Simon helps deer!reader through her heat.
Tags | 18+, MDNI, heat, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, longer than it was supposed to be, crying, lots of it
2.5k words | Masterlist | Johnny | Kyle | John
It’s hot.
And not in the way that happens during the summer heat, when you bask in the sun with globs of sweat coating your neck and chest, a popsicle pressed to your lips.
You stripped bare long ago, threw the thick duvet onto your floor before you even attempted to sleep.
Everything aches, like you need to claw at the seams holding your limbs together to find any sense of relief. Unravel your threads haphazardly to release all the nerves pulsing under your skin. Nothing’s enough. Your attempts are futile, nothing assuages the heat— if you can even call it that.
A heat that’s brutal, ruthless in its demand. Scalding painfully in your core because it’s empty— because you’re empty.
Your face is pressed to your sheets, ass in the air, restlessly pushing deeper into the mattress just to turn to your cheek, smothering the sides of your face in agony. Sweaty and drenched between your legs, an embarrassing amount of slick dripping down your thighs.
Your whimpers are muffled against the cotton fabric, but Simon’s never been a deep sleeper to begin with. The noises are quiet, frail, but they’re torn from your chest like it hurts. Broken and weak sobs.
It does hurt, biology forcing you through something cruel. Insistent in its need.
All you can think about is the four men you owe a debt to. Shame radiates through your chest like a fire, even more tears welling in your lashes because it’s wrong. Betraying their trust by thinking of them in such a filthy way, pussy clenching as you imagine them burying their cocks in you. Fuck your ache away.
Simon stands at the doorway of your room, looming in the dark, clinging to the shadows like an apparition, stalking its prey. He watches your fingers, delving between the swollen folds of your pussy. Your movements are messy and amateur, swiping against the bulb of your clit like that might appease the throbbing in your womb.
It doesn’t. Never had any real glimmer of hope that your fingers would. They never do.
It’s been several months since John caught you stealing their crops, but Simon’s never seen you like this. You don’t even notice when he walks into your room, too preoccupied with sliding your small fingers into your cunt. He’s certain he’s never even heard you touch yourself the entire time— he’s been listening, waiting.
An innocent thing.
The only time your poor pussy’s been touched was when John punished you for stealing the other farmers' fruit or when one of the four perverted men you’ve found yourself in the grasp of has cupped it in passing.
Maybe they should’ve prepared you for this, shouldn’t have teased you for so long. Maybe then it wouldn’t have gotten to this point.
“Doin’ it wrong.” His voice is loud in comparison to the squelching of your pussy.
It sends chills down your back, sweaty spine straightening out as you sit back on your heels, peering at him over your shoulder. Your cheeks shine through the moonlight, wet and glistening with tears, pupils dilated so wide there’s only a thin ring of iris.
“Simon.” It’s barely a whisper.
Your breaths falter as he approaches, eyes glued to his every movement, dropping to the waistband of his sweats, mapping out the shape of his cock like you can taste it on your gums. An unfamiliar desire painted across your face.
That’s when he realizes, their poor doe is in heat. Too timid to climb into one of their beds, couldn’t muster the courage to ask them for help.
He stops at your side, staring down at you. “Why didn’t you ge’ John.”
He says it so casually, like he didn’t just find you with your fingers in your cunt. You want John, you want him, but you didn’t trust yourself enough to walk down the hall without slipping to your knees and begging for anyone to come and take you.
“I’m- I’m okay.” It’s a lie and you both know it. If you were okay your eyes wouldn’t flutter, lips pinched tight to conceal the whimper you make when he brushes your jaw with his thumb. “Didn’t want to bother.”
“I’ll go ge’ John.”
You look at him like he ripped your heart out, eyes glassy. “No! No, please don’t leave me.”
You know you shouldn’t beg him to stay, but just the sight of him has your deer keening, pussy clenching around nothing. One of your mates here to fuck you dumb.
“He’ll be upset.”
“So will Johnny.”
That makes his lips quirk, cupping the back of your neck. “Too bad I found you first.”
Prey and predator.
Deer and wolf.
You nod, the best you can in his hold, fidgeting your knees as you agree pathetically. Some deep primal part of you purring alive at the notion. Your deer chanting something sick and twisted— Yes! You found me! Capture me and take me as yours!
And Simon just can’t leave such a sweet thing in distress can he? He deserves to indulge in his find.
He leans close to your face, breathes fanning across your cheeks, makes all the air his. Your mind spins even more at the proximity, inhaling the warm air he breathes like a drug.
“Tell me where it hurts, sweet’eart.”
He runs his free hand down your chest, watches you arch into his fingers like his touch sparks a livewire against your skin.
“Here?” He brushes a thumb over your nipple, tilts his head with mock sympathy, gaze focused on your face.
You stare up at him with big doe eyes, lashes clumped together from your tears, hanging on to every word he says like you might fall from his grasp. It’s hard not to be predatory when you look like that, innocent and fragile, so easy to break. It’s why they kept you around for so long.
He knows they’re sore, he had them between his teeth hours ago, your smaller body squirming in his lap while he made you ride his thigh.
The noise you make after is pitiful, held ironclad between your pinched lip. He trails lower, eyes still on you, fingers at your nape, forcing you to look back instead of watching his hand descend your body.
“Here?” He cups your pussy, palm engulfing the entirety.
Your hand flies over your mouth, attempting to strangle your gasp silent. The slight touch already shooting waves of pleasure straight up your core.
“Tell me, fawn. D’ya need me to make you feel better?” He finishes his statement by rolling his palm against your clit.
You jolt forward, almost knocking into his forehead. “Fuck- yeah. Yes, Simon.”
A lapse in judgment makes him think he should get John, someone a little softer than him for your first time. Someone who doesn’t have you dangling from the string tethered to his palm. Someone who’ll be a little sweeter than him, more akin to a bear than a wolf. Though, he supposes both eat deer for dinner.
None of it matters, not when you follow the silence with such a sweet plea. And how can any sane man resist that? He thinks he’ll be selfish this time, sink his teeth into your tender meat until you bleed. He’ll deal with the consequences later, John will thank him for stretching you out, keeping you nice and warm for him.
“Look who found their voice.”
His lips crash onto yours, a little too much teeth, a little too much grit. Sucks the remaining breath straight out of your lungs, leaves you with nothing but a craving for more. Mind reeling, world tilting as everything becomes hazy.
He likes it like that, when you put your dependency in his palm. Looking at him like you don’t know what will happen next, a life raft he might tear from under your feet and leave you to drown.
He never does though, always lets you come back for air just to pull you under again in one full swoop.
One finger slides into your cunt and the face you make is worth it all; brows tight, lips parting in shock. There’s no resistance, tender walls taking his digit to the hilt, but he can’t help thinking that if it wasn’t for the obscene amount of slick rushing out of your walls it wouldn’t be as easy.
Any thought you can muster is short-wired, repeatedly tripping on fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck. One finger already feels so much better, thick knuckle scraping against the ridges of your pussy that you can’t seem to reach. Thick, deft fingers that you’ve stared at in passing, fleeting glances that made your belly swoop. Pit of your stomach burning alive whenever he would touch you, legs sticky in his presence.
And now he’s got his mouth on yours, grip on your neck, fingers in your pussy—mind pooling in your skull when one digit becomes two. The second one makes you moan against Simon’s teeth, eyes widening at the sudden stretch.
Still, your hips betray you, grinding against the palm of his hand as you try to push away in the same breath. It’s everything you need and too much at the same time. The stretch makes your deer kneel in satisfaction, but rut for more, more, more.
It takes him less than two strokes to find the tender spot in your pussy, only three to have you toeing the brink. You stagger forward, dainty hands wrapping around his bicep, clawing into his skin until it turns pink when the rough pads of his fingers work at your engorged clit.
Your first orgasm comes embarrassingly quick, burying your face against his arm as the pleasure lasts less than seconds. It lacks any relief or reward, your body still thrumming with need, demanding something more.
Your second orgasm lasts longer, slightly so, but the persistent ache remains. Like an entity that refuses to let go until you feed it what it wants. It makes you sob, wrecking tears against his arm because it’s not enough despite how deeply you wished it was.
You push at his arm weakly, looking a teary mess, stuttering over your words. “Si-Simon. I can’t. I can’t— ‘s not working.”
You think it’s the first time he’s looked at you with sympathy or maybe it’s mirth. You’re not entirely sure at this point because all you need is his cock and you don’t know how to ask.
You’re lucky he knows, lucky that he has just a smidge of decency left in his heart to give it to you without making you ask. He moves you faster than you can think, his cock slapping against your belly when he forces his way between your thighs.
When you see it, thick and curved, precum smeared on the tip, you think it’ll solve all your problems.
He fists the base, leaning over to leer in your face. “This what ya need?”
He slides his cock between your drenched folds, pumps himself against them a few times.
Yeah— yeah, that’s what you need.
“Use your words, baby.”
The sound you make tears through your lips, a whine, a broken cry, fisting the sheets under you with an intensity that’ll shred them. Baby. It plays on repeat in your head, echoing.
Baby, baby, his cock— his cock slowly pulling away when you don’t answer. Your legs snap around him before he can, frantically pawing at his chest because he’s not leaving you leaking and needy now.
“Yes, yes, Simon. Need it, need you, please” you’re rambling at this point, words spilling from your lips deliriously; you need it more than he physically knows.
Maybe he does; he doesn’t make you wait a second longer. The bulb of his head pushes through your walls and you think your deer bleats with happiness, warm, and fat, and curved, and so fucking perfect.
You arch so high your back leaves the bed, toes pointed so straight your feet cramp, breath stuck in your throat as he slides his length into you. The stretch is agonizing, excruciating. It fucking hurts, drawing more tears to your already damp eyelids, but you fucking love it, stuffed so full your deer can’t think.
God, it’s a tight fit, he can barely push deeper in when your lips form an ‘O’, when you clench so tightly around him he can feel the blood pulsing through the head of his cock.
“Tight fuckin’ fit.” It’s gritted through his teeth; he’s sure you don’t even register it.
Not when he drives forward and he feels your walls convulse around him. Head thrown back, whites of your eyes visible. A blubbering mess when he starts to rock his hips, hiccuping as he grazes your cervix.
You drag your nails down his arms when he really starts at it. Two rough hands at your hips keep you from squirming away, used as leverage to keep slamming you back down on his cock.
Simon watches your pussy with hungry eyes, your walls clinging to him with each new drag, keeping him nice and tucked in your gummy walls, right at home. He’s not sure if the sound of your hips meeting or the moans spilling through your lips are louder, but his fingers find your mouth anyway.
He pushes through your swollen lips, knocks your teeth open, and places his middle and index fingers on your tongue. It’s warm, the whole of it, and he can’t help imagining what it would feel like if it were his cock quieting you instead.
You look at him confused, brows creasing in the middle. That’s something you do with Johnny when he’s got all your fruit in his hold.
He pushes down on your tongue just hard enough to make sure you feel it. “Don’t wan’ wake John up, do we?”
You shake your head. His teeth glimmer in the dark. “He’ll be real disappointed if he sees you like this.”
You whine around his fingers something pathetic. He just smiles. “See you all messy an’ needy.”
Your pussy tremors around his cock, tears spilling down your temples as he continues to fuck into you, knuckles knocking against your teeth with each thrust.
Your third orgasm comes with the head of his cock bullying the tender spot in your pussy and his fingers in your mouth. It lasts for more than you can even remember, body stiffening, breath trapped in your chest as it washes over your body for the first time that night. The fire in the pit of your stomach finally flickering dull.
“That’s wha’ ya needed huh, doe?”
Your head lolls in agreement. Yeah, that’s what you needed.
He fucks you until you become soft in his arms, until he’s just fucking his cum back into you over and over again, until your eyes become lidded and you fall asleep wrapped around his cock.
