?” simon implores, raising his head and watching as you pathetically nod. “god, i’ll do anything. please.” you moan out.

“cum f’me, love.” he grins, adjusting himself to hit the spot inside of you that would make you see starts, which is what made you crumble. your legs shook and your eyes shut as you let out a cry of his name. your cunt squeezed him, wrapping around him so tightly he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. he watched the way your body shook his hold, the way your legs jerked, the way your eyes rolled back. “there we go, baby. there we go.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, slowing his thrusts to help you ride out your high before smiling. “on your knees, c’mon, baby.”

he helped you onto your hands and knees before pushing into you once more, now slapping your ass with every thrust. “my sweet and silly girl. ‘s all you needed. just a little punishment to remind you of what we had.”

“si.. ‘m close, ‘m so close.” you whine before shrieking as he slaps your ass. “you can wait. you just came. don’t be a greedy slut.”

you mutter out different apologies as simon continues. “you feel so good, so fucking wet f’me. love the way you grip me when i fuck you.”

“y-yeah?” you chuckle, entirely too fucked out to remember your embarrassment. instead, you revel in the humiliation, the shame. in a sick and twisted way, it reminds you to never leave simon again.

“mhm. so tight.” he hums, slapping your ass once again. “she missed me, didn’t she?” the she in question is your cunt that fluttered at his words.

“that answer your question?”

“sure fuckin’ did.”

his pace is brutal, hips ramming into yours as your moans echo off the wall. you make up your mind then and there. you want simon back. you need him back. it’s not that you just can’t give up the sex, you can’t give him up. he kept you safe, protected you, defended you. you needed him.

“simon, i—i need you.” you whimper out, causing him to chuckle. “i’m giving it to you, baby.”

“no, no. i need you.” you repeat, more firm in your words despite letting out a moan just a few seconds after. his pace falters, but he regains his composure, running his hand up your back. “my girl, my good girl. ‘m not goin’ anywhere. couldn’t ever leave you. not in a million years.”

“i’m so sorry, promise i won’t leave again.” your still tied hands grab at your pillow, squeezing it tightly and shoving your face into it to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb your neighbors.

“alright, baby. i trust you.” leaning down, he presses soft kisses onto your back while pushing in and out of you. “but you’re still a dirty slut, and dirty sluts don’t get to cum, do they?” his gentleness faded as he pulls your hair, forcing your head out of the pillow.

“no, daddy. no they don’t.” simon can practically hear your pout as slaps your ass. “need you do somethin’ f’me.” he lets go of your hair and grabs your phone. “call kelly.”

normally, you would’ve questioned him, told him there was no way you’d call your friend while having sex with him—the boyfriend she despised—but you didn’t care about what she would say or her opinion. you knew she’d have an entire monologue prepared, each word a lie about how terrible simon was, how toxic he was. you normally listened to those monologues and made sure you took the words to heart.

which is why kelly was surprised when she answered the phone and you told her exactly who you were fucking.

“why! why would you ever do that?! he’s—“

“kelly, shut up.” you groan. partly because simon just slapped your ass and partly because you’re annoyed with kelly. “he protects—*right there! right there!*—“ you’re cut off when simon finds that special spot, causing the words to die on your tongue as your mind goes blank. it’s as if you loose all ability to function, almost falling forward as whoreish moans and cries spill from your lips, your eyes rolling back and the slightest hint of drool trickling out of the corner of your mouth.

“she’s so pretty.” simon chuckles.

“get away from her! she was doing so good, so good without you!” kelly practically screams from the other end of the phone.

“she wants me here, kelly.” simon mocks, pushing your head into the mattress while his other hand pushes you up just a bit further, forcing his cock impossibly deeper. “tell her, baby.”

“want.. want. ‘im here.” you slur out, your eyes fluttering shut. “feels so, so fucking good.”

“don’t do this. you don’t need to do this.” kelly begs you. but her words fall on deaf ears.

“i love you, i love you.” the cock-drunken slur seems to ignite a fire inside of him that sends his hips drilling as far as he can, the head of his cock practically abusing your g-spot and sending a shriek up your throat and out from between your lips.

“god, i love you too. gonna breed this pretty pussy to keep you all to myself forever.” he growls out, smiling at the way you shriek at that and your cunt squeezed around him. “yeah? you like that idea? want me to give you a baby? watch you grow all round and take care of you when you’re pregnant?”

“don’t you fucking dare, simon.” kelly growls out. “i’m coming over.”

“no need.” simon shrugs. “she’ll be properly knocked up by then.” leaning down, simon presses a kiss to your scalp. “tell her how much you want this, how you want to be filled to the brim with my cum and round with my kid.”

“i wan’ it, i wan’ it.” you sound like an absolute whore, words barely coherent and tone full of excitement at the thought. “need it.”

“see? she wants it.” simon shrugs, grabbing your phone. “we’ll see you at the gender reveal, kelly. or not. i don’t quite like you.” he hangs up, throwing your phone back onto the bed just as your cunt begins to spasm around him.

“you gonna cum, love?” he chuckles as you nod. “good. cum with me, yeah?”

your climax washes over you the same time his does, your cunt gripping him for dear life as you cry out and grab your pillow the best you can with your hands still restricted. it’s exactly what you need and that’s made abundantly clear when you begin to coat simon, your bed, the back of your thighs, and most importantly his cock, in a clear/-ish liquid that washes away the milky white and foamy ring that formed around the base of his cock.

“gonna fill you, oh my god.” simon whimpers as his hands find your hips and grips them as he spills into your cunt, the feel of you squirting and squeezing him all too much. he gives you every last drop of him, not moving until he’s certain you’ve perfectly milked him before pulling out and replacing his cock with his index finger, fucking his cum back into you as you let out a lazy sigh.

“how you doin’ love?” he stands and enters your bathroom, grabbing a damp washcloth and carefully bringing it over your skin as he pecks your forehead. when you hum, he knows what you mean and nods. “i love you, silly girl. don’t ever leave me again.”

“i love you too.” your response is genuine as you tiredly smile at him.

sure, you’re still stuck on the fact that he’d managed to follow you around for a little over a year, but they don’t call him simon ‘ghost’ riley for no reason.

✨Heaven✨

this but with simon. y’all know i love this video

“bet i can make this pretty pussy squirt huh?” simon looked down at you with malevolent eyes. you’re breathing hard and heavy as you strain your neck to look past your chubby tum and watch simon’s assault on your puffy clit.

“nghh!” you’re crying out as his movements against your cunt continues its speed. you began to feel this odd pressure bubble up in your lower region. “s-si—si, si—i have to-i have to pee!” your voice hurries in a high tone as simon stares down between your legs with dark concentrated eyes.

your man chuckles and ignores your cries with the most malevolent grin. unsurprisingly, he knew you weren’t gonna cum normally like you did. no, with the way your pretty cunt was fluttering around his thick fingers more than usual and how your spongy walls gripped his digits like a vice; simon knew exactly what was on the way. “no you dont, sweetheart. ‘s somethin’ else. let it out for daddy, yeah?”

you shake your head urgently, almost feeling as if this was torture, knowing you secretly loved behind held down by your man like this. but you couldn’t hold that burning feeling in your pussy anymore; you had to let go.

“please please, i’m gonna piss myse—“ your mouth falls open as little spurts of clear liquid erupt from your cunt, simon grinning and fastening his assault on your poor clit when the intensity of your orgasmic waterfall increases. you feel tears fall down your heated cheeks as simon’s practically knuckles deep between your legs, still earning that orgasm from you. “oh my g—fuckkk!”

“daddy got you,” he cooed, continuing to rub at your fat nub while you squirted all over him. “daddy got you, lovie. let it all out princess.”

“nghh daddyyy!” you cried out, feeling your breath taken away from you as you couldn’t stop squirting for the next thirty seconds. you don’t know how you had this much built up in you; but the longer simon’s thick digits were inserted into your pussy, the harder you came around him.

when he finally sensed you’d had enough for the night, simon removes his fingers from inside you, eliciting a heavy exhale from you. with a loving kiss to your clit, all puffy from overstimulation, simon places a final kiss on the inside of your thigh with a silent you did good baby in his gesture.

“such a pretty mess you made, mama.”