#i'd have no feed left

[freckledjoes]

sometimes i am considering making a hall of fame for reposters of my content on twitter. like: here are the people who blatantly ignore my humble request to not repost the stuff i put lots of time in because they're not creative enough / do not want to learn how to do it themselves. why? cause it's not fun for me to see. i did that. not you. hands off. appreciate it at the source and keep it there, it's really simple. but that would be like... such a long post? full of dipshits? also for whoever reads this and thinks the argument "bUt thERe wAs nO wATermarK / buT PintERest / bUt goOGle" justifies you taking content from someone else: are u dumb, or do you just really love acting like it? you're clearly not stupid enough to realise that it's been edited. and edited things don't just magically fall out of the sky, so someone must have made it, right? yeah. and if you don't know who? easy: you don't repost. and if you know who? you check their posts, profiles, see if they say something about it. if they do: respect it. if they don't: ask before taking. you're ruining fandom by consuming and taking endlessly without giving people an ounce of appreciation. you suck. you're a shitty person. it's like you're walking into a museum, grab a painting from the wall and expect that to be okay. now i don't think gifs belong in a museum, obviously, but i do think it could be treated the same way you do a painting in a museum. you look. you appreciate. you don't take.

oh ps fun fact, even when i add "@freckledjoes do not repost" ON THE GIF people still repost and go like oMg i didN't sEe. so... regardless of watermarks (unless you wanna ruin the whole piece ofc), people will always find an excuse, even if it's a really bad one :)

[spotaus]

If you're still accepting requests, you could draw Cross x Lust?

Hello anon! Definitely still accepting requests! And I need you to know that this request literally short-circuited my brain, because I rendered all of these doodles 🙏

Cross X Lust was Not on my bingo board of things I'd draw, but the combo just settled in my head and felt Super Right and I got to sketching and realized I really liked their energy and just... didn't stop drawing! Thank you SO MUCH for the request! (They give me the vibes of Cross being the one who insists on being chivalrous and very protective, while Lust gets some freedom to relax and be himself and get pampered a bit! Idk if I explained it right, but it makes sense in my brain-)

[doverstar]

an absolute wave of homesickness for Doctor Who (2005) series 1-2 just about knocks me over at the quietest moments of my little life

[varjopeura]

.

[estradasphere]

i don't remember which person i follow says that blur is a b-sides band but it's literally so true

[yoshistory]

? Olive has the same meow for "please come pet me while i eat" and "please come here and play with me" now, which only developed after i bought her a new toy (quickly became her new favorite) which is interesting. maybe this is a general meow for "pay attention to me" now .. she no longer really meows for being pet while she eats anymore after buying this toy for them both, for some reason, which is good (that was a REALLY bad habit of hers ive been trying to wean her off of)

[cuntwrap--supreme]

My cat butted up against my hand and it reminded me of when my childhood cat was starting to go senile and my mom suggested we just have her put down because she doesn't really matter once she's lost it and that she never cared about me besides being a hand that provides food (even though I was the only person in the family she was comfortable around after she'd gone totally feral out of age-induced confusion). My mom never liked that cat, even though she was a really good cat. It's not her fault she got old and couldn't remember shit. To me, that's when she needed the most care. To my mom, she deserved to be locked in the basement for the last two years of her life. And, because my mom seldom let her out and I was both in college and working full time and could only release her for a few hours daily, the basement ended up being where she felt safe, and she would only leave if I picked her up and moved her out. Which is so sad. Imagine treating a dying animal that way.

[buckysleftarm]

act 3 full of so many side quests i'm already overwhelmed just by nature of Showing Up in the city but at least i was able to keep minthara and lae'zel from getting kidnapped on account of not. having. the other two candidates. I can't afford to have either of them down for the count when I only have 5 people in camp.

[whumpbby]

Oh, you think that 'boycotting' is as easy as 'not buying McDonald's'.

"Boycott fatigue" what do you mean a boycott is literally where you DONT do something like how get fatigued from not buying mcdonalds

[snekdood]

i just struggle to believe theres any ethical way to harvest meat. farm animal dying of old age? yeah. ok. sure. but farm animals aren't going to be perpetually dying of old age enough to fulfill the demand for their meats. you can make better and more convincing arguments to me for ethically harvesting eggs, wool and milk rather than meat.

[sulfurrrr]

dear LORD i am having A Week.

[addictsitter]

me: cool i'm gonna go to bed here in a minute my brain: actually you're going to sit in the bathroom and write a few hundred words of fic on your phone at one in the morning

[entitled-fangirl]

Direwolf.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's direwolf is spoiled by the reader.

A/n: Based on ask! Also I'm running a fever, so I'm praying this makes sense

Masterlist

.....................................

"Perhaps it was an idiotic thought from the start," Cregan mutters as he views the sight before him. 

His sweet wife sat on the ground of the dining hall, lavishing their dire wolf in affection. 

Well, Cregan's direwolf.

Well, it was supposed to be Cregan's. 

He had found the wolf not long before he became the Lord of Winterfell. Now, after almost seven years with the animal, their bond was inseparable. 

So when Cregan's wife joined the mix, Cregan was nervous.

But she had a love for Dark Night, as did the large beast for her. 

"I find it sweet," the Maester said with a light smile. "It is important the two get along, isn't it? Better than fighting for your attention, I'd wager."

"That's the thing," Cregan sighed. "Neither of them needs my attention. They're content on their own."

The maester chuckled, looking at the sight of the woman and wolf before excusing himself.

Cregan walked to the pair, holding his hand out to his wife. "C'mon, sweet girl."

Y/n looked up with a smile and took his hand, brushing off dust from her skirt as she did so. 

Dark Night let out a low coo, sitting up and nuzzling at her thigh.

"Seems I'll have to fight for even a moment with you," Cregan smiled as he tucked his face into her neck.

She let out a soft giggle. "Don't be so upset, Cregan. You know you always have my heart."

He chuckled with her, pulling away and leading her to the dining table, pulling out her chair before sitting across from her. 

The two talked of mundane things as usual: their day, the problems of the North, ideas they had, anything and everything. 

Finally, Cregan tilted his head with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with wide eyes, as if caught in a horrid lie. "N…nothing."

He simply stared, his hands resting atop the table. "Are you feeding Dark Night under the table?"

She reaches to pick something off of her plate, lowering it below the table. "No?"

He leaned back in his chair with an incredulous look and a chuckle, "You little minx. He eats enough, you know that."

"Well, yes, but," she gave a shrug. "He just looks at me so pitifully, I cannot say no."

She reached up to grab more, but Cregan stopped her, "Don't."

She paused, "Cregan-"

"-Do not spoil that damn dog. He is fine."

Before long, Dark Night's large head weighed down on Cregan's lap from under the table, a longing look in the animal's eyes. 

Cregan looked down at him with a tight lip and a shaking head, "Your methods may work on our sweet girl, but you will get nothing from me."

The wolf nuzzled in more, trying to get Cregan's attention still. 

Finally, Cregan waved his hand out at the wolf, "Get. Go on. You have already been fed today."

Dark Night accepted the defeat and left the dining hall, an obvious annoyance in the way he walked. 

"Now," Cregan sighed. "Let us try to speak again."

…

A few hours later, Cregan entered their chambers in pure exhaustion. 

The day had been longer than he had hoped, and he wanted nothing more than time with his wife.

Seeing her curled up on the sofa next to the fireplace warmed something inside of him. 

He came from behind, leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 

She hummed, looking up from her book. "Hello, lovely."

A small whine sounded in the room.

Cregan's brow furrowed as he scanned the room for his wolf. 

"Why is he on the bed?"

She leaned forward, looking over her shoulder to see that the wolf had indeed found a comfortable place on their bed. She shrugged, "He was there when I got here. I didn't have the heart to move him."

Cregan gripped her shoulders from behind, gently massaging them. "I've had this wolf years, and never has he even been allowed the notion that being upon the bed was allowed."

She smiled as she looked over her shoulder at Cregan this time, "He's been so wonderful today. Let him stay."

He leaned down to her ear, a teasing smile across his face, "Why should I?"

She let out a hum. "Please, Cregan."

"Please what?" He teased.

Her head leaned back against the back of the sofa, "You know what you're doing, Lord Stark."

He smirked, leaning up and moving to the bed, "Up."

Dark Night lifted his head to look at Cregan.

Y/n immediately gets off of the couch, "Cregan."

"I mean it," he complains. "That dog cannot run this castle." 

"He's not," she comes as she moved to Dark Night, petting his fur.

"My love, he-" Cregan froze completely, eyeing the dog. "A collar? You've bought him a collar?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps."

Cregan crosses his arms, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. "Gods, you're gonna be the death of me."

"He's being so sweet, Cregan. Look at him!"

Cregan looked down, seeing his sweet wife practically laying on the large animal.

He shook his head, a large smile coming across his face. "As long as there is still room for your husband."

"Oh, always, Cregan."

…

Cregan woke up in the night, pulling at the blanket that would not move. He leaned up on his elbows, seeing the giant dire wolf that laid on his wife's feet, holding the blanket down underneath him. 

Cregan heaved a great sigh, but inside, he really didn't mind.

He was glad the two greatest things in his life cared for each other. It made his occasional absence to the Wall less guilt wracked. 

He knew they'd keep each other warm until he came back.

.....................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath, @yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[southislandwren]

i want to milk twice a day in the summer months and once a day in the fall when the grass gets bad and i want to ride a mule out to get the livestock in with my cow dogs running alongside me and i want to watch the sunset and i want to make dairy products and i want to stargaze and i want to share my love for dairy with the world. but that will never happen because (censored) is prone to droughts and you'll never guess how many gallons of water a lactating holstein drinks in 1 (one) day

[graphicpepsi]

thunder (nsfw, mdni)

OR: soft morning sex w simon the morning of his deployment :(

You woke up to a hand stroking your back, lovingly, and somehow you could tell he'd been awake for hours already. You hated that you'd woken up. If only you could stay with him, in warm sheets and sunkissed pillowcases forever. If only he wasn't mere hours away from fighting for his life.

"Mornin, love." His voice is gruff from sleep. You look up from his chest to meet his eyes. He looked at you like he mourned you, like he dreadfully pitied your sadness.

It scared him how much you loved him, because it gave him something to live for.

"Don't go, Si."

He sighs, heavy, his chest moving your body as it heaved. You have this conversation every time- every fucking time, and your heart hurts knowing it can only end with one word.

"Can't."

"I know."

He rubs his hand against your back, like he's trying to soothe a child. Your breath is getting caught in your chest, and your head is thick in water, your eyes sting like they've been rolled in salt but you're not going to cry- you're not going to cry. You can't do that to him.

You trace the scratches you left on his chest lastnight with your nails. Simon takes your hand in his, almost examining it.

"Your polish is chipping, love. Get 'em redone while I'm gone, yeah? On me. So you can scratch me up good when I'm back."

You force a small smile. He always insists on paying for everything while he's on deployment. Says it reminds him why he's fighting.

"I'd like that."

You peer over to the alarm clock. 7:30am. He had to leave at 9.

Simon sees the look on your face.

"Baby-"

But it's too late, a tear has already fallen down your face. And then another, and another.

"C'mere."

He sits you up, holding you tight in his arms, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

"It's okay, baby, I'll be back soon, okay?"

You sniffle, pulling away to look at his face. You're going to miss that face. Scarred and worn, soft and loving.

You kiss him, softly at first, like you're timid. But then you're kissing him, desperate and hot, salty tears on your lips. He pushes you down underneath him, gently, his hand cushioning your head. His hands glide up your bare thighs and waist, underneath his shirt.

He doesn't have much on himself- just his boxers.

He slides his hand onto your cunt, his fingers rubbing between your folds. You tug at his hair in your hands, telling him you want more.

"Sh, it's alright, love."

He's barely touched you and you're already shaking. You both know this is the last time you'll feel each other for months.

Even Simon, large and strong, trembles as he slips his finger into you. He's almost wincing at your little moans, your breathy little whines, because it fucking hurts missing you before he's even gone yet.

He curls his fingers inside of you, softly, because he's not fucking you. He fucked you last night, the night before that, the night before that. He left you hazy and vibrating, fucked out, cum splattered everywhere, marks on every inch of your innocent skin.

But this, this was something different.

You dig your nails into his back, harder than usual because you want them to last.

"God, Si, please,"

It's like you're begging him to stay.

You whine when he takes his fingers out, your cunt pulsing around nothing.

"I know love, I know."

He feeds his dick into you, slowly, and you're grabbing at the sheets, his shoulders, his back- everything. He fills you so fucking good.

"God, damn." He grunts as he thrusts into you, his head leaning back. Your back arches into him, rays of warm sunlight covering your body in little orange lines as it filters in through the blinds.

"Si, Si, fuck-"

God he knows how to fuck. Knows how to make you cum faster than you do.

His dick brushes your spongy cervix with every time he slams into you. Fucking heaven. Your tight walls on his cock, like velvet around him.

"This pussys all mine baby, all mine," He grunts, bracing himself above you. His breath is hot on your neck.

"All yours, Si, fuck,"

He slams into you harder, his nose brushing against yours.

"'M gonna cum, Simon,"

You whine, scratching his scalp with your nails, fisting locks of hair.

"Cum on my cock, sweetie, please."

You cum on him with a shudder, eyes screwing shut and your head lolling back. He cums at the way you shake on his dick, the way your little body convulses in pleasure like it doesn't know what to do with itself.

God, you're tired.

He fucks you through your orgasm before gently pulling out, holding your hips with his large hands.

Your eyes are still shut, your cunt aching.

You feel him tuck a blanket over you, another pillow sliding under to support your neck.

"Just go to sleep, baby, shh." He strokes your cheek with his thumb. You half-open your eyes to look at him, sadly.

He's crouched next to the bed, looking at you adoringly.

"I'll be gone when you wake up," His voice is breaking, "But only for a little, okay?"

You grab his hand,

"Please come back."

He runs a finger over your knuckles before kissing them.

"I will, love." His accent is thick next to you.

Neither one of you want to move. But he has a half hour to shower and go.

"I love you, Simon Riley." You whisper, shutting your eyes and sighing with the knowledge this is the last time he'll hear those words next to him for awhile.

"I love you too, baby. Just go to sleep."

He presses a kiss to your forehead before you hear him walk away.

Fuck.

A/N: 🥺🥺🥺 first time writing for our boy Simon bc i also want him primally even tho König is my main piece of ass. Hope y'all enjoyed