oki but this is sooo biker!simon after that first hookup you two had!! (this is a silly ramble based on the vid teehee)
biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader
!! smut - minors dni; D/s; sexting :’> // biker!simon mlist
you left with your number saved in his phone and his number saved in yours – simon having been the one to type it in. he named himself in your contacts as ‘simon 🏍️’ then got too shy at its obnoxiousness so he renamed it to ‘simon’ only.
(you later changed it to ‘si <3’ anyway).
simon sends the first message, unable to wait.
“hope you got home safe.” <
he would’ve dropped you home if he could, but simon understands why you preferred to keep your location a secret from him.
he waits for your reply, which arrives thirty minutes later.
> “thank you!! and i just got home, safe and sound <3”
simon almost chokes at the giddiness that lodged in his throat, his fingers trembling as he sends his reply.
the conversation picks up after that, mutual awkwardness breaking as friendship begins to bloom. you two try to make up plans, but your schedules never synced up and it left simon starving. aching with a heavy desire because he wants to see you again. wants to be with you again.
he wonders if you felt the same way. if you ache for his touch. for his body. if you lay on your bed at night, tracing at your skin, reminiscing the way simon pressed kisses into your soft corners and tender flesh.
simon wonders if you do. hopes that you do.
because even though he knows how much you’ve whispered how you love him, he had chucked it to your delirium; had told himself that it was a spur of the moment thought in fear that you would actually reject him.
so it came to him as a surprise when you sent him a… sensual message. nothing too conspicuous, but something that set him ablaze.
> “i miss the way you held me.”
simon stares at the message, going breathless as the memories return to him full force. it’s not like simon forgot – he knows he can never – but he’s been trying to push it in the back of his mind to pursue a more innocent relationship with you.
because you deserve more than a series of messages full of the ways he’d promise to fuck you – positions, places, and the amount of times he’d make you cum just with his mouth. because you deserve more than just words. words that aren’t even spoken, just typed.
and yet, he couldn’t help himself. he types in his reply, his mind overtaken by a fog that settles within his blood, mingling with reason.
“i miss you too, sweet girl.” <
simon breathes in, his mind shackled by the memory of your heat wrapped around him, and adds:
“miss the way you moaned for me.” <
he doesn’t hesitate when he sends this but simon does feel a twinge of guilt when he finally sees it in the message thread, something that snaps him outside of the fog just long enough to feel the way he’s been tightly gripping on his phone.
because what if this was too much? was he supposed to just hint at what happened? to dance around the tension until you two finally get to meet? to-
> “i miss how you filled me up.”
“fuck,” simon whispers to himself as he stares at your message, his voice a ragged timbre of his devastation. he almost drops his phone on the floor, seized by the greatness of his desires that is pumping blood to his ears and into his cock.
he swipes his eyes along your message once again, unearthing the sound of your voice from his memories as he envisions the way you would’ve said this – breathy, whimper-y, broken. your throat having been thoroughly used by simon.
“fuck,” he repeats, adjusting himself underneath his sweats before sending his reply.
“i filled you good, didn’t i, princess? kissed somewhere deep in you. deeper than anyone has ever reached.” <
simon feels like a fucking depraved teenager at the way his cock jumped just at the mere sight of the speech bubble appearing on your end, showing him that you’re typing up a response. he stares at his screen intently as though willing it to finally reveal the earth-shattering reply he knows you’re going to send, only to see the speech bubble disappear completely.
he blinks, confused, and restarts his messaging app at the thought that it’s glitching. when it finally reloads, simon tries not to drown in his disappointment when he sees no new received replies from you.
his fingers twitch, apology already forming from the back of his mind, ready to be typed out. he bounces his legs, worrying over the appropriate words to use because he truly is sorry. he-
a notification ping shakes him from his thoughts and simon realizes that his phone had turned off amidst his spiral. he breathes in shakily, gulping when he sees your contact name flashing on the screen – ‘princess’ – and taps at your icon.
oh.
“oh,” simon repeats out loud, his voice a warbled croak.
because who wouldn’t be breathless at this?
this being an image of you in nothing but simon’s zip-up jacket, the one that he lent you from that one fateful night when you two met up. it falls just past your pelvis, giving him a good glimpse of your thighs only to cut just above your knees, a grave loss that resonated with simon as he honest to god whimpers. it’s not zipped up all the way, stopping like a low v-cut on your chest which shows enough of your cleavage and your pretty tits that simon’s throat constrict in his thirst.
simon’s greedy eyes almost bypass your other message:
> “i wish you can tear my clothes off me again.”
he groans, feeling his cock leak from your message; from seeing you love his rough side.
he has to grip his phone as his unrelenting mind wanders, imagining the way he’d rip that jacket off your beautiful body. the way he wouldn’t even fully shrug it off you because simon wants to take you that way – surrounded with everything of him. his cock buried in your cunt, his hands braced on either side of your face, and his clothes grazing the skin with which his hands can’t caress. simon wants to envelope you with all that he is. with all that you will allow him to give.
fuck. he wants you. he needs you.
simon has to breathe through his mouth as he sends you a reply, choosing careful words to express his intention.
(but not to express the twinge of his darkness. of his possessiveness. not yet, anyway.)
“i’d do that and more, sweetheart.” <
he licks his lips, fingers hovering above his screen. thinking. hesitating. making up his mind. then, sending:
“wanna see what you do to me? how you make me so fucking hard?” <
simon absolutely moans at your beautiful, submissive reply:
> “yes, please.”
(what a good girl. and simon doesn’t even need to teach you how to be one. god, aren’t you just too perfect for him?)
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