Simon Riley Fic - Tumblr Posts

retired simon riley! who’s never been this horny in his life, who’s sex drive has never been so rampant.

it was as though the moment those retirement papers were filed his cock swelled. it was like it knew he had all the time in the world to fuck you from now on.

simon had become a sex fiend, balls deep in your cunt first thing in the morning and last thing before knocking out for the night. he’d have you on the dining room table, in the car, in the shower, on the balcony… he couldn’t contain himself.

no wonder one month post retirement and you were knocked up…

one month post retirement and simon riley had his missus knocked up….. belly round and full with his babe, tits plump and leaking.

you were a sight for sore eyes, one that had simon’s libido reaching even greater heights, ones that he’d been sure he’d already exhausted. yet here he was dick hard and balls full each time he saw you.

he went crazy over the way your swole tits bounced as you rode him, the way your breasts seemed to be spilling at the seems of all your tops, the way your nipples were erect almost all the time and the way you were now hornier than ever.

he’d caught you hiding under the sheets rubbing your needy clit and knuckles deep in your own drooling cunt , his name on your tongue, many a times.

in return a sulking simon pestered you about not letting him help, but you’d just been too worried you’d milked him dry with the sheer amount of sex you’d been having. but boy oh boy were you wrong.

simon had the stamina and load to pipe you for days on end. and that’s exactly what he did for the few weeks ahead, he wanted to imprint his cock in you before sex started to get all too too much for his pregnant wifey.

Uhmmm 😀

more perv neighbor simon? pleasee

pervy neighbour! simon who spends his evenings watching you on the cameras he’s installed, with one hand down his pants and the other swigging a beer. he ogles you, all pretty and dolled up in your baby pink lingerie, as you hump your pillow like the desperate whore you are.

pervy neighbour! simon who watches you throw your head back in utter pleasure, eyes closed, back arched and fingers nursing your little clit. in his eyes you couldn’t be more beautiful, close to nude, lips pouted and eyebrows scrunched. you truly are a sight for sore eyes.

pervy neighbour! simon who swipes at his cock as you speed up the pace of your hips, callused fist rubbing up and down his hardened and already leaking length. his eyes are glued to the way your hand rubs at your spasming clit and his ears perk up as you start to wine. he’s watched you long enough and listened to you enough times to know you're about to cum.

pervy neighbour! simon who's completely confused when stop your lewd movements and look up to stare directly at the camera in your bedroom. his hand stutters on his girth and his mouth dries.

pervy neighbour! simon watches as you remove your hand from your core and dismantle your now drenched pillow. you slowly manoeuvre yourself onto your back and spread your legs, giving him a clear and direct view of your glistening pussy. you raise your delicate hand and motion at the camera with your pointer finger, almost as though you were motioning him to come over, to coax him out of hiding.

pervy neighbour! simon who’s confused once more, befuddled, lost… he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what this means….

pervy neighbour! simon who jerks at the sound of your voice. he listens adamantly to to your velvety tone call for him, almost whine desperately for him to come over. “i know you’re watching me simon. are you not gonna come over and fuck me?”.

pervy neighbour! simon who’s up out and out, almost sprinting to your block and up the stairs to your floor. he doenst bother knock, just uses the copy of they key he’d made himself and marches to your room....

GAH! Oml I need him carnally... I def wouldn't be trusting them either after being handcuffed for awhile. One thing though is their dynamic is making me think of that one audio where it's like a dog snarling and the guy goes 'get your fucking dog bitch.' And the owner goes 'it don't bite.' And then the other guy goes 'yes it do!' Like reader is the dog and Simon is the owner and Johnny is the other guy. It also makes me think of Simon being this big giant cuddly bear that legit embodies the saying don't poke the bear because he's so sweet unless you provoke him. And then reader is one of those chihuahuas that fucking yap and bite any time you go near them or their stuff. Especially their favorite toy (which would be Si in this case).

I hope that made sense 😭😭😭

Sick <3

Zombie!Ghost x Survivor You ☢️🖤

Part 16: Shameless smut because they needed a hot reunion! Smidge of zombie!Simon being adorable. MDNI ta. He’s very dead, but so are you without him.

It feels like the longest day, night blending into early dawn outside the windows of your little room. Both Price and Laswell had wanted to hear your story, with you acting as translator when Simon couldn’t get coherent words out. They had watched your silent communication of blinks and nods with keen interest, quizzing you about when he started to speak, how you both came to know each other on a level beyond the understanding of most people. So you told them almost everything.

Actually you conveniently left out the part where Simon’s first statement was formed so he could beg to eat your dripping pussy, how he’s been inside you deeper than anyone else ever has. The way you crave that stretch between your thighs like oxygen. Rationally you’re sure they don’t want to hear about that, but something in Laswell’s eyes made you wonder if she guessed it without needing you to spell everything out.

Johnny had sat morosely in a corner, listening to every word. You’d refused to hear any of his apologies, practically spat venom at him whenever he tried to get closer. Resigned, he’d moved to the furthest chair possible, eyes creased as he watched you both. Only when your eyes were drooping with tiredness, had Simon signalled that he wanted to take you to bed.

“Fine.” Acknowledged Price with a clap of his weathered palms. “You know you’re both welcome here. We’ll continue this tomorrow Simon.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that, while Price opened the door, Laswell coolly observing you both exiting hand in hand. Her orbs seemed to linger on your threaded fingers, but perhaps you were just overthinking things.

“Stop arguing with me, I’m cleaning it whether you like it or not.”

Simon grunts, a tiny sliver of drool trailing along his gaping mouth, transparent and shining in the low light. Sat on the small bed in the room you were formerly held captive in, you insisted he take off his shirt and show you his injury. Softly you swab the open wound on his arm with an antibacterial pad, despite the fact he’s already dead and a lingering infection would be the least of his concerns. As you run a finger over the edge of the puncture in his ice cold skin, he twitches, the muscle flinching as he looks at you reproachfully through his hazy eyes.

“Does that hurt? I’m sorry.” You murmur, retracting your touch and gazing at him. “Is anywhere else sore?”

Simon shakes his head, the spit on his lips falling towards his chin, then tugs you into his lap resolutely. Cool palms close tightly on your wrists, arranging you chest to chest. Swirls of dark mix with the light in his stare, warmest amber peeking through the film of the viruses lenses like a scotch rolling inside a frosted decanter.

“Let me stitch it up? You’re a right mess aren’t you!”

Your hands wrap around his neck, scratching at the blonde hairs at the nape until he’s almost purring.

“Later.” He replies slowly, studying you closely, clumsy fingers rubbing along your heated skin, tracing each exposed area from your cheek down to your collarbone. The sense of peace he feels at you being returned to him is unparalleled, order restored to his universe, the infection inside him finally quiet in it’s entirety. It’s almost pure Simon with you now, not the same man that used to prowl the corridors of this base alive, but one forever altered by more than his death. Previously this level of dependence on another would have unnerved him. But now Simon sees with blinding clarity just how sweet life is when you have another to share it with.

“Missed this.” He rasps, throat wheezing slightly where he’s becoming re-accustomed to using his voice for speech again. “Love you, know that?”

“I know that.” You reply quietly. “Love you too. Please don’t ever try and leave me behind again.”

Simon nods, seeing the pain in your face and feeling hurt himself by that.

“M’sorry. Keep you safe.”

“I hate it here. These people don’t deserve you.”

Simon frowns, you watch the creases forming around his eyes. You don’t understand, how can you? This was his home before your heart was, these people his family when he didn’t realise you and he would make a new one. He trusts them beyond measure, even if you don’t yet.

Silently you ask if you can remove his mask, spattered with gore as it is. He gives you his ascent with a lopsided smile. The broken jawline looks more upsetting hanging limp without the covering, it throws off his face and strikes sadness into your heart.

“We should fix this.” You eye the tattered lower half of his visage, while you stroke his crooked nose.

“Ask Johnny tomorrow.”

“Don’t ask him anything!” You snarl, all essence of romance vanishing as you rear back in disgust. “I don’t trust him anywhere near you!”

Simon holds you firmly while you squirm away, anguished and furious with him.

“Don’t blame him. Good man I promise. Forgive him.”

“I will not!” Your voice snaps fiercely, while you struggle to maintain your composure. “He tried to murder you!”

“Forgive him. For me?” Simon’s big palm cups your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Please.”

He knows you can’t resist pleading, so you shoot him a mutinous look under your lashes. Simon huffs, refusing to release you.

“Please?” He groans out again, pinching your cheeks a little harder.

“I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything.”

That will have to be good enough for now he supposes. Simon stands up without any obvious effort, adjusting so that your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you off the ground. You’d forgotten how terrifyingly strong he is, the ice hardened muscles now built with a supernaturally enhanced capacity. But everything else about him feels so familiar, normal even. Koala cub style you hang onto his broad shoulders as he trudges towards the door, using the cuff of your sleeve to mop up some of the spit leaking down over his neck.

“Gross.” You say into his ear, and Simon chuckles in response, snatching a towel from a bundle deposited by Laswell earlier in the day.

It’s beginning to occur to you that Simon knows his way around a base. Without needing direction he locates the showers, a cold room with several grimy looking cubicles. Still, when you turn the water on, it’s hot. It’s the first warm wash you’ve had in months, probably longer. Plunging yourself into freezing baths aside, you get so excited you actually squeak, while Simon starts fumbling at your clothes, demonstrating extremely clearly that he’s greedy, wanting for you without needing to verbalise it.

The water feels so good, the pressure beating down against your body as the steam rises, creating tiny clouds that hover then dissipate as quickly as they come. Si slips in behind you, a dichotomy of heated, glancing droplets on his ice cold skin pressing close. Already the water seems to be soaking away the trauma of the last few days, you watch it almost melting off you both.

Simon rubs his nose along the line of your shoulder, curving his bull-like chest to mould perfectly around your spine. You jump slightly when his cooler fingers trace their way down the flesh of your sides, squeezing and rubbing every inch he can reach. The temperature difference is enticing, goosebumps threatening to erupt on your arms while a warmth sparks and flows where the shower rains on you. Simon’s eyelashes tickle against your neck, his broken face buried in the crook he’s found there, a niche reserved for him and only him.

Your body begins to sing, craving his presence on a level deeper than physicality. Slowly those tender digits work over your belly, dipping down toward your cunt. His stiff cock juts firmly against your back, insistent and rousing a fierce, overwhelming longing for him. He’s too tall to easily take you like this, but you buck anyway, letting his prick slide over your sodden skin. Simon answers with a deep, guttural sound dragged from a place beyond love. It streams palpably through a desperate craving for you, an inability to be whole without your hand in his and an acceptance of that fact.

Turning to face him, you gaze at the beads of wetness clinging to the surface of his upper lip, take in the tigerish brown shining behind his filmy orbs. Two big paws hook around your arms, tugging you flush to him, while instinctively your legs link over his own. There’s an urgency building, rugged and depraved, just like the first time you fucked. But he’s trying his hardest to be gentle, you can tell, actions strained while he shakes with the effort of bottling up the virus for you.

It’s all for you, always has been. Everything he does, has done, was entirely designed to find a way to make you his. You want him to break you, crush you to fine powder, mix your essences into a cocktail of something feral and dark.

“Take me Si, don’t be soft about it either.”

He moans in earnest, it bounces off the tiled floor, reverberating around the empty room and echoing within the marrow of your bones. In response you drag his head to your own, fingers clawing at the pallid skin, scratching fiercely until he raises you entirely off the floor, arse held firmly in both hands. Without preamble, he’s working himself into you, the heat of your pussy engulfing him until he nearly loses his frayed mind at the feeling.

Your fluttering core welcomes Simon home with open arms, stretching with a sting to accommodate all of him as quickly as possible, an ungodly amount of lubrication leaking onto the hairs at his base. Si sinks punishingly up to his root, your cries and moans echoing ceaselessly within his sensitive eardrums like a beautiful mantra. Pulling out half way, he slams back inside, drawing out a searing punch of pleasure as he does so. Your little blunt teeth sink deep into the meat of his trap, urging him onwards, anything to stay crushed between the cubicle and his thick body. Grasping you, Simon rolls his hips, grinding your clit snuggly until your toes curl. Blinking vapour out of your eyes, you see his own lids heavily observing the way you take him, how your cunt begs for his cock to be seated within you, sucking him so tightly he can barely thrust.

Simon brings you to your first orgasm in what feels like years against that bathroom wall, spilling himself shortly afterwards, his seed still dripping from your clenching pussy even after a thorough scrub with a thin bar of soap.

Clean and warm, your fingers lace into the fresh sheets, head rolling back against soft pillows. It’s so divine, Simon lying nestled between your thighs while he laps around the swollen, sensitive parts of you with fervour, occasionally pumping his spend back inside, only partly on the viruses whim. When you eventually crash, exhaustion taking hold of your breath as you snore on his chest, he watches you dream, every wrong of being separated from your soul righted.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but with Si at your side again, you’re sure everything will be alright.

One way or another.

Masterlist

Tags closed besties

@ashy-kit @cutiecusp @deadmarygolds @redbleedingrose @magicstrengthandcourage @darkangel4121 @cmbghost @silly-norman @sigrid666 @pxssygxblin @spicyspicyliving @itsyaboinoah @misshugs @blush-haze @kolpvii @sobbingnshtting @murder-hobo @nexthyperfix @chinaza444 @contractedcriteria @soapsmohawk-16 @coqwuette @juneonhoth @lanalafey

no thoughts head COMPLETELY empty i just can’t stop thinking of lieutenant simon “ghost” riley, who’s now also reader’s boyfriend simon “ghost” riley, fucking you soooo hard that you black out and forget his name, completely brainless and only remembering his call sign after how much he’s plowed you senselessly :(

simon riley x fem! reader

nsft ✰ creampie, brief mention of squirting, fem! anatomy, saucy to soft, honestly a lot of soft simon (man is so incredibly whipped for u) heh… this one’s been sitting in my NOTES of all things for soooo long because i might be a slag :0

when you come down from it all, from the taste of smoke and sugar and bitterness, a million other things dancing on your tongue, a blunt ringing in your ears so unmissable you’d think fireworks went off in your apartment, your blurry vision slowly begins to reveal the silhouette of your boyfriend, still hovering over you. just as sweaty and fucked out as you, if not even more.

simon. your darling, darling simon. boyfriend who just absolutely fucked your brains out for you without a shadow of a doubt. you were gone, always the desired result though after a good fucking from your love.

the weakest little whimper leaves your chapped, swollen lips when you vaguely remark his body lurching down, lower towards yours, until another, louder and more embarrassed whine also leaves you when you finally realise what he’s doing. he was going down to inspect your poor little fucked out cunt, like the sadist he so clearly was— it had become so well established by now, so long into sleeping with the man, that he always loved the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of your abused little hole. it was a primal sense of fulfilment that he’d get from it, after all. the fact that he’d marked you so well, so clearly from the inside that it was beginning to spill out, so unbelievably thick as streams of it began to mix with your own gushiness and slick gave him a feeling of accomplishment that not even blowing out the skulls of his enemies on the battlefield could compare to.

a small, soundless breath leaves your mouth when you try to talk, but that’s when the realisation comes sharply— you have nothing to say. genuinely nothing. your brain was completely empty, having probably leaked down your thighs by now when he’d fucked every last thought out of your head. you barely even recognise the man now comfortably situated by your still-spread legs; you know who he is, but no name, no recognisable sense of identity comes to your head as you let out another hoarse breath in an attempt to communicate.

but then another little whimper leaves you through your heavy breaths and dizzy little sounds as you try your hardest to come down, and you realise that you do know this man. it’s your lieutenant. lieutenant ghost. how could you ever forget the giant masked man always wearing the skull face who’s authority you’d always obey, way back when you first began working with the task force? of course you could never forget him!

(your poor little mind must have blacked out so hard during those countless orgasms that he’d given you, that you completely forgot about the man you’d been dating for the past two years now: instead only remembering the man you’d been serving under for the past three. the man who you trained yourself to obey and work for ever since you met. and honestly, with how dumb and mushy he’d made you after orgasm number three, nobody could blame you.)

“…ghost.” you softly, deliriously whisper out amidst your heavy pants, completely out of touch with reality and the world that you’re still in right now. your eyes are glued to the ceiling, your entire body unable to move, and that’s when you finally, faintly register the small tear rolling down from the corner of your eye towards your hairline as your body continues trying to recover from the high. fuck. orgasm was so good that you cried?

“nah, ‘ts just me baby… just simon.” he whispers back with a small smile on his face as his eyes move to look at yours for a second, deeply admiring the adorable little fucked out look you have. your eyes were glazed over, he could almost see the hearts in your pupils from how clearly fucking great that final climax was for you. your face was glossy with sweat, hair disheveled, and your bare breasts rose up and down as you panted heavily, gaze glued to the ceiling. he continues to reposition himself over your limp, helplessly sprawled out frame underneath him on the bed until he’s properly situated over your lower-half, eyes locked on your pussy. he pushes one of your legs open, admittedly more roughly than he’d intended to, and unintentionally lets out a low moan from deep within his throat when he’s greeted with the full display of the creampie he just gave you.

“ghost…” you weakly whisper again, barely registering his words. barely comprehending the full extent of your relationship with the huge, heavy man in front of you currently admiring, completely stuck on the absolute state of your wrecked little cunt right now, after what was probably the longest and most intense fucking of your life.

he chuckles again, already sensing the adorably confused little expression on your face- furrowed eyebrows, puffed out lips, slightly separate and opened to help you even further in regaining your breaths- even though his eyes never once leave your lower half. thick globs of his own spend have already leaked down from your cunt, trickling past your asshole and pooling onto the bedsheets below the two of you, diluted a little by your own slick and squirt, and forming what is possibly the most lewd and downright delicious display simon has ever seen in his life. he could stay here forever, admiring the scene for the rest of his life.

but he also needs to do his job now, helping you recover from it all. from what he gave you, from what you let him take from you tonight.

“it’s simon, love, no ghost here right now.” he mumbles sweetly as he finally relents and tears his gaze away from your spent womanhood to properly face his sweet girl, his smile only widening when his suspicions on how evidently fucked out your facial expression is becomes confirmed. he chuckles softly again, the sound nothing but a low, exhaled breath as he moves up to hover over you, his face inches away from yours as he cups your cheek with one of those large, warm hands of his in an attempt to get you to finally look at him. (the same hand that he’d already wrung orgasm after orgasm out of you with tonight.)

when your eyes finally tear from the ceiling to look at his face, long lashes batting repeatedly against your skin as you try to blink the blurriness of your vision away, he coos, fingers sprawling over your face to gently brush away the stray hairs that were messily scattered over your forehead and eyes.

“mmmm-” is the only dumb little sound you have the brain capacity of making, but it gets shushed up automatically when he presses the softest of kisses against your lips, naturally forcing your vision to go back to normal that much more straight away, allowing you to finally, properly focus on the man still hovering in front of you. the man you were slowly beginning to remember that you loved, practically more than anything.

he presses another delicate little kiss to your forehead, the corners of his lips turning upwards that much further as he hears the sound from you amidst your consistent weak breaths and moans, before he moves down over your face again, still cupping your cheek and tilting your head upwards to try and make you properly look him in the eye. god, he loved when you would get like this. maybe, potentially, getting to witness the aftermath of what he would do to you was his favourite part, even more than the sex itself.

“you know my name, yeah? c’mon, love, say it. say my name.” he coos to you, so tenderly you’d think he was trying to reel in a scared farm animal or pet. he tilts his head inquisitively at you, absolutely enamoured by how spaced out and completely engulfed by bliss and satisfaction you still were, as he waits for a response from his beloved girl.

“gh-” you can see his eyebrows raise a little. in that classic simon way whenever you’d do or say something questionable to him, that amused him or perplexed him further. only simon could do that. your simon. and then it dawns on you. it was him. it was simon.

“s… s-simon…” you finally slur out happily, the tiniest of smiles beginning to spread across your cheeks as you tilt your head back at him and blink quickly, finally beginning to recollect yourself and come back down to reality after it all. it only makes him beam back at you in response, that familiar and warm smile comforting you and pulling you so much closer back to earth as you begin to regain feeling in your body and brain.

“yeaaah…” he drawls out proudly, chuckling a little more at you before he leans back down to your forehead, granting you another soft and familiar peck. “that’s it, baby. that’s my girl.” he murmurs against your hairline, those big, warm, admittedly slightly rough palms of his roaming back down across your body- tits, tummy, hips- until they meet the backs of your thighs once again, and he pushes them up against you to put you back into the exposed position you were originally in, after your orgasm hit you. he silently wondered when you’d even slumped your legs down, probably out of so much fatigue from the whole thing, at some point while you tried to come to your senses. it made sense… but he also wasn’t finished admiring the state of you right now- even if you did manage to get your brain back.

he shamelessly hovers back down towards the lower half of your sweaty little body, big hands of his grasping each of your thighs to greedily spread them a little wider and push them back against you, essentially folding you, as he resumes what he was doing in admiring the absolute state of your wrecked little cunt. his cunt, that he had the privilege of using whenever his precious girl let him.

“fuuuckin’ hell, love…” he rasps out, warm breath from his mouth hitting your inner thigh as he praises the sight before him, before he plants another peck there, too, right where his fingers are gripping the plush of your thigh. he just genuinely couldn’t stop staring at it. his cum. the way it was spilling from inside of you, after he’d stuffed it so deep in there you’d think it was your body producing it and not his. the runniness of it all. it was genuinely like a sweet, slow, milky waterfall. goddamn was it lewd… not to mention the giant wet patch you’d personally made for him on the sheets below you, before he even spilled inside. he was definitely taking a mental snapshot, trying as hard as he could to remember the image for next time.

“mmm, fuck…” you slowly drawl out yourself, mimicking his profanity, as you register more and more of the pleasure he gave you in the aftermath of it all, seeping into your bones. you let out a heavy breath, tilting your head down towards where he’s at as your eyes finally, fully focus on him, and you finally take in everything around the two of you. everything that just happened, everything that you just did to each other. it turns his gaze away from your pussy once again towards your face, and he grins, handsome and wolfish, cockily almost.

“that good?” he asks, his voice that perfect mixture of gravel and timbre that has your insides stirring all over again.

“mhm.” you confirm, smiling down at him and using what little strength you were slowly beginning to regain to nod your head, as he slowly crawls back up your body so that his face meets yours all over again. you take it as a cue to finally relax your legs when he lets go of your thighs, tiredly slumping them down against the bed as your breaths become more stable and less heavy, bit by bit.

“yeah. think you soaked the bed a bit.” he teases, full-on beaming at you as he relishes in the way your eyes widen ever so slightly and your lips part in surprise as you process his words. oh shit. oh fuck. (no wonder the bed below you felt wetter than usual.)

“…i didn’t mean to.” the word spill out of your lips before you realise, whiny and breathless as you mumble them up at him, barely even realising that you were frowning partially before he chuckles softly once again and his hand comes back up to cradle your cheek. you find yourself leaning in to the warmth of the touch, so perfectly paired with the roughness of his palm, naturally.

“shhhh…” he immediately coos, before smiling again and shaking his head at how upset and slightly embarrassed you looked. did you not know?

“quiet down, baby…” he continues, practically purring out the words to you. “you know i love it when you cum like that, hm?”

he can’t help but chuckle yet again when your lips shut but your eyes remain widened, probably so shy and bashful by his shameless words. it’s almost enough to wipe away all the thoughts from your mind, once again. almost. you can’t think of that much to say in response, apart from-

“you’re perfect.” you state sweetly, that dumb little look still present on your face as you blink up at him, looking at simon like he built the universe for you. like he hung every star in the sky, just for you. he smiles, at the compliment, and in turn, you smile, too.

“you’re better.” he breathes out, lovingly, words so soft it’s practically a whisper. his eyes are glued on to yours, a testament to how much he’s focused on you and your recovery from being plowed so senselessly right now as he refuses to tear his gaze off of his woman. (and also, he was done relishing in the sight of your adorably spent little pussy by now.)

“mmm… i- i love you, simon.” you breathe out lazily, the happy expression on your face growing tenfold as the words leave your lips. it was safe ground, for the two of you. what was once a terrifying phrase was now comforting, due to the fact that you both had already began using the sacred “l” word for the past maybe two, three months now. the happiness on his face spreads as he processes it, in turn mirroring the expression on yours, as he chuckles softly and beams at you. if you didn’t know any better, if you’d maybe recollected a little more brain power by now, it would have maybe also seemed like he was getting choked up.

“i love you too.” he breathes out with those beautiful caramel brown eyes of his still glued to yours, followed by the sweetest little mumble of your name, before he plants another kiss to your cheek and finally flops over to the side of you, gently pulling you against his chest. you let out a small exhale of both relief as well as fatigue as the exhaustion washes over you, and you allow your eyes to flutter shut as you rest your head on his chest, because you finally realised after it all that you were safe. you were home.

home with your lieutenant. your boyfriend. your simon.

<3

© sugarmeowe 2024. please do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own, or share to any third party sites!!

a/n- FIRST EVER POST WOWOWEEEEWOW!!! also jfc this ended up being SOOO much longer than i intended, i had to do so much tweaking to it in comparison to the blurb i originally had written in my notes. but i hope you all enjoy!! please do like ‘n reblog ‘n share if you did, it would mean a lot to me as a new writer!! until then, see u next time sexy tumblr people :-)

simon riley x fem! reader

nsft, mdni! ✰ fem! anatomy, religion (reader is alluded to be religious; wears a cross necklace), corruption, dom! simon, (slightly) mean simon, but the man loves you & he never means what he yaps about at the end of the day so it’s okay!

click here for part two!!

“oh my god— oh- oh my god!”

it’s the only phrase on your mind, the only thing you have the brain capacity to scream out as you continuously register it, the feeling of that thick fucking cock impossibly deep in your tummy, gracelessly forcing itself in and out as you lie there underneath your boyfriend and continue to helplessly take it.

the only thing that registers in your ears- alongside the increasingly loud ringing from everything becoming so overwhelming, too overwhelming- is the repeated and obscenely lewd *plap! plap! plap!* sound of him fucking into you senselessly, mixed with your own whimpers and moans as well as his very rare but occasional groans.

you can’t think. the only thing you can keep doing is cry out to your god, any god up there pitifully looking down at you as simon continues his loving onslaught on you, refusing to relent for even a second.

“mmmm god- god si-m-mon!” you can barely even cry out his name, hiccuping on the two syllables as your eyes roll back into your head again, just when you thought you’d managed to stabilise your vision.

you don’t even realise that one of simon’s large, sweaty palms has landed on that oh-so-sacred crucifix necklace you still wore around your neck, cross sitting faithfully right above your sweaty breasts, as his fingers squeeze unthinkably hard around the damn thing— almost like he’s trying to squeeze all of the holiness, all of the divinity and virtue out of it. out of you.

almost like you didn’t deserve to wear such a righteous thing— not while doing something so sinful, with an absolute devil of a man; one you shouldn’t have even given the time of day to in the first place.

you blindly cry out to your god all over again for the millionth time when simon hits right into that golden little spot of yours inside, the one that has you gushing all over him and seeing stars, and he just snickers at the sound, darkly; amusedly.

“god— oh my g-god- si—“ the mention of the big man upstairs all over again for the nth time is what causes him to lose his fucking mind with you, your attempt to cry out simon’s name immediately cut off by him when he pulls your delicate little cross chain away from your sternum and shoves it straight into your parted lips, forcing you to suck on the dainty thing before he pushes his large palm right over your mouth. your eyes widen and your body trembles as he muffles you, especially when you’re met with the sight of how smug and triumphant he looks in response, all while continuing to fuck you senselessy.

“not god, dove. don’t you fucking dare.” he growls, punctuating his second last word with an especially deep thrust that has your thighs trembling and your eyes rolling so much further back into your skull, so sinfully.

“he’s not gonna save you now, mm?”

a/n- I ALREADY HAVE A PART TWO WRITTEN I HAD TO CUT THIS IN HALF and part two is so much more filth but idk if i should post it or leave this as it is, please lmk if you do want a pt2 because if enough people ask i’ll definitely be unleashing it out into the world!

© sugarmeowe 2024. please do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own, or share to any third party sites!!

simon riley x fem! reader

nsft, mdni! ✰ fem! anatomy, heavy themes of religion (reader is alluded to be religious; wears a cross necklace), corruption, slight degradation, dom! simon, mean simon, choking, light slapping, brief mentions of simon’s childhood & father.

this is a part two to my previous fic, click here for part one— enjoy! :-)

“dirty girl like you doesn’t deserve this.” he grumbles, popping the necklace out of your mouth again, tiny strings of drool still connecting the precious cross to your lips as he makes quick work of slapping his palm back across your lips. he was smart; smart enough to know that you’d cry or try your hardest with that fucked-out little brain of yours to argue back, if he didn’t.

unintentionally letting out a out a strained grunt at the muffled moans and incoherent sounds still leaving you, he pulls, and pulls, beginning to tug on your chain increasingly hard- almost like he’s trying to kill you, even as he continues to pound you senseless. literally fucking you like he hates you, like he’s trying to prove it as a point even if it’s the last goddamn thing he does in his life.

it’s comical, really. simon could never hate you. not his sweet, gentle girl, apple of his eyes, angel of his dreams. but that’s just the thing.

you were an angel. the very same thing simon was always taught by his far too inebriated father that he would never get the privelege of coming near, ever, in his goddamn bastard life. the very same thing that the viscious, twisted man would always teach him, in slurred words, that simon never deserved to stand next to, no matter how much he grew, no matter how good of a man he could become.

it was embedded in his head that he was never worthy of an angel. he didn’t deserve the sacrality, the religion that your love to him felt like. he was a dirty, bastard boy, raised by an atheist who taught him he was never worthy of even looking at the gods— and yet here he was, with a young one now offering herself to him so freely.

he didn’t deserve it.

it felt like a joke. he felt like a joke.

so he was going to prove a point, and fuck you like he was trying to kill the religion that he didn’t deserve to experience, the religion you always shared with him- the divinity that was your love- single-handedly.

but it backfires.

of course it fucking does.

it backfires on the delirious, fucked-out, downright pussydrunk mess of a man when you whimper through his heavy palm, still clasped over your mouth, and your eyes begin to cross, plush thighs of yours wrapped around his torso beginning to tremble- violently. and he obviously knows what it means. he’s experienced it too much by now, had the privilege of witnessing and relishing in your telltale sign. he knew your body, had committed it to memory better than any piece of divine scripture any of the scholars could study.

he lets out a needy moan of his own, low and drawled out, as he feels your impossibly tight, gooey little cunt clench around his cock like your life depended on it, only momentarily feeling guilt for how meanly he had just spoken to you as his love for you begins to pour through.

but the man still can’t think. and his lips are so loose, so, incredibly loose, as his own brain begins to go dumb and mushy, mirroring yours, making every single thought begin to spill from his head as he gets off to the fact that you were getting off. you were close— and therefore, so was he.

“dumb- fucking— fuuuuck, baby— cry out to your god again.” he snarls at you, his face lowering to hover over yours, that handsome and downright broken visage of a man- of a ghost- being the only thing in your vision. all you can do is let out another choked whimper as he begins to slam so much harder, deeper, into you, your dumb little brain barely managing to process his command-

until he moves his hand down from your mouth to instead wrap around your throat, finally giving you that breath of air your body was so pathetically fighting for after all this time. all you can register is thick, steel-like fingers beginning to squeeze around your neck as he snarls at you again.

“beg. beg for god, love. beg. or i won’t- fuck- won’t let you cum, yeah?”

it takes you so much strength to even make sense of his words, in all the delirium and pleasure you’re lost in as your body processes nothing but the weight of his body and the delicious pounding of his perfect fucking cock inside of you. but you force yourself to understand. because there’s tears already prickling your eyes, and your skin feels like it’s on fire, and you know you won’t last that much longer.

and you know that tonight could be an endless night of being fucked dumb by him until he pulls out right when you’re about to climax, repeatedly, until the sun rises, if you don’t do what he says.

you know from experience.

“g-g-god-“ the hoarse sound somehow escapes your lips, amidst your heavy gasps for air as simon squeezes only slightly harder, giving you that perfect pressure around your neck that empties your head out entirely and makes your cunt gush. the sound is obscenely audible, causing the both of you to moan out once again in unison as you both register it, that disgustingly wet and repeated squelch of your pussy echoing through the room as simon continues to pound his girl senseless.

he coos at your begging, a crooked smirk growing on his face, before his other hand moves to give your cheek the tiniest of slaps, his brows furrowing in ecstasy once again when he registers you clench at the action. he didn’t even need to tease you about that. it wasn’t new to him that you liked this treatment from him. he’d known already by now that his angel was so, so tainted with filth and sin, only a fraction of the amount he was also stained with.

“louder.” he decides to utter out instead, relenting for a moment on your throat and letting his grip get lighter so that you have a proper chance of begging for him. for god. for both at the same time, maybe. you didn’t even know by now. you just needed to cum.

“g-god- si- p-please-“ you begin to slur out, reaching that phase of unintelligible babbling that simon absolutely adored from you. “p-please- b-baby- god… need to cum, please, si.” you try your hardest to continue pleading amidst the rhythmic moans and yelps of pleasure your brain was automatically letting out, the band in your belly impossibly close to snapping already as you continue to beg.

“p-please- si-mon- god— god.” you don’t even know if you’re calling him the title, at this point. you’re too fucked out to comprehend the blasphemy, the sin. all you know is he has so much power over you right now, and you’re practically helpless, under his mercy as you beg and pray for him to be kind to you.

what difference was there to a real god, anyway?

a sob-like moan leaves you as your thighs continue to tremble, harder, and your hands helplessly begin to flail out, pawing at him, desperately begging with your eyes and your face and the few tears that have slid down your cheeks as well as with your cunt, for mercy.

and he relents. grants you that salvation, as he continues to slam himself into you, the mild slaps of his balls against your clit finally sending you to paradise.

“fuck- can’t-“ he slurs, just as mindless as you. maybe worse. “can’t get enough of you, fucking angel- take it, take it, fucking take it-“ he babbles out, the gravel and timbre in his voice sending you reeling as you let out a final scream before letting go.

salvation. oblivion. you didn’t know what to call it.

all you knew was you forgot about everything and everyone, any deity in the sky, apart from the giant monster of a man still right on top of you as you gush and tremble and cry, fireworks going off in your body when he finally, mercifully grants you that climax.

simon’s a weak man, and it’s why he follows straight after you, nothing but weak groans and even a small whimper leaving his lips as he shoots his load straight into your belly before slumping his heavy frame down onto yours.

there’s nothing anymore, no sounds in the room, no lewd squelches or screams or prayers and cries, nothing but heavy breathing and panting, shaky little moans and gasps for air as the two of you come down from it, together.

it takes you a long, long time to recover. takes you a good few minutes to finally become verbal, to finally process the world around you again as you lie there in the bed you’ve just been so beautifully ruined in, simon’s head resting against the cushy padding of your chest as his body pants on top of yours.

when your brain manages to formulate words again, simple things, after it regains its first few braincells or so, all you manage to whisper out is short and weak—

“…i’m going to hell.”

simon chuckles, genuinely amused at the statement, before planting a few tender kisses on each of your breasts, an almost reverencing sigh leaving his lips as he grins up at you.

“yeah, well… either way, love… i’ll still be there with you.”

© sugarmeowe 2024. please do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own, or share to any third party sites!!

a/n- i really really REALLY like how this came out :3 please please give me some feedback, i’d really appreciate it a lot as a new writer on this site!! anyways yeah i really love religious themes in dirty fics & smut if u couldn’t tell already by now, there’s just something so beautiful about it and all of the underlying religious metaphors, coming from an ex-religious believer hehehehe ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵