#THIS IS FUCKING predatory i dont even need to explain this?????

[milk-ducts]

you can see the sniper i have trained on immortal in the background .

[nightcolorz]

For the ask game: ❤️💚💙

YAYY thank u sm for the ask! these questions r so fun. I’m going off of the book fandom btw

❤: Which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom?

Louis <3 I think this is an affect of how likable and overtly sympathetic he is in the amc show but I've seen people getting genuinely offended over Louis being described in fandom (and by Anne rice herself) as a manipulative cold hearted ass who uses his perceived vulnerability and gentleness to distract from the fact that he is just as cruel if not crueler then the other vampires. Like Louis does nottt have strong morals or high empathy lmao. Book Louis weaponizes his privilege like a white woman crying to self victimize into making the other vampires look worse them him 😭 . He refuses to kill humans for a while not bcus it hurts him to take life (he actually takes more pleasure in it then most), he refuses bcus he has catholic brain the way a christians who say "how do atheists have morals without god?" do, misunderstanding that most people actually care about other people and dont need an existential threat to encourage them not to hurt others.

His moral compass is self centered and based in up keeping the appearance of self restraint and monk style lack of enjoying himself, not empathy. If a vampire killed u would u feel better if u knew he cried over how much he got off on it then flaunted his suffering over how little he indulged so that everyone knew how piosis he was 😭.

He is way worse when it comes to how he treats his victims then Armand who intentionally seeks out victims who r asking to die or Lestat who tries the vigilante approach. Louis kills innocents and he thinks it makes him better cuz he only does it sometimes and he feels really really bad about himself afterwards. As akasha said (paraphrased) he's the most predatory of them all.

To specify I love book Louis SOOOO much I love how shitty he is that's why it makes me sad when people mischaracterize him as sincere and get gen mad when ppl characterize him how he is in canon (a lying selfish bitch bless his heart). Like ik amc Louis at this point in canon is unambiguously in the right but he isn't like an accurate reflection of how he is in the books 😭 it's not like amc did what anne rice was trying to do more successfully, they just nulled what anne rice was doing in favor of a more likable protagonist. Which is fine, but like, there's no crime in preferring evil to the core horrible asshole Louis of the books.

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

I think the common fandom perception of Armand as the crazy unhinged "omg I can't believe he actually did that in the books??" sadistic maniac villain guy is funny but not really accurate. Armand explicitly not only tries to avoid violence but dislikes it and finds it hard to comprehend why someone would seek out violence and conflict.

The reason he is always doing fucked up shit isn't out of a lestat-esc desire to cause chaos, it's bcus his highly strung ptsd brain has him convinced that the world is a battle ground and he must always be defending himself and acting out in violence.

Since acting out in violence is a reaction hes been taught throughout his life to be standard and necessary, as violence is something so normalized to him he considers it more of a tedious chore then a last resort measure, he usually reacts to conflict in ways that are objectively extreme to anyone who isn't thinking from his perspective. In qotd he even asks Daniel why men choose to fight in wars, explaining that he doesn't understand the draw of violence (bcus he's not a man) and he can't comprehend the supposed thrill of it.

Then he says this in pl to Gregory

💙: Which character is not as hot as everyone else seems to think they are?

i was going to say Marius but I figure that's too obvious since everyone at this point knows I don't like Marius 😭 so here's an even hotter take,,,,, Lestat ‼️

Only to a degree, I think Lestat is hot and deserves the hype, but i also think he's hot in a different way then a chunk of the fandom does. Based on his book description he's kind of wonky looking, mouth too big for his face, vaguely unnerving shallow pale skin, starved 1700s peasant build but also kind of buff in the unhealthy "i dont eat regularly but I'm strong enough to carry a wolf for miles on my back" sense, weirdly small fucking feet. He def has creepy ass florescent blue doll eyes too. my point is I think when drooling over Lestat the fandom tends to forget this wonkiness in favor of blonde bombshell, Sam Reid chizzled jawline and abs, or conventionally beautiful anime twink, when they should be appreciating lestat in all his weird as shit glory.

[iamthecomet]

hi

do you have any ideas on predatory usage of quintessence

like murder ghoul aether cuz im still thinking about "pump them full of so much quintessence they dont know their name"

-🧪

I have so. SO many thoughts on predatory use of quintessence. And on murder ghoul Aether specifically. Someday, I would like to write full fics for each of my murder ghouls and their preferred methods (Swiss in particular is also quite fucked up). But for now, enjoy some thoughts about murderous, creepy, Aether.

Aether likes them calm. Dopey. Happy. Finds the blood tastes better when they're content. But, if he's honest, he doesn't really care about the meal. It's his least favorite part. Nourishing in a way that feels necessary but not pleasurable. Sometimes he'll even invite Dew in to actually finish them off once he's had his fill of their psychic torment. It's the lead-up he likes the best. The chase, the capture, the play. He likes smiling softly at an unsuspecting sibling. Likes furrowing his brow and asking for help with something. He finds that's the easiest way to get them. Asking for help. Humans are driven by the need to be helpful, the need to be useful. They toddle after him excitedly every time. He tries to pick humans that are over-eager. Excitable. The ones that babble at him as he leads them away from safety. He likes the way they talk. The waver in their voices. Nerves. Excitement at being noticed by a band ghoul. Sometimes he digs in right then, lets his powers drift into their mind and watches the fantasy unfold. Devours all of their hopes, their wants. The way they play out their future from this chance moment forward. They think about Aether noticing them, knowing them, loving them. Platonically or otherwise. They craft new worlds for themselves in the short walk to the basement door. And then, like clockwork, they stop. Hesitant. Aether tastes the bite of their fear as they look at the heavy oak door that they've been told never to breach. Those fantasies of a life blessed by a Ghoul's favor crumble. Apprehension eats them away like flame does to paper. They worry about Sister. About incurring wrath. About being kicked out. Thrown out into the woods to find their way home. About being pulled from the church--the only place they've ever found meaning. Aether looks at them, pulls his probing magic back. He reaches for them, claps one big hand over their boney shoulder and feeds them their first taste of his magic. They stumble a little. Dazed. Always thrown off. Hit with a wave of vertigo that Aether doesn't bother to explain. He looks at them like he's worried for them, asks them if they're alright. "Yeah," they say, "was just dizzy for a second. Must be nerves...I'm--we're not supposed to go down there." Aether shrugs, presses his quintessence in further, wraps it around their brain stem. Calms their racing heart. Feeds them back their thoughts of usefulness, of friendship, of a future with Aether by their side. "You're helping me, so I'm sure it's fine." And then, he leads them into the dark. No one who follows Aether into the basement ever comes back. He keeps them for a while, hours, days, sometimes weeks depending on what he can get from them. He feeds off of their emotions, of playing with them. Finds the psychic nourishment far more valuable than the blood and viscera. He digs into their memories. Watches their trauma play out like a movie. He keeps them drugged up on his magic, sedated. He used to restrain them early on, until he realized he didn't have to. Keeping them high on his magic was enough, drifting, delirious. Implanted memories making them think they're living the life they wanted. Their fantasies played out in brutal detail while Aether digs his fangs into their neck and tastes their pain, their pleasure, bursting bright on his tongue. When they've served their use, when their memories, and their trauma, and their desires start to taste....stale. He finishes them off, or has Dew do it. He cleans up. He starts again.

[rise-my-angel]

Because I love salt, what do you find to be the most annoying lines of so-called evidence or foreshadowing for ships you hate? For me it’s hard to pick just one but Jon saying Sansa looked radiant is up there for me because the idea that Jon had a crush on Sansa in the first book or before is so much worse than the thought of them meeting again and then developing feelings (which I still hate, but it’s just not as bad). It’s super normal for people to think their siblings look nice. Arya’s POV chapters also remark that Sansa is beautiful. Ashford theory is annoying because it was originally about the hound and Sansa (also hate this ship but the fans are a million times more tolerable). I also roll my eyes when fans insist that the bride of fire line foreshadows Dany marrying Jon (and I even LIKE that ship but only in an AU in my head where Lyanna is Jon’s mom but Rhaegar is NOT the father)

"Because I love salt"

You have come to the right place as this is an accurate real life photo of me running this blog:

Thats a good one I hate though, multiple siblings and family members in this series all compliment one another. Even characters with bad relationships compliment each other. In the books, Arya recalls that her father calls her pretty, which only Jon ever also called her. Does that mean Ned had romantic feelings for Arya? Or Lyanna for that matter? No of course not. Thinking someone in terms of beauty is zero indicator of attraction in any way.

Also its even funnier with Jonsas because Sansa herself notes that Arya looks just like Jon, and then on multiple occasions notes that she thinks Arya is ugly. So, its even less compelling.

In the show Tyrion compliments Cersei's beauty all the time and we know there is nothing to it. It's reading into something that isn't there beacuse if they ignore the way beauty is used in this series as a common compliment towards other highborns, then its a really simple box to check on really stock symptoms of attraction. (I also dont really enjoy Sansan but it is funny how they just stay in their circle and mind their business like they somehow are winning based on being not fucking annoying alone).

I'm gonna rapid fire for Jon here because pretty much every single ship he has is backed by the worst evidence known to man.

The idea that Jon never thinks about Sansa because he loves her the most is dumb and not how we know Jon works. He holds back what he says not what he thinks. He thinks of Sansa the least because despite being his sister, she treated him like shit because she looks down on him for being a bastard. Jon cares about her, but not anywhere near how he cares about his other siblings who have clearly shown him love and respect.

The worst of Jon and Arya is a very very old outline that grrm scrapped. Its an outline that wasnt used and most of it isnt canon so it is literally a piece of non evidence for a ship that is disgusting. (Both Jonsa and Jonrya make Jons good older brother behavior towards his sisters look predatory and the shippers are all literally too blind to realize it)

Jon and Dany have literally nothing to back that up, because they are staged as moral oppositions to one another, dont know the other exists, and the idea that the motif of ice and fire will be about the coming together of romance is antithetical to everything grrm has established about the themes of his story. They are so far from being a ship that literally the ONLY thing they have to support it is the show and thats an absolute joke (see my every post that got me blocked by jonerys stans for more detail)

Ygritte is a rapist, so I accept literally zero "evidence" on that ones validity.

I also hate the "the actors have chemistry" argument to support really bad ships, because some actors having chemistry doesnt equal good romance, it equals good on screen dynamics in its own unique way. Like Tywin and Arya in season 2 have GREAT chemistry, but I don't need to explain why shipping that is creepy. Catelyn and Jaime have great chemistry, but it doesn't mean anything was actually there which could've worked.

Like shipping is fine, but so many people just INSIST it is canon or meant to be instead of something fun to think about. I joke ship about Stannis and Davos because its fun but I'm not over here arguing that people who don't ship it are "ignoring the text in front of them deliberately".

Also honestly, its really funny to me that you had to specify you'd only like that ship if they weren't related. Big oof on that one. Jonerys stans hate the idea they couldn't be related because they somehow think Dany being his AUNT isn't at all creepy. Like, Dany is related to Jon the way Jon thinks hes related to his MOTHER. There is no capability of romance or attraction there, that's crazy.

People who are biologically related but don't know it, 99% of the time are in fact, still not accidentally attracted to each other because that's biological survival instinct. Anti inbreeding protocol. But they think because DANY was raised to think her families blood superiority driven incest is fine, that somehow means JON would think its fine. Jonsas have no argument for that they just have to pray desperately that Jon would want to fuck his little sister despite how much it makes him look like a predator.

I'm sorry, I hope you have water on hand to wash down all this goddamn salt I just threw at you all at once.

Really, it isn't individual lines that irk me, its the overall tendencies of these ships to put more emphasis on things that don't even exist to justify something they don't even realize WHY people think it's creepy. I don't hate a lot of ships, just...all pro incest ones, and ones that promote predatory/rapist behaviors. Which is why I don't ship much in this series.

We're probably not meant to ship many people in this series if I in any way understand even a modicum of why grrm writes the lack of romance the way he does.

[swagging-back-to]

the way im still reeling from just how much my sister let me down

rant incoming bc im genuinely still mad

like i dont even know how to describe this feeling. 'let me down'is such an understatement.

i went into the weekend knowing it was gonna be awful bc she had just started taking ketamine from her psychotic male friend and was planning on bringing all sorts of psychedlics and hard drugs like ket and molly to a party thats like 2hrs away from either of our houses and in a place we dont know.

she didnt tell me if she needed a place to sleep till half an hour before she was gonna get there and i still hadnt eaten any food at all yhat day. so i had to clean the guest room with all my roommates shit piled to the ceiling and cook at the same time. AND THEN SHE NEVER EVEN STAYED TO SLEEP.

she parked like half an hour away from the party right next to the worlds shadiest and darkest park in existence that had 5 guys just standing behind trees watching us go to the car. and then she wanted subway so we walked like half an hour to subway just for her to decide "im not actually hungry teehee"

and when i was like nah im gonna go eat now if youre gonna play this shit before we even go to the party. we go into an asian restaurant and SHES NEVER FUCKING BEEN IN ONE? all she eats is spaghetti and mac and cheese. didnt even know what a fucling spring roll is. she ate it (a THAI STYLE SPRING ROLL!!!!) like it was a lump of shit. like she ripped it apart with her hands and picked at it with a grimace. i verbally called her out on how stupid that is multiple times.

and then she got mad at me when i tried to tip the waiter everything i had in my wallet ($4) and tried to say i shouldnt tip at all. and in the same breath shared how whenever she doesnt get tipped she wishes death on the person. im actually very anti tipping and i never tip unless im with someone else and they do it. so i was like "he either gets four dollars or he gets fucking nothing. thats whats in my wallet so thats what he gets."

and she asked if ice has gluten in it which is genuinely the dumbest diet question ive ever been asked and ive had dozens of people try to tell me chicken and fish are vegetabels.

she waited until we were right at the door to pop open her fireball and then was like "yeah what if i just throw it on the ground in front of a hundred people and two cops" as if both of us arent underage.

speaking of underage <3 she left an entire box of twisted tea in the car for 3 hours completely unlocked while the cops prowled the streets ♡♡♡♡♡ said she doesnt see why the car needs to be locked even tho it had her id hanging from the mirror with big bold letters saying 'not even 20'

then when we were about to be jumped by the guy following us she kept doing like. the exact opposite of what you should do. kept screaming loudly "omg youre sober!?!?!?!" whenever i would say 'yeah im sober enough to get the fuck out of this place we need to fucking leave'. even as a COP WAS RIGHT NEXT TO US.

and when i was begging her to call the people she knew in the area she called them each one time. never explained the situation. to the point one of them thought she was just joking (which says a lot about how she normally acts that he thought she was joking). and then looked at me like i was being unreasonable for telling her to just CALL THEM and TALK TO THEM so we arent just two high women stumbling down the street quietly. it only ended up happening because she accidentally butt dialed one of her fwb and then was too embarassed to tell him she was with me [her sister] (called me 'some friend') and refused to even look at me when she was talking to him.

and this isnt even the entire fucking event. this is just the main points.

im just genuinely scared to be moving in with her at this point, not knowing whether she'll willingly bring back a predatory male or if she'll take hard drugs in my apartment (im the primary tenant and pay almost all the bills. it's my apartment.) or if she's gonna try to out my dogs to the landlord and get them evicted because "i just dont really like small dogs at all." or if shes gonna quit her job just like 'oh and btw i wont come in tomorrow bc this place is shit and i dont think one of my coworkers'despite not having any job lined up afterwards (she has actually done this!!!) and refusing to get a job closer or better paying because "oh maybe in the warmer months illthink of it" ??????

like she is just so.untrustworthy and so outrageously just.... not all there. even just the few things ive told my case manager makes her go 'is she diagnosed as bipolar? she sounds like my unmedicated bipolar clients."

like yepppp she sure fucking does. im pretty sure our bio mother was a bipolar schizophrenic (schizo diagnosed but idk about bipolar)

[cherrysnax]

man i used to enjoy being ur mutual but youve been a piece of shit lately man. Like ur take on the kid show shit was fine cuz i was pretty sure u were talkin abt pedophiles and how they use it as a predatory in obviously but u werent too specific on that shit and when some other autistic guy misunderstood smthn u couldnt just block him cuz ya its not ur responsibility to explain shit but the way ur actin like a real life 12 yr old rn fr by constantly dragging this guy for just saying he uses kids shows to cope and all these ppl r sending u asks tellin u u a bitch for it and u dont rlly give a fuck abt anyone but urself and ur whiny ass problems u want ppl to give a shit abt u but u sont give a shit abt no one tf else? ur not just leavin it up ur dragging out shit digging thru this poor bitches vents and then pretending like u can do no wrong and u vouldnt have possibly reacted even a little off or sum shit ur morals r so fucked up this guy aint even been online since u fucking tore his ass up and for what man to prove that ur better than autistics that got different needs and care than u do? Becuz some guy didnt understand the context of ur post so what he deserves u dropping his name constantly in the most demeaning bullshit middle school way? Aint nobody allowed to be nuanced and got problems but u huh? Ur fucked up fr u need to work on urself damn... Hope ur bullshit dont rub off on nobody cuz u putting negativity in this dark ass world

i think this is the uh textual equivalent to blackface

[stargirlrchive]

my brain is mush, ro! this was beautiful oh my god i devoured it and didn’t want it to end!!!

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. 

this actually made me laugh soooo bad ? idk he’s so dumb i want to shake him around and then kiss him

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.

?? simon …. don’t ! (actually keep going i’m giggling and kicking my feet!)

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. 

made something else flutter too, HELLO!!! i will eat him !!!!!!!!!!

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.

(s)creamed, me me me

OKAY PAUSE BECAUSE THERE WAS A LOT OF DIALOG WHEN READER FINALLY TELLS SIMON THEY LOVE HIM AND I DONT WANT TO COPY IT ALL HUT I FICLING YELLED OG MY GOF

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. // 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.”

THE PTERODACTYL SCREECH THAT JUST LEFT MY MOUTH

HIS ATM PIN BEING OUR BDAY IM GONNA PUKE HE IS SOOOOO

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?”

i have just astral projected out of my body! he has a filthy fucking mouth and i’m SCREAMING HES SO FUCKING MEAN I WANNA BITE HIM

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.

he’s so nasty i can’t breathe i need him i want him i’m clawing at my cage give him to me now !!!!!!!

“‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”

CREAMED

he is so he is so he is so !!! I FEEL FUCKING DIZZY he’s so mean ??2!!3!33! I NEED HIM

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.

NO ONE HMU EVER AGAIN I LIVE HERE NOW

“This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”

I CANT BREATHE

crying bad bc of how he’s comforting reader after

:( he’s so !!!!

i genuinely have no words at all to explain how much this made me feel. i loved it soooo much ro!! this was so beautiful and i will think about it forever !

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 &lt;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. 

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

[clownkiwi]

me: lol why are twitter stans praising how horribly transphobic hbo’s euphoria is????

also me: oh, right, 13 reasons why, of course

[temeraire]

im going to come out and say it. 'speeding' has often been used as an excuse to pull over marginalized groups for no reason other than to start altercations. im not saying "go 70 in a 30 school zone" but i am saying if you're this hellbent on speed limits you're bootlicking. (also if everyone around you is going 10 mph over the limit, its called 'follow the flow of traffic' and if you dont, your chances of bein hit skyrocket. so.)

nah like i fully agree that "speeding" is used as an excuse to wrongfully accuse and start shit w marginalised groups by cops and thats 100% real. like im fully with you there. and i also think speed traps are bullshit and used to trap people bc speed limits themselves can be placed in a predatory/intentionally difficult way to trap people into being unable to like.. slow in time and therefore be caught speeding. fully agree w you!! its bullshit!! its evil!!!

but speeding itself is absolutely a danger and absolutely causes real harm and thats undeniable. its not bootlicking to acknowledge that speeding kills people and hurts people and makes the road (and areas around roads) dangerous for everyone, not just yourself. its a selfish and thoughtless thing to do imo and im not backing down on that. i also think youre coming from a very american pov here? (not intended to sound confrontational).

like i def didnt explain myself fully in that post but like the thing im criticising isnt really just individuals speeding (because yeah if everyone around you on a freeway is going 10 over then it can for sure cause problems to not go w that) but rather the entire culture around speeding and the fact that someone might consider it normal to imagine everyone around them going 10 over. like that, to me, is fucked. imagining going out on the freeway and seeing everyone around me going 10mph (aka 16kph) over the limit is terrifying. like i think its just a complete cultural difference here where americans assume their experiences and attitudes are universal and normal when they arent

you also say "im not saying go 70 in a 30 school zone" and like yeah ofc but like. where do you draw the line then? 40 over is no good but what about 30 over? 20 over? a very small increase in speed drastically increases the time it takes to stop a moving vehicle in an emergency, and if theres other people in the area going even faster then they're going to take even longer to stop and potentially crash into you or swerve to avoid and crash into other shit, or pedestrians or houses or other cars. like ik this sounds basic and patronising but i cant emphasise enough that the idea of this happening should not be smth that someone is willing to risk to get somewhere a bit faster. if youre driving multi-tonne machines around on the road w limited ability to communicate w other drivers then you need to all be on the same page

[mithliya]

I know this is an old topic on your blog now but I just saw the anon taking about polilez being etiologically r/t womb envy and I wanted to agree! as a former inadvertent polilez (sorry) my experience was like. i grew up in a very accepting area of the US and knew a lot of gay/lesbian adults as a child, didn’t have internalized homophobia, only liked girls as a kiddo, had my first “gf” at 11, never really paid attention to guys. was out as a lesbian by 13 among friends, but started being attracted to men as well around 16-17 like right before I discovered radical feminism. also at that time started getting harassed at school by an older guy with a history of violence against women and so really doubled down on being lesbian because I thought it would ward him off, because I had a hard line “reason” to turn him down that was beyond my control. i was scared of him.

spoiler alert he “transitioned” on a Tuesday and on Wednesday was asking me to come over and cuddle again bc he was “suicidal”, and I think at that point it being “lesbian” became very political for me, I was terrified and so angry at the lengths males would go to to violate women’s boundaries, and having just finally accepted and understood the innate nature of sex that, yeah it felt like the enlightened thing to do to affirm homosexuality. and honestly calling myself a lesbian was my way to really validate to myself (was still very involved with “queer activism” at the time) why it was okay that I still really didn’t want to sleep with this person, because, even tho now I know it was because he was a creep and an abuser and a rapist, if I were bisexual, what excuse did I have to not entertain the idea besides genuine bigotry? even though I had been radicalized I didn’t want to disrespect trans people and didn’t want to be the bigoted evil terf that I had been warned about.

obviously I was a kid and just needed practice saying no, but IG my point was for me claiming lesbianism was my way to feel like i could justify being a terf to myself and also because as a bisexual people just assume you “don’t care” about someone’s genitals which is in fact not true lol. the dude transitioned back immediately after graduation, is in jail for assault now. Can’t help wonder if he’s trying to transition again to go to a woman’s facility :-/

anyway this was long winded but basically I just had this misguided notion that being a lesbian would protect you from predatory male behavior when in fact I now understand it just makes you an even bigger target. and also that it was the only “valid” reason to be GC in my own head because I believed that it would be easier to defend my views on sex and gender if I had the authority to say “look as a lesbian I’m not attracted to you.” was also totally wrong about that as y’all receive the worst of the worst IRT backlash about dating boundaries. and there are one million other reasons to be GC besides not wanting to date/fuck trans people but because I was so afraid of being bigoted it was the only one that seemed “safe” to me. no need to publish this if it’s confusing or stupid but haven’t talked/thought about it in a while. Ok done. love your blog and think you’re amazing :-) keep fighting the good fight

your experience is quite interesting to me bc i do hear many bi & het women argue they call themselves lesbians bc it provides them some safety / means they don’t want to fuck men and dont want to explain not wanting to fuck men even tho their sexuality doesn’t bar them from it or sth, and to me i didn’t rly get it bc 1. just bc ur into men doesn’t mean ur obligated to fuck them 2. just bc ur into men doesn’t mean u should want any man possible. ur allowed to have boundaries too! 3. claiming to be a lesbian doesn’t actually provide any security. maybe maybe in the most progressive gay friendly place ever or something but even then i doubt it. so it’s definitely interesting to hear from someone who had that perspective and realised through experience that for men “lesbian” is just another variation of “try to change my no into a yes” to them. also i can say from my own experiences that when we’re teens, our idea of sexual orientation and sexuality can be quite dumb and skewed so i don’t fully blame u here. some of my feelings about sexual orientation back then made absolutely no sense and looking back im just like -_- ok how on earth did i buy that bullshit

[just-some-random-blogger]

Nothing had actually happened between the two of them, so “good morning, I love you” messages were way out of the question. Tucking her phone away, she continues her pre-9am errands.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🖐️🖐️🖐️🖐️🖐️🖐️💀💀💀💀GOOOD MORNING I LOVE YOU???? GIRL BE SO FUCKING FOR REAL WHAT DRUGS ARE YOU ONNNNNNNNNMNNMN GIRLIE YOU INSANE

As soon as she hears the office door click closed behind him, she scrambles to wipe up the coffee spill with kleenex from the box on the desk, her breathing ragged and panicked the entire time. What was going to happen when Aemond got back? Was this it? Was she finally fired? She spends the morning alternating between pacing the length of his office and sitting in his desk chair with her hands anxiously clasped in her lap. The waiting is torturous.

Honestly fire her.

“I want you to bend over the desk and read these contracts.” His voice is menacingly calm and even. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you. Just keep reading.” 

HUH NOT BUT NOW IM WORRIED AND OFFENDED EXCUSE ME WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW LIZARD GREMLIN

He dismisses her for the weekend without any further interaction. Her mind and body scream for his touch, playing and replaying both him putting her on her knees and the spanking over and over again in her mind. She has to find a way to get him to do something like that again, but how? The thrill of it is addictive. 

Ok but.... Im on your side. SlaYYYYYY🤭🤭🤭😌😌😌😌💅💅💅💅💅💅😩😩😩😩 Spill his coffee p2!!!

“So, I’ll be working from home tomorrow.” He begins. “But I have some stuff I need taken care of, are you able to come to my place?”

She squirms, feeling small under his mocking, predatory gaze. “I just wanted you to touch me.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

WE LOVE AN HONEST QUEEN SLAY

He hums, appearing to be mulling over what she’s saying, before leaning towards her, forearms resting on his thighs. “Well, now you’re going to touch yourself.” He says matter of factly.

😃🤠 WHAT

Aemond clasps a hand around her throat, looking at her in disgust. “How do I take my coffee?” 

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCKING FUCK FUCKING FICK FUCO FUFK FUCK FUFK FRUCKTIY DUCKT DUFUC FUCK

“Clean yourself up and get out.”

🧍

YOU ONE FOUL PIECE OF GARBAGE I CANT BELIEVE I GOT WET BECAUSE OF YOU

Panic makes her heart pound as she racks her brain for an excuse not to go, she can’t tell her the truth. How does she explain to her closest friend that she’s involved with her boss? “Hey, Rhea, I get myself off while Aemond fucking Targaryen watches, so not really looking to hook up with anyone else right now!” The thought makes her cringe. “Rhea, I’m not sure…” is all she manages to muster.

You should have just said-

NAH HAHAHAHAHHAH YOU DID THE RIGHT THING HAHAHHAHAAHAHAH LOL

I thought I could find a way to say it without saying it. I couldn't. As you were queen

A large number of people entering the bar catches her attention. She recognises a few faces and realises it is a group from Red Keep Legal out for after work drinks. She attempts to focus her attention back to Erryk and his stories of how great he was at fencing back in his university days, but she is caught off guard by the entrance of an all too familiar tall silver haired man. Shit. Aemond has come out with them. As if on cue, he locks his eye on her, his expression unreadable, as she stares back in flustered panic for what seems like an eternity. Casually he returns his attention back to the group he’s arrived with and she exhales heavily. He’s seen her with another man’s arm around her. She has to make this right. She excuses herself from the table and heads towards the ladies’ room, grateful that Rhea being so deep in conversation with Criston means she hasn’t offered to accompany her.

Except you dont owe him shit. Girl dont do it

“What you saw is not what it looks like. That guy is one of Rhea's work friends, I’d never met him before today. Hope you’re okay.”

I respect her but

“You don’t need to explain your private life to me. You’re my employee. Who you date is none of my business. Have a nice evening.”

NAH FUCK YOU. YEAH. I TOLD HER SO BUT FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU

She feels defiant, despite her fragile emotional state. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait. It’s fine if you don’t want me as your assistant, but you can’t deny there’s something between us. I know you felt it too.”

LOUDER THIS BLIND FUCKER MAYBE DEAF TOO DAFAQ

In conclusion

Aemond is a top

Light the Way - Part Two

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: BDSM dynamics, spanking, masturbation, orgasm denial, angst, smut. Word count: ~5.5k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: The limits of the working relationship are tested with interesting results.

The following morning she gets dressed up to the nines, Aemond’s whispered request from the previous day still fresh in her mind. She slips into her most figure hugging business appropriate dress, even going as far as putting lace top thigh high stockings on underneath it. She has no idea if Aemond will even see them or not, but the thought that he might excites her. She’s unable to shift the memory of him putting her on her knees, white hot arousal floods her body every time it crosses her mind. Taking her time to ensure the rouge coloured lipstick she has applied is completely perfect, before slipping into the same killer heels she’d worn on Tuesday, she sneaks quietly out of the flat. The absolute last thing she needs is to catch the attention of Rhea - she’d give her that knowing smile and then what the fuck is she supposed to tell her?! “I sucked my boss’ thumb and it was the single hottest experience of my entire life”. She laughs at the thought.

Her phone buzzes with a text as she approaches the coffee shop, preparing to grab Aemond his morning caffeine hit. Her heart pounds as she pulls it  from her bag and sees his name on the screen. Unlocking the device with shaking hands, her stomach sinks upon reading the message. “Need you to grab updated contracts from the underwriter when you get here.” Sighing, she shakes her head, what exactly had she been expecting? Nothing had actually happened between the two of them, so “good morning, I love you” messages were way out of the question. Tucking her phone away, she continues her pre-9am errands.

Updated contracts and hot coffee in hand, she taps Aemond’s office door with her foot before pushing her way inside. 

“Just as you asked!” She chirps brightly. “Fresh black coffee and the latest version of the- fuck!”

She watches in horror as the disposable cup topples over, spilling its contents across the contracts as she places them both on the desk in front of Aemond a little too hastily. 

“I’m so sorry!” She bows her head and braces herself, fully expecting him to berate her for being so clumsy. 

He elicits a long sigh, picking up the now soggy pages and shaking the excess liquid from them. He moves around her wordlessly and heads for the door. As she looks back at him, he fixes her with a pointed stare. 

“Clean that up, then wait here. I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t go anywhere.” 

As soon as she hears the office door click closed behind him, she scrambles to wipe up the coffee spill with kleenex from the box on the desk, her breathing ragged and panicked the entire time. What was going to happen when Aemond got back? Was this it? Was she finally fired? She spends the morning alternating between pacing the length of his office and sitting in his desk chair with her hands anxiously clasped in her lap. The waiting is torturous.

Three long hours pass before she finally hears the door reopen and she clambers to her feet, confused, as she notices Aemond has locked the door behind him. He walks over to the front of his desk, carefully placing the coffee stained contracts from earlier on its wooden surface. 

“Come here.” He beckons her towards him and she obeys, the trepidation in her demeanour painfully obvious. 

“Again, I’m really so-” 

He holds up a hand to stop her and then points towards the pages. “Read those.”

“W-what?” She stammers, looking up at him wide eyed. 

“I want you to bend over the desk and read these contracts.” His voice is menacingly calm and even. 

She feels incredibly uneasy, but does as she’s told, leaning over the desk to look at the contracts. 

“Hands where I can see them. Place your palms flat against the desk.” He continues. “Put your face closer to the pages and read them aloud to me.” 

Bracing herself against the desk she begins to read out loud. She pauses, gasping, as she feels Aemond pushing the skirt of her dress up over her hips, humming in approval at the sight of her lace tops. 

“Did I say stop?” He asks casually. 

She looks back over her shoulder at him in disbelief. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you. Just keep reading.” 

She turns her attention back to the pages and returns to her recital of the documents.

Crack.

The shock and the sting of Aemond’s hand smacking her bare flesh sends a jolt through her entire body as it shunts her up the desk.

Pulling her back by her hips, he simply says “Try to steady yourself, so you don’t move as much. And keep reading. I never told you to stop.”

Crack.

The next blow to her bare bottom is more intense and her voice falters as she tries to read, however, she is determined to stay on task. 

By the time she reaches the bottom of the first page her flesh is scarlet coloured and sore, but she has never been more turned on in her life. Arousal pools in her panties and she longs for Aemond to make contact with that most intimate of places. To her disappointment, he pulls her skirt back down, gently smoothing the material over her thighs. Shakily, she rights herself and turns to face him. His pupil is blown wide with lust but he makes no moves to touch her. 

“Perhaps next time you’ll be a little more careful”, He says lowly, “Trying to read a contract that’s wet and smudged can be…distracting.”

He dismisses her for the weekend without any further interaction. Her mind and body scream for his touch, playing and replaying both him putting her on her knees and the spanking over and over again in her mind. She has to find a way to get him to do something like that again, but how? The thrill of it is addictive. 

Before she knows it, Monday morning has rolled around again and she is queuing at the coffee shop. As she grabs Aemond’s americano and is heading to leave, she spots the milk jug placed atop the station that houses the sugar packets and stirrers, and inspiration strikes her.

She slides the disposable cup of coffee towards Aemond, fighting hard to hide the smirk that is tugging at the corners of her mouth. She has used a plastic takeaway lid to conceal its milky contents. This was sure to earn her something, she isn’t even sure what, she just knows that whatever is happening between the two of them, she doesn't want it to stop. He is pacing the office, talking on the phone in High Valyrian, behaving as if she isn’t there, so he doesn’t see her biting her lip and watching him intently as he grabs the offending beverage. Her heart hammers in her chest and her breathing feels shallow with excitement as she watches him take a sip. 

He pauses on the phone for a brief moment before saying “ȳdragon aderī'' and hanging up. 

She feels giddy as he finally turns to face her but is disappointed when he produces a list of errands from his pocket. 

“Here’s what I need you to do today.” 

He turns, places the coffee cup on his desk and leaves the office. She wants to scream in frustration. She is aching for his attention and he hasn’t even acknowledged her or the glaring, clearly deliberate mistake she’d made.

She goes through the day in a cloud of petulant irritation, feeling a hair’s breadth away from bursting into tears. When the day finally comes to a close and Aemond returns to his office, as she’s finishing up her filing, she can barely look at him, afraid of what her reaction might be. 

“So, I’ll be working from home tomorrow.” He begins. “But I have some stuff I need taken care of, are you able to come to my place?”

Her head snaps up, she is a deer in headlights, unable to form a response or fully comprehend what’s just been asked of her.

“I checked your contract.” Aemond presses on. “It’s part of your job description to assist me for externally, as well as in the office, during working hours. I’ll text you my address.”

“Okay.” She breathes out, her heart hammering wildly in her chest.

“Great. See you tomorrow.”

Pulling up outside the address that Aemond had texted her the following morning she is surprised to see a high rise block of flats, opposed to the plush, luxurious townhouse she’d been expecting. Aemond resides in the penthouse on the top floor. The inside is tastefully decorated, yet sparse and immaculately clean. She can tell that he hardly spends any time here. Her heels click against the hardwood flooring as he guides her through the penthouse, into the open plan living room.

“Take a seat.” He says, motioning towards the black leather couch.

As she makes herself comfortable he heads into the other room briefly and returns with a paper bag and a dining table chair. She quirks an eyebrow in question as he places the chair a few feet away and sits down. 

He reaches into the bag and pulls something out, tossing it to her before she can get a good look. She catches it and realisation dawns; it’s his coffee cup from yesterday.

Her eyes flicker from Aemond’s face and back to the cup, unsure of what to say and he watches her with an amused glint in his eye before finally speaking. 

“Did you think I’d forgotten? I suppose you thought you were being funny?”

“No!” She protests, her voice raised in defense, “I wasn’t. I just wanted…”

“Just wanted..?” Aemond tilts his head to the side, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable he’s making her.

She squirms, feeling small under his mocking, predatory gaze. “I just wanted you to touch me.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

He hums, appearing to be mulling over what she’s saying, before leaning towards her, forearms resting on his thighs. “Well, now you’re going to touch yourself.” He says matter of factly.

“W-what?!” She gasps, not quite believing what she’s hearing.

Aemond reaches down into the bag again, producing what appears to be a sex toy, still in sealed packaging. He ignores her question and the subsequent look of panic on her face as he leisurely strips it of its wrappings and inserts batteries. She is finally able to see that it is a vibrating wand and the sight sends a tremor through her body. 

He passes the toy to her, it feels alien in her hands and she desperately wants to throw it as far from her as humanly possible, however, something about the way Aemond is looking at her means she doesn’t dare.

“I’m going to be very explicit in my instructions.” He says sternly. “I want you to take off your panties, spread your legs for me and pleasure yourself with this. Is that clear?”

She stares at him doe-eyed, her mouth hangs open in disbelief.

“I said, is that clear?!” He hisses, “I hate to repeat myself.”

She gulps and nods, shuffling back on the sofa to remove her underwear. Once she’s gotten them past her ankles and kicked them away, she doesn’t miss Aemond picking them up and pocketing them. 

She spreads her legs, bending her knees and planting her heels into the sofa cushions so she is fully on display for him. Switching the toy to its lowest setting she presses it against her core and whimpers. His eye doesn’t leave her the entire time and only once she’s switched the vibrator on does he actually speak.

“How’s that feeling?”

“Um…”

“You clearly need a higher setting. Turn it up.”

She does as she’s told and instantly squeals at the sensation.

“There we go. Much better.” He says with a satisfied smile.

She pants as the vibrations against her clitoris send shockwaves of pleasure through her body. The intensity of Aemond staring at her is almost too much to bear and she can feel her peak rapidly building. 

Aemond can sense her tensing up and without warning he commands “Stop.”

She shuts the toy off and pulls it away from herself with a whine, as Aemond’s eyes flit between her blissed out, pouty expression and the dripping mess that is her pussy. 

After a few moments he sits back in his chair, nods and orders “Again.”

Bringing the toy back to herself, it feels like only seconds have passed before she can feel the knot in her stomach unfurling and Aemond tells her to stop again.

He repeats this several more times, allowing her to bring herself closer and closer to the edge but never allowing her release. She is a sobbing, begging wreck by the sixth consecutive attempt, but she is being shown no mercy. The seventh time she presses the toy between her legs, Aemond rises from his chair and stalks slowly towards her. She watches through heavy lidded eyes, barely able to focus. Her mascara has run in thick black streaks down her face and her hair is damp with the exertion of having to hold back her climax.

Aemond clasps a hand around her throat, looking at her in disgust. “How do I take my coffee?” 

She moans in answer, so he shakes her by her neck and repeats the question with more force.

“B-black!” She manages to mewl in response.

“Good girl. You can cum now.”

She isn’t sure if it’s being granted permission or that she physically cannot hold on any longer, but it is like being washed away by huge, crushing waves of static. Her eyes roll back into her head and her legs shake with the force of it, as Aemond continues to limit the blood supply to her brain. When the last juddering aftershock finally leaves her body he lets go.

“Clean yourself up and get out.”

That day at Aemond’s penthouse is a turning point in her relationship with him and the two of them quickly fall into a comfortable routine over the following three months. On the days where her hectic and demanding workload has her feeling overwhelmed and stressed he puts her on her knees, his thumb pushing past her lips and into her mouth. She feels instantly calmed as she gazes up at his chiseled, beautiful features, while he sits nonchalantly at his desk reading through paperwork. 

On the occasions where she makes mistakes, deliberate or not, Aemond dishes out a fitting punishment; usually a spanking, but for more grievous errors he makes her pleasure herself as he watches. An additional development into their dynamic is that he has begun to text her explicit instructions of what he expects her to be wearing - or not wearing - when she turns up for work each day. His demands are often as simple as wearing a particular pair of heels he likes, but on one occasion he requests that she go without her panties for the day. This seems extreme, but she ends up enjoying the exhilaration of harbouring a dirty secret that only he is privy to. 

It is strange to her that Aemond has never tried to engage with her sexually, he has never laid a hand on her beyond spanking her and they had never even shared a kiss. All of their interactions are confined to working hours. She attempts online research into whatever it is that is happening between the two of them, but ends up in a rabbit hole of dark and terrifying sexual situations that make her feel uncomfortable. 

For the first time in her life the chaos that rages inside of her has quieted, and that is all that really matters to her. The voice in her head that continuously tells her she isn’t enough isn’t so loud anymore, and she has noticed a change in Aemond too. He seems more relaxed. She senses something dark and broken in him and she longs to fix it. She wants to know him, and is rapidly coming to realise her feelings go far beyond respect for a workplace superior. 

As she stands in the kitchen, pondering all of this, she realises she’s been stirring her tea for just a little too long and the continuous chinking of the spoon against the cup has attracted the attention of her roommate. 

“Penny for your thoughts, before you whip that drink into a meringue?” Rhea chuckles.

She smiles shyly, avoiding her gaze. “Sorry. Just a little tired from work, I guess”

“Or tired from fawning over your boss!” Rhea quips teasingly.

Her cheeks burn hot with embarrassment, as she attempts to stutter a response and fails. The truth was she had it bad for Aemond and it was hard for her to hide it.

“I knew it!” Rhea cackles victoriously. “We’ll get you over that crush, don’t worry! In fact, remember Criston, the cute guy from my office that I told you about? I have a date with him tonight. I’m gonna ask him to bring a friend, we can double date!”

Panic makes her heart pound as she racks her brain for an excuse not to go, she can’t tell her the truth. How does she explain to her closest friend that she’s involved with her boss? “Hey, Rhea, I get myself off while Aemond fucking Targaryen watches, so not really looking to hook up with anyone else right now!” The thought makes her cringe. “Rhea, I’m not sure…” is all she manages to muster.

“Oh, come on!” Rhea pleads. “You can’t pine over forbidden fruit forever, it’s never gonna happen. I totally understand that you’re anxious because of what happened last time we went out, but there’ll be four of us, we’ll keep you safe. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, I promise I’ll bring you right home. Please?”

She sighs and finally relents. It’s just a drink, nothing has to happen. 

Rhea claps her hands excitedly and hugs her tightly, before telling her she’ll text her details later, she then heads out of the door to work.

A strange sensation of guilt hangs over her like a cloud all day in the office. She makes a point to not tell Aemond about her evening plans, not that he was the type to ask what she was up to later anyway. He wasn’t one for small talk. 

Rhea texts and tells her she’d be meeting her, Criston and a guy named Erryk at a bar a couple of streets away from the office, straight after she finished for the day. The proximity of her ‘date’ to where she works makes her uneasy, but she isn’t in a position to reveal why, so she grudgingly accepts. 

As 6pm rolls around she says goodbye to Aemond. His clipped response of “pencil skirt tomorrow” makes her feel like she is walking on air as she leaves for the evening, but that soon dissipates into dread the closer she gets to the bar.

Rhea has truly outdone herself in finding her a date for the evening, Erryk is gorgeous, just not her type. His long, brown hair and sculpted beard are a million miles away from the otherworldly magnificence of Aemond and she finds herself making mental comparisons every time she looks at him. She is thankful that he seems fairly self-involved, as his lack of interest in asking about her means she can lose herself in her thoughts and give the impression of listening intently as he talks about himself. His arm slings casually around the back of the booth seat and, subsequently, her shoulders. It makes her want to recoil away, but she hides it by taking frequent sips of her wine. Rhea and Criston are too engrossed in each other to pay any attention to her or Erryk, but she figures a couple of hours of this can be bearable until she can make her excuses and go home.

A large number of people entering the bar catches her attention. She recognises a few faces and realises it is a group from Red Keep Legal out for after work drinks. She attempts to focus her attention back to Erryk and his stories of how great he was at fencing back in his university days, but she is caught off guard by the entrance of an all too familiar tall silver haired man. Shit. Aemond has come out with them. As if on cue, he locks his eye on her, his expression unreadable, as she stares back in flustered panic for what seems like an eternity. Casually he returns his attention back to the group he’s arrived with and she exhales heavily. He’s seen her with another man’s arm around her. She has to make this right. She excuses herself from the table and heads towards the ladies’ room, grateful that Rhea being so deep in conversation with Criston means she hasn’t offered to accompany her.

She locks herself in a bathroom stall and pulls out her phone, racking her brain for what to send to appease Aemond. Surely he has to be pissed off with her for being out with another man and not saying anything? Serious damage control is needed here. She types out a message, hoping he won’t be upset.

“What you saw is not what it looks like. That guy is one of Rhea's work friends, I’d never met him before today. Hope you’re okay.”

She re-reads it a couple of times before hitting send and then heads out to the sinks to wash her hands and retouch her make-up. Her phone vibrates after a couple of minutes and she grins like a Cheshire cat when she sees Aemond’s name.

“You don’t need to explain your private life to me. You’re my employee. Who you date is none of my business. Have a nice evening.”

She chokes back a sob as her eyes blur with tears, making the words difficult to read. She means nothing to him and the admission breaks her heart.

Drying her tears in the bar’s restroom, she orders an Uber, then makes a rapid fire excuse to Rhea about having a migraine before hurriedly making her exit without giving her a chance to respond. She doesn’t spare Erryk a second glance, she has no intention of seeing or speaking to him again. 

Once safely back in the confines of the flat she allows herself to fall apart. Pathetic, full body wracking sobs erupt from deep within her chest. On the surface it seems like a massive overreaction to a simple text, however, the moment she’d read his dismissive reply she’d known she’d fallen for Aemond and it was evident he didn’t feel the same way. 

Sleep evades her that night. She feels physically exhausted from crying, but her mind won’t allow her to switch off. Thoughts about everything that have transpired between her and Aemond swirl around in her head. How can she go back to just being his assistant after all this?

She numbly rolls over and silences her alarm when the morning slowly creeps in. She hasn’t slept a wink. Aemond’s command of “pencil skirt tomorrow” pops into her head as she rummages in her wardrobe for an outfit, and she fights to swallow down the lump in her throat. Time to get real, she decides, she’ll get through today and then start looking for another job, so she can move on and forget about him. She opts for the basic outfit she wore the first day of the job, then heads out to grab Aemond’s morning coffee. She smiles sadly as she thinks of all the trouble such a simple drink has caused between the two of them.

She feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room as she enters Aemond’s office and looks at him. All of her thoughts have been consumed by how she’ll handle the situation as a whole. Having to actually interact with him isn’t something that’s crossed her mind at all; the man she loves, her boss. 

He is reclining in his desk chair, a thousand yard stare plastered to his face. He looks like he’s had a rough night too, dark circles adorn his usually flawless porcelain skin. She briefly wonders if he’s been as cut up by the situation as she is and immediately feels foolish. Of course he isn’t. He’s probably been out all night partying and then taken someone home. She feels her chest constrict at the thought. She places his coffee cup down gently on the desk in front of him.

“Do you have a schedule for me today?” She sounds meek, shyer than usual. She is convinced if she attempts to speak at a higher volume her voice will crack.

It is as though her speaking has made him realise she is in the room. He breaks away from the thoughts he is obviously lost in and regards her carefully before speaking. When he does his voice is eerily calm. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to terminate your contract of employment with Red Keep Legal.”

The rush of disbelief is overwhelming. She has to have misheard. “What?!”

“I’m letting you go.” He explains. “I’ll ensure you’re compensated with more than adequate severance pay, but you and I will no longer be working together.”

She releases a pitiful whimper, her pitch raising noticeably. “Why? If this is about last night, Aemond, I-”

He cuts her off, refusing to look at her as he does so. “What’s happening between us - what happened - it was inappropriate. I’ve abused my position as your employer. I have to let you go.”

“No!” Her voice wobbles, despite the singular syllable.

“We can’t keep doing this.” He sighs.

“Why not?” She feels desperate. Despite resigning herself to remain professional this morning, she never expected him to express a desire to actually end things.

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Just go.”

“I love you!” She cries, hot tears rolling their way down her cheeks, “Aemond, I love you.”

He laughs, but there is no genuine mirth to it, as his eye finally meets hers. “Nobody loves me for me. They love me for the Targaryen name and everything that comes with it.”

“Please believe me.” She begs. “Please don’t do this.”

He stands up, brushing past her as he makes his way to the door. “If you’re not leaving then I will.” He utters coldly.

She feels defiant, despite her fragile emotional state. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait. It’s fine if you don’t want me as your assistant, but you can’t deny there’s something between us. I know you felt it too.”

He doesn’t respond, but pauses for a moment before exiting the office, allowing the door to close by itself behind him.

She sits heavily on the office couch. She considers just leaving, it would certainly be the easier option, however, she wants to fight for Aemond, to prove to him that she truly means it when she says that she loves him. He keeps his own feelings well guarded, but she knows deep down he cares for her too. She can’t give up on that. What has gone on between the two of them runs deeper than just twisted power dynamics. They calm each other’s inner turmoil. They need each other. And so she waits.

She succumbs to her tiredness and falls asleep. Eventually, she awakens to the office door opening. The sky is darkening to the rich orange, yellow and red hues of dusk through the floor to ceiling window, and she feels stiff and aching from having slept all day on the confines of a tiny sofa. Aemond looks genuinely surprised to see her as he enters.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep much last night…” She trails off, the explanation feels unimportant, unnecessary.

“You’re still here.” He says, more to himself than her. 

The tenderness in his expression makes her want to wrap her arms around him and never let go, but she stays rooted to her spot on the couch. 

“Come here.” He beckons softly with his hand.

Sje rises slowly, still feeling heavy with tiredness and follows Aemond as he exits the building via the underground carpark, striding towards his car.

“Where are we going?” She asks, as he opens the passenger door and gestures for her to get in. 

He ignores the question and her stomach sinks as she climbs into the vehicle, imagining he is going to drive her home and ask her never to bother him again. They drive in silence and after a few unfamiliar turns she realises he is driving her back to his place.

He makes quick work of opening the door for her and offering a hand to help her out. To her surprise, his nimble fingers keep a gentle but firm hold on hers as he leads the way up to his penthouse and then into the bathroom, where he finally lets go. 

He turns on the shower and she has a thousand questions, which die on her lips as he reaches for the hem of her top, pulling it over her head. He undresses her slowly, as though he is unwrapping an expensive and fragile gift. She expects to be self conscious as she stands bare for him, but the look of adoration on his face as he looks at her makes her feel beautiful. He is much quicker in shedding his own clothing and she drinks him in as he strips, his skin is like marble. He is lean muscled with a body that looks as though it has been sculpted by the gods themselves.

Taking her hand once more he guides her into the shower, standing behind her as he moves her towards the spray of the warm water. His long fingers softly massage their way across her scalp and she sighs happily, leaning back into his chest. It is then that his hand strokes down across her cheek to her jaw, gripping and tilting her head back and up towards his face. His lips capture hers in a kiss. The first kiss the two of them have ever shared. It is so full of meaning, slow and sensual, every bit as soft as she’d imagined. He breaks it as he reaches for the soap. He washes her, taking his time, ensuring he is thorough. His large hands roaming across her body make her feel featherlight, boneless and she collapses against him as he wraps her naked form in a fluffy towel.

Carrying her bridal style to the bedroom, he lays her down in the centre of his bed before opening the towel he’s just encased her in and moving over her body. Again, she finds herself compelled to ask him what this is, what it means for them, but the questions disappear as he kisses her once more. There is more urgency this time, his lips move against hers greedily, before dragging their way down to her neck. He makes delicate work of her, ensuring no part of her went untouched by his mouth. She wonders if this is what it felt like to be worshipped. As he makes his way back up to her face, his hands capture her wrists and hold them above her head. There is no force behind the gesture, but she doesn’t dare to struggle against him. She wants him in total control.

She feels him line himself up against her entrance and elicits a breathy sigh as he pushes himself in, bottoming out. The pace he sets is slow, yet feels impossibly deep. He keeps a hold on her wrists with one hand, while alternating between gripping her jaw and stroking her cheek with the other as he pushes into her over and over again, agonisingly unhurried. The icy blue of his right eye remains locked onto hers, and with each small moan that escapes from her he rewards her with a passionate kiss. The gentle friction is slowly building her towards climax and Aemond can feel it, as she flutters and clenches around him. His hand moves from her jaw to her hip to steady her as she writhes against him. 

“Cum for me.” He whispers. “I’m so close.”

Her entire body goes rigid as pleasure washes over her in a warm, hazy wave. She feels Aemond let go shortly after, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses across her breasts and collar bones as he releases her wrists. 

He pulls away and sudden fear makes her think he is going to tell her this was a mistake as he disappears from the room. She is calmed at seeing him return with a washcloth in hand. He carefully cleans her up, before depositing the cloth on the bedside table and pulling her tight against him. She is more relaxed than she has been for months and can tell that Aemond feels the same as his fingers stroke lazily along her spine.

If it weren’t for the utter silence in the room she’d have almost missed it when he murmurs against her skin “I love you too.”

[floralkittygambler]

Based on the new signed work for hazbin

looks like shitty h/skerd/st may end up canon, even though once again husk looks uncomfortable and pissed off by angel, but you cant literally criticise angel without the whole fucking fandom and even staff get pissy with you. accept that not everyones gonna love him, and folks like me whove been victims to these sorts *really* dont fucking like him (to be clear, his predatory nature of not accepting husk saying no but magically accepting other's no, incl alastors. also he tried to force a kiss from husk, similar to how his boss does to him so theres no fucking excuses. its disgusting and male victims of sex crimes are fucking valid, so stop excusing angels actions. he didnt deserve to be a victim but hes not doing favours by making a victim out of husk. its clear harassment. not cute or tsundere either, vile fujoshis-). but most relate or love angel so validate this shit, much like viv and her staff and vas. revolting. he also gives sw a bad name when hes fucking harassing folks bc sw isnt like that - you dont just harass someone. nor is sex your entire identity.

ugh fed up man. im starting to enjoy this fandom so little yet the few characters i am attached to keep me around. hell ive said before ive been around husk like people and they often really dislike angel types, whereas angel types adore them rather shallowly tbh. yeah but honestly this fandom and the clowns running it will find an excuse for angel and avoid those actually affected as always. big surprise...

husk physically resembles angels brother, dad and client, and is similar to the first two. its this toxic bond of angel wanting that love he never got from them. basic science. plus both addicts and one being older than his fuckin dad means realistically it wouldnt work. love does not cure everything nor should be pushed to. ones uncomfortably forced into it, and his bonding moments makes husk ooc because hes portrayed totally different to how he would be. again, experience. overall we get enough of this toxic, forced shit in media. just stop.

angel needs to sort his own shit before being with a guy. and then he needs to be with a guy on his level, around his age and mentality whos in a healthy spot. someone similar to him. hell a male cherri bomb would suit. as for husk, he needs a lot more work thatll take far longer. he needs to love himself and work through his own shit and be like that for awhile first. seen it first hand kill so

before anyone goes 'its fiction' yeah? well then explain how shit like many toxic ideals in romcoms or hell, how male victims of sex crimes are treated as a fucking joke still when its not funny, or hey how about that the only chemistry is this bitter distaste and onesidedness thats shallow af. or how shit like 'killing stalking' and whatnot are seen as cute romances by fans very similar to the point its this sorta dumb shit people romanticise, fantasize and normalise - young people. hell adults too esp immature ones.

its not healthy.

its really not.

and being on the receiving end makes you sick to your stomach and paranoid on others intentions for you.

every glance or touch is an attack. every remark, a hidden message. thats what we're left with.

as for the blokes, they get the extra of being a 'joke' and not a 'real man', that they should 'enjoy' it.

fuck off

also to grow you need to accept not everyone will like or love you. angel irl and in fiction seems mostly adored whether its shallow or not. making a character that dislikes him be his lover is a shit cop out and bad writing just like helluva. we get it, he hates rejection. dont we all. but no one grows without it. hell angel wold benefit from a guy telling him no and sticking to that for him to just accept.

because media shows that fandoms and celebs are now littered full of spoilt folks getting their own ways, seeing any critique or disinterest as 'hate' and being the most entitled buncha twats going. not everyones going to love you or care and that doesnt mean theyre a hater. if viv actually wants a likeable character with flaws to grow, she'd actually show angel's bad as not just him being a fucking victim as its just a mix of victim blaming and entitlement to get what he wants for being a victim when life aint fair. show him with traits more widely despicable thatll shock fans. actually show him accepting people not liking him and being ok rather than forcing himself on them until they do. fucking disgusting. though everyone thinks thats cute. bloody weird-

just like his creator, he wont grow and improve. theyve hired a fucking r'pe fetisher for gods sake. the whole viv and hired folks are a mess...

[vampish-glamour]

I just want to understand why tucutes think that dysphoria (disconnect between your birth sex and gender) isnt needed to be trans. Ive gone all ways thinking about this but i just cant figure out why they think so? I tried asking some of them but no answer, and id just get blocked despite them calling themselves discourse blogs. If theres no disconnect then what else would there be??? You arent born with nothing for you to later pick and choose one of the 1000 mogai labels. And if "gender is fluid" then why cant i just decide to be a man? Or why cant trans people suddenly decide to be comfortable with their agab? Whats the point of calling yourself a discourse blog if all your posts consist of "men lesbians are valid! stargenders are valid! you dont need dysphoria to be trans! fuck smelly transmeds! anyone willing to discourse dni!!"?? same goes with those pan positivity blogs... they never explain what pan means to them or what sexuality is, all they do is copy paste the same 'positivity' post over and over. and god dare you ask them. Sorry if this is long but i just cant find any levelheaded tucutes to ask and since youre a big discourse blog, maybe youve been fortunate enough to find one

The problem is that you’re assuming they’re putting thought into it.

They follow the “believe what people say” mentality. As in, if somebody says they’re trans, believe them and move on. Which sounds great on the surface!! But doesn’t take into account that this also means believing predatory or opportunistic people who are lying about being trans to be predatory or opportunistic (think the dudes in prison who claim to be trans women, either to get into a women’s prison or to get a lighter sentence)

It also means believing non dysphorics who speak over trans people, and make being trans seem like a super fun lighthearted trend, and not a serious condition (gender dysphoria) that can be eased with transition.

They also, as you mentioned, believe “everything is valid”. If it makes somebody feel good, then it must be valid!! Even if it’s completely contradictory; genderless gay women, bisexual and also gay, asexual but experiences attraction, etc.

They don’t put much thought into the stuff they spew, their thought process starts and ends at “it’s valid, this person says they feel good with this label and that means that the label is real and valid”.

Btw, the obsession with validity tells me that they’re not actually all that valid. People who are experiencing something real typically don’t need constant validation on Tumblr, and shrug it off if they don’t get it. People who are making their whole identity revolve around very vague experiences that they apply random labels to, seem to need that validation and get pissy if they don’t get it.

I haven’t found many sensible tucutes tbh, and idk if I’d consider myself big compared to some people on here lol. Idk what the requirements for “big” are. But also I don’t really seek them out, because it gets tiring reading the same nonsense over and over, all wrapped up with the same logic of “Everything Is Valid”.

[breadboylovin]

NEW POST FOR MY 95060 PLAYLIST!!! complete with explanations of every song choice under the cut because i love explaining my own creative decisions for some reason (PLEASE DO NOT FEEL COMPELLED TO READ ALL OF IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO ITS VERY LONG LOL). i may add a few songs here and there later on, or more likely rearrange what i've already put in slightly, but for now i consider it done.

alright now heres a look into my twisted mind

PART 1: TEMPTATION

Franz Ferdinand - Michael: It's a song about seducing someone named Michael. What more can I ask for (serious explanation is that it’s also very homosexually charged like you just have to listen to it… also feels taunting in a way where it’s like ‘oooooh you want me so bad’ and he’s RIGHT Michael DOES want him so bad). Also credit to this post for letting me know this song existed and inspiring me to make this playlist in the first place :-3

Mystery Skulls - Paralyzed: Just another song about how Michael is awestruck by David and feels compelled to follow him for whatever reason (the reason is that he wants him so bad)

TAEMIN - WANT: This is one of three Taemin songs on here because I think if David survived until present day he would fucking LOVE Taemin. Anyways this is a song about knowing you’re hot shit and everyone wants you and I think after seducing Michael through fucking?? Fatal motorcycle races and evil noodle mind tricks??? David deserves to feel that

Glass Animals - Gooey: OHGHGHGHFH THIS SONG… the vibes are impeccable on this one, Dave Bayley’s alluring voice feels like a slight remix of what David is going for and the way it feels like the singer is trying to convince the listener of something (even though it’s purposely vague) just FEELS like David with Michael. The line “I can’t take this place, I can’t take this place/I just need to go where I can get some space” especially fits when imagining how Michael is new to Santa Carla and may want a place to belong that David and the boys are happy to provide

TAEMIN - Impressionable: I see this as the moment that Michael downs the bottle of “wine”, where this song is David’s internal monologue reveling in how easy it was to charm Michael and get him to join. I always thought this sounded like a taunting villain song so it just fits. Also it’s like ridiculously horny which is a plus

PART 2: THE RELATIONSHIP ITSELF

MGMT - Me and Michael: In my head this is directly after Michael drinks the “wine”, and if it were an actual song in the movie, it’d play instead of Cry Little Sister in that scene. I already made art related to this but I really just love the juxtaposition between something that Michael will later see as horrible (becoming a half-vampire) and David seeing it as a perfect slow-dance moment. Also “Me and Michael, it’s not a question now” because the blood drinking has now linked them together… mmmmm. Credit to this post again for making me find this song!!

ALI - DESPERADO: This one is less about David and Michael specifically and more about how the night in the cave went down for everyone there, starting with a soft slowness as they ate and then descending into chaos as Michael downs the wine and they celebrate a new addition to the pack. The bacchanal energy is off the charts

Dorian Electra - Man to Man: This song is just one that I attribute to all of the boys because I think they do a lot of homoerotic sparring. Also the part of the movie where Michael punches David in the face and David just goes >:-3 back at him

Chase Atlantic - Friends: I don't know what it is about this one but it just Hits… The chorus kinda sounds like David and the boys trying to convince Michael to stay with them instead of coming back to human society after drinking the blood, in the same sort of taunting manner that they had when David (presumably?) made Michael hallucinate the bike lights and sounds outside of his house

Taking Back Sunday - You're So Last Summer: THIS SONG IS JUST REALLY GOOD. I don't know what it is about this one either… I guess the “Maybe I should hate you for this/Never really did ever quite get that far” part could represent the first glimpse of Michael’s more conflicted feelings about David. Also the second half of verse 2 not only fucks so hard but could also be indicative of Michael’s repressed gay feelings, lying to himself about how he wanted to be around David because he’s cool or whatever but he actually just has the hots for him and would let him do anything if he asked to

MGMT - Little Dark Age: Mostly here just for vibes. Have y’all seen that one edit set to this song? Yeah

The Neighborhood - Prey: I feel like this song captures the general unease that Michael feels right before he sees the boys kill for the first time, knowing that he’s probably turning into a vampire and something horrible is happening… especially with “Something is wrong, I feel like prey” just generally describing what it must feel like to be a human among vampires (though he’s not fully human anymore at this point)

PART 3: REALIZATION + FIGHTING BACK

TAEMIN - Criminal: YET ANOTHER TAEMIN SONG!!!! It’s all about realizing you're with someone who’s like, an evil manipulative villain and genuinely bad for you but you can’t escape just yet because you’re kinda into it. I don't think David is THAT bad of a guy, but Michael could be like “I need to get out of this situation because this man is a vampire but I feel attracted to him and it’s hard to really get away”. Also the line “My hands holding yours that stabbed me are not clean either” just HITS cus Michael hates David’s vampirism but HE’S a half-vampire now so it’s not like he’s innocent either. This is just a really good 95060 song AND a good song in general, listen to it even if you don't normally like K-pop cus it slaps

Glass Animals - Wyrd: This would be the moment where Michael snaps out of it and just starts running away, but to no avail, because he’s still a half-vampire (“You can’t run so you must hide” meaning that he can’t outrun his new monstrous nature, the best he can do is hide it until it eats him alive). Meanwhile David laments over how this is a stupid decision from his perspective (“So, my friend, our time is done/You and I could’ve had so much”)

Moonface - Minotaur Forgiving Theseus: This is a very veeeeery bitter song from Michael’s perspective about David being a vampire… with the “You’re just a hitman” repetition referencing how David. Y’know. Eats people. And the “I heard you're coming for me now” references both how David first approached him and the impending confrontation

The Neighborhood - The Beach: This song goes from the bitterness of the previous one to a pseudo-acceptance of the end of their brief friendship and what’s inevitably going to happen next. However, I think the bridge of the song illustrates the little bit of Michael that doesn’t want this to happen, that wants this relationship to somehow work out because he cares about David even if he is a vampire (unfortunately he ends up repressing this because he feels a duty to kill David now)

Gorillaz - Rhinestone Eyes: This is mostly in here because of the music video, the buildup to a battle just echoes in my head whenever I hear this song now. In the context of this playlist it makes me imagine David looking up at the Emerson’s house from the hotel (and Michael doing the opposite) knowing that something’s about to happen and it’s going to be horrible

Glass Animals - JDNT: This entire song feels like the climax of the movie. Verse 1 feels like the Emersons and Frogs getting ready to attack the cave (“I’m all armored up”) with “I feel that final poke” being when Marko gets staked, and the chorus right after is a tinge of regret that Michael feels once the plan starts to take shape. Verse 2 is the other boys waking up to see that Marko is dead + them dying themselves (“Where my funny friends gone?”) and the bridge is Michael and David’s fight before Michael finally gores David on the antlers. The outro of “You can’t breathe without me” VERY much feels like David taunting Michael from beyond the grave, knowing how much Michael loved him and how horrible what he’s just done is

PART 4: GRIEF

The Brazen Youth - Burn Slowly/I Love You: Ooooooghghgh the conflicted feelings about their relationship is STRONG in this one… The “Burn Slowly” part being him trying to convince himself that he did the right thing by killing David while the “I Love You” part is him realizing that he really did love David and it fucking hurts

Sufjan Stevens - The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us: MAN. MAN… Everything past “I can’t explain the state that I'm in” is just so… it’s Michael realizing what he had even more and just how much it hurts that he’s lost it. He knows he was in love now and it fucking hurts SO MUCH!!!!!

Sufjan Stevens - The Only Thing: [head in my fucking hands] Michael moping around Santa Carla because it feels empty without David. All the “should I tear my eyes out now?/Should I tear my heart out now?” parts oh my GOOOOOOOOD sufjan stevens i'm going to slap you on the head.

Paramore - Tell Me How: THIS SONG HURTS SO MUCH ITS SO. It’s another one about conflicting feelings so theoretically it should be earlier in the story but I always envision something very morbid when listening to this (and have now written a fic about it so check that out)… Michael going back to the hotel where he put David’s body and musing to no one, asking how he’s supposed to feel now, the “And always coming to your defenses” where Michael keeps defending David and their relationship to his family who all think David was a horrible monster… this song fucking hurts. Also I unintentionally drew a parallel between JDNT’s “You can’t breathe without me” and this song’s “Do I suffocate or let go?” and now that I’ve realized that it hurts even more. Fuck this song

[aprito]

hello <3 since i got these asks at the same time i decided to combine my thoughts on them in this post. yet another annoying sjw essay from yours truly on this blog 

before i get into these i think i need to preface why im like. i guess overly hyperfocused on a certain unproblematic base (same age au / platonic canon) for them and avoid the ped0philic content like the plague lol

tw for pedophilia ment, rape ment if that makes you squicky. ALSO THIS IS LONG AND RAMBLY

as i’ve mentioned a couple times already, ive been into the ship since i was 12, back when it was very very common to not only post untagged (nsfw) canonverse content of the two in writing and in drawing but also non con and the like, so you can imagine how bad my first impression online was. thinking back on it ...as a child i found it disturbing but didnt really register how problematic it really was?? (i know, but i also lived in the middle of nowhere and had no one explain this to me) 

skip to 2014 aka me coming back to naruto at 17ish and i had kinda become hyper aware of the fact that there was an increasing amount of people online who had come forward with explaining how fictional problematic content, mostly pedophilia, had been used to groom them into starting relationships with adullts. it was also a time where a lot of people didnt believe these victims, not registering how common it was for minors to be online friends with adults who had no boundaries and no qualms exposing them such content. not gonna get into my personal life here but i was lucky to not having gone through this myself. like... it kinda was my first time truly realising how fiction can EASILY be used to manipulate others irl (and yes i will not argue this, if you dont think fictional media can form and manipulate people’s opinions on attitudes, countries, cultures and virtues, pick up a book about the effects of propaganda media at least once please) 

i, being young, still liking the dynamic but not really the romance, would point this out here and there in the fandom and get into fights with grown adults in their mid 20s who assumed i automatically hated the ship(s) and tried to restrict their freedom of speech or whatever, heard everything from the “age of consent doesnt exist in naruto” to the “sasori looks like a child what does it matter” despite people clearly playing on him being older and experienced. it made me so upset that people were just consuming all this content uncritically and exposing children to it tbh?? not really just sos but a lot of minor/adult ships in naruto in general. and thats where i sat down and thought, i do not want to be a grown adult talking down to children that point out how unsafe the fandom is. theyre absolutely right in drawing these boundaries and calling out adults who defend the uncritical consumption and creation of this content. i do not want to consume or create content that predators could use to groom minors, and i absolutely do want to let younger people in fandom know that i am respecting their comfort zones and want them to have a safe and fun experience. after all, naruto is not an adult show and i think a lot of people forget that!!!! i am not perfect in that regard but its something that i, at the age of 23, am very passionate about and strive towards to.

and i guess thats where same age au was born for me and i have been sticking to it ever since. 

so finally we can move to the first question 

aside from the fact that we both dont like canon sos, i dont think it would work out even if i wasnt prejudiced to it anyways. in all honesty, 35 year old canon sasori is not a redeemable character to me, given the fact that he’s easily amongst the cruelest villains in naruto (torturing and killing and taxiderming people for his own fun personal gain, never for a goal that served anyone but himself. how do you redeem having over 300 corpses in your backpack that you felt absolutely no remorse for killing). sasori was legit one of the only cruel villains that didnt had someone else pull the strings, which sends a clear message on kishi’s part, who absolutely loves to redeem villains LOL.

being that old, he obviously had already been very manifested in what he believed in, even if it was shakey, to the point where the first crack in that world view (sakura and chiyo protecting each other) immediately had him give up on his life all together. that, in my opinion, is not a man who’s going to know what healthy relationships would look like, regardless of it being romantic or not. 35 year old sasori to me has the same appeal as an expired can of tuna and he’s probably very happy 6 feet under. he’s supposed to be a failed gaara in that sense that he had no one to look out for him and therefore was never going to experience anything but a bad ending in life. its fine that hes dead honestly, it wraps up his short character development the best IMO.

adding to that, seriously, sakura was obviously interested in knowing why he was that way, and called him out for being seriously fucked in the head, but it’s weird to me that people assume she had any interest in actively rehabilitating him, let alone starting a serious romantic relationship with him. sakura who’s not only very, uhm, immature and straight forward when it comes to her romantic viewpoints also, as a big bootlicker, wouldnt soil her standing in the village by starting anything with a disgraced and far too gone criminal like sasori. shipping that version of sasori with sakura intimately is still going to set her up for a huge power imbalance that would be difficult to handle imo, even if she was the one in the fight ultimately exerting her power over him. i would still look at it and think damn she deserves better than having to play therapist for man like that lol.

additionally, even if you ignored all of this, you cant really ignore that sasori had already known her as a child, and that had been his first and most impactful impression of her. i dont think that sasori would look at 35 year old sakura and see her as a grown woman and not the little green girl she was in the fight. plus, you easily fall into predatory comparison territory between the “childish” and “womanly” and i have seen way too often in fic just being boiled down to her now being fuckable. a lot of of ships do this and i would just like to remind yall thats it not normal for adults to want to start relationships with children they have seen grown up or known as a child when they themselves were fully grown adults. therefore, maybe if sakura hadnt met sasori before it would be less of a problem? but that also obviously defeats the point of the dynamic and the reason he died in the first place. so yeah, it sounds kind of doomed especially if you were to make it romantic. 

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SECOND QUESTION

let me preface this that im not fundamentally against age gaps, even if im not super interested in it. after all, colorblind had a 5 yr age gap (with sakura being 21), even if, say, i wrote similar fics today i probably would make it smaller lol. i think it can be handled well if both parties have enough life experience to deal with it, and the author is cautious of where the age gap starts, i think a 10+ year age gap would be fine in a scenario where the younger party (i guess sakura) was at least 25-27ish, meaning she has completed most of her most formative life stages and probably had been in relationships before, meaning she would be able to handle it without having to fear a huge power imbalance. the older the younger party is the less the age gap is going to matter tbh .TsukiHoshino and AngelOfDeath10 both handle age gaps in their fics really well imo, so i do not mind reading about them.

unfortunately, a lot of people in this fandom think making sakura barely "”””legal””””” (18, not even 20 which is hilarious to me because the source material is obviously japanese) because they both cannot stand her being past her “prime years” of being young fertile and fuckable to much older men as well as thinking a 20 year old is automatically old enough to handle that type of relationship. ive seen a lot of unironic takes that believe it will absolve them of callout posts if they throw around age of consent and “shes 18 now suckers!!!” enough lmfao. absolutely hilarious. aging a minor up without aging the adult down seriously reeks of predatory “cant wait until youre 18″ narratives and thats why i find it similarly disturbing as straight up pedo shipping.

ultimately, sasosaku is and will always be a inherently problematic ship in canon, which is why i think it should always be handled a little more responsibly in fandom spaces, ignoring or outright excusing the main problem factor, which is sasori, isnt going to convince anyone that the dynamic in itself is well written and interesting enough to explore in aus, like giving sasori the redemption most of us wanted him to have by aging him down to a point in time where he was still realistically going to allow being positively influenced, similar to gaara. 

so really, what i think is well handled age gap and how most people handle age gap in the naruto fandom are two different worlds at times lol 

tl;dr

canon shippers have never been anything but gross when i was younger and i didnt wanna be like that, even if youre “smart”enough to differenate, actual creeps dont really care and might use your content to blur the lines, sasori isnt rly redeemable so romantic canonverse realistically wouldnt make much sense and is still iffy, age gaps are fine if they are handled well, but given that the dynamic doesnt really need the age gap to still work im not that invested on making that an essential part of my shipping experience.  

thank you for reading and hope this makes sense!

[zekedms]

The most absurd shit anyone has ever said to me on Tumblr

Okay I never published this years ago because I know people would have read it like I was being bitter and petty in response to that, buuuuut I’m finally publishing (okay, quoting - I’ve left the original in my inbox all this time so I can have proof if someone ever asks for who it really was and while this person is awful singling their blog out is not productive) this absolute absurd fucking response I got from ThatAutismFeel like 6 years ago after a submission because I want to and I wonder if anyone else got awful takes like this. I guess uh, let me know in the comments or something! The blog was still pretty new at the time and I’d submitted a bit about not feeling like you have a special interest then realizing you’d just spent 7 hours on the same activity for the third day in a row.

TBH one piece of this is actually still really angering but most is just baffling. TW: Rape, though, for that bit.

This person is no longer listed as a mod for them, so that’s good, but honestly I questioned their entire judgement as a group after this because...well, you’ll see lol. Either way I immediately quit reblogging anything of theirs and told my friends ‘cause like...haha, wow. Bonus fun fact: this person posted on their blog about how they hoped all the people submitting to TAF die! While still an active mod!

hi! my name is mod m&m from thatautismfeel, you made a submission but you dont seem to identify as autistic. you are also far older than the majority demographic and appear to be predatory towards victims of rape (you enjoy oyasumi punpun the main character is a rapist and you want to counsel rape victims?) and you are studying psychology, an inherently violent topic. i wanted to tell you this personally and that your submit was rejected for these reasons. thank you!

Lemme just...break this down because this is just astonishing. Fucking remarkable.

you made a submission but you dont seem to identify as autistic.

Guess talking about it all the time doesn’t count if you don’t put it first thing in your header. Not in the middle like I did, FIRST AND FOREMOST. No words ONLY AUTISM.

you are also far older than the majority demographic 

Damn, I never thought I’d be accused of being too old to be autistic by an autism blog. Autism Speaks, Autism Society, National Autistic Society, anything created by the federal government as soon as I turned 25, sure, but an autism blog?

Seriously though, this is the internet and a page talking about autism experiences with no indicators of any demographic besides “autistic.” There was never a “21 and under” in the abouts, people’s ages don’t pop up with their submissions. Absurd. But then it went from bad opinions to “Wow, you’re actually just a bad person aren’t you?”

appear to be predatory towards victims of rape (you enjoy oyasumi punpun the main character is a rapist and you want to counsel rape victims?)

You know what, this is actually just so fucking offensive as survivor of sexual violence that I don’t even want to make a joke about it, especially as I was already in advocacy work at the time. But “A character did something bad that was portrayed as bad, you like the thing the character is in, therefore you like the bad thing” is an extremely...what’s the word here? “Online” take?

you are studying psychology, an inherently violent topic

Back to the regular bad takes but also ironically ableist. Did they get their talking points from Tom Cruise? Are they still mad someone called them out on malingering? Do they think actually nobody needs therapy and it’s all a lie and suggesting any sort of treatment for a disorder is bad because this person is all about incredible amounts of ironic ableism?

i wanted to tell you this personally and that your submit was rejected for these reasons. thank you!

They also sent a second ask saying they would explain any of that, esp. the “inherent violence” of psychology which of course I never got a response to.

I thought about writing to TAF to be like “Hey, uh, you know this person is sending incredibly shitty responses right?” but then I figured it’s just gonna get intercepted by said mod or they were all good with this person’s awful takes, so pointless either way.