#dadbod!simon

an: it’s that time yall…

i need a big boy to love on me like it’s his only job on this damn earth.

the slow ascent over his lap feeling more like mounting a horse. the feel of his strong hands gripping at the plush of your hips. the tug and pull at each others clothes while your lips lock in the slowest, wettest fuck. his scorching tongue in your mouth feels like he’s reaching into you for your soul already and the firm fingers in your hair make sure he gets exactly what he wants.

he can’t help but grind up into your heat on instinct, the slow roll of his hips intoxicating you. the heat spreading through your core and straight up your spine, unable to keep your mouth shut. the rhythmic back-and-forth of humping fully clothed, no time to take any clothes off. his hands sear a path over every inch of skin he can get to, yours content in his hair too focused on rocking your clit over the throbbing bulge in his shorts. a concentrated frown etched into his strong features, sparkling eyes locked on your thrown back head.

his hot mouth going straight for your bared neck, addicted to the taste of your skin. he’s laving at anything his mouth can reach, sucking at your nipples like the feel of them in his mouth alone is enough to make him bust - your whole chest glistening by the time he’s done.

the rushed struggle to stuff yourself with every thick inch he has, clothes still on, mouthing at his lips. him thrusting up into you short and fast, grunting against your collar bone, palms firmly planted on your hips. chest to chest, you can feel every breath he intakes, the outtake fanning over your wet, pebbled, buds. his solid arms caging you in, making damn sure you take everything he’s giving.

he has to back up just to see you in all your glory, pushing at your belly, still canting up into you with no problem. his mouth hangs open in bliss, floored at the the clench of you around him when he man handles you down to the hilt, hitting a spot so deep you think you see tweety birds.

he flips you both over like it’s nothing, his belly up against yours, his pudge and happy trail rubbing your clit just right. the weight he puts behind his thrusts hitting you like a mack truck. it makes you dizzy, the way he’s putting his all into it yet completely unfazed by the way you can’t shut your mouth. his lazy thumbing at your sensitive clit sending you up the wall. he keeps you on the edge for as long as you can stand, heaving breaths into his mouth from the force of his thrusts.

he’s nasty with it, biting at your lips in a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself lingering on his tongue from earlier. he’s flipping into whatever position gets the loudest moans out of you, massaging the plush of your thighs and up your back like that’ll ease the punch of his hips. he heaves into your neck, gripping at you like the heat of you around him is wearing his sanity thinner than is possible.

he don’t care about the mess, the splat splat of the wetness in between you both makes you even wetter, the gush around him calls for teeth biting, groans, and hot tongue on the column of your throat. you moan like you haven’t had a homemade meal in years - the palpable hunger for you that seeps out of him when you buck up onto his leaking dick, is only thing that can quell your hunger.

when you’re on your side, thigh stretched up in his hold, the soft muscle of him envelopes you from behind. he reaches so deep with every thrust you think he can feel how much you need his dick. it overwhelms your senses, his baccarat, your miss dior, and the thick musk of sex

and when he’s fucking you, when he’s got you bearing all his weight while he fucks you on your knees, he uses the incident as dirty talk.

“remember ‘im, love?” simon croons, his voice almost drowned by the resonating sounds of skin slapping against skin. “he thought i’m not y’r daddy. thought y’re too good f’me.”

you keen underneath him, your body toppling to the mattress when your arms fall limp. simon easily follows, adjusting so that the jut of his gut sits atop your ass, and it should be a crime how this position wedges him even further in because he’s pressing against tender places, his cockhead nudging at something that almost makes it feel like he’s hitting the back of your throat.

clawing my thighs because this is so- this is so!!!

thinking about the way he’d marvel at his ‘size.’ in reality, he can’t truly see himself past your fat and muscles, but simon would still place his hand on your stomach, chirping at how proud he is that you’re taking him all the way in; at how you truly are his perfect dear to be able to gobble all of him up.

the way he’d croon shushing noises when you begin to hiccup in your pleasure, trembling like a leaf on top of him because it’s just too much. the ecstasy keeps on bloating, unforgiving, and simon’s eyes are heavy with his desire and you just want to be good for him, to be the lovely darling he keeps saying that you are, so when the oversensitivity hits, you crumble. god, you need him to be able to take charge again. please—

but all simon does is pat your thigh when you stall, humming to himself as he blinks bleary eyes open. “y’ve got to do it y’rself if y’want to cum, kid.”

the sob that is ripped from your throat softens him, finding that he was being too mean, so he jostles the two of you to position you better, until you’re cushioned by his body—softened by his time in retirement, and growing rotund with late night oysters and steaks—and cradled in his arms.

“jus’ one more, love,” simon rumbles, grazing his lips on your shoulder. his hand climbs up your thigh until it’s resting on your pelvis instead.

“one more an’ y’can come up an’ have me lick y’r pussy as sorry,” he adds, and here, he slowly thumbs at your erect clit. you jerk on his hold with a mewl, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes again, but simon keeps it, circling it softly until the pleasure wanes into quiet laps.

“o-okay,” you breathe out, heaving. “love you s’much, si.”

“of course,” he replies, his words muffled on your skin. “love you too, sweet’art.”

then he’s falling back to the cushions for the show.

cw: daddy kink

holy shit.

this would have him murmuring, “shh. shh, baby. breathe f’me, yeah? c’mon kid, breathe f’me.” while he slowly moves your body so that you’re rutting onto him.

your hardened clit bumps against the pudge of his gut, making you mewl because s’too much and not enough at the same time, and he just coos as your tears spill like jaded glass.

just. the way simon grips your waist and pulls you towards him, manhandling your body so you meet his thrusts. the grip along your sides, the slaps of his meaty thighs against your own, the press of his belly on your ass – it makes your toes curl, fists tightly gripping the sheets.

and the sounds. god the sounds.

it’s not just the wet slide of his cock fucking into your cunt or your squeals muffled on the pillows, but simon’s moans. simon’s dirty talking. simon calling you his pretty girl, his good girl. simon telling you how delicious your pussy is as it grips his cock.

“gonna wife you up, baby,” he grunts. “gonna- jesus- gonna tie the knot and keep you on my bed like this. keep y’r cunt stuffed. y’want that, lovie? want me to keep filling your pussy with my cock?”

simon bends down to fold himself onto you, his body draping along yours. you don’t know how but it drives his cock deeper, sliding along the sensitive bundle of nerves and kissing so deep in you. his hands are holding onto you even harder and you know you’re going to have bruises later but fuck. fuck. you can’t think of anything past the razing pleasure, overwhelming you into silence.

into submission.

“gonna ruin you for everyone else, sweetheart. gonna make sure all y’r pussy wants is me,” simon rumbles in your ear, and the promise makes you clench on his cock.

BUT OH MY GOD

DAD BOD SIMON ??????????

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8JeEXmW/

🛐👁️👁️🛐

I CREAME D I MEANI SCREAMED

dad bod simon is so dear to me (the chronicles ive written… oh to revisit them again) and this has me—

i am—

my god just imagining coming home to this simon, whose body has grown soft in his retirement, and having him pull you down and press his body to yours while he takes you there on the sofa. your legs are thrown on his sides, and he fills you up so perfectly that all you could do is babble nonsense, aching deeply to have more because, “please si? gi’me more?”

“shh,” he croons, cupping your jaw. “i’ve got you, kid.”

!! smut - minors dni; female reader

thinking about the way simon takes you on your knees, your hands bound on your back, your wrists held by his hand. it makes you drool, the way his strength overpowers you; the way you are suspended for him to use.

the swell of his gut sits on your pretty ass as he humps his cock in your pussy, the stretch of it so big it makes your body lock, preparing for the crescendo of your orgasm.

simon fucks you through it—slipping his cock out slowly, torturously, before pressing in deliciousy, hitting that one spot so intimately deep, you begin whimpering, all delirious from the myriad of pleasure sparking all over you. you don’t know if you want to run away from the way his cock kisses somewhere sensitive, or if you want to push back and meet his thrusts.

he grunts in his pleasure, his other hand mapping out the plane of your spine, massaging your taut muscles as though he isn’t fucking you so well. as though you haven’t been reduced to babbling mewls.

“please,” you hiccup and something in simon shifts because he’s pulling out and pulling away and no, no, wantyouwantyou-

“shh,” simon murmurs, cupping your cheek to wipe away your tears. you didn’t even realize that he’s twisted you to face him; that, even with your body turned into putty, simon was able to lift all that you are with such gentleness.

his bulk shadows you and you peer up at him with a pout, sniffling, feeling yourself run on overdrive. your appetite continues to expand, curling with a yawning desire.

jamieeeee my toes are curled!! this is so yummy im actually licking my screen idk hhhnh but absolutely!! (prev)

just. the way he surrounds you – fills you up – until you’re all heady and dizzy because he’s everywhere. overwhelming in the way he pumps his desires in you, waves of euphoric bliss tingling from where you feel him pressed up against you. the ripples of his fat and his muscles mingling with every thrust, reducing you into putty until all you could do is fist the sheets in hopes it can ground you.

the way he bears down his weight on your back while his arms, thick and strong, pull you up, suspending you on his cock. you hiccup a moan, garbling out your pleas, but simon just grunts in your ear, tells you how you’re such a good girl for taking him.

the way he fucks you in full nelson. folds you over before stuffing you up, and you cry at the dizzying pleasure. you don’t know what to focus on: his cock, rhythmic as it thrusts in you, or his arms folding you so expertly, or his stomach slotted against the small of your back, or his lap and how it cushions you amidst his rough pounding?

the way you mewl when simon wraps his hands around your wrists, the startling size difference making you clench around him. he huffs out a confused moan, nuzzling his nose on the back of your shoulder, before catching on your current fixation. he groans, guttural and packed with want, his thumbs rubbing soft touches along the inside of your wrists. “pocket-sized, aren’t cha?”

and the way you know his hold will leave bruises, hand-shaped marks around your wrists, your waist, your hips. or how your skin throbs at the bite marks he left, your neck sticky with simon’s spit but you’re too far gone to think of anything else other than the bubbling elation of knowing how much he’s marked you as his.