#HOW ARE ANY OF THEM OKAY OR FUNCTIONING AFTER THIS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rowarn · 1 year ago

Text

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2

simon riley / reader

FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to <3

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k

Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you.

But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally.

You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was.

Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries.

“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”

“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.

“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly.

Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”

He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet.

Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen.

You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away.

You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify.

“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.

He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”

“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.

“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”

You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat.

But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing.

It almost felt like something a husband would do.

You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that

“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat.

Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you.

“Absolutely not,” he says.

Your jaw drops, “Why?!”

“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”

You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since.

You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.

You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.

True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.

Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.

That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry.

You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous.

Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work.

It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin.

You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip.

Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.

You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.

“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.

Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”

He grunts, letting out a soft sigh before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing.

You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.

Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy.

You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest.

You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit.

But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated.

Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.

As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought.

Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him.

No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again.

What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants.

Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum.

But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided.

With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night.

You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment.

The ring of his phone was the break.

“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner.

You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call.

“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.

There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”

“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”

“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon.

“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move.

“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”

“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt.

She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.

“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.

“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”

Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”

That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop.

Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay?

He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants.

But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you.

There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.

You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.

Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem.

You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long?

Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me.

Please, just love me back.

“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”

He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt.

He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”

He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes.

Suddenly, you stand.

“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway.

He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down.

He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge.

Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before.

He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer.

“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”

“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.

“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”

You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes.

Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.

“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”

You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.

You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.

“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.

He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.

“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can.

He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do.

“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”

“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.

“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”

“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice.

When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.

“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.

“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you.

“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs.

He fucking laughs.

It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down.

“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”

Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before.

You dash the spark of hope that it causes.

He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away.

Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours.

It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you.

Simon kissed you.

“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”

He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”

“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat.

He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”

“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”

“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”

He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”

“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”

“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice.

But he does, of course he does.

He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.

“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.

Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to.

“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”

“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”

“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”

“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.

“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.

“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm.

A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed.

You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants.

“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught.

He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.

“Si..?” you whisper.

“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”

You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.

“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you.

“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.

He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling.

You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements.

His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss.

After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair.

One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally.

All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.

Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”

Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.

“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”

You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back.

Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?

You can’t stop beating yourself up over it.

But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you.

You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts.

Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss.

“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”

That makes you sit up, “Leave?”

You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.

“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.

“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.

He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask.

“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.

It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay.

“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”

“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”

He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible.

“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”

“I will, Si,” you assure him.

“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”

You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”

Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.

“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”

He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world.

True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well.

You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it.

All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat.

You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing.

Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants.

There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can.

You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters.

This is going to be miserable, you think.

The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help.

It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best.

The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable.

The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate.

“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him.

He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.

“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.

“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”

“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.

“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”

You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”

The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you.

You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.

Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you.

“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.

It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact.

He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.

“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy.

Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.

You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”

“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”

“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.

“Huh?” you dumbly ask.

“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.

“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”

He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side.

“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.

Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again.

But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.

“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs.

You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”

“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”

“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”

He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”

“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel.

You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you.

You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything.

“What’re you huffin’ about in here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight.

“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.

“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”

“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”

He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.

You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited.

Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly.

“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.

He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back.

He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you.

You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.

“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.

He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.

Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling.

You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do.

“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”

The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras.

Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.

“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.

You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.

“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”

He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”

He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them.

You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice.

You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.

“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.

You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back.

“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are.

Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people.

“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.

“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.

“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”

He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking.

“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.

“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.

Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue.

“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.

Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.

“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.

The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.

“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.

“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”

“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.

“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”

“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway.

When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.

“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.

“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.”

“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back.

He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.

“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”

“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.

You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”

Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”

You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.

“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.

“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”

“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”

“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.

You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”

Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.

“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.

“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.

“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.

“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink.

The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses.

The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person.

With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient.

But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.

“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance.

You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.

When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed.

“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”

“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”

You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body.

You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.

“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him.

That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him.

His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm.

“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.

He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties.

“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”

You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.

“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”

You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat.

You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve.

You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away.

A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes.

With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it.

“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body.

You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”

“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”

“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”

You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously.

“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”

It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself.

“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light.

You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night.

“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”

He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”

“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”

He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”

You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”

Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”

He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”

He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything.

“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”

You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.

“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”

Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about.

“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.

“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy.

He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone.

“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”

“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”

“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.

Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him.

He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.

“Why..?”

“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely.

“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying.

He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”

“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”

“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”

He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.”

You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was.

“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”

“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”

You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”

He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”

You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”

“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”

You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”

“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”

“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”

“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.

“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…”

You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”

Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”

You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”

He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”

Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?

“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”

Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”

“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you.

He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”

You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away.

“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”

With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom.

You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”

You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”

“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head.

Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them.

You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material.

“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”

“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious.

His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take.

Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him.

Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh.

“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.”

“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”

His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand.

“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”

You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants.

It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced.

That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good.

“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal.

“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug.

You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.

“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp.

His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious.

He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap.

“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”

You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are.

Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze.

He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”

“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.

And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body.

He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him.

Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”

You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again.

“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”

His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”

You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows.

It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger.

You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention.

He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder.

“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.

“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”

“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”

“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.

You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end.

“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.

“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.

“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”

You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside.

After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.

“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”

“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”

Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.

It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.

That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.

And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange.

He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock.

If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him.

“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it.

You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself.

All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body.

You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him.

His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away.

He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good.

That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair.

“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard.

He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat.

You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud.

It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.

This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum.

Then everything stops.

His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.

“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake.

“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”

That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes.

“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”

Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.

His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.

“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”

You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy.

But it’s you. You’re special.

He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different.

He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy.

He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit.

You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you.

“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation.

When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out.

He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”

“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”

“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.

He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it.

It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock.

So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you.

You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop.

But you don’t.

You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you.

Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.

You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”

“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”

Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail.

He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax.

“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix.

He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation.

It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper.

His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good.

Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure.

“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips.

You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there.

“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”

“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”

“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”

You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge.

It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts.

You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.

It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant.

You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy.

Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises.

“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”

You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life.

All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again.

Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him.

But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock.

He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot.

Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still.

Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.

“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours.

“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”

“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”

You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you.

Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you.

He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute.

Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you.

“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”

“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further.

His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”

But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much.

Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it.

But instead, he does something else.

You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact.

So he does it again.

And again.

Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it.

He needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.

As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.

He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels.

Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock.

You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.

“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”

“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.

It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down.

But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.

His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk.

Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.

“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him.

“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”

And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent.

“Alright, love?” he asks.

“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”

He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.

“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”

You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.

It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together.

When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him.

“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.

You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”

“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”

Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”

You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again.

“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it.

And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.

It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him.

Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him.

PART ONE.

do not modify, translate, or repost

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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lifenconcepts · 2 days ago

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honestly, as someone who is a wolf therian, and also interested in human and animal psychology, I must add that most people can be recognised for reverting to a more simple mental state when sick, I’m unsure if any study has been done on it but through my own experiences and of those I knew I can find that the mind just goes into a survival mode and turns off the more complicated functions to be able to focus on those which are needed for fighting whatever infection or harm the body is baring currently and to be able to sustain yourself enough to continue towards life, and it can be simple to paint it as your identity because when you’re so aware that you’re an animal (or any term or belief, at that) then you tend to subconsciously seek out proof of that, even if that would’ve otherwise gone unnoticed. Not denying you of yourself but just pointing out that it’s a phenomenon many experience, albeit usually seen as reverting to the state of a ‘child’ than animal- given that most of the more mature logic is shunned in favour of simple and coherent conclusions, it could be through behaviour that immediately work as this snappy “I don’t feel okay and so I must be in danger and so I must fight” when usually it comes through as “I feel a bit under the weather, I wonder what I had done to invoke this, perhaps my head hurts because I’ve spent a bit too long on this activity, then to rest up I’ll stop doing it and allow my body to recover, maybe even drink some water because I haven’t done so in a while”.. keep in mind that this often happens without even consideration! It’s these neural impulses within our mind that can snap around at something close to light speed and not always is worded out (hell, I don’t even have an internal monologue!) yet the understanding is still there. Okay but what I also wanted to say is that if bedridden, our silly instincts also come to play more loudly than when healthy, because there’s less of that conscious self that tries to stop us (we always tend to think of how we look and act, as it so happens, and hide or fake behaviour to come across as what we think others want of us), so even those who don’t identify as animals may find themselves speaking through noises, acting in ways they usually wouldn’t (staring, tilting head, etc), and presenting with things we usually associate with animals. If you look for it, there’s so much more we have in common with other species! Humans and creatures do have a lot of similarities after all! We also sometimes tend to seek our touch, like cats, or on the contrary change our minds and want our space and boundaries, also like cats. Or want to run around and spend time with a person we adore, like a dog.. we wish to fly - like the birds, and comfort in repetition is nearly a universal pattern. Basically I’m just sharing my little say on this, without any harm intended.

ah, sorry for the ramble.. I like writing and this just prompted me to share what I’ve learnt on this topic so far. Thanks for the opportunity but sorry for the response if you didn’t want it haha..

I’ve had a few of such encounters myself! Some times where I feel like an animal, usually a hound, and other times just like a weakened person. It can just come as a sharp realisation but usually for me came across just with ‘if you pay attention to it, you’ll find stuff that meet your beliefs’. Similar to how optimists often spot the good stuff and that proves their point and makes them like life more, while those with critical worldviews tend to ignore the good in favour of the negative and say ‘hey! See!? There is bad!! So I was right in thinking the world is awful!’ When in fact it can just be the same exact balance of situations to one another, but then again, each individual is made different and goes through life differently. Still! There are always occasional similarities that tie us closer and create bonds!!

I got really sick recently, to the point where I was bed ridden in so so much pain and something I found is that I revert to some of animal instincts a lot more then when I’m healthy.

For example I got so extremely productive of my den and pack member. To the point where I was basically growling at people who were being too friendly. My teeth where nearly always beared when in others presence and I was so worried that my home (friend included) was in danger.

I could also not stomach anything that wasn’t in a foxes diet (bread, certain meets) I was only eating fruit and chicken at one point.

Overall it was a very weird experience 😁

#Divine illumination #my eepy ramblings

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sandwhitches · 6 months ago

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ೃ༄ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄? (𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈)

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀: bokuto koutaro, akaashi keiji, iwaizumi hajime, oikawa tooru & sakusa kiyoomi

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰: how they pop the question! (hcs + drabbles)

𝗰𝘄: implied fem. reader, mentions of marriage tehehe, mushy corny top romance

𝗮/𝗻: part two yayyyy!!! i wanted to post this earlier in the day but i unfortunately have to be a functioning member of society from time to time blegh. iwa's part is dedicated to my lovely moot @froyaoya who just gets it. sorry for any typos!!! also working on requests from the event still hehehe

(read part 1 here!!!)

𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎

» Look at this man, this beautiful blessing of a man, and tell me this is not about to be the showiest proposal ever

» He’s asking you to marry him and he wants EVERYONE to know (in the purest way possible)

» You knew what you were getting yourself into

» Is he nervous? No, maybe, he doesn’t want to think about it, OKAY?!

» Thinks the perfect time is asking you right after MSBY wins at finals, but one of his teammates (because he told them the plan…obviously) is like what are you going to do if we lose???? He almost dies on the spot because he totally forgot that was a possibility whoops

» There’s an easy way around that problem! Just win, duh!

Your heart feels as if it could just beat out of your chest with excitement as the last set ends, MSBY reigning victorious. Mind swimming with unadulterated pride, you’re already halfway down to the court once others begin to flood it, nothing you want more but the man who is currently wading through a crowd in search of you.

For a brief moment, you pause at the sidelines, unable to find him, then remember Bokuto was probably in the midst of one of many interviews or something else much more important than a simple post-game congratulatory hug. Your conjecture is quickly smashed by the call of your name, paired with your boyfriend’s big, shiny beam of pure joy as he opens his arms for you. You let out a huff of laughter, then hurry over, practically launching yourself into his hold.

Koutaro exclaims in delight, squeezing you close as he spins you around excitedly, “Did you see?!” You giggle, still holding onto his thick forearms as he places you down, “How could I not?”

Bokuto’s chest puffs with pride before he bends over ever so slightly to give you a kiss that he’s been thinking about for the better half of the game. He dearly hopes that you didn’t see him dash off the court as soon as he was able to, making a quick job of fishing a ring box from his duffel bag on the sidelines as Atsumu cheered him on. Now, the box sits in the pocket of his uniform shorts, ready to be presented to you.

“You did so good, Kou!” You add with an endearing smile, chest filling with warmth as his smile broadens upon hearing the praise, “Only because you were watching me.” Bokuto supplies in a chipper response, cheeks flushed.

“I think you’re good, either way,” you chuckle fondly.

Koutaro clicks his tongue playfully, wagging his head back and forth in disagreement, “Nah, you’re the reason I’ve made it this far, after all.”

Though you beg to differ, it’s nice to hear it. You’re more than positive that Bokuto would have made it this far with or without you, still, you can’t help but count yourself lucky for being along for the ride.

What started as his hopeful attempts to impress you with showy spikes back in high school, what turned into a cramped downtown apartment, and what is now this moment that you share on the court. And while to you all of this seems so extraneous to his performance tonight, Bokuto can surely recognize where his motivation has been coming from, it’s only natural he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

“I want to be able to win every game in the future for you!” He declares, and it takes you a moment to register that he’s deadly serious, you’d nearly giggled in response, “I just want you to enjoy yourself, isn’t that what matters?” You speak up a bit over the crowd, head tilting.

“Well, you’re right,” he shrugs, “But I also think you’re the biggest reason why I keep wanting to get better.”

The sentiment makes a lump form in your throat, knowing that he doesn’t even mean to flatter you half of the time, he’s being entirely honest with you. That’s one thing you’ll never grow used to about Bokuto, how easily he can say something that knocks the breath out of you, and everything he tells you is undeniably true to what he believes.

“So, that’s why I hope we can be together forever,” he adds with a simple nod, reaching into his pocket. You’re just about to agree, after all, he says such sappy things like this so often that it’s hard to tell when the words have more weight behind them. This time, you soon realize as he lowers himself to the ground, his words have the weight of the entire world.

“I love you so much, you know? I’ll never stop, either,” Bokuto presents a ring box that looks absolutely tiny in his large hands, still, he’s ever so gentle in opening it to reveal a large diamond that glitters under the stadium lights. At this point, the people around you have paused their celebratory ministrations to watch, but none of that really matters to you and Bokuto. The most important thing in the world, you can’t ever deny, is the man staring up at you so lovingly. And coincidentally, you just happen to be the most important thing in the world to him, too.

“I hope you’ll let me love you forever,” he speaks with sheer confidence and pride, as he does with everything else, “Can I marry you?”

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈

» Something simple but intimate, that’s just his thing

» Definitely a winter proposal, Akaashi thinks the snow is just so romantic

» Takes you down to a snowy park to go ice skating (despite contrary belief, you probably had to hold him up almost the entire time, this man doesn’t exactly have any natural grace when it comes to treading ice)

» Afterwards, it’s the standard snow day affair, you two build a snowman and give it a name inspired by one of your countless inside jokes, the both of you engage in snowball warfare, he buys you a cup of cocoa and sits on the bench with you (and yeah, he helps you blow on it, he’s just that perfect)

» What you DON'T know is that all day he’s been waiting for the right moment to reveal the little gift he’s been harboring for you in his back pocket

You can’t remember the last time you felt cold in the winter at all. When you think about it, the icy bite of frozen wind hasn’t nipped at your cheeks in years, perhaps having something to do with the eternal warmth the man beside you incited, the sort of toasty comfort that made your muscles loosen and eyelids go heavy.

Akaashi’s breath comes out in short, puffy clouds, then rolls out into nothing in a matter of mere seconds. The crunching of snow beneath soles of winter boots fills the silence and makes your heart sing, oh, how you love this time of year. Beside you, however, Keiji is struggling to discern what his instincts are telling him to do. Two separate thoughts of just do it now and wait for another time have been pestering him all day to the point in which he can no longer hold a conversation without feeling a nervous ache in his chest.

“Ah!” You exclaim with surprise, tilting your chin up ever so slightly towards the cloudy sky. Akaashi peers at you first, then up in the direction you face, realizing that tiny snowflakes are beginning to fall down to earth once more. The world is so quiet during the winter, he thinks, even with the mirth surrounding the two of you in the busy park, the snow will always serve to bolster the sound in its milky white embrace.

He chuckles to himself as you stick out your tongue, darting it upwards to catch a snowflake, and the sight nearly makes him forget about what he came here to do. If there truly is a perfect time, Akaashi isn’t sure he’ll ever have the confidence to pin it, but right now, things feel okay, they feel right.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in a whisper, catching your attention. Akaashi doesn’t miss the snowflake stuck to your eyelashes, nor the stray speckles of snow glittering in your hair like sugar. Your cheeks flush, leaving you to grin sweetly at him in gratitude while he brushes snowflakes from your hair, “You know what I just realized right now?”

You hum, blinking up at him curiously for an answer, eyes training on the subtle upturn of his lips, the crinkle of his reddened nose.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.” Your heart swells and a flustered, almost sheepish, giggle falls under your breath at the compliment. Akaashi can be so romantic, sometimes, and it leaves you wondering if he even knows what he’s doing to you…he has to, hasn’t he? Keiji clears his throat, “Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask you about today.”

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you tilt your head at him ever so slightly, “What do you mean?”

Now it’s Akaashi’s turn to let out a sheepish laugh, slipping a knit glove off of one of his hands and placing it into his coat pocket, much to your perplexity. “I wanted to ask if you’d let me have this forever. There’s nothing else I’d really want more than this.” Suddenly, everything clicks in your mind as he reaches into his back pocket and lowers to one knee, that softened grin of his cracking into a wide beam once tears flood into your eyes.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to marry you,” the ring he’s since taken from the box shines so brilliantly under snowy sunbeams, and you realize Akaashi was right about one thing, this is the happiest you think you’ve ever seen him.

“Would you let me have that? Will you marry me?”

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄

» This is the world’s best boyfriend in case there was any confusion (which there shouldn’t be)

» Unfortunately this man wouldn’t know subtle if it slapped him in the face and stole his lunch money

» If you get your nails done, Iwa always pays for them, but he is oddly persistent about it the week leading up to when he plans to propose…which is kinda suspicious to you but you let it go

» He’s a big nature lover!!! He loves going on hikes with you (and doesn’t even mind in the slightest if he has to wait up for you, all he cares about is spending time together)

» Suggests the two of you go to your favorite trail and is absolutely relieved when you agree (Oikawa’s already headed over to hide in the bushes for three hours with a camera)

Wiping the sweat off your brow, you let release a drawn-out heavy breath of relief to have finally made it past the steep monster of a hill you and Iwaizumi had been dreading to trek. It’s worth it, though, it always is. The past few times that the two of you have gone down this trail, you’ve never lingered long enough to get the perfect view that you’re getting now, overlooking treetops gone vibrant green like everything else in springtime.

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it for a second,” Hajime snickers, pulling at the collar of his shirt to cool himself down, and you can’t help but ponder why he seems so different today. For one, he’s taken every excuse to put his hands on you, holding your waist or lacing his fingers gently into your own with a periodic squeeze or two. Not to mention, he also can’t seem to be able to take his eyes off of you, which isn’t anything new in the slightest, save for a brand new depth to its usual shine that has puzzled you.

“Are you kidding?” You scoff playfully, “I’m the one who almost had to drag you the rest of the way!” The two of you both know that is further from the truth than anything, but you still laugh, you always do. How can’t you feel such a dizzying high of joy when you’re together like this? Iwaizumi slips his backpack off his shoulder, presumably to grab a bottle of water, leaving you to admire the view once more.

Today seems like it was made to be enjoyed, the trail isn’t as humid as it has been before, but it was just as lush, budding with the forest flora of early spring. Hajime noticed this too, in fact, not only is today perfect to enjoy, but he knows for certain it’s perfect for something else. And it’s now or never, he thinks, making sure your back is still turned as he grabs a navy velveted ring box from the front pocket.

You glance back over your shoulder to make sure Hajime is sharing the view with you, that he too can see how terribly romantic everything can be when you care to notice it. He gulps, quickly tucking his hand behind his back as he comes up to place the other palm on your shoulder with a slight squeeze of affectionate warmth. “So pretty,” you note, knowing it goes without saying.

Hajime nods, chewing on his lower lip in thought, until he’s unable to fight a shaky grin of excitement. You sigh contentedly, turning to face the sun again, relishing in the spoils of your hard work, and Hajime speaks up once more, “Today is perfect, isn’t it?”

You nod wordlessly, and he stares fondly as ever at the nape of your neck, knowing for certain that anything with you involved will always be perfect. That’s why he’s doing this, isn’t it?

“That’s why I thought today would be nice to ask you this.”

Your brows crease in confusion at the statement, prompting you to glance back over your shoulder again with a hushed hum, only to jump in surprise at the sight of him much lower to the ground than before. A hand flies to clasp at your mouth, Hajime gazes up at you from one knee like you hung the stars in the sky, and in fact, you might as well have. You’re the reason everything in his life is beautiful, why the thought of being without you is worse than death.

“Don’t cry,” he chuckles adoringly at the sight of you falling apart, knowing it’s hypocritical of him to say with fat tears brimming in his own eyelids. Hajime carefully pops the ring box open, a quivering grin and creased brow are the only things standing between him and weeping.

“You know,” he starts, sniffling, “The only way I want to spend the rest of my life is with you, all I need to be happy is you.”

“Will you let me have the privilege of getting to marry you?”

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔

» Showpony (in the most loving way possible)

» He was going to have an airplane spell “Will You Marry Me?” in the sky before Iwa shut that down

» Bottom line, he needs this to be as romantic as possible, it’s the most important night of your relationship by far, after all!

» New Years is right around the corner and what’s more romantic than celebrating another loop around the sun with fireworks?

» I’d imagine you two would be in Argentina so on New Years Eve he’ll suggest that you head down to the beach to watch fireworks pop over the city in the distance

» Much to your surprise, there’s already a picnic set up for the two of you upon arrival (this man is so extra. I cannot.)

Fireworks occupy the inky sky in the distance, brilliant, vivid speckles of light begin to dwindle as they fall to the earth. You’re entranced by the display, the dazzling red of another large firework bursts across the sky like stardust, glittering on its way down. And while the celebration is a sight to see, Oikawa couldn’t keep his eyes on it if he tried.

In his opinion, you were countless times more appealing to stare at, the way your eyes light up when another crackling display of gold goes off in the sky, how the flickering lights make the shadows on your face dance. This is something he could never get sick of, it seems.

“You’re staring.” You mumble under your breath coyly, giving him a cursory once over, then looking back at the fireworks. Oikawa laughs under his breath, “How could I not? You’re stunning.”

As he expected, you groan playfully, nudging him, “You are the corniest person I’ve ever met!” Tooru likes this bit, the one where he tells you something he wholeheartedly believes and you pretend you don’t hear the pure sincerity when he says it, “It’s true!” He scoffs in mock-offense, “You’re so gorgeous, am I allowed to say that?” Oikawa tilts his head back with a whine.

You’re looking at him now, still sitting cross-legged on the beach towel; and Oikawa’s bubbly mood quickly goes flat with the realization that you’re not just beautiful, you’re captivating. He’s not sure what he’s done right in order to be sitting on this beach with you, eyes lingering on the way salty sea air blows gusts of wind past you softly, sending your hair to ripple like tendrils of smoke.

Just in those few seconds, he knows that he can’t wait any longer to ask you to let him have this view for eternity, and he’s hungry to walk straight into the future knowing you won’t stray too far from him wherever the two of you may end up. Tooru sits up straighter, fixing his sweatshirt as he shifts to rest on his knees, raring to figure out how to begin to say what he wants to.

You’ve since taken notice of his movement, smiling softly in confusion at him while he gives up on fighting the urge to stare at you, brown eyes glimmering with something warm each time another firework bursts in the sky. “Can I make a promise to you?” Oikawa whispers, head tilted.

With perplexity, you shrug, then smile with a focused eye on his expression, “Sure.” He clutches your hand, “I promise that I will always be here for you, even if you don’t ask me to be there, I will always make sure you know how much I love you,” Oikawa’s voice goes low with uncharacteristic solemnity, and you’re on the verge of asking him what this is all about before he shifts to one knee, bringing a black ring box from behind him to light.

You can’t help but gasp, sitting back on two knees, face now leveled with his. You can perfectly see his expression soften, melting into something entirely new. Oikawa knows he is falling in love with you all over again, he’s been the head over heels kind of smitten, but now? Now his love has grown to become a need to have you with him in order to continue on living.

“And I…” the box opens, a diamond reflecting the bright colors spilling across the sky enters your watery vision, “I want to be able to make these promises to you at the altar, and I want to spend my life living up to them.”

“Will you let me keep my promise and marry you?”

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈

» Wants something quiet, you know? When it’s just the two of you guys, it’s most romantic

» You come home after a tiring day of work and he’s doting on you more than usual (which is saying a lot considering you’re the apple of his eye as it is)

» What’s this? Your hunky boyfriend made you pasta dinner? Oh okay.

» GODDDD no matter how many times you two eat together he always pulls the chair out for you even if it’s just at home, he’s subtle in the loudest ways about how much he loves you

» Actually pretty nervous because doing something like this is so vulnerable and I can see that as something that frightens him a bit

» But it’s you!!! If there’s anyone he’d ever feel comfortable being 100% vulnerable around, it will always have to be you!

“What’s the special occasion?” You had snickered upon entering your dimly-lit apartment, raising your shoulders to make it easier for Kiyoomi, who’d taken to helping you slip out of your coat as soon as he’d finished kissing you hello. Your boyfriend said something along the lines of, “Just wanted to,” with that airy tone of his, donning a grin much larger than usual.

Sakusa has never, and never will, be able to get over how utterly beautiful you are. Everything you do makes his chest ache with longing, even after having dated for years, he just has accepted that being around you will always make him go weak with adoration. “This is amazing,” you muse, twirling your fork around on the plate for another bite, “I think you should just take over dinner all the time.”

The two of you laugh amongst yourselves quietly, “I can see it now, I’d love to come home to you in a frilly apron after work,” you add teasingly, tapping his shin with your socked foot under the table.

Kiyoomi simply shakes his head with a humored scoff, “I’m sure you would,” he drawls, taking a thoughtful sip of wine. He still can’t get over it, even thinking about it right now, you are the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes upon and it’s not fair how easily you can render him speechless. In the candlelight, you remind him of a painting, a set of perfectly carved out features, each one intentionally placed with the utmost amount of care. You’re perfect.

Tonight will be the night that he asks you to please let him devote his life to you, for the simple feeling of him to be able to bask in your radiance. And if that, in your own words, means cooking dinner in a frilly apron for you every night, Kiyoomi struggles to really find any grievances he has with that.

“I’d gladly do that for you,” Sakusa finally returns, earning a playful quirk of your brows, “Oh?”

“In fact, you know, I’d really like to do that for you,” Kiyoomi stands up, much to your confusion as he steps to your side of the table. You almost don’t process the way in which he bends over to kiss the crown of your head on his way down to one knee, a hopeful smile on his face.

“If there’s anything I want you to know, it’s that I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with you for a long time, now,” Kiyoomi slips a velvet box from his pocket and your jaw goes slack in surprise, a hand traveling to grasp at the collar of your blouse.

“You’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with because you’re my best friend,” he says, voice faltering with a sudden onslaught of emotions, “And I think…I know that I exist to love you.”

You’re unable to speak, breath caught in your throat and hot tears threatening to overflow onto your warm cheeks, his voice comes out solemn and intentional, “I want to be able to love you for all the time that I’m able to.”

Kiyoomi presents the ring to you, a question he’s been dying to ask you for years forming on his lips as they part to ask it, “Will you marry me?”

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bit-b · 1 year ago

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About a trending Discord warning:

TL;DR: Discord is NOT making "Find your friends" enabled by default. You're probably not giving Discord your contact information without your knowledge. Their UI choices just suck.

There's a warning post going around by a person I'm not going to name, as I don't want people to dogpile on them. That is NOT the goal of this post, and if you DO harass anyone because of what I write, then you're a garbage person with garbage habits that needs to throw those habits in the garbage.

Rather, my goal with this post is to educate about a Discord feature that's not being represented properly.

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Supposedly in the new mobile update, Discord added this ""NEW"" feature called "Find your friends", and then they enabled it by default. This feature allows users to use their smartphone contacts to search for their friends on Discord. It also enables others to be able to find you in the exact same way.

Obviously, this would be MASSIVELY dangerous from a privacy perspective.

Imagine if someone had relatives that use Discord. In a scenario like that, those relatives would have an easy way of finding the accounts of family members. And in some home situations, online anonymity from relatives could mean the difference between having an outlet and not having an outlet.

I'm also pretty sure I know some folks with alt accounts (you know who you are). And if Discord was somehow able to cross-reference all your contacts with the Discord accounts you're logged into, that would be DISASTROUSLY EMBARRASSING, to say the least.

So I totally understand how concerning this would be if it turned out to be true.

The thing is, it's not.

The person who made that warning misinterpreted THIS page:

This is the new "Add Friends" page for the Discord mobile app. Obviously, a page to help you add friends. There's a big 'ol window at the bottom showcasing Discord's "Find your friends" feature.

Now, this feature is actually NOT new. It's been around for a long time. But there's a very subtle change that happened with the new update. Take a look at how "Find your friends" used to look:

It starts by giving you a banner at the top of your friends list, telling you that this feature is available. Then when you click on it, it takes you to a page with UI elements that look awfully familiar.

It's pretty clear what happened. In an effort to condense down their friend-finding functions into one menu, Discord took the "Find your friends" setup menu and tossed it in with all the other ways to contact friends.

But by doing this, Discord has made this setup window confusing. It's not immediately obvious if the "Find your friends" feature is ON and running, or OFF and waiting to be activated.

Maybe it would have helped to make the blurple button read something like "Sync contacts" instead of "Find friends". At least then, you could tell at a glance that nothing has been sync'd yet. (Or y'know, maybe just stick to "Grant Permission". That was working just fine before.)

So it seems the OP:

Looked at the "Find your friends" setup menu that Discord hastily slapped into the "Add friends" page

Noticed the checkbox that read "Allow contacts to add me"

Saw that it was already marked

Then assumed that it must be some kind of tucked-away setting that was left ON by default.

To make this abundantly clear, "Find your friends" only works if you opt-in.

That checkmark allows you to tell Discord you are okay with people finding you in this manner. Unchecking it makes it possible to use "Find your friends" without others being able to find you the same way.

It doesn't get set up on your device until you press the big blurple "Find friends" button. Even then, you still have to add your phone number to your account and verify it via a 6-digit code sent via SMS.

After that, you have to give Discord permission to access your contacts via whatever phone OS you use.

You have to be pretty deliberate for any of these functions to start.

I won't say it's impossible to set it up on accident. It's a strange world, and stranger things have happened. If you want to, go check your app permissions to make sure you don't have contact permissions enabled for Discord. It's always good to be sure. But rest easy knowing that you probably don't have to worry about it.

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In my opinion, I think that anyone who reblogged that warning should consider reversing those reblogs.

Honestly, I also think the OP should just delete their post instead of repeatedly adding amended reblogs to it. At the end of the day, the core of that post was misinformation and misguided assumptions. There's no real reason to keep it up.

Besides, I'd rather pin Discord on things they're ACTUALLY guilty of. Like designing a new UI that's widely mocked. And making things 10x more confusing for the end-user.

Here's Discord's official "Find your friends" FAQ page:

https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360061878534-Find-Your-Friends-FAQ

I hate to beg, but I'd appreciate if people would reblog this post. I fear that the warning post is gonna steer a LOT of people to believe a lot of things about Discord that are logically and functionally not true.

#discord #misinformation

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peachesofteal · 4 days ago

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more pizza girl

You're fucked.

It's the only way to explain how you feel, standing in the store, staring at bottles of liquor, wine, beer. You don't even know if this is the appropriate thing to do, but you've always seen it in shows, movies, so it must be, right?

You should have said no to this whole thing, should have told them you're busy, or you're working, or you had plans, but for some reason, you just knew they'd see through it. They'd call your bluff.

So here you were, staring at a rack of wine, trying to pick something to take to their house for dinner.

Even the thought is a marvel. You're not a complete shut in, you visit the few friends you have on occasion, your family, attend work functions, but this is different.

You know it is.

"Excuse me?" A petite old lady chirps at your shoulder, and you turn. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, um... no."

"You sure? It's just you've been standing here for almost thirty minutes." Fuck.

"I'm fine." It comes out more assertive than you would have liked, and she backs away without another word. Great.

You choose a six pack and book it out of there.

Their place is cozy. Not too small, not too big, clean and organized, orderly.

Except for the dog.

He's massive.

And slobbery.

And... not for you.

Simon realizes immediately, and herds him away behind a baby gate, where he promptly slumps to the floor and closes his eyes, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

"He's..."

"Ye dinnae have to say cute. We know he's not."

"He's a mutt," Simon tells you, placing a bowl of something hot on the table, "but he's ours. Rescued him an' everything. Never liked pets but... found him on the street an' for some reason couldn't leave him behind."

"That's so sweet." He shrugs, Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Didnae tell me a thing. Just came home with a giant slobbering bear." You eye the table and it's three chairs, suddenly overflowing with anxiety. Which one should you pick? Which ones are theirs? Do they sit next to each other? Doesn't someone always sit at the head of the table? "Take a seat wherever," Johnny coaxes but you remain frozen, avoiding their eyes.

A hand folds over your shoulder with gentle, careful pressure, and warmth. "This one." Simon urges you towards the one in the middle, and you relax, grateful.

"Sorry." You mumble, but Johnny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for. We're really happy you came."

"I... I'm glad I came too." The admission tries to stick in your throat before you force it free, and they reward you with soft smiles.

"Let's eat then."

Dinner passes in a breeze. It's so easy to sit with them, be around them. Involved in their conversation but comfortable enough to bow out of it too, and just listen. They're very good at navigating it, knowing when to stop and go, when to ask you something, and when to move on.

"If you want to stay for a bit, we were thinking about watching a movie. Afraid we're not really exciting." Simon calls over his shoulder, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on his face.

"Oh." Just do it, do it, do it- "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah but no... nothing scary. I can't do those." Johnny jerks his head towards the couch.

"Nothin' scary."

Simon doesn't give you the opportunity to stress over the seating arrangement this time, and points immediately to the left side of the couch. "The button down on the side will extend the footrest, and it can lean all the way back."

"Wow." Johnny settles on the other side, and Simon takes up an overstuffed armchair to your right.

Lots of distance. You kind of feel sad about it.

Your eyelids start to droop after an hour, and no matter how hard you fight it, you're in a losing battle. "I think I should go home." You mumble, and Simon pauses the screen.

"You alright?"

"I'm falling asleep." You don't make any moves to get up, instead curling in closer, tucking your hands under your cheek. The room is warm, the couch is soft, and the dog is snoring, which is comforting, in a weird way. "Should call an uber."

"We'll drive ye."

"No, no... I'm-" you yawn. You don't want to move, and when no one says anything, you let your eyes close for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

In the dark, who knows what time or how many minutes or hours later, a blanket is tucked around your shoulders, shoes slipped off your feet, and someone strokes your cheek, trailing up over your forehead and away, lingering briefly.

"Sleep tight sweet girl."

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader

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s4turns-st4rs · 1 month ago

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you’ve been my favourite for a long time !

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒george weasley headcannons﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: i made one of these a while back, but i had a few more ideas and the old one sucked. anyway, enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: favourite - fontaines dc

𖦹 goofiest socks ever. always mismatched with different prints - current favourite is one leopard print and one with avocados in christmas hats.

𖦹 LOVES muggle romcoms. will see any couple in a functioning relationship and poke you on the shoulder. “they’re so us.”

𖦹 collects EVERYTHING. he is the ultimate hoarder.

𖦹 reads aloud. no one knows why. he just feels the need to let everyone know about his astronomy homework i guess.

𖦹 his sleeves are always rolled up. you don’t mind (his forearms are so hot).

𖦹 is always biting his nails. if he’s nervous, bored or whatever. his nails are bitten right down to the skin. but he lovesss having you paint them.

𖦹 obviously we’ve established he’s a needy freak. constantly hands somewhere on you. not necessarily sexually, mind you, but still very contact heavy.

𖦹 ESPECIALLY. kissing you. anywhere he can manage. lips, cheeks, neck, hands, waist, jawline, hips, thighs, ANYWHERE.

𖦹 loves setting up dorky fun dates for the two of you. cooking, arcades, study dates, cinema, and ANY else you can think of. all of it seems straight out of some muggle rom-com— oh, okay. you know where he gets the ideas from now.

𖦹 obsessed with all the cute coupley stuff!! will call you any nickname under the sun. the more you blush, the better.

𖦹 loves giving GIFTS. has a list of emergency gifts for you just in case. brings flowers on every date!!

𖦹 most teachers love you (obviously excluding snape), but all of them have had to ask george to control himself in class, at least once. although mcgonagall is firmly betting on the two of you marrying the moment after you graduate.

𖦹 LOVES having you at the burrow. something about you being in his space, with his family … his possessive streak is kicking in again.

𖦹 but don’t worry, his family doesn’t miss out on the excessive pda either. he’s constantly squeezing your thigh under the table, dragging you to sit on his lap, playing with your jewellery.

𖦹 any way, any how and any place, george will make sure everyone knows you’re his.

#-ˋˏ✄┈┈ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 .ᐟ #george weasley x reader #x reader #george weasley headcannons #headcannons

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queertransetc · 2 years ago

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- ED trigger warning -

Being skinny ruined my life. If you’re thin and think to yourself, “why don’t fat people just lose weight?” Please read this

I was the “ideal fat” in the sense that I did everything skinny people wanted me to do. I tried every diet in the book. I exercised regularly. I worked with doctors and dietitians to figure out the best way to lose weight. But nothing worked. I did everything “right” to lose weight, and my weight stayed the same

But the thin people in my life kept telling me that I wouldn’t be happy, attractive, healthy, etc. until I lost weight. So, heartbroken, I came to the conclusion that anorexia was the only option left. It felt safer than bariatric surgery, and was obviously much more affordable

I became the perfect anorexic. 700 cal a day or less, except once a week I allowed myself 1400 cal. For reference, my body required at least 2800 to maintain weight, and at least 1800 to keep my organs and stuff fully functioning. Still, 700 a day, I persisted because everyone in my life told me weight loss was all that mattered. If dieting didn’t work, anorexia had to

And it did. My weight dropped all the way down to 110 pounds. I was skinny - underweight, even - in all sense of the word. The people in my life saw it as a miracle. The ultimate success story. My mother, my “friends,” my doctors, they all congratulated me on my accomplishment

When I confessed my eating disorder to my doctor, he told me, “that’s not the best way to go about it, but I’m glad you lost the weight.” My mother took pictures of me and sent them to relatives to brag

Okay, great. I was skinny. I did what I set out to do. But there were severe consequences

The most obvious was my joint pain doubled, maybe even tripled, to the point that I couldn’t leave the house without a wheelchair

I also developed several health complications, including fatty liver disease and extremely painful GERD. I had to see a handful of specialists and get an endoscopy because of severe stomach pain

My partner, who was the only person who saw my weight loss for what it was (a horrible thing that only happened because of an eating disorder), convinced me to enter a recovery program

For nearly a year, I relearned how to feed myself. I ate everything I was told to eat, nothing more and nothing less. My diet was 100% in the hands of somebody else

And I gained back every pound I has lost. All of the work to become thin went right out the window. It was proven to me that thinness and health were incompatible with my body. If I wanted to be thin, I had to forgo my physical and mental well-being. And vise-versa

Prior to the anorexia, I never once struggled with binge eating. I was naturally an intuitive eater, and I did a good job of having a well rounded diet. After the anorexia, after recovery, I developed a binge eating disorder. I had spent so long starving myself, that my brain and body got stuck in survival mode, desperate to consume any and all calories out of fear that I might starve again. To this day I struggle with binge eating

I did everything thin people wanted of me. I dieted. I exercised. And when all else failed, I starved myself. Now I have liver disease, stomach issues, and BED. Not to mention the loads of mental issues that accumulated as a result of my weight loss journey. During the throes of my anorexia, I had to be hospitalized for suicidal ideation

When you tell fat people to “just lose weight” you are suggesting they give themselves illnesses for which treatments are not always effective. You are asking fat people to destroy their stomachs and livers. When a fat person loses so much weight that they become skinny, they are likely giving up so much of their health in efforts to be treated like a human being

If you’re thin, do your part. Treat fat people like people before we tear our bodies apart

#Lincoln logs #fatphobia //#eating disorder //#fat liberation #body positivity

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vaspider · 3 months ago

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Spider, do you have any advice on voting when the options are basically the same? I'm not talking Trump vs. Harris, they are definitely not the same. But my local elections are all "absolutely ghoulish republican who's running on Christian Fundamentalism and opposing the Radical Left, is an anti-enviromentalist, and brags about in their previous term in public office where they legally punished a bunch of homeless people for being homeless" vs "[the exact same fucking thing]". Yes, one of the races, they're both running on how they empowered police to break up homeless camps and arrest them for illegally camping. And it's like the whole local ballot that's like this. Granted, this isn't my first election, and the area where I live has always been very Like That, but it's getting worse year after year.

(People are always like "it must be nice living in California since everyone is so accepting over there" but no, that's mostly on the coast. When you get inland enough, it's not that different from what people think of when they talk about rural Texas (lots of people here are descended from the Okies and the Arkies and the like that came during the Dust Bowl, including my own family)).

[Running for office is not an option for me, I'm not even a functional human being at it is.]

Well.

I think that either you pick things apart until you find one thing that is slightly less shitty about one of the candidates, or you skip that specific race. Those are really your only two options, you know? You can't create another candidate at this stage, and you don't want to skip voting entirely, so... it's okay to skip one race if you really fucking hate both candidates.

I mean, what else are you gonna do?

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meadowfics · 7 days ago

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my pain, your gain

kang dae-ho x f!reader

your missing boyfriend reappears after ten days, suddenly becoming a millionaire

you went to work, a busy cafe, just like any other normal day

the 14:00-22:00 shifts are the ones you hate the most. the type of shift where you feel like there is no business, validating your reasoning as to why you shouldn't be here.

however, when you remember the amount of expenses you have to pay for. rent, groceries, cleaniness, hygiene, etc... you suddenly have a good work ethic.

before you left for your shift, you kissed your boyfriend dae-ho goodbye.

it was normal for you, except you did not notice the tense pulling on his eyebrow and his clenched jaw. you did not notice the debate shown on his face.

when you got home, around midnight due to public transport chaos, throwing your cafe apron by the washer for later.. you called out for dae ho.

the apartment was quiet.. too quiet. as if you lived alone.

"baby?"

"dae?"

"honey, are you home?"

when you checked your bedroom to see that he was gone, you assumed that he visited one of his sisters outside of the city while you worked. fine, at least he could have told you.

the sleep you had was normal, yet cold, due to the absence of dae-ho.

you woke up, feeling at ease until you reach over, your hand hitting the cold soft sheets instead of the body of your lover.

hours turn into a day, and you're broken.

you can’t stop replaying your last conversation with dae ho before you left for work, over and over, trying to find clues about why he left.

the tired body of yours can barely function at work, forgetting orders, zoning out, and apologizing when your boss points it out. your coworkers look worried, but you wave it off, saying you’re just stressed.

sleep is a distant memory. you lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, imagining him walking back through the door like nothing happened.

each day goes by, and when you’re home, you sit on the couch or the floor, staring at the tv, not even watching what’s on.

your mind is stuck on dae-ho..where he is, if he’s okay, or if he really just left you behind.

some nights, you stand by the window, hoping to see him walking back into your life. you tell yourself it’s pointless, but you can’t help it.

you try calling his friends, even people you barely know, asking if anyone has seen him. no one has any answers, and a few of them suggest maybe he left you on purpose. it breaks something in you every time you hear it.

not your dae-ho, he would have told you if there was a problem in your relationship.

sometimes you sit in his favorite chair, holding onto one of his hoodies, and crying silently.

its day 10.. when you get home from your late shift two weeks later, it’s the same routine.

you drop onto the floor in your apron, zoning out in front of the glowing tv.

just an hour after your deadly routine, you hear the sound of your door clicking.

your heart stops, and for a moment, your eyes snap towards the door, you think you’re imagining it.

then you see him... your dae ho.

he looks older, more worn, like the world has weighed him down in the ten days he’s been gone.

your stomach twists when he steps closer, his eyes meeting yours, and you instinctively back away.

“you’re alive?”

you watch as he flinches, his hand pausing mid-reach.

“i can explain,”

he says, his voice desperate, and you motion for him to go on.

dae ho pulls a thick wad of cash from his jogger pocket, placing it in your hands. you feel the weight of it, flipping through the stack with trembling fingers.

“how much is this? where did you get it?” your voice cracks, and your chest tightens as he hesitates.

“it’s 25 million won,” he says, and you gasp, the money slipping from your hands onto the floor.

“where did you get this kind of money? is this… blood money?”

he pauses, his expression guilty but honest.

“kind of,” he admits.

"I earned it though from playing games.. I did not hurt anyone I swear!"

“games? what do you mean?”

deep down, you know dae ho never lies. why would he start now?

he promises to explain everything, but he says, “not tonight. i’ll tell you everything, i swear. but tomorrow, when the sun comes up, i’ll pay off my debt. i’ll pay off yours. we’ll leave this place, and i’ll give you the life you deserve..."

he takes you to the atm up the street. when the screen shows 15,199,998,733 won, your knees almost give out.

he holds onto your arm, steadying you as your heart pounds.

“it’s real,” he says softly. “and it’s ours.”

"me along with four other people won the game. their names are gi hun, hyun ju, myung-gi, and jun-hee. I'll introduce you to them next week. gi hun says if we ever need anything then we can call him at anytime.

you trust him because you always have, that does not stop the unease that settles in your stomach.

you ask him again about the games.

again, “not tonight.”

as you both walk back to the apartment, the weight of the money in your life is overwhelming. you hold onto him tightly, glad he’s back, but the mystery of what he went through lingers.

even as you fall asleep beside him that night, you can’t stop thinking about the games he mentioned. they’ll haunt you, just like the ten days he was gone.

I hope you liked :)

#kang dae ho #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game spoilers #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game fic #meadowfics #multifandom account #kang ha neul #female reader

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eloquent-edits · 1 year ago

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🗡️ “I’m all for platonic intimacy but this…?”

the subtext of romance is really peeking through 🗡️ friends to lovers scenarios

Person A going to person B’s house to watch a movie but getting looped into playing drunk card games with B and their parents

Working out together and A insisting on spotting B and adjusting their form

B playfully poking A in public and promptly getting tackled

B patting A’s cheek only to accidentally linger as they notice how the light catches in A’s eyes (A is DESPERATELY trying to not blush)

“Here’s the garage code.” “… Why am I receiving this information?” “You’re already over here a lot. My parents think it’s better than a key.”

Forced close proximity at a LAN party because there’s not much room at the table (and A’s arm keeps brushing against B’s, messing up their aim, but if anything the space between them decreases as the night goes on)

The “Oh, is B coming too?” to “A kidnapped me to come here and hang out” pipeline

Going from quick and funny head scratches to absentmindedly stroking/detangling their hair while chatting with friends

“Do I smell okay?” “You smell normal.” “Which is…?” “Like lilac and gooseberry.”

A melting into B’s hug after a long and stressful week

B helping A deal with a major headache by rubbing/scratching their back

A heating up B’s ears with their hands because B forgot ear muffs in winter

“My mom thinks you’re really pretty/handsome.” “My mom thinks you look like Adonis/Aphrodite.” “Can you ever take a compliment?”

Candid pictures give away the softness in B’s eyes when they look at A goofing around

B not minding when A gives them a long hug in public, even though they aren’t big on PDA in general

B drawing a shitpost and sending it to A, A setting it as their lockscreen, and months later B realizes that A still hasn’t changed it

B’s family automatically assuming that A might join for any family function and making A’s favorite dish accordingly

“I have to go into the office this week. Can I crash at your place since it’s closer?”

Hanging out for hours —> “I don’t want you to drive home this late.” —> waking up in each other’s arms because they both refused to let the other sleep on the floor/couch

“My clothes reek of you.” “You could’ve just told me to take a shower.”

#friends to lovers #writing prompts #writing inspiration #writing scenarios #imagine your otp #fluff prompts #slow burn #working out is homoerotic and you cannot tell me otherwise #also I did make this a mixture of things that could absolutely just be platonic or romantic #it’s up to the writer to decide how spicy they want to get with the scenarios

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flickering-chandelier · 8 months ago

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Long Story Short

Pairing: Single Dad Cassian x Bestie Reader

Synopsis: Cassian loved Reader for as long as he could remember, but there never seemed to be any opportunity for more. Then what was meant to be a random one night stand ends with Cassian, alone, with a baby in his arms. Throughout this new journey in his life, Reader is there for him in ways that he never could have expected.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, swearing, a lil angst, mutual pining

Word Count: 6k

Cassian’s heart ached as he watched you settle in beside your lover, his arm slinging around your shoulders, your smile bright and loving as you looked at him, in your own little world as your friends talked and laughed at the table around you.

He hated it when you brought him along to what he considered to be family functions, meant for the people Cassian loved. And that asshole certainly did not fit into that category.

Okay, he could concede that this guy wasn’t that bad. But, he certainly wasn’t good enough for you. Nobody ever could be, but certainly not Zaden.

Cassian knew he wasn’t good enough for you either, but he would try his damn hardest to be everything you needed if you ever gave him the chance. He had loved you so intensely for so long, he couldn’t imagine how you hadn’t already figured it out. He felt like the whole world dimmed in your presence, with you standing out in vibrant color against everything else.

Suddenly, Azriel nudged him subtly with his elbow, and Cassian came back to real life, to the one where you loved him as a friend and nothing more, where you went to Zaden’s bed every night --

Rhysand was looking at him expectantly. Cassian cleared his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked how training is going in the mountains,” Rhysand purred, clearly amused to catch Cassian in the middle of a daydream.

He was glad for the distraction, and gave them all updates about how the Illyrian armies were shaping up, before suffering through the rest of dinner with you across from him.

Cassian bolted out of his seat as soon as the plates were cleared, heading into the city, needing fresh air, needing some kind of distraction that would make his heart stop hurting for just a little bit.

He ended up at a bar, tossing back glass after glass of amber liquid until a stranger sat right next to him, her arm brushing against his as she settled on top of the stool.

When he looked at her, her eyes were already locked on his, her mouth curved into a sultry smile. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Not as beautiful as you obviously, but attractive nevertheless.

She turned fully towards him, making small talk as she brushed her fingers along his arm.

And he thought this could be a damn good distraction.

---

Weeks later, you burst through Cassian’s door, tears in your eyes.

Cassian stood up immediately, and you ran to him, burying your face in his chest as he held you close. “What is it?” he asked.

“Zaden broke up with me,” you sniffed.

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “What? Why?”

You groaned. “He said it just wasn’t working.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can we just hang out today?” You asked. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” he said, his heart leaping that he was the one you ran to.

For the rest of the day, the two of you lounged around, and Cassian was doing everything he could to make you feel better.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, you were settled under his arm, your head against his chest. “I can’t believe I wasn’t good enough for him,” you said quietly.

“No, don’t do that,” he said, and you tilted your head up to look at him curiously. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

“Cassian,” you whispered.

“I mean it,” he murmured. Surely, you had to know. After all this time, how could you not see it?

Your breath hitched, your gaze dipping to Cassian’s lips for a moment.

Then you were leaning toward him, your lips gently meeting his. He sucked in a breath, and shifted you so you were sitting on top of him. You were holding his face in your hands, kissing him and this is all he’s ever wanted, and he longed to melt into you and stay there forever, but…

He pulled back from you, his heart breaking. “You’re sad and you’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t.”

“Cassian,” you said, your voice breaking. “Have you ever thought about… us?”

His heart lurched, his mind reeling, trying to decide how much to tell you. “Of course I have,” he said quietly, running his thumb lightly across your cheekbone.

Something like hope flickered in your eyes, and Cassian’s heart swelled. “You have?” You whispered.

Cassian almost laughed, years of pining over you flashing through his mind. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing you softly. “You’re incredible,” was all he could manage.

You laughed lightly. “So are you…” Your voice trailed off, your eyes darting away from his, a habit he knew meant you were trying to find the courage to say something. After a moment, your eyes locked on his again and you said softly, “Maybe we could be incredible together.”

Your name rushed out of Cassian’s mouth like a gasp before he could stop it. His heart sank into his stomach. He wanted you. Of course he did. But he didn’t want to be your rebound, the one you only noticed right after someone else had broken your heart. He wanted to be your first choice, the only one that mattered.

He ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “If you really want to give us a shot… I think we should wait. Your emotions are all over the place right now, and I don’t --” he stopped short.

Your eyes were swimming with pain as you looked at him, your hands on his shoulders. It broke his heart. “You don’t what?” you whispered.

I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want you to hurt me, because I wouldn’t survive it. Not from you.

He swallowed. “I just think we should wait a few weeks. Give yourself time to get over Zaden.”

You slid off his lap and stood up, hardly looking at him. “Okay,” you said quietly.

And without another word, you were gone.

Cassian prayed to the Mother that he hadn’t just fucked up his one chance.

---

A few days later, Cassian was still reeling from what you said. You had barely spoken since then, which was putting him even more on edge.

Multiple times, he had contemplated throwing his dignity out the window and running to you, begging you to forget everything he had said and be with him already.

But he wouldn’t do it. If he was going to be with you, he had to know it was because you actually wanted him.

He ended up back at the bar that night, to drink away his problems, to soothe the anxiety he felt every time he thought of you just the slightest bit.

Cassian had been sitting there for about an hour when a woman sidled up to him. He was about to brush her away, not in the mood, until he realized he knew her. It was his hookup from weeks ago.

“Oh hey,” he said, wondering if she would even remember him. “Lana, right?”

She nodded, shooting him a tight smile that was nothing at all like the one he remembered. “I’m glad I ran into you. We -- umm. We need to talk.”

The tone in her voice sent him immediately on edge. He straightened, turning to face her fully. “About what?”

Lana winced slightly and that’s when it hit him. He didn’t pick up on it at first in the crowded room, but he could scent it now. “You’re pregnant,” he blurted.

“Yes,” she said quietly, looking at him sheepishly. “It’s yours.”

“You’re sure?” Cassian choked out, his mind reeling.

“Trust me, I’m sure,” she ground out.

“Wow.” He said. “Okay. Wow. This is -- Cauldron, this is…”

“Insane?” she offered.

He nodded, in a daze. “Sure. That works.”

Lana stayed silent, watching Cassian digest it.

“I mean, I’m happy, I think,” Cassian said. “I’ve always wanted a family someday, and children are such a blessing. I just didn’t think it would be…now.”

“With a stranger,” she added.

“Right.” He turned to Lana then, feeling like a complete idiot. “Gods, how are you feeling about all this?”

She smiled weakly. “About the same, I think. I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. Being a mom, I mean. Children are so rare, it wasn't ever something I really considered. But, I’m happy, I think. To have a baby.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So… what do we do?”

Lana shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Cassian was almost embarrassed about what he was about to say. “We should… date, right? We should be a family?”

A slow smile lit up Lana’s face. “A family. I like that idea.”

“Me too,” he said.

And that’s when Cassian remembered you. And what you had said. And the chance that he had just lost.

But then he thought of the baby. His baby, his child.

Maybe dreams could change. And maybe that was okay.

---

You had never been so embarrassed in your life. You understood where Cassian was coming from, of course. You understood how it looked, running right to him after Zaden had dumped you.

But, his rejection still stung.

Cassian had been a near constant in your life for the past few decades, to the point where now you couldn’t even imagine how you had made it through anything without him.

It wasn’t until more recently, when things with Zaden had started to go downhill, that you thought maybe it would be wonderful if your relationship with Cassian… changed.

He was a good man. Endlessly attractive? Of course. Hilariously funny? You thought so, anyway. But, his heart. When you really sat down and thought about it, you realized you didn’t know anyone better on the planet.

And to top it all off, he was your best friend. You already had such a strong foundation, you imagined it would be remarkably easy to fall into something else, something deeper.

So, when he was holding you and calling you incredible, and looking at you in that way that only he ever has, you laid it on the line. You took the chance.

And it had completely backfired.

He hadn’t said no, exactly. Just not right now. But wasn’t that the same thing?

A loud knock on your door roused you from your thoughts.

You knew who it was before you even opened the door, but you weren’t expecting him to look so frazzled. You had never seen Cassian look like he wasn’t in control.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

He barreled into your apartment, barely stopping to look at you. He ran both his hands through his hair, and your eyes lingered for a second on the way his biceps flexed as he did so. You had to blink to force yourself to focus back on his face.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

You laughed, but when he faced you fully, his eyes full of panic, you sobered. “Wait, you’re being serious?”

His jaw was clenched. “Completely serious. I hooked up with someone at a bar a few weeks ago. And she’s pregnant.”

“Cassian,” you breathed. It was all you could say.

“I know,” he said, and his expression became pained as he looked at you. “We’re going to try to be together. To be a family, for the baby.”

And that’s when you realized, he wasn’t just here because you were his best friend and he needed to talk to someone. He was here to tell you it wasn’t going to happen between the two of you. Ever.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, okay? I mean it.”

He looked so incredibly relieved that your heart swelled with love. “I’m so sorry. I know we said--”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, unable to hear him say it. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he said softly, stepping forward and taking your hand in his. “It’s just -- I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I know,” you murmured, trying to keep your tears in. “You should be a family.”

His eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking.

“Don’t be,” you whispered.

It wasn’t until much later, after Cassian left, that you let yourself sob until your eyes burned, until your head was throbbing.

You had your chance. And now it was gone.

---

It was a while before things felt normal between you and Cassian again.

And as far as Cassian and Lana… well, it wasn’t exactly the epic romance that Cassian had always hoped to find. They got along, they had fun. But Cassian couldn’t help but wish there was more of a spark.

Maybe when the baby came, he thought. Maybe when they had this beautiful little life to bond over and protect together.

But that worried him, too. As much as Lana said she was on board, he could tell she wasn’t as happy as he was. She had mentioned more than once that she never saw herself as a mother. And Cassian had no idea what it was to be a good dad -- what the hell were they going to do? What if they messed everything up?

As the due date drew closer, he could tell Lana was getting even more anxious, which was to be expected. Right?

When the due date was only days away, Cassian met up with Lana and immediately he could tell that something was wrong. She was wringing her hands nervously, trepidation coursing through every part of her.

“I can’t do it,” she blurted out, before Cassian could say so much as a greeting.

“What?”

“I can’t be a mother,” she said, tears suddenly streaming down her face. “I can’t play house with you. I can’t give this baby a good life. I can’t do it, Cassian.”

Cassian was suddenly furious. “What? You’re telling me this now?”

“I thought I could get used to the idea. I thought maybe if you and I fell in love, it would make it easier, but we're not. And we’re not going to be, are we?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think so.”

“See?” she said. “We’re fooling ourselves if we really think the three of us could be a real family.”

“That’s bullshit,” he seethed. “We don’t have to be romantically together to be a family. To be there for our kid.”

“I don’t want to be,” she spat. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want this baby. I never did.”

Cassian reeled back a step, like she had slapped him. “You’re going to abandon your child?”

“It doesn’t feel like mine,” she whispered. “I don’t want it.”

He couldn’t stand to hear anymore, and didn’t want to be around to say something he would surely regret. Instead, he stormed past her, out into the night.

---

“She said what?”

You were furious, pacing back and forth in your apartment.

“I’m going to be raising this kid on my own,” Cassian said, panicked. “What the fuck.”

“No, you won’t be,” you said, taking his hands in yours, trying to steady him, forcing him to face you. “I’m here. Rhysand and Feyre can help. I’m sure Az will help when he’s here --”

“I appreciate that, but it’s not the same,” he said sadly. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am not prepared for this.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Cass.”

He sighed, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. Despite everything, despite how long it had been since there had been any possibility of something more between the two of you, your heart leaped at the contact. “What am I going to do?” He whispered.

“Take it one day at a time,” you said softly. “You’ll be okay.”

You prayed that it was true.

---

Unsurprisingly, as soon as the baby was born, Lana hit the road without so much as a goodbye. Everyone rallied around Cassian for the first several weeks, you more than anyone.

Cassian was exhausted, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, but also more in love than he could have ever thought possible.

She was his whole world, the little bundle in his arms. She was the only thing that mattered.

“I can take Asteria for a bit,” you said. “You should rest.”

It was the middle of the night. He had for all intents and purposes, moved into the river house, and you had basically moved in too. There was always someone around him, which he was endlessly grateful for, but he felt guilty that his whole family had essentially put their lives on hold for him, especially you.

“It’s okay,” he grumbled. “I got it.”

“Cassian, when was the last time you slept?”

He paused, trying to remember.

“If you don’t know, it’s been too long,” you said gently as you came up to stand next to him, resting your hand on his shoulder.

Cassian leaned into your touch for a moment before he sighed and passed Asteria to you. “I won’t be long,” he said.

He passed out right there on the bed.

When he woke up, the sun was shining through the window.

Cassian sat bolt upright in bed, and there you were, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with his daughter in your arms, freshly clothed.

“Afternoon, sunshine,” you chirped, smiling.

“Afternoon? I was out that long?”

“You needed it,” you said.

“You should have woken me up,” he grumbled.

“This is a team effort, remember? I love you, Cassian. I want to help.”

And for about the millionth time in his life, he thanked the Mother that he had you.

---

Asteria bounded out the front door, crashing into your legs, holding you tight with a grin. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here! I’m here all the time, you goof,” you teased, brushing some windswept curly hair out of her face.

“Will you come color with me? Dad and Uncle Azzie were coloring with me, but they’re not very good,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“Well, sweetheart, we all have our different ways of expressing art,” you said, trying to hold back your laugh. “But, yes of course, I will color with you.”

She took your hand and led you inside. You shot an apologetic glance back to your boyfriend Landon, who followed you with a small smile. He wasn’t quite used to Asteria and Nyx yet.

You followed Asteria into the kids’ playroom at the river house, where the whole family was meeting for dinner tonight. Cassian, Azriel, and Nyx were sitting on the floor, all coloring with crayons and pencils.

Asteria motioned to Cassian’s and Azriel’s artwork, which just looked to you like random splotches of color. “See?” she whispered to you.

“See what?” Cassian grinned at the two of you.

Laughing, you said, “Asteria was just telling me about the art you and Uncle Azriel were creating.”

Azriel’s mouth quirked up into a tiny smile, looking fondly at Asteria. “You were making fun of our masterpieces, weren’t you?”

“Nooooo,” she said, grinning.

Slowly, his eyes locked on her, Azriel stood up. Asteria froze beside you. Then immediately he was across the room and had her in his arms, turning her upside down and jogging around the room while she squealed with delight. “You should always stay a terrible liar, kid,” he teased.

Grinning, you sat down at the table next to Cassian, and Landon settled in next to you, somewhat awkwardly.

Soon, you were all coloring contentedly, Asteria and Nyx talking all of your ears off.

“Would you be able to pick Asteria up from daycare tomorrow?” Cassian asked you quietly. “I have to go to the mountains for a bit, and I’m not sure what time I’ll get back.”

“Of course,” you said, and felt Landon shift slightly beside you.

Cassian glanced at him, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You fought the urge to sigh. Cassian and Landon didn’t get along, even though you had been dating for nearly a year. It was exhausting. Landon thought that Cassian relied on you too much to raise “his” kid. Cassian thought Landon wasn’t understanding enough about the situation. It had led to many fights between you and Landon, mostly because you usually sided with Cassian.

Mercifully, Rhysand walked in then, announcing that it was time for dinner.

“Wow!” Rhysand said dramatically, kneeling in front of her. “That is beautiful. Much better than what the grownups at the table accomplished.”

“Uncle Rhys! Look at my picture!” Asteria beamed, holding her paper high above her head.

“Not you too,” Cassian groaned. “I was going for an abstract piece!”

Rhysand chuckled, “Maybe we can have Aunt Feyre give your dad some art lessons, what do you think?”

Asteria’s eyes widened. “That is a great idea.”

You all laughed as you filed into the dining room and settled in for dinner, pleasant chatter filling the room as you dug into the food in front of you.

Everything was going well, even Landon was socializing with everyone.

Until, Asteria looked at you, casually saying, “Can you pass the potatoes, mom?”

Everyone glanced at you, but kept chatting as you passed the plate to her.

Landon stiffened beside you, and Cassian’s eyes locked on yours across the table for a moment, his expression unreadable.

The rest of the dinner went by fairly smoothly, except for Landon not saying a word to anyone for the rest of the night.

Cassian pulled you into a hug as you were leaving, murmuring in your ear, “Good luck.”

You laughed and Landon raised his eyebrow at you.

It wasn’t until the two of you made it back to your apartment that Landon finally turned to you, his eyes on fire. “You’re seriously just going to act like it didn’t happen?”

“What?” You asked, already annoyed. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“She called you mom.”

“So?” Honestly, it warmed your heart that Asteria saw you that way.

“You’re not her mom. This is what I’m talking about, Cassian takes advantage of you,” he said, his voice raising.

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s my family, Landon. Everything I do, I offer to do because I love them,” you said, your temper rising. “That’s not taking advantage.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. You and Cassian -- It’s too weird.”

“It’s too weird?”

“Oh, come on,” he said angrily. “Don’t act like you don’t know that he’s in love with you. No wonder he wants you to play house with him so often.”

Your heart lurched. Cassian and you hadn’t talked about the possibility of something more since that night ages ago, before Lana, before Asteria. After Lana and Cassian had called it off, you thought that maybe something would happen, but Cassian had never brought it up again, and you had assumed that he didn’t feel that way anymore. You pushed through it, helping him in any way that you could. But, you never quite stopped having those feelings, couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what could have been every once in a while.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally.

Landon let out a humorless laugh. “And you’re kidding yourself.”

“Leave then,” you spat. “We're done.”

As he left, all you could think about was Cassian and Asteria. And what you really wanted out of life.

---

Cassian was carefully braiding Asteria’s hair when you stopped by a few days later.

“Braids before bedtime?” You asked, smiling as you leaned against the door frame, watching Cassian's rough hands gently running his daughter's hair through his fingers.

“I want my hair to be curly tomorrow!” Asteria smiled.

“Good thing your dad got so good at braids, huh?”

Cassian smiled at you warmly as he tied the end of her braid.

“You ready for bed, honey?” Cassian asked.

Asteria nodded, but looked at you. “Can you put me to bed?”

Your heart swelled, and you looked to Cassian, who nodded, his eyes swimming with affection.

“Of course,” you said, following her to her bedroom in Cassian's apartment.

You tucked Asteria into bed, and she looked up at you, looking contemplative. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” You asked, surprised by how serious she was being.

“Are you mad that I accidentally called you mom? I didn't mean to, it just came out,” she said.

“No, I'm not mad,” you said, surprised. “Did I seem mad?”

“You didn't, but… Landon did.”

Your heart broke a little. “Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry he made you feel like that. You don't need to worry about him. I won't be seeing him anymore.”

Asteria looked surprised. “It's just… you kind of are my mom. You do all the things that other kids’ moms do.”

You smiled, taking your hand in hers for a moment. “I do?”

She nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you can call me whatever you want, okay?”

Asteria beamed, leaning back into her pillow. “Okay.”

You said goodnight, and found Cassian lingering in the hallway, his eyes slightly wide.

“What happened with you and Landon?” He asked.

You sighed, walking with him to the living room, out of Asteria's earshot. “Nothing. It doesn't matter.”

He raised an eyebrow as the two of you settled on opposite chairs, facing each other. “It was because of that night at dinner, wasn't it? Because of what Asteria said?”

You bit your lip, hesitating, unsure how he would react to the truth.

The lack of response was enough for him to figure it out. He scoffed angrily. “You've got to be kidding me. Cauldron, I always hated that guy.”

“I know you two didn't get along--”

“That's an understatement,” Cassian growled. His hands were gripping the chair’s armrests so tightly, you thought he might break it.

“What are you so worked up about?” You asked. “If you hated him so much, shouldn't you be glad that we broke up?”

“I'm worked up because I'll never understand what you could have possibly seen in him,” he seethed, his eyes boring into yours. “Explain it to me. Please.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Explain what?”

“Why you stayed with him! Why you liked him in the first place!”

He was furious and for the life of you, you couldn't understand why. “I don't know,” you said, searching for an answer that would be enough for him. “We hit it off at first, and I guess the problems we had seemed small until they weren't anymore.”

Cassian's eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “That's it? You hit it off, and that's why you stayed with him? Gods, he was never good enough for you,” he said, rising from his chair and looking down at you, his eyes on fire.

You rose too, stepping up to him, still confused by his anger, but it spurred on some of your own. “Who would be then, Cassian? Since you clearly know what's best for me, who would be good enough for me?”

“I would!” He roared.

Your heart stopped. Your face must have shown your shock because his body relaxed, exhausted. He was breathing heavily as he looked back into your eyes and said quietly, “I would be. I would try my hardest to be.”

“Cassian,” you whispered.

“You're my family,” he said gruffly. “You, me, and Asteria. The three of us, we're a family. And… gods, I've loved you for so long,” he said, his eyes swimming with pain, with want.

“Why didn't you ever say anything?” The words came out like a plea.

He loosed out a breath. “You were always with someone. And then when you finally showed interest in me, Lana showed up… and by the time we had ended it, I had a baby to worry about. I didn't have the energy to think about anything but her. When she was older and I was thinking about that aspect of my life again, you were with Landon! When was I supposed to tell you?”

Your head was spinning. “I -- Cassian,” you choked out.

And then you surged forward, taking his face in your hands and pulling him to you, kissing him the way you had been wanting to for ages.

---

Cassian wasn't sure if he was breathing. He didn't mean to lose it with you like that, to lay it all on the line, but picturing you with that jerk who hated him and his daughter made him see red.

The fact that he broke up with you because his daughter loved you so much made him see red.

So, he lost it. And he finally, finally told you the truth.

And now he was holding you in his arms, and your hands were on his face and your lips were on his and he didn't think he was breathing.

He groaned your name, pulling you closer into him, his hands roaming down your sides, wrapping around to grip your ass.

You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss, carrying you through the hallway into his bedroom.

Slowly, he laid you down onto the bed, leaning over you as you sunk into the mattress, kissing down your throat. You sighed his name and he nuzzled his face into your neck.

Your fingers curled around his bicep, and into his hair. “I love you, Cassian,” you said softly. “I've loved you for a long time.”

He pulled back to look at you, his thumb running across your cheek. “The people you dated?” He asked.

Your eyes softened as you gazed up at him. “I didn't think you were interested. I was trying to… move on.”

Cassian laughed humorlessly, letting his forehead rest against yours. “Guess we kept missing our window, huh?”

“Not anymore,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

“Let's not waste anymore time,” he said against your mouth.

You immediately clawed at his chest, working his shirt off. He laughed, helping you pull it over his head.

Heat ran through his entire body at the look in your eyes as you stared at the exposed skin of his chest, his arms.

He reached for you, but you sat up and caught his wrists, forcing his arms to his sides. You looked mesmerized as you traced a finger along his collarbone, then ran your hand down his chest, across his abs, down to his waistline, stopping at the top of his pants.

Cassian sucked in a breath as you toyed with his pants, your eyes trained on his body.

“You're drooling now, just wait til you get my pants off,” he teased.

Your eyes flicked to his, darkened with lust.

That look set him off. He growled, taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard. You gasped into his mouth, and he took your hand in his, settling it on his bulge.

You gripped him through his pants, stroking up and down lightly. He groaned, bucking his hips.

“Off,” you mumbled against his lips, tugging at his pants.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, and rose from the bed before letting his pants drop to the floor, kicking them behind him.

Your eyes were wide as he stood bare before you.

He laughed lightly, then sauntered over to you, tugging on your hand to stand you up next to him. “I think you need to catch up to me,” he murmured, reaching to pull your shirt over your head.

His breath caught as his eyes raked down your body. He pulled you against him, kissing down your neck, down your chest, running his hands down your sides, pulling your pants off slowly.

You gasped quietly as he wrapped his hands around the backs of your thighs, picking you up and laying you down on the bed, hovering over you, kissing you deeply as his hands roamed your body.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this,” he groaned against your skin.

“Show me,” you said quietly, your hands scanning down his back.

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He lined himself up at your entrance and slid into you slowly.

The two of you moaned in tandem as he filled you completely. His eyes were locked on yours as he started moving inside you, slowly at first, but his thrusts became deeper and harder the longer you clung to him, the more gasps and mewls that you made.

He twined his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he pounded into you, gazing down at you.

You bit your lip when your legs started shaking and Cassian grinned. “Don’t wake up the kid,” he smirked.

“Cassian,” you whined.

You glared at him and he laughed, gently covering your mouth with his hand as you came undone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper and he groaned, finishing inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. Cassian kissed your forehead before nuzzling his face in your neck.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he said wistfully as he rolled off of you, brushing the stray hairs off your face, tucking them behind your ear.

“But it is,” you smiled.

The look in your eyes, the utter love and affection made his heart race. After all this time, he had you in his arms. And he wouldn’t let anything screw up this chance he’d been given.

---

“Mom,” Asteria whined from outside. “Uncle Rhys isn’t sharing!”

Rhysand gasped dramatically. “You’re tattling on me?”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

“What isn’t Uncle Rhys sharing with you?” You asked, waddling out to the doorway, your hand resting on your swollen belly.

“It’s my turn!” Rhysand claimed, holding Asteria’s new ball above his head.

You laughed at your ridiculous family. “Asteria, honey, it sounds like you’re the one who’s not sharing.”

Asteria crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Fine. Uncle Rhys can play with my new toy.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Cassian called to her, wrapping his arms around you from behind, lovingly placing a hand over yours on your stomach. “How’re you two doing?” He murmured in your ear.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning into his touch. Cassian had always been protective of you, but since you had gotten pregnant, he had barely left your side. “The same as the last time you asked two minutes ago,” you teased.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”

You turned in his arms, holding his face in your hands and kissing him sweetly. “I love you,” you smiled.

“I love you,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

“And I love you!” Asteria beamed, bounding up to the two of you.

Cassian grinned, scooping her up into his arms, bringing her into a group hug. “And my baby brother,” she added, patting your belly gently.

“One big happy family,” Cassian murmured, gazing at the two of you, his eyes twinkling with all the love in the world.

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