#on a related note I also love Duck

[the-13th-rose]

Headcanoning characters with frequent angry outbursts (especially those played for comedy/not taken seriously) as autistic because I am also autistic with frequent angry outbursts that are rarely taken seriously

#donald duck getting angry at inanimate objects and screaming at them is very relatable #as is marvin the martian getting all huffy at people and not being able to express his anger in a way that isn't funny/cute #and on a less comedic note grievous snarling at people who piss him off and smashing things is so cathartic #as a bullied kid who was never able to make anyone leave me alone #maul isn't a favorite of mine but i would also love to shout 'KENOBIAAUUUUUGH' into the desert sky that would be so healing

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

#nhl #pride #lgbt #gay #queer #hockey

[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || 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: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!

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 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed. 

It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off. 

People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself.  Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of. 

By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.

You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in. 

“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting. 

He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. 

“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously. 

“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”

Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”

He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator. 

“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.

“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.

“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that. 

He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.

“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”

“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”

He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”

He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.

He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.

“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.

He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”

He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.

“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.

“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now. 

You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it. 

You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.

He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”

“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”

“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”

“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.

“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”

“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation. 

You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out. 

You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed. 

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”

“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”

“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.

You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”

He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that. 

Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders. 

The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom. 

It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent. 

You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape. 

You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed. 

Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14. 

It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!

You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine. 

Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.

He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.

Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered. 

It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you. 

“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.

He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well. 

The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual. 

Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver. 

After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.

“Good morning,” you called. 

“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.

You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious. 

As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.

“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that. 

The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away. 

You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around. 

“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.

“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”

“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.

He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them. 

“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving. 

You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.

He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.

“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned. 

Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet. 

When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar. 

As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together. 

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky. 

Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself. 

But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better. 

Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?

You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching. 

With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication. 

You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit. 

You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself. 

But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall. 

You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate. 

Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.

You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore. 

You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.

Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready. 

Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life. 

You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.

What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not. 

You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar. 

At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar. 

It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread. 

It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with. 

He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you. 

You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work. 

So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.

The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted. 

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly. 

Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be. 

You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell. 

You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell. 

“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name. 

You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.

“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them. 

“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.

“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray. 

“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.

“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation. 

One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”

Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads. 

“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.

“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”

“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”

Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong. 

The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face. 

The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face. 

The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state. 

She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them. 

“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply. 

The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious. 

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker. 

She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone. 

He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.

“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”

“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”

He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.

“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”

His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.

“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”

You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open. 

You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.

The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again. 

She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out. 

Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”

You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.

She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”

“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”

It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one. 

“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.

You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it. 

You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon. 

You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table. 

“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”

You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”

“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.

“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.

“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door. 

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath. 

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time. 

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back. 

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling. 

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you. 

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. 

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap. 

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table. 

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street. 

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots. 

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep. 

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated. 

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad. 

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands. 

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off? 

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.” 

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself. 

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known. 

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave. 

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response. 

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained. 

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom. 

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements. 

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his. 

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly. 

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore. 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance. 

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young. 

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother. 

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked. 

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that. 

You never brought it up again. 

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since. 

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen. 

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup. 

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat. 

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands. 

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself. 

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light. 

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work. 

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. 

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?” 

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon. 

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms. 

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him. 

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor. 

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch. 

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen. 

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond. 

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved. 

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking. 

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things. 

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big. 

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built. 

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue. 

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred. 

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back. 

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing. 

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them. 

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken. 

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut. 

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up. 

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought. 

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk. 

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it. 

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly. 

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you. 

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan. 

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place. 

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes. 

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that. 

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him. 

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed. 

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry. 

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day. 

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass. 

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry. 

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all. 

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you. 

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder. 

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much. 

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever. 

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse. 

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger. 

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there. 

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you. 

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life. 

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately. 

You wish that he loved you. 

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep. 

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you. 

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight. 

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there. 

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you. 

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him. 

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry. 

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts. 

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it. 

Then you do it again. And again. And again. 

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek. 

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise. 

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness. 

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room. 

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing. 

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping. 

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave. 

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him. 

God, you hate him. 

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway. 

He wanders further into the room before pausing. 

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you. 

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy. 

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like. 

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red. 

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you. 

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious. 

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him. 

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now. 

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable. 

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too. 

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room. 

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself. 

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck. 

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that. 

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door. 

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it. 

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit. 

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares. 

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you. 

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him. 

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls. 

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you. 

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise. 

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness. 

You cry all the time. Day and night. 

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him. 

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid. 

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on. 

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome. 

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again. 

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore. 

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month. 

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear. 

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to. 

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope. 

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar. 

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is. 

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back. 

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it. 

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.” 

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking. 

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself. 

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in. 

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel. 

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day. 

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold. 

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time. 

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left. 

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet. 

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself. 

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope. 

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep. 

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do. 

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake. 

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever. 

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it. 

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open. 

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else. 

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway. 

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat. 

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room. 

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was. 

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go. 

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed. 

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go. 

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds. 

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach. 

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap. 

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed. 

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it. 

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat. 

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged. 

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done. 

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen. 

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well. 

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls. 

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone. 

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread. 

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over. 

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even. 

His words ring out through your head like a bell. 

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash. 

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts. 

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again. 

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time. 

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away. 

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now. 

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on. 

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.” 

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it. 

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is. 

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees. 

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly. 

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes. 

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you. 

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself. 

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place. 

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more. 

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response. 

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again. 

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air. 

You love him, you really do. 

But you’re still so angry at him. 

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly. 

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?” 

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head. 

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto. 

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place. 

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?” 

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated,  sad and utterly confused. 

You wished he would stop leaving. 

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait. 

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has. 

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep. 

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague. 

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

do not modify, translate, or repost.

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

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request Hazbin Hotel characters reacting to an artist!reader that draws a lot but never shows anyone their work but one day accidentally left it out and their partner finds it and sees several sketches and finished drawings of them? Sorry if it’s an odd ask, I’m an artist and I thought it would be a cute idea I don’t see nearly enough, it’s okay if you can’t. Thank you either way!!!

Artist Rendition

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW:A little flirty with Angel’s reaction. Other than that none!

A/N: Not an odd request at all, Friend! For Angel’s part I did write for a male Reader and Fem Reader for Vaggie! KINDA SHORT I APOLOGIZE FRIEND!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Alastor was very curious to see you carry a sketchbook around all the time. He wanted to pry so badly.

-🦌 But he didn’t, he simply ignored the book and only ever asked about it if you were near him. You always get flustered and hide the book even further. Oh now he’s wondering what kind of dark secrets you have in there~

-🦌 But to his surprise when he finds it open and on a page, he sees drawings of him, he carefully flips the page and sees a half down sketch of him sitting in front of the fireplace.

-🦌 Oh boy you just made his ego inflate and his undead heart soar to new heights. His tail starts wagging and that’s the only way someone can catch how happy he is.

-🦌 Now? He’s going to poke a little fun at you, “My Dear, if you had to pick anyone in the hotel to be your muse who would it be?” 

-🦌 Silly deer man loves you and your abilities, he often tells you that your work needs to be displayed in a museum.

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 Oh boy- when he finds out you can draw? Oh he gets super excited and asks if you can draw him a duck- even if it’s a little doodle! He doesn’t care!

-He doesn’t really ask or pry into your hobby much but he will admit he does want to see what you draw.

-When he does see that you drew him of all people he gets all flustered and he’s prideful cause his partner?? His darling little angel drew him?!?

-He will volunteer to pose for you, he’s used to sitting still for hours on end! 

-He will even pose naked if you want him to! Just say the word and he’ll drop his clothes right there.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He watched you sit at the bar and draw to your heart's content and never really commented on it.

-🎰 When he does peek into your sketchbook it’s to pull behind the bar into a safe place so nothing ruins your work.

-🎰That’s when he notices the drawings and doodles of him and his tail curls happily. The way you captured him doing menial tasks sends his heart into overdrive.

-🎰 You were too good for him, damn it. The next time you find it? It has a little sticky note on the cover of your sketchbook and it has a little drawing of you with a small message, “Had to go out with Alastor. Love you, Dollface.” 

-🕷️ Angel Dust 🩷-

-🕷️ Oh this man- he loves it! You’re an artist and he’s also like an artist! But of a very very different genre.

-🩷 He also doesn’t pry much as he understands privacy. He wants to give you that as much as he can since he doesn’t get much of it.

-🕷️ Once he finds out you draw him? He’s over the fucking moon cause his man? His precious boyfriend draws him! 

-🩷Expect him to start flirting more and more but with art related flirts. “Come on, Suga’~ Draw me like one of your french girls~” im sorry. He’s very supportive!

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 oh this baby girl..she’s been so busy lately that if she did notice it completely slipped her mind!

-👑 But when she finds your sketchbook? She gets super excited cause you draw this good?? She’s so proud that she immediately goes to find you!

-👑 She is another who fully supports you! You need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

-👑 Will try to convince you to start painting for the hotel! You can say no it won’t offend her.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Much like Husk she won’t point it out or comment on it.

-🎀Will find out you draw her when she sees it when cleaning up and gets all blushy cause this is how you see her?

-🎀 Comes clean immediately about seeing your drawings and tells you how amazing they are.

-🎀 Shyly asks if she can pose for you next time, how could you say no to her?

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader #angel dust imagine #angel dust x you #angel dust x male reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader #hazbin vaggie #vaggie #charlie morningstar #charlie x reader #hazbin charlie #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #husker x reader #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #male reader #female reader

[dxckgrxsonx]

hello, random Jason thot i feel like i need to share:

he is the type to ask for sexual related stuff very casually in the most unexpected moments — “hey do you have a second for me to bend you over and use your holes?” “c’mere so i can hit you from the back real quick” “babe, do you like how my cum tastes?” “you mind if i fuck you in your sleep tonight?” “you want me to go raw next time we do doggie?” while you are making toast in the middle of the day or doing the dishes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

that's it, that's my thot. thanks.

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader Words - 1.2k Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Porn no Plot - Unprotected Sex -Shower Sex - Kitchen Sex - Dirty Talk - Jason 'no verbal filter' Todd - Swearing - Fluff. Notes - i think you should share more thots with me 😉 i will listen to whatever you have to say. also, the idea of Jason fucking you in your sleep???? hOT. I’ll be writing that at some point.

MASTERLIST

**

He asks you questions at the most random times.

You think his brain doesn’t have an off switch. Thoughts constantly whirling around on a washing machine spin cycle. Each one thunking against the sides until he tugs open the door and spits out the first thing to fall at his feet.

Last week, he asked you through a mouthful of food what word you would use to describe The Red Hood.

Apparently, ‘hot’, was entirely the correct answer and he’d spent the rest of the meal insufferably pleased with himself until you’d laughed and kicked him under the table.

The week before that, he woke you up in the middle of the night and asked you, half asleep, if you would still love him if he was a worm. In response, you’d rolled over to hug him close and mumbled, “Mmm-hm. I’d love you no matter what.”

And when you woke up that next morning, it was with Jason smudging kisses across your chest. Right over your heart. You didn’t recall the conversation but he did and it must have meant something to him because he didn’t leave your side for hours.

But this time, he pokes his head out of the shower whilst you’re brushing your teeth and casually asks, “You mind joining me in here? It’s been a while since we’ve had shower sex and i’m real fuckin’ hard.”

Surprise sparks like a blown electric fuse and your toothbrush clatters into the sink whilst you choke on a mouthful of toothpaste, “Jason!” You sputter, staring at him through the mirror and feeling heat scathe up your neck. “What the hell?”

Grabbing your arm, he says nothing and tugs you into the shower cubicle, places you directly under the almost scalding spray of water and cracks a smile when you swat at his chest. Instantly, your pyjamas turn see through and Jason whistles appreciatively, mouth hooking up in a devilish smirk.

“Now there’s a pretty sight.” He says, giving you a heated once over.

Your nipples poke against your shirt and Jason wastes no time in rubbing his thumbs over the sensitive peaks until you sigh softly. He dips his fingers under the hem of your pyjama top and smooths his warm palms up over your breasts to remove it.

Shuffling you backwards until you press against the cold tile wall you hiss through your teeth, “You’re a bastard, Todd.”

Ducking his head to kiss and bite at your neck Jason chuckles, voice lowering to a challenging drawl, “Call me Todd again, sweetheart. I dare you.”

Dragging your open palm over his cock you turn your head and kiss him slowly, deeply. You lick into Jason’s mouth and feel him throb in your hand. Sinking your teeth into his bottom lip you tug until he growls.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Todd. Did that hurt?”

Jason grabs at your thighs, yanks your shorts down your legs with the efficiency of someone not leaking precum all over your fingers. Slotting his hands under your thighs he picks you up, forces your legs around his thick waist. His cock presses hot and heavy against your pussy and you feel yourself drool over the fat, flushed head.

“You’re really in for it now, baby.” He says, eyes alight. “You thought I was a bastard before. Things are about to get a hell of a lot worse for you now.”

You smile, thoroughly amused, “Promises. Promises.”

**

Slotting two slices of bread into the toaster you reach for your phone sitting on the kitchen counter.

Jason approaches you silently and you wonder, not for the first time, how someone with so much mass can move so quietly. You don’t catch his presence until he’s within arms reach and you think that if you were a criminal, you’d be as good as unconscious.

Slipping his arms around your waist he nuzzles into your back, moves to rest his chin on your shoulder, “Whatcha watchin’?”

Turning the screen so he can see the video, you feel him laugh when you say, “Cat fail videos.”

Reaching silently for your phone he locks the screen and places it facedown on the counter. Turning in the strong cage of his arms you walk your fingers over his chest and up to his shoulders. Humming quietly in the back of your throat you sweep a flyaway strand of hair from his eyes.

“Can I help you?” You ask.

“Do you have a second for me to bend you over the kitchen counter? Wanna fill you up.”

“Wow.” You snigger, half amused, half aroused. “You’re not one for subtlety, huh?”

Spinning you around, Jason presses your hips into the counter and quickly unbuttons your jeans to slide them down to your ankles with your underwear. He shuffles around behind you and you hear him drag the zipper down on his pants.

“Jus’ like the thought of you dripping with my come.” He answers, and you feel your clit swell. A touch of his Gotham accent colours his words. “You’re not going to deny me that, are you?”

Kicking one foot free of your jeans you hook your knee over the lip of the counter, spread your puffy pussy open for Jason to see how wet you are. Your arousal leaks from your entrance and Jason drags his fingers through the wetness before wiping it over the head of his cock.

“If I end up burning my toast I’m not going to be happy.” You say.

Pressing the fat head of his cock to your clenching hole Jason pushes forwards, groans deeply when your walls yield around him and squeeze at his thick girth. Bracing one hand on your waist, Jason rocks his hips, stuffs himself into your pussy inch by inch until he bottoms out.

“You were made for taking my cock, sweetheart.” Jason moans, snapping his hips up. Hooking his thumbs under the swell of your ass he spreads you open so he can watch his cock sink into you. “Fuckin’ Christ, can feel you squeezin’ at me, baby. S’almost like I didn’t fuck you yesterday.”

Whimpering out his name you try to reach for the toaster, worried that it’s going to burn.

“I don’t give a fuck about your toast.” Jason growls, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back. “I’ll make you breakfast myself when I’m finished.”

**

Sat on the sofa you tug your fingers through Jason’s hair.

His head rests in your lap, legs thrown over the arm of your sofa so you can both fit somewhat comfortably. The TV drones in the background, a movie playing that you’ve quickly lost interest in. You’ve found that your attention settles on Jason, on the stubborn knots in his hair and the warmth of him resting on your thighs.

“Comfy?” You ask, just to make sure.

Humming softly he glances up at you, and when your eyes meet he smiles, “You’re beautiful.”

Emotion drags itself up your throat and you stroke his cheek tenderly, lovingly. You open your mouth to speak but there’s a lump in your throat and you quickly realise that you don’t even know what to say. Vaguely, you recognise that Jason hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

Opening your mouth to try again Jason beats you to it, “I know, baby. Y’don’t have to say it. I know.”

Rubbing the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip, Jason presses a soft kiss there.

“Hey, you mind if I fuck you in your sleep tonight?”

Flicking his forehead you snigger, “Do you not have a verbal filter?”

Giving you an unimpressed look, his eyes glitter, “What do you think?”

**

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader smut #red hood x you smut #red hood smut #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #asks #answered #anonymous #ella writes

[inkdrinkerworld]

could u please write a lil something for a chubby reader and spencer :)) maybe a small meet-cute at a library or coffee shop? (something really fall inspired hehe) thank u thsnk u love ur work <3

spencer doesn't usually stop at this particularly library, but he'd had to for the case. he and emily had been tasked with finding more information about the books related to the unsub.

he's in fall colours- soft browns and muted oranges, his scarf the only pop of colour visible in a deep purple.

"uh, hi," he says softly, tapping his fingers on the front desk.

his eyes light up when you tip your chin upwards, a warm smile on your face as you look at him. "hi, can i help you find anything?" spencer feels his head cloud and hopes emily doesn't notice.

"yeah, we're looking for this book," she shows you the piece of the paper and your tongue pokes out the corner of your mouth, eyebrows scrunching as you puff up your already chubby cheeks.

"i think we're supposed to have three copies of them, would you mind waiting while i check?" you look up and spencer finds it hard to do anything other than shake his head.

your eyes shine in the amber light of the library and your glasses chain holds flowers and little yellow ducks that clink together as you walk over to the desktop. you're in a pale yellow top and from what spencer can see, brown corduroy jeans. you look cute and the curves of your waist and the little pudge of your belly looks good enough to grab to spencer.

emily coughs softly and his cheeks heat, his eyes lifting back to your face.

"did you know that ducks at rocks? they do it to help them digest hard foods and store them in their gizzards," your eyes seem to light up as spencer speaks so he presses on. "in 1911 in nebraska hunters actuaally found gold nuggets in their gizzards. it supposedly spurred the 'gold rush.'"

emily is proud that he doesn't stutter and is even moree proud of spencer when your eyes widen and you look up from the computer.

"their ducklings communicate while they're still in their eggs and they try to hatch at the same time." you say softly and spencer smiles, letting you work while emily looks between you both shocked.

"you should ask her out." emily whispers to him and his eyes widen.

"we're on a case and i don't know her." spencer whispers back, eyes tracking your every move.

"you were just sharing duck facts, boy genius. leave your number for after." emily says it so easily and with such belief that spencer will get a date or at least a friend out of this case that he considers it seriously.

"they're in aisle three, on the third shelf. there's also some other related books in the shelf across from them."

"thanks," they both say as they walk off. you spend a couple seconds watching after the man in the purple scarf.

they return in a couple minutes, with three books.

"are you checking them all out?" you ask and spencer nods, you stamp and process the books. "could i get a name?" you hold your pen just below your lips as you wait for answer.

the woman says, "i'll be in the car spence." the man blushes and you give him a gentle smile.

"spencer reid." he says softly, voice a whisper as you scribble, slipping the card into the book along with a small piece of paper. "have a good day." he says as he takes the book and you nod, waving him out of the library.

emily watches him open up the first book and leans over into his space as she starts to pull off. "what did she say?"

spencer smiles when he sees the note, your handwriting leaning to th right and slightly looped, "good luck, spencer reid. maybe we can exchange more facts soon, y/n" he reads and smiles even brighter when he notices your number below that.

"told you reid," emily says fondly and spencer can't ease the blush on his face all day.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x chubby!reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #2

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer

Summary: Strong statements from the "feared" king of hell, deadly oversights, cute duck-shaped cupcakes and the forgotten terror that lives beneath the hotel enjoying a certain demon's broadcast.

Warnings: Self loathing, a bit of a scare, nothing else I can think of.

Taglist: open...

The crowd, and 102 notes have spoken. Funny enough, things I consider drabbles blow up, and stuff that I like and post stays forgotten, anyways that's life. Feedback is always appreciated btw.

For the ppl that voted One-shot, my request box is open if you guys want to drop something Hazbin related.

Charlie had habilitated a back door for the kitchen, heading to the street, so that groceries and the kitchen supplies that you order could arrive unnoticed and would not bother her guests. Also for you to come and go as you may see fit without drawing, as she called it, ‘Unwanted attention’.

Of course she wasn’t thinking of the swarm of questions that may come your way, but more like if they found out, she would have to break the little image she had worked on all this years, the controlled, nice and loving princess everyone knew; to show a bit of the real menace she can be. She hated exercising her authority over others because of what happened with you, it felt wrong and invasive, so she never wanted to re-enter the same void she had fell through when her mother left.

She still used a more severe tone when addressing to you and her orders, or as she calls them ‘mandatory suggestions’, orders nonetheless, and when she asks you for what you’ve heard around town. She wants to keep up with what the people say about the hotel? Not entirely, she just likes gossip.

When either Angel Dust or Husk asked Charlie where did the food come from, she either said that she ordered it, or rely on the fact that sometimes Nifty cooked, per Alastor’s suggestion, but only when he wasn’t around to bring out the fact that she was lying.

Your ears perked up at some noise coming from the renovated parlor, usually it was just Alastor messing with the king of Hell, which made your eyes roll in annoyance given his lack of battle IQ, but the stubborn stag was mildly protected by the princess’s favor, without it, his head would hang on the king’s wall, probably as a coat rack. Now, that thought brought you a smile and a small laugh.

Later at night, when most demons were fast asleep, Angel Dust tiptoe his way inside the hotel, after a long session demanded by Valentino. He tried no to groan given the fatigue, and as he stretched backwards, making his back crack.

“What the fuck?” he muttered when a candle lit up on top of the new bar table, on top of it lied a plate with a medium rare cooked stake sided with homemade mash potatoes and some sauteed vegetables, next to it a glass of wine and silverware, along with a note that read:

“You failed to attend to dinner, saved you a plate. Enjoy”

He reluctantly took a bite, but after realizing that if it were spiked with anything he would’ve already died, given that drugs in hell had a fast effect when it comes to assassination, he enjoyed every last bit of it, making small moan sounds as he did. He also complimented the selection of the wine. You enjoyed the praises as you saw him eat.

As soon as he made his way back to his room, you took the plate and various items to give them a wash. The next day, Husk earned a kiss on the cheek without knowing what he did to deserve it.

It gave you a warm feeling in your chest when the guests liked your food, even more so when they expected anxiously what would it be for the next day, as you never really published the menu for the week, only the princess knew.

Given Angel’s constant praise, you started leaving protein shakes in his night stand before he woke up, always with a ‘Drink me for strength’ note, same with Vaggie when she started working out in the mornings. Charlie took your gesture and assured that she made them out of concern, which was well received by the rest, but not so much from her towards you.

“What did we talk about laying low?” she turned a bit demonic as she whispered harshly, “If you want to starve yourself to death, be my guest, but you made me the chef of the Hotel since day one, and no one inside this walls will die of malnourishment if I can help it” you well knew of the nasty habit the princess had towards food, by sometimes (often) forgetting to eat, or drive herself to an extent of stress, that she just dismissed breakfast or launch, even both on some occasions.

“Fine. On another subject, my dad will start living here, permanently. He’s Celiac, just so you know” Gluten allergy, that caught you off guard. You made a mental note to replace flours, rice and pastas into a non-glutinous option, same as your pastries for tea time from now on.

“About time you made peace with him” she shot you a warning look but didn’t correct you, “Yeah well, I’m happy about it, it took too long” for a while she felt that it was her fault for her parent’s split, as any child of divorce would begin to feel in the first period of the breakup. That feeling diminished, but hasn’t left her system entirely, no mater how much her girlfriend reassures her of the contrary.

“Arrange his room please, I left a few things lying around, but I have a session, so, can you handle it?” you nodded, satisfied with your answer, or rather lack thereof, she turned into her cheery self. “He left to pack up a few things from the castle, he’ll be back in a few hours, please don’t let him see you” with that last bit, she left the kitchen.

The king’s room wasn’t messy, Nifty wouldn’t allow it, so there were just a few items to place around, and a massive bed to put together, piece by piece no less. It was a Belphegor’s elite brand bed, no less, it had an insane amount of screws and parts, for someone known as the queen of Sloth, it took a serious amount of effort to put up with her products.

Took you two hours to set the whole thing up. Why did it take so long to put together a bed? because when you had it perfect, you noticed that you had three leftover screws, you weren't supposed to have leftover screws, so you disassembled it piece by piece until you found a place for the damn screws. The instructions were worse written than a menu in a Cantonese restaurant when the owner is obviously not Cantonese and wrote up the whole thing in google translate.

You took a big breath, satisfied with your work only when you put on the last blanket over the foot of the bed. “Weight blanket” you muttered with the fabric in between your fingers. Right in between the bedspread and the sheet there was a fairly heavy blanket, it lead to something obvious, two, either anxiety, or the king was missing his wife to the point he needed a weighted hug over him.

Your ears caught the sound of wings, he would arrive in no time.

You only had a millisecond to think, either run to the door and risk being seen, or put on the veil, jump out the window, but you were at penthouse level, that would probably leave you quadriplegic, on the other hand you transferred your tunnel system between the walls from the old hotel to the new one, you would just have to push the fake tile behind the bathroom door.

You ran out of time.

Still in your place, like a statue, you put the veil carefully over your body, this time without your eyes being able to be seen through.

The fallen angel dropped one single portfolio, the same blowing up into a swarm, no, a tsunami of rubber ducks, pieces of clothing, all ending up scattered all over the room, giving you an opportunity to make your way behind the bathroom door.

“Oh Charlie put together my bed? That ought to be a lot of work” he ended the sentence with a singsong tone before jumping onto the mattress. ‘That’s a shit ton of baloney, I bust my ass and the little devil gets credit for it? Fucking fantastic’ you mentally growled.

“Lily, if you could see her, she looks more like you every day” his voice cracked, “I wish…I wished I knew how to help. What could I possibly offer her? Advice? Experience? On what?! falling, being a constant disappointment? She did more things than you and I did in ten thousand years”

“I feel so useless” peeking over the door you saw the tiny king, wrapping himself in his six enormous wings. ‘Majestic’ you thought, after seeing millions of demons since you died, it was the first time you saw someone so beautiful. It made sense, he was indeed the prettiest angel God ever created, the best singer too.

How can someone like that, ethereal, could be troubled by things so…earth bound?

In an instant, he jumped out of bed, brushed up his hair a little, then walked out the door with the most fake smile you had ever seen. Boy you knew about fake smiles.

Later in the afternoon, around tea time, you changed up your regular flour for almond, it was definitely a different experience in terms of texture, but in terms of flavor, it could pass for regular flour, no one was going to notice.

Three types of cupcakes: Salted caramel, red velvet with vanilla stuffing, and cookie dough cupcakes shaped as ducky ones.

Alastor wasn’t a fan of sweets, so a mildly coffee infused cake with a caramel dressing with coarse salt on top, did the trick amazingly. Paired with a nice cup of Orange Pekoe tea to send him down memory lane. When you picked his plate up, there wasn’t a single crumb left.

The rest of the Hotel fancied your pastries, and loved sweets. Red velvet was a well-received classic, but it consisted of a vanilla flavored cake, and pair it with a filling of the same flavor might over do it. Instead, you added orange juice to the mix, the citrus smell with the sweet vanilla swirl on top  were the sensation in the redemption session.

The only questionable thing about the mix was the berry tea that Charlie liked to drink during her sessions.

You baked small batches of cookie dough balls only a quarter of time, then poured the gluten free vanilla cupcake batter on top of it, keeping the cookie cooking at the bottom while you prepared the chocolate icing. When still warm you used a duck shaped scraper for the cake to take shape, then use the icing to make spikes, horns and little faces on them when it had cooled down a bit.

Why were you making special things for him? Pity? Empathy? Maybe both, but you were far too busy remembering the steps to the king’s room to bother.

All the ducks seemed organized, it definitely was the same mess, but perhaps there was some sense in his insanity. The plate was placed carefully in his night stand, along with a saucer and the tea cup filled with chamomile tea.

“Stop, freeze right there” you were about to place the hand written card when the distorted voice of the king froze your nerves in place, good thing that you were wearing the veil.

“Riddle me this, I’m connected to your every step, but I’m not your shoe. What am I?” he was near but stayed right in your blind spot, as he walked towards you. “Answer” his voiced sent chills down your spine, made your teeth sharpen as well as your claws, and your ears perk up defensively.

“You’re a shadow” your answer brought in him a subtle laugh, “Even through that shield of yours, dear, you cast a shadow, I saw a glimpse of it make it’s escape through the bathroom” was it that simple? Did anyone else in the Hotel had been as perceptive as him, no they would’ve ask Charlie or Alastor about it.

“So? How long have you been lurking in the Hotel?” walking past you, he brought up the tea cup to his lips, making a grimace, “Drink it, you look either sick, or worse, anemic, you’re three tones paler than your daughter” he shrugged, apparently aware of his state.

“I believe I asked you a question” his eyes shifted colors, just like Charlie’s, “None of your beeswax” you couldn’t tell him even if you wanted to, “I’m your King” the little heavy step he did was hilarious, but laughing would’ve get you killed.

“So what?” he widened his eyes at your boldness, dismissing it entirely after a laugh, “Mm, how about you answer my question and then I might consider letting you go?” his boot was on the edge on the veil, one move and he would see you, “How about you stop being a bull on me and enjoy my cookin’?” he took a moment to actually see the cupcakes, a tender smile drawn on his face.

When he looked back at where you where, all he saw was the veil falling gracefully to the ground, likewise it dissolved into the air.

“I fucked up” your heart throbbed painfully in your ear; the rush was real.

Your room was underneath the Hotel, a system of catacombs led to different fates to those stupid enough to enter, only you and the princess knew of the correct way. The space wide consisted of black brick walls, a twin size bed placed on the corner, a wooden wardrobe, the rustic eighteen hundreds themed bathroom, and a set of seven iron candle holders screwed to the wall.

“Good afternoon Hell!” Alastor’s voice became present through the radio you kept on your night stand, “I’m in a jolly mood on this occasion, a well baked pastry would put a smile on anyone, even in the crankiest demon in hell” he laughed, then continued on topics from a simpler time, then the screams of his new victim.

You rested your tachycardia on your bed, focusing on your breathing and Alastor’s voice, to make your heart slow down to a normal pace.

“Thank you for listening, it was a pleasure to entertain you. Now, a small request from a friend in between the walls, I hope you enjoy this one, dear” he placed the dusted vinyl on the player, allowing it to roll one of your most liked songs, Cuban Moon by Carl Fenton’s Orchestra.

Slang, jazz, the demoness that haunted Alastor’s brain was definitely from his timeline, probably the same state he lived in. But what really itched his brain, was the axe. “It’s an unorthodox method to kill someone, the blade loses its edge quickly and it would require a brutal force to cut through bones…unless” he pondered over an open binder with pieces of old newspaper that fell with him, parts of the news were about him, but the front page was about someone else.

The next day, Lucifer walked fast down the stairs, grabbed Charlie by her shoulders and demanded, “Who is she? The demon living in the walls?”.

Your note for Lucifer read the following: "Someone who swore to love you through sickness and health, and still left, is not worth your tears."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Baloney: same as nonsense or bullshit

None of your beeswax: Slang for 'none of your business'

Bull: Slang for police-man

Stay tuned ;3 Part 3

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin art #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar #radioapple #dad beat dad #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader

[skullrockbi]

A small thread crossposting from Twitter. |Childhood sweethearts, trans Eddie, canonical major character death.|

Elementary aged Steve was in love with Ruth Munson. She had the prettiest hair and biggest brown eyes and was so smart. She was his first love, but she moved away in the middle of 5th grade. Steve was devastated. His one true love gone.

Steve was secretly excited in 7th grade when a boy with big brown eyes and a buzz cut started 8th grade and shared Ruth’s last name. Surely Eddie Munson was related to his Ruth. Eddie looked kinda mean though. But Tommy double dog dared him to ask.

Steve finally catches Eddie in the hallway one day and blurts out without an introduction or preamble “Do you have a cousin named Ruth?”

Eddie laughs at him, “Sorry big boy, can’t say I do.”

Steve blushes and ducks his head, mumbling a thanks.

It’s not til many years later when a grieving Wayne gives a very confused Steve a box. “Eddie would have wanted you to have these back.”

Steve and Eddie barely interacted prior to the whole Vecna Upside Down situation. How could Eddie have something to return to him.

Inside the box is every childish love letter he sent to Ruth, a paper crown, a drawing of Ruth as king and Steve as her queen and a small ring shaped like a key with a heart lock dangling from the band. The key to Steve’s heart that he gave her for Christmas before she moved.

There’s also a drawing/note dated September 1979.

“You asked me today if Ruth was my cousin. I wish I could tell you the truth.”

The sketch shows King Eddie & Queen Steve, updated for the passage of time.

Steve falls to the floor crying.

#steddie #steddie ficlet

[lbcreations-blog]

Alastor x reader and Lucifer x reader valentines headcanons

Masterlist

Notes: I never ever have done anything Valentines related in my life because of my aroace self, so I apologize if this is a little off

Also, the reader is gender neutral, so no dresses lady's who love to wear them, we are going down to suit town😎

This was rushed aswell

--------------------------

Valentinesheadcanons

Asking you on the date

He would first take you outside on the balcony with a few fake rose's spread on there

And then he would ask you out for the valentines date

When doing so, he would give you a rose clip to put on the shirt you decide to where for the date

Once saying yes, he would take you back inside

You spend the rest of your evening pretty normal, the only difference being your excitement for the date

Valentines day date

Once awakening from your slumber, you would find Alastor sadly not in bed as usual

But once you are sitting up, Alastor would waltz in with breakfast in bed

You enjoy it, to say the least

The best part is that he even joins you, which is odd for the man since he does not like eating in bed (he has manners)

Anyways, after such, he would, you know, telaport the plates to the kitchen for it to be washed but not from him

You would both get dressed into your clothes, which was really Alastor spawning it onto yall

You guys then take a long stroll arm in arm to Rosie's where you had lunch

Most of the day consisted of a bit of sight, seeing, to say the least

On your long stroll, you tried to give him a rose that you found, but sadly, it wilted. No wonder why the rose he gave you to where on your shirt was fake

He also gave you flowers, but the ones that don't wilt for him

Once it was the evening, he told you to wait in the room you both share for a few minutes

After waiting, he came into the room and took you arm in arm onto the balcony

And it was beautiful

Some of his shadows were playing some music

There was amazing food on the table

and many decorations on the table

All I can say is you had a lovely dinner with Alastor

After all those advents in the day, you both cuddled in bed peacefully

(Also, btw you did give him at least a gift, and he loved it, but im letting you decide what you gave him)

Asking you on the date

Lucifer would be so nervous to ask you out on the date

When he does ask you out in a room fool of rose's

he stuttered.... a lot

Once, knowing what he was saying, you hugged him happily and said "yes ofcourse sweetie"

And then kissed him (Boosting his depressive ass confidence)

Now the valentines date

In the morning, he first gave you breakfast in bed, and you loved it

After getting up and getting dressed in your valentines suits (which yall looked lovely in)

You guys went out. In which you both went out to a lovely restaurant for breakfast

Then you guys went shopping

You bought him a rubber duck plush for him

He got you rose's

And other really nice things that you wanted

After that, you went to the lust ring

Lucifer booked a table at Ozzies for a show for the both of you to watch, which was right up on the highest balcony or, as one calls it, the gallery area to watch the show

You enjoyed it

You and Lucifer might have gotten a little steamy up there

After having dinner there, you both went home

After that, you both went to have a lovely bath together with flower petals and such

And then you both went to bed and cuddled to get a good rest

(You might have had to change the sheets in your bed that night)

---------------

I know this is not the best, but I am very busy today, so uh, happy valentines and goodnight or day idk

Taglist request section here

-L.B Creations

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #fanfics #fanfic #valentines #valentine x reader #x reader

[sugar-coat-it]

hi belle! what do you think body piercer is like as a bf 👉👈

also would you do an alphabet or something for him? lowkey dying for more content for him

Hiii!! <3 

Omgggg wait wait let me tell you some details

He’s very much into punk rock (Fugazi, Rage Against The Machine, etc.) and lives in his band tees. Much like the back room of the parlor, a lot of his stuff is covered in stickers for his fav bands. So I think he’d really like to introduce his girl to his music if she’s willing to try it out, it would mean a lot to him!

Whenever he picks her up, he’s always blasting music LOUD so she knows when he arrives 

Big fan of CDs. You can bet your ass that he’s burning CDs for her for all sorts of things. Songs that remind him of her, songs he wants to fuck her to. Some of them are stupid too, like “Good Shit” scrawled in black Sharpie on a disc. Sometimes he’ll scribble little drawings on there too. His handwriting is shit and she loves it.

Also music related, he's an amazing concert bf, always making sure she can see and no one is getting too close to her. He'd be SO PROUD if she went to a punk rock show with him

Now… if she ever did say she was interested in getting another piercing of any kind, he is begging her to let him do it for her (for free, with princess treatment). He’s very much like “fuck yeah, do it” whenever she brings up a tatt or piercing of any kind

Quietly cuddling, he’s tracing her features with his finger, he comes to the bridge of her nose and he’s suddenly like “You have a good nose for a septum piercing” and she’s like “???”

He remembers everything about her, and he makes a point to, even if he has to write sticky note reminders to himself sometimes (ADHD brain as hell)

This man SMOKES. My god his marijuana tolerance level is ungodly. If his girlie is into it too, it would be the joy of his life to roll spliffs for her.

Big fan of getting baked with her, putting on music, and then going off about the album’s impact on the music world because he knows she likes listening to him talk, and none of his boys let him ramble on nearly as much

The late-night diner visits after hotboxing his car go CRAZY (side note, don’t ask me why, but I feel like he has a rubber duck on his dashboard)

One time after a smoke session they built a fort in his room and made out for close to an hour, all giggly and hazy

I think he’d like to let his girl paint his nails. He prefers black, but he wouldn’t mind painting his nails the same shade as girlie’s so they can match

He also let her braid his mohawk once… lol

Tea had sent me an idea about this, but he’d absolutely buy her engraved jewelry. Like… barbells with hearts that have little M’s engraved on them??? Holy shit 

Also, from a discussion with B, HE GOES SO FERAL WHEN SHE GOES BRALESS AND HE CAN SEE HER PIERCINGS THROUGH HER TOP

He keeps a Polaroid picture of her both in his wallet and at the desk in the shop 

If anyone asks about it he’s like “THAT’S THE LIGHT OF MY FUCKING LIFE”

Veeery possessive. Not to a toxic point, but she is his, and he makes sure that everyone is aware in his own little ways 

He likes to be touching her almost all the time. Whether it’s an arm lazily slung around her shoulders or lacing their pinkie fingers together

Really likes love bites. One time he left hickeys in the shape of a heart on her collarbone 

Y’all remember that hip pouch thing he wore during the 2020 era? That but it’s filled with his girl’s things like her lipstick or her wallet so she doesn’t have to carry them

Teenage boy humor. Hella “that’s what she said” jokes

He forgets stuff at her place constantly. She’s starting to wonder if it’s on purpose at this point. Maybe it’s his own way of feeling like a more permanent part of her life

Finding his jewelry on her dresser, his lighter on her coffee table, a hoodie hung by the door

Sometimes he’ll leave his keys and come running back into her place just to end up messily kissing her against the wall

Overall, I think he probably looks a little intimidating to people because he has a mohawk and wears chains and platform boots but he’s such a sweetheart oh my god anon. He just loves her so so so much, and he’s so gentle with her. I love him. So much. That’s my baby.

And as for an alphabet, maybe! I’d be happy to if that’s something you guys would want to see

#WAHHH #my mohawked pride and joy #body piercer!matty #asks #matty healy x reader

[citruslullabies]

I am going to beg you for anything Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) related. I just want a Lucifer x reader, that's all.

On a more detailed note, how about Lucifer with a reader who has either PTSD or depression? Given that Lucifer could technically have either, (I do remember that he canonically has depression) I think he'd know how to comfort the reader, or help get them through their episode.

Have a nice day, slut 🙄🙄🙄 .lh .j

Giving you headcannons, whore 🙄

You got PTSD or depression? Hell, even both?

Don't you worry! Good ol Luci understands, because he has those things too!

But seriously he does understand

If he sees that you're feeling a little extra down, he'll sit down with you and be patient. Maybe watch something with you if you're up for it

He will ask for a list of things to avoid

(like triggers that could cause you a meltdown)

Every morning he'll wait for you to wake up in bed, no matter how late, and always greet you with a smile

He likes to call you Duckie, because well... It's sweet

And he knows it isn't something that could trigger you if in any case you had a trigger of petnames like darling

But you also have to give him the same treatment, remember, he struggles too

Like do NOT bring up Lilith for the love of god

(get it? For the love of god? Hehe)

You're one of the few people he will show his wings too, often hugging you and shielding you from the world around you with them if you're in the middle of a PTSD attack

Or even if you're just struggling to find the motivation to shower or brush your teeth, or get out of bed

He will hold you with his wings and give you soft encouragement, even doing those things with you

Even if he struggles with those things too at times

He's very slow and patient with you, very loving and understanding

You will be put into the duck corner if you're feeling extra sad and he's not around to help

Duck plushies and rubber duckies alike

And he makes sure they're all scented like him, just so you don't feel utterly alone.

He loves you so much and wishes he could take your pain away and make it his

(even if it'd just enhance his own)

But your relationship is a 50/50, he takes care of you and in return you take care of him

You guys are codependent but love each other so much

Take that depression

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

[honeyhotteoks]

a little more love to give (j.yh + p.sh)

summary: fifth and final installment in the husbands series; it's been years, and you life with them has grown, you just don't expect your second baby to be a surprise. part one: room for three || part two: and if i stay || part three: their gift || part four: hold fast together

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // i'm back.... with the final installment of the husbands series. it's essentially all fluff and tender smut, definitely less hard than previous chapters but you know, they're parents now lol

warnings: non idol!yunho, non idol!seonghwa, fem!reader, married!yunhwa, established yunhwa x reader relationship, mmf, brief mention of trouble conceiving, pregnancy, discussion of early pregnancy symptoms like nausea, headaches, dizzy/fainting spells, nervous!yunhwa, some physical body descriptions relating to body change with pregnancy including weight/physicality, but on a fun note...... praise, degredation/humilitation, body worship, so much fucking oil, vaginal and anal fingering, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), cumshots, mention of sir kink but not used, lots of verbal instruction, lots of breast and nipple play, nipple clamps, light pain play, gratuitous use of good girl, sweet girl, pretty girl, etc., essentially if you don't want to read pregnant!reader sex, don't read this but honestly they're pretty in love and i thought it was cute - please let me know if i missed any.

pairings: yunho x seonghwa x reader

genre: smut, fluff, domestic / slice of life

word count: 11.4K

my masterlist || read it on AO3

special note - their daughter's name is dasom, which literally translates to love in korean. seonghwa calls her 'nae sarang' which also translates to 'my love'. i think after all the trouble they had getting pregnant, there's nothing else they would want to call her but love. i just thought that additional context might be nice for some readers. please enjoy, and thanks for sticking with this one. x

You’re tucked away in the dim light of your bedroom nursing a headache when you hear the front door of your apartment swing open. Checking your phone for the time, you wince at the bright light and press the lock button again quickly to dim the screen. You have unanswered messages and notifications, but you can’t even think about that with the way your head is aching, you’re just glad it’s not as bad as it was a few hours ago. 

With a sigh you stay settled under the covers and opt to listen, your husbands getting home from their respective days downstairs. 

“Oh,” You hear Seonghwa say first, “hey, Nari,”

Your best friend’s voice is bright and clear, echoing up the stairs and you know she’s in the entryway to greet them, “Hi, Seonghwa,” and then a beat later, “baby, look who’s home!” Her voice lilts up, playful and fun.

Your daughter makes a joyful, bubbly sound, “Appa!” 

“Come here, nae sarang,” He’s hauling her up into a hug, you just know it. 

You duck your head up out of the blankets to listen more closely despite the throb behind your temples. 

“She’s getting so big,” Nari says.

“Mhm,” Yunho’s low voice murmurs, “a proper little princess now,”

Your daughter giggles, and you smile.

“Where’s y/n?” Seonghwa finally asks.

You had all but begged her to keep your secret, but Nari is a terrible liar and all she can do is stumble over her words, “She’s, well, you know her, she’s,”

“Nari?” Yunho asks, a laugh in his voice still.

“Princess,” Seonghwa coos to your baby girl, “where did your mommy run off to?”

There’s a long pause, and you can almost picture your baby’s teary face, round cheeks pink and wet with fat tears. It took so long to get her to stop crying in the first place. “Eomma,” she wails, and you grit your teeth.

“Oh, aegiya don’t do that,” Nari soothes, “it’s okay,”

“Shh,” Seonghwa croons, and you know he’s rocking her from side to side. 

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa sounds confused. 

“Ah. I just got her calmed down,” Nari sighs.

“E-Eomma!” She wails again and this time Yunho’s voice isn’t so casual.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” He maintains a light tone for her, but you can hear the anxiety in it, “Where’s mommy?”

“She,” Nari starts to say. but your daughter’s bubbling wail cuts her off.

“Eomma f-fell down!” Another pointed sob. 

“What?” Alarm is laced through Seonghwa’s voice, “Is she alright? Why didn’t someone call us?”

“She’s completely fine,” Nari assures, “she just called me to come watch Dasom after,”

“After what?” Yunho presses.

“Hush, baby, it’s okay,” Seonghwa croons, trying to even out your baby’s cries.

“Where is she?” Yunho asks insistently, trying to keep calm in front of Dasom. 

“She’s not hurt, she didn’t even hit her head, she’s just,” Nari back tracks, “sorry, okay, she’s in your room,”

You hear jogging, footsteps hurrying up the steps, and Dasom wails again, Nari’s soothing tone humming as she takes your daughter back in her arms. 

The door pushes open wide, Yunho’s eyes searching and nervous, “Hey,”

“Hey,” You murmur, groaning a little at the harsh hallway light, “oh, please shut the door, the light,”

Seonghwa pushes the door shut as Yunho crosses the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking you over, “What’s going on?”

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” You reach for his hand and give him a squeeze, “Dasom just got scared because I’m not feeling well, and I asked Nari to come over so I could get some rest,”

Seonghwa eases onto the opposite side of the bed, scooting over until he’s sitting up against the headboard by your side, “she said you fell? Fell how?

You sigh into your pillow, “I was making her lunch, and I got dizzy,” 

Yunho’s eyes flick to his husband’s, then back to yours, “Okay,”

You know they’ll panic when you say it but they’ll find out no matter what, “I fainted, which I think just seemed scary to Dasom,”

“Did you hit your head?” Yunho reaches for you, fingertips soft on your jaw, “Should we go to the hospital?” 

You shake your head, “No, no, I caught myself fine,” 

“I still think a doctor,” Seonghwa sounds nervous, “you fainted out of nowhere? I saw you eat this morning,” 

Your mind flicks back to when you threw it all up in the hallway bathroom while Dasom was down for her nap, how you pulled yourself up and rallied to make her a little lunch and then found yourself stumbling in the kitchen, your daughter’s nervous voice in your ear. 

“I don’t need a doctor,” You assure him, “I just need a little rest,” 

“Come here,” Yunho slides closer and lays his hand across your forehead, “you don’t feel warm,” 

“It’s not a fever,” You murmur, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm before letting him pull away. 

“If you felt bad enough that you needed to call Nari,” Seonghwa shakes his head, “that you couldn’t keep an eye on Dasom, I think it’s serious enough that we should see a doctor, jagiya,” 

You wanted to tell them later, to confirm things with a blood test first, to make sure everything was going well before you announced the news, but you suppose there are enough signs that you’re sure. Little things you had been brushing off for weeks, not to mention the positive test from the pharmacy. The same exact symptoms that you had with Dasom, down to the sudden migraines. 

“It’s okay,” You take his hand, “I promise. It was scary for Dasom, but she’s three,” 

“Then why did you call Nari?” Yunho presses, “You should have called us, I could have come home early,” 

You’re hardly ever sick, and you forgot how fussy they get anytime you so much as sneeze. 

Your head throbs again and you sigh. You had wanted to make it special, to make it more romantic than this, but there’s no keeping it from them now. You shake your head, “I called Nari so she could watch Dasom while I rested, and so she could pick me up a pregnancy test on her way,”

Yunho’s face goes slack, “A what?” 

“I’ve been getting sick again,” You push yourself up in the bed to sit against the soft headboard, “everyday at lunchtime just like before. I didn’t think anything of it, of any of the signs because we haven’t been trying,” 

“You’re kidding,” Yunho leans away, glancing between you and Seonghwa, “you… why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” 

You open your mouth to explain, to find something to say, but Seonghwa finally speaks up. 

“You’re pregnant?” He stammers, “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sick everyday, dizzy, my headaches are back, I’ve been crying at fucking everything,” Your eyes sting at the thought, “I’m so late, I didn’t even realize it, we’ve been busy… but I’m so, so late,” 

“Oh my god,” Yunho’s face lights up, and he presses a hand over his mouth. 

“There’s a positive test in the trash,” You nod towards the bathroom, “I was going to go to the doctor tomorrow, confirm everything with a blood test and then tell you… so much better than this, but, yeah, yes, I’m pregnant,” 

“Jagi,” Seonghwa breathes, and you realize now his eyes are full of unshed tears. 

Yunho tugs you into his arms and you start with a squeak. His arms wrap around you, his face ducked into your neck, and he takes a watery breath, “I can’t believe it,” 

“I don’t know when it happened,” You lean your cheek on his chest, “but if my symptoms are lining up on the same timeline as Dasom, I’m at least twelve weeks,” 

“The lake trip,” Seonghwa says after a moment, and you flip back in your mental calendar to three, almost four months ago when Yunho’s parents had taken care of Dasom for a long weekend and the three of you slipped away for a much needed vacation together. 

Yunho nods into your neck, his hand coasting up and down your back. 

He’s not letting you go, and Seonghwa hasn’t said anything more, and your stomach flips. “This is good news, isn’t it? I mean, I know we haven’t talked about it recently, but it’s,” 

Yunho laughs sharply, pulling away and cupping your cheeks, “Of course it is,” His cheeks are wet, eyes sparkling, and he surges forwards to kiss you, his breath shaky on your lips. 

“Oh, thank god,” You mumble against his mouth. 

A light knock on the door catches your attention and you hear the door squeak open, “Hey, y/n,” 

Yunho pulls away, but he can’t quite pull his eyes away from you as you lean past him, “Yeah?” 

“Dasom’s getting a little ancy,” She murmurs, “how about I take her tonight? A little sleepover with her auntie to give you three some time?” 

You exhale and nod immediately, “You - Nari, that would be such a help,” 

“Did you,” She looks at you pointedly and gestures between the two men on either side of you. 

“Yeah,” You can’t stop the grin on your face. 

Yunho wipes away the tears threatening to spill over and pushes himself off the edge of the bed, “Let me help you get her things together, is she still crying?” 

“No,” Nari shakes her head, “she’s upset, but I got her to calm down for now,” 

“I’ll talk to her,” He squeezes your hand and takes a steadying breath, trying to calm down his sudden swell of emotion. 

“Don’t tell her yet,” You interject, “please,” 

“No,” He agrees, “not yet,” 

“Congratulations,” Nari says quietly, “all of you,” 

Yunho grins wide, nodding and Seonghwa murmurs a quiet thank you. You’ll have to do something nice for Nari, something special for taking care of Dasom today and giving you time with your husbands tonight. 

You had always talked about having more children, but the timing was never quite right. Dasom alone was a handful, plus the demands of all of your jobs growing stronger. It just became something you might do soon, but not now. Always not now. 

You watch Yunho take a deep breath before he follows Nari back downstairs to tend to your daughter, and then you’re alone again with Seonghwa. 

“Hey,” You murmur, shifting to meet his eyes. 

“Hi, darling,” He smiles warmly, eyes still shining. 

“How are you?” You gently prod his thigh. 

“I can barely believe it,” He admits, “but darling, you know me, I’ve always wanted another baby,” 

“You’re happy?” 

“So happy,” He reaches for you, shuffling closer on the bed until you’re pressed together, forehead to forehead, “I love you,” 

Tears bubble up again in your eyes and you nod against him, “I love you too, Hwa,” 

“I love our little life together,” He murmurs softly, “every second,” 

Your breath hitches a little, and you let your eyes slip closed, breathing together in time with him in the center of your bed. A light commotion downstairs breaks you both apart and you grin, “We should get up,” 

“You should be resting,” He shakes his head, “how’s your headache?” His fingertips smooth along your hairline as he looks you over. 

“Better than before, but still,” You sigh, “you remember what they were like,” 

“I do,” He gives you a soft, sympathetic smile, “which is why I’m saying go back to bed,” 

“I will when Dasom leaves,” You lean forward and kiss him gently, “but I don’t want her to be scared tonight, I should let her see me before she leaves,” 

There’s no argument there, so Seonghwa takes a deep breath and climbs out of the bed to offer you a hand, “I’ll go with you.” 

“Let me clean up second,” You blink hard when you get to your feet, the equilibrium of the room and the light from the hall a little jarring still, but you are feeling better than before, so you smooth your hair back and turn towards your vanity. You don’t bother to try and look completely normal, Dasom’s smart enough to see right through that, but you still run a brush through your hair and try to perk up just a bit to avoid looking dead on your feet. 

Seonghwa stands behind you, watching in the mirror with a smile on his face. 

“What?” You smile back at him, the joy in the room infectious now. 

“You’re a beautiful mother,” He says softly, “and I love you,” 

Pink tinges your cheeks at his words and your eyes flick down, “I love you too,” 

“My pretty wife,” He wraps his arms around you again, nuzzling your cheek and peppering soft kisses across your cheek. 

“Oh, stop,” You twist to kiss his soft lips, “come on, let’s go down,” 

“Mmhm,” He kisses you again before he lets you go and leads the way out of their bedroom and towards the stairs. 

As you enter into the light you wince a little, but it’s not so harsh that you can’t manage. 

He lays a hand on your lower back and moves to see your face, “Is it too much?” 

“Not yet,” You assure him, “I’ll be fine for a few minutes,” 

The voices downstairs start to shift, and you realize that Yunho is walking back towards the foyer at the bottom of the steps by the front door.

“People cry for happy things too, baby,” Yunho murmurs, and from the top of the stairs you watch him walking back and forth with Dasom in his arms, her tiny face pressed into his chest. 

She says something to him you can’t quite hear, muffled into his shirt. 

He smiles, rubbing her back, “I can’t tell you yet,” 

Her head pops up, and she rubs at her face with her little hand, “Why not?” 

“Mm,” Yunho narrows his eyes at her playfully, “because it’s a surprise,” 

Seonghwa wraps his arms around you from behind, listening with you. 

“I want a surprise,” She nods and Nari’s laugh echoes from the next room. 

“I know,” Yunho shrugs, keeping the energy light so she relaxes more, “but I promise when you come home from Nari’s we’ll have the surprise ready,” 

She sighs, and Seonghwa chuckles behind you. 

“Are you ready, baby?” Nari holds up Dasom’s coat and little backpack. 

“Can we watch Ariel?” Dasom perks up, scrambling to get out of Yunho’s arms.

“Mhm,” Nari drops down to her height to help her put the coat on, “but I don’t remember all the words to the songs, so you’ll have to teach me,” 

“I know all the words,” She says and you watch Yunho’s face light up. 

Seonghwa squeezes you, “I want to see her before she leaves,” 

“Me too,” You brush off your cheeks, and despite your headache you get yourself together enough to go downstairs, “do I look like I’ve been crying?” 

“Not too bad,” Seonghwa assures you, “me?” 

You shake your head, “Only a little,” 

“Yunho’s the crier anyways,” Seonghwa grins, and then starts down the steps. 

You follow him, and at the first creak of the stairs, Yunho looks up and Dasom whips right around, “Eomma!”

“Hey,” You smile, “I heard you’re having a sleepover,” 

Yunho’s watching you like a hawk, his body tense like you might faint again at any moment but you give him an easy smile and shake your head a little. Seonghwa’s hand presses into the center of your back, and the minute you hit the landing, your daughter collides with your legs. 

“Hey, hey,” You smooth back her hair, “what’s this?” 

“Are you sick?” She mumbles into your leggings. 

You share a quick smile with your husbands, and then reach down for her. When you hoist her up, both of them take a sudden step towards you, Seonghwa’s hands around Dasom’s waist to help lift her and take any weight off, but you settle her on your hip anyways. 

“I’m not sick,” You assure her, “you know how mommy gets headaches sometimes?” 

She nods. 

“Just a headache,” You smile, “I’m sorry I made you worry, baby,” 

“It’s okay,” Her words run together, and then she twists in your arms to find Yunho, “Appa has a surprise,” 

“Oh, he does, does he?” You smile, her attention back on you, and when you look up Yunho’s holding up his hands and mouthing an apology. 

“I want it now,” She kicks her little legs and you smile. 

“Mm,” You consider her words, and she watches your face carefully as you pretend to think, “I don’t know, my love, patience is important.” 

She frowns, and at the first quiver of her bottom lip you shake your head, she stills. 

“The surprise isn’t ready yet,” You tell her honestly, “but when you get home, it will be. So if you can be a big girl, and be very patient, your present will be here when you get home from your sleepover,” 

“But,” She starts, but Seonghwa is quick to intervene. 

“Dasom,” He says, voice soft but just a little more firm than before, “mommy’s not feeling very well, don’t argue, please.” 

Her mouth snaps shut, and she still looks sad, but she nods. Every day you feel her growing up in your arms and learning little by little and your heart clenches. A sudden image of her teaching your new baby flickers through your mind and you feel overwhelmingly tender, soft like you might cry. 

Seonghwa picks up on the change immediately, “Come here, nae sarang,” 

She’s out of your arms and held in his a moment later. Yunho’s wide palm smooths up and down your back and you take a steadying breath. 

“Can you put your jacket on for auntie, please?” Seonghwa asks, turning her away from you and nuzzling her with his nose, pressing a kiss to her soft cheek. 

“Yep,” She says as she drops to the floor and stretches her arms up and wide for Nari to slide her arms through the sleeves of the puffy coat. 

“God, she’s cute,” You murmur under your breath and Yunho chuckles at your side. 

“Let’s go, babe,” Nari zips her up and grabs her backpack from the floor. 

Yunho steps forward and snags it, “I’ll walk you down,” 

“Thanks,” Nari nods, patting Dasom’s back. 

Dasom says goodbye to you over her shoulder, focused on whatever Yunho’s saying to her, the stress of the day forgotten now that she’s seen you up and walking around. Yunho keeps her attention with ease and her little hand locks on Nari’s. You watch her go and despite your headache, your heart aches worse. 

“Alright,” Seonghwa murmurs as soon as they’re out of sight, “back to bed,” 

“Yes, please,” You admit, sighing and leaning against his chest. 

“I’ll come with you,” He kisses your hair. 

“It’s early,” 

“So, I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” He pushes you gently towards the stairs, “just relax and let me take care of you,” 

It’s easy to do, you’ve been letting him care for you for years. He takes you to bed and helps you slip into sleep. By the time Yunho gets back upstairs you’re out like a light and the two of them are left to marvel in the news by themselves. 

It’s hours and hours before your headache breaks and you wake to the warm feeling of your husbands bodies pressed close to you. Someone’s arm is wrapped around your middle, someone’s thigh pressed between yours, lips on your shoulder, a hand on your backside, feet tangled together under the comforter. Morning light bleeds into the room, pale yellow and warm, one of the first times you’ve woken up by your own internal clock in what feels like months. 

You’re pressed into Seonghwa’s chest, and you kiss his bare skin softly, eliciting a contented sigh from his lips. His hand slips down from its place on the small of your back and under the waistband of your sleep pants, coasting over your skin and squeezing you in all the right places. 

“Mm, Hwa,” You pull him closer. 

“How’s your head?” He asks softly, checking before he takes his hand any further. 

“Better,” You nod, your lips traveling up his throat, “come kiss me,” 

Yunho rolls closer behind you, groaning as he wakes, the familiar feeling of his morning hardness connecting with your thigh. “We haven’t slept in,” He sighs, “in so long,” 

“It’s seven-thirty,” You laugh against Seonghwa’s lips. 

“Exactly,” Yunho tugs you both closer, “our six am human alarm isn’t jumping on us,” 

“Oh, you miss her,” Seonghwa laughs, “I know you do,” 

“So much,” He smiles against your shoulder. 

“Well,” You murmur, pressing your hips back into Yunho’s to feel him just a little closer, “I think our sleep is about to get worse, not better in the next few months,” 

“True,” Seonghwa shifts down in the bed to kiss you properly, his fingers tangling with Yunho’s above your head. 

“Mm, but I think,” Yunho reaches around and smooths his hand over your stomach, and then stills completely. 

“What?” You mumble, shifting back from Seonghwa’s lips and looking over your shoulder to try and find your other husband’s eyes. 

“You’re already showing,” His hand moves across you again, this time from top to bottom of your belly to trace the soft swell, “how did we not notice?” 

“It’s not that much,” You shake your head, but Seonghwa is already sliding his hand out of your sleep pants to curl around your front and feel for himself. 

“Yes, it is,” Seonghwa grins, backing up to look down at you, “oh my god,” 

“Come here,” Yunho tugs you back onto your back gently and Seonghwa pushes the comforter down until it’s settled low around all of your hips. 

“Look,” Seonghwa slides your sleepshirt up until it’s tucked just under your breasts and he smooths a hand across your belly, “that’s a bump,” 

Shifting in the covers you look down at yourself, “You’re right,” you murmur softly, eyes still studying yourself. 

It’s still small, not the pronounced curve of a clearly pregnant person’s body, but they know you and every inch of your skin well, and to them it’s plain as day. Your body has been so different since Dasom, softer in so many ways and even to you this little change is easy to miss until you’re really looking. To anyone else the subtle swell would be nothing, but to you it’s everything. To them, it’s your words made real. 

“Look, look,” Yunho grins, sliding his hand down your side until he cups under your stomach,  his hand clearly folding into the slightest curve at the change in your body, “you really are pregnant,” 

“Yeah,” Your voice is small. 

Yunho moves low in the sheets suddenly, pressing his lips to your stomach and smiling, “Hi, baby,” 

You stroke his hair softly, “You’re so cute,” 

“We’ve missed months,” Yunho says without looking back up, stroking your skin again, “we started talking to Dasom when she was the size of a pea, we’ll have to catch up with this little one,” 

“God, I really do love you both,” You sigh. 

“Mhm,” Yunho kisses your stomach again, “and we love you, and this new bean,” 

You could cry, you really could. 

“Boy or girl?” Seonghwa murmurs, propping his head up on one hand. 

“Sister or brother, is the real question,” You offer, “Dasom would lose her little mind if it’s a girl,” 

“Should we find out early?” Yunho asks, pulling his attention away from your stomach and looking up at you both. 

With Dasom you did, you were all being too cautious and careful about the pregnancy since it had taken so long to get there that you had every health screening and pregnancy checkup known to man, so the mystery of your baby’s sex wasn’t easy to keep when you went through as many ultrasounds and doctors visits as you did. 

“Maybe,” Seonghwa says, “it might be nice to know early to help prepare Dasom, they always say it’s hard for kids to adjust from only child to older sibling. Maybe if she knows sister or brother she can start to think about it early,” 

You nod, chewing your lip and absent mindedly running your fingers through Yunho’s dark hair. 

“She could help us decorate,” Yunho offers, “it might help keep her involved so it’s an exciting thing, not a scary thing,” 

“It’s a good idea,” You agree, “but let me get a check-up first,” 

“Sure,” He says, “but it’s still nice to plan for, she’s going to be so excited,” 

“I hope so,” 

Seonghwa snuggles into your one side, kissing you warmly and wrapping an arm around your middle, “How are you feeling so far today?” 

“Normal, I think?” You smile. 

“Yeah?” Seonghwa brushes your hair back, “Nausea? Headache?” 

You shake your head softly and then take a moment to feel your body, taking stock of all the little things. You stretch against the mattress, arching your back a little to shift out of your sleeping position, and find yourself in a deep yawn. 

Yunho’s hand smooths over your stomach as you stretch long, his fingers spread wide and grin across his face, “I really can’t believe it, I thought we’d have to try again,” 

“Me too,” You admit, threading your fingers with his. 

“Last time was…” Yunho trails off, and he doesn’t have to say it, you all remember. 

“Let’s not think about it,” Seonghwa surprises you, reaching across to brush Yunho’s cheek, “let’s just be happy about this little one,” 

Yunho swallows and clears his throat, pushing away whatever momentary emotion had flooded up inside him. It was hard for all of you, and when Dasom finally came all of those hard, bad things were easy to forget, at least for a little while. 

“There’s a lot to be happy for,” You smile, pushing past those memories and focusing on the present, “for one… we’re alone,” 

“That is a very good point,” Seonghwa kisses your head. 

“Alone for a while,” You add, “hours, even,” 

“Oh, you are feeling better,” Yunho laughs, dropping a kiss to your belly and sighing warmly against your skin. 

“We’ve been so busy,” You relax between them, letting your shirt ride up a little, “don’t you miss me?” 

“Don’t even joke,” Seonghwa huffs, picking up on your queues with ease and slipping the shirt up and off your head. 

Yunho pulls the tie of your sleep pants open with one firm tug and slides them off in a hurry. 

They crowd you on either side, lips dropping on your skin and hands smoothing over you until Seonghwa stills, cupping the beginnings of your bump and Yunho falls still beside him. 

“What?” You reach for Seonghwa, trying to tug him back down to your mouth. 

“Nothing,” He shakes his head, “I just keep remembering that you're pregnant again.” He smooths his hand down further, looking for your thigh. 

“Mm,” You stretch, letting Seonghwa shift your leg open wide, “does this mean you’re both going to start fussing over me again?” 

“Who’s fussing?” Yunho smirks, easing down the bed and pressing kisses across your belly until he’s settled between your open thighs. 

“You,” You smile, “treating me like glass,” 

“To be fair,” Seonghwa’s lips travel across your shoulder, teeth nipping at your collarbones, “we were all nervous last time,” 

“And now?” You sigh. 

“I think we know how to take care of you,” Seonghwa chuckles. 

Yunho’s hands coast up and down your thighs, “And there’s nothing wrong with being gentle,” 

You start to smile, but your breath catches in your throat as he runs the back of his knuckle down your slit, the fabric of your panties tickling your sensitive nub. 

“Taking it slow,” Seonghwa offers, his mouth dancing closer to your nipple but conveniently never touching. 

“I like slow,” You breathe, letting your eyes fall closed. 

“Mm,” Seonghwa shakes his head, “no,” 

Yunho chuckles. 

“You like hard,” Seonghwa nips at your breast with his teeth, “and fast,” 

Your breath thins as you feel your body start to respond. 

“And rough,” Seonghwa adds, the pad of his thumb pressing down over your nipple, “and sometimes mean,” 

“Fuck,” You hiss as he flicks your nipple hard before pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Slow,” Seonghwa adds, “just makes you whine and beg for hard and fast,” 

“So?” Your hand on his back tightens. 

“Sometimes we want just want to take our time darling,” Seonghwa’s tongue finally, finally flicks across your other nipple, “especially when we know how sensitive you must be,” 

Yunho presses a kiss to your clit through your panties, sighing through the fabric, “Are you sore, sweetheart? Aching?” 

“Does this hurt?” Seonghwa cups your breast, kneading it with a little more pressure than before and you gasp. 

“N-no,” You breathe. 

“Do you want it to?” Seonghwa squeezes you again. 

Your hips buck softly, pressing your cunt harder against Yunho’s face and he smiles, flicking the firm muscle of his tongue over your clit, dragging the cotton fabric across it enough that you rock your hips again. 

“This is too slow,” You let your head fall back against the bed, “and you know it,” 

Seonghwa lifts his head, kissing your lips before brushing his fingers along your jaw, “Just for now,” he murmurs. 

“Okay,” You crane your neck up to kiss him back, “but you remember what things were like with Dasom, you won’t hurt us,” 

Seonghwa smiles, and Yunho lifts his mouth away to slip his fingers under the edges of your panties and drag them down your thighs. “Us,” Yunho repeats, his voice content and soft. 

“I have an idea,” Seonghwa sighs, “how about you lie back and trust me, jagi,” 

“You know I do,” You didn’t mean to upset him, and of course there’s nothing wrong with him taking his time, but you’ve been gifted with time alone and you really, really want to use it. 

“Just hush,” He shakes his head, “close your eyes.” 

You snap them closed immediately, “Yes, sir,” 

“Mm,” Seonghwa makes a soft, negative noise as he shifts off the bed, “not today, okay? Just be with us,” 

You nod, feeling Yunho’s hands slide up over your hips to warmly ground you. 

The sound of a drawer opening perks you up though and you lift your head to try and hear better. 

“Baby,” Seonghwa says to Yunho, “how’s this?” 

“Perfect,” Yunho agrees, and you feel him shift on the mattress, his hands leaving your hips, “and get me the - yes, those,” 

“What are you two doing?” You finally ask, desperately eager and wanting to open your eyes. 

“My darling,” Seonghwa says, “we’re going to show you how much we love you,” 

“For as long as you can take,” Yunho adds, “as fast or slow as we want.”

Your body melts into the mattress, you know that tone of voice. You love that tone of voice. 

“Tell us if something doesn’t feel good,” Seonghwa’s voice is back at your side.

“I will,” You promise, and you can’t help the smile on your face. 

“Alright beautiful,” Seonghwa kneels by your side, “lift up, eyes stay closed.”

Yunho’s hand on your hip clarifies your other husband's words and you press up to lift your hips high. They’re prepping something, communicating silently with each other, and it leaves you wanting. You’re a second away from pleading with them to tell you their plans. 

“There we go,” Yunho says, “you can relax,” 

When you ease back down the sensation under you is different, a soft towel underneath your hips and you’re about to open your mouth and try to guess their plan, but your husbands push your thighs open wide and something warm and wet and slippery drips over your bare mound. 

You sigh out a soft moan as the warming oil slides down between your thighs, and then you feel it again. Warm oil spreads again, this time across your belly and breasts and you suddenly realize what they mean to do to you. It’s not often that you have the time for this kind of foreplay anymore, let alone the patience for it. Seonghwa isn’t necessarily wrong either, you love them when they’re bossy and firm and taunting, so room for this kind of slow worship is narrow. Except something about Yunho’s thumb gliding the oil down over your cunt is making you dizzy, so you let them give you what they want. 

“You’re beautiful,” Seonghwa murmurs into your ear as he smooths the oil up your chest and spreads it across your skin, “always, jagiya, but something about this,” 

“Mhm,” Yunho hums, his fingers slowly massaging your skin, close to your slit but never parting your folds, “so perfect,” 

“Please touch me,” Your voice is breathy, “please,” 

“We are touching you,” Yunho says and you can hear the teasing smile in his voice. 

“You know what I think?” Seonghwa sighs, sliding his hand over your breast again and massaging. 

“Tell me,” You arch into his touch, opening your legs wider for Yunho. 

“I think,” He squeezes your nipple a little harder than before, “we clearly haven’t been taking care of our darling properly if we didn’t even notice this.” He massages the oil down your chest over the soft, small swell of your stomach. 

You twitch beneath him, breath quickening. 

“We need to make it up to you, my love,” Yunho’s voice is low, husky as he stays focused on his task. Every warm rub of his fingers anywhere near your dripping slit has your hips jerking. 

“Oh, god,” You sigh. 

“Mm,” Seonghwa massages your chest again, “I think these are fuller, we missed that too, love,” 

“Oh,” You moan sharply as he pinches your nipples again. 

“You’re being so patient, sweetheart,” Yunho murmurs, the tips of his two fingers dipping inside you for just a moment. 

“G-God, do that again,” You press your body forward, begging for just a little more. 

“Yunho,” Seonghwa says, his voice firm, “hands off,”

Suddenly no one’s touching you, and you’re a breath away from screaming. Your body’s pulsating with need, not just the extended, slow foreplay bringing you up but the sheer amount of hormones coursing through your body that make you want to come so hard you hear colors. 

Still, you know better than to open your eyes. 

Seonghwa descends over you with ease, his mouth hot at your ear, and his words have you arching in the sheets. With a nip at your soft earlobe he says low, “Can we play with you, baby?” 

All you can manage is a stammering yes. 

“Let us play with your pretty body, baby,” He kisses your throat and a warm hand fully cups your sex. 

“A-anything, anything,” You’re almost embarrassed by how much of a puddle you already are, but it was exactly the same last time you were pregnant and you’re sure they’re loving every second. 

“Good, good girl,” Seonghwa murmurs, his voice tender, “I love you so much,” 

Blush floods your cheeks and you feel warm pinpricks behind your eyes, “I love you too, Hwa,” 

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and then pulls back slightly before you feel the bed move, “Would you like clamps, or are you too sensitive?” 

Your eyes fly open and you immediately see Seonghwa above you, in his hand a familiar silver chain. You nod immediately, “Yes please,” 

“Are you sure?” He smiles, a little teasing as he palms one of your breasts and starts to lovingly tweak your nipple into a hardened peak. 

Warm pleasure sparks through you at his ministrations and you whimper, “Yes,”

He preps you easily, making sure you’re ready to take the clamps and your skin there is dry enough that they won’t slide off. Your eyes flick to Yunho who watches with rapt attention, his lips parting as Seonghwa secures one nipple clamp and then the other. 

“How’s that?” Seonghwa checks as he sets the second one. 

You’ve been sensitive lately, he’s certainly not wrong about that. Your breasts aching with the changes of your body, and you’ve been hyper aware of anything brushing along your nipples at all, let alone the sensation of a clamp, and if you're being honest it hurts. You hiss sharply as he releases the pressure of his hand and lets the clamp close, and he doesn’t rush to remove it but his eyes flick to yours. 

The initial pain fades to a kind of numbing warmth and you exhale slow and steady, “I’m okay, it feels good,” 

“And this?” He draws the chain tighter in his hand, just enough that the clamp pulls at your nipple. 

A shock of pleasure runs through your breast down your back, “Oh fuck, Hwa,” 

“Good,” He smiles, dropping the chain on your chest, “sit up a minute, would you?” 

“Sure,” You push yourself up and Yunho takes your hand to draw you up into a seated position on the towels. Seonghwa spreads another towel down behind you before shucking off his boxers and sliding behind you. As he situates, you realize what’s on the bed next to you. Next to the bottle of warming oil are two vibrators and a dildo. Yunho smiles as he sees your expression. 

“Come here,” Seonghwa says from behind you as he scoots closer, one leg on either side of you now, “lay back,” 

Yunho eases you back down onto your husband’s bare chest, “Comfortable?” 

“Mhm,” You assure him, “but I know you’re planning something, I know that look,” 

Yunho laughs and shakes his head, “If spending the morning making my wife come is planning something, then sure,” 

Your muscles clench around nothing at his words and you can’t help but wet your lips. 

“Now,” Yunho smiles, “just relax for us,” 

You nod, and Seonghwa pushes your hair back as you lay on his chest. His hands settle on your slick skin, massaging the oil into every part of you that he can touch, his hands never quite coming back to touch the clamps or their chain. With a sigh, you let your muscles relax fully and your legs fall open and slack against Seonghwa’s thighs. 

Yunho pushes off his knees and settles down next to you, sitting almost hip to hip with you, before uncapping the bottle of oil and pouring a little more out in his hand. 

You exhale low and slow, “Should I close my eyes?” 

Yunho glances back at you, “Do you want to?” 

“Do you want me to?” You clarify. 

He shakes his head, “We want what you want,” 

You swallow hard, your body lighting up at just the sight of his hands glistening and ready to please you, “I want to watch,” 

“Good girl,” Seonghwa chuckles, nipping at your ear and pressing kisses anywhere he can. 

“Now, please,” You sigh, widening your legs a little more, “Yunho, please,” 

“Shush,” He shakes his head, and you’re about to protest, but then he’s touching you and your mind is singing. 

Yunho slides his hand down and parts your slick folds with ease, his middle finger teasing your entrance repeatedly until he sinks it inside. You moan, tilting your hips up a little more. 

Seonghwa hums behind you as he watches, his cock stiff and aching behind you, but it hardly matters because right now their attention is laser focused on you and you alone. One of his hands travels up to cup your breast and slowly he starts kneading your soft flesh. 

“You’re so wet,” Yunho murmurs, almost to himself as he starts to rock his hand in a slow massaging rhythm, dragging his fingers down and back up your swelling clit before dipping inside you each and every time, “and tighter,” 

The feeling of his hand is already too much, applying perfect pressure and speed to knot your body up with need but never push you anywhere close to the edge of anything. He’s taking his sweet time, savoring you and your body, and you’d be embarrassed by the intensity and intimacy if it were anyone in the world but them. 

Seonghwa’s plush lips start to work over your throat, sucking at your pulse points and placing tender bites along the column of your neck. Your breath is thinner, thready and you can’t help the little whimper that bubbles out of you. 

Your eyes almost flutter shut, but Yunho’s other hand dips under your raised thigh and he glances back at you with warm eyes. 

“W-what,” You start to ask what that face is for, what he means to do, why he won’t speed up, but then his fingers press down on the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks and your voice cuts off in a tight moan. 

“Does it feel that good, baby?” Yunho presses his fingers inside, pumping them slow and deep. 

“Yun,” You moan, “more,” 

For the first time all morning, he listens. 

Yunho slides one hand to your clit, setting a firm pace of massaging circles while his other steadily pumps two fingers in and out of your ass, curled in just the right way to apply pressure where you need it while the slick pad of his middle finger stimulates your aching bud. 

“Oh, baby,” Seonghwa smiles against your throat, “is he making you feel good?” 

You nod, your face crinkling up as the edge of your orgasm starts to curl up and over you. 

“Tell us how good,” Seonghwa directs, and his hand slides down your sternum and takes the chain. 

“I’m,” Your breath catches and you roll your hips, “it feels so, so good,” 

“Good enough to come?” Seonghwa pulls the chain and you arch with it, the pull of the clamps against your prone nipples combined with the steady pulse of hands inside you making you keen. 

“Yes, fuck,” You choke. 

Yunho chuckles and his hand speeds up. 

“God, oh god,” You pant. 

Seonghwa massages your body with his free hand, deft fingers pressing in all the right ways over the soft, plush curves of your sides, your stomach, your thighs. His opposite hand pulls the chain with the slightest bit more force. 

You cry out, voice dying in your throat and your eyes clamp shut, body arching up in their hands. 

“Color, darling,” Seonghwa asks quickly, “you alright?” 

“Green,” You shake your head, “don’t you dare fucking stop,” 

“Come,” Yunho commands, doubling his efforts on your clit, “I know you need it,” 

“F-fuck,” Your body flushes with heat, slick wetness everywhere, and you can’t really get purchase on anything, but you try, your oiled hands gripping Yunho’s back and Seonghwa’s thigh. 

“Come on,” He bids again, “let go,” 

Seonghwa tugs the clamps again and your vision whites, your legs snapping shut and body curling as you crack open, nothing but a stuttering mess of moans and shivering limbs. 

“No,” Yunho wrenches your legs back open, “I’m not done with you,” 

Your mind doesn’t make sense of it until you feel the silicone nub of the suction vibrator. He works quickly, locating your clit with ease and closing the mouth of the toy over it before clicking it on. The sensation is immediate and it takes both of them holding your legs open wide to keep you from closing down on yourself and riding out the sensation. 

“Good, baby, yes,” Seonghwa’s fingers are tight on your skin, “what a fucking mess you are,” 

It takes all but thirty seconds of the sucking toy and Yunho’s fingers working your ass open for the familiar tight bubble to build again, only this time the pressure is all encompassing and you only have a second of conscious thought before the sound that leaves your lips is desperate and feral. 

“I’m gonna fucking come,” You scramble in Seonghwa’s arms and he tugs the clamps again, “I’m- I’m gonna,” 

Yunho rocks the toy, circling with the suction, and you swear you lose time. 

You come so impossibly hard you think you just might bring back your migraine, but it would be worth it for this. Clear fluid pulses out of you as you release and Yunho’s saying something encouraging as he coaxes you to come more with his fingers moving fast across your slick folds, but you can’t hear him. 

When your body starts to pull away from him and your moans turn to little overstimulated sobs, he pulls back and clicks off the toy, and drops low to press hungry kisses across your skin. He sighs against your inner thighs, nips at your soft belly, and can’t help himself when he takes a long, slow lap of your cunt. 

“I need you right now,” He confesses, “H-Hwa move,” 

“Slow down,” Seonghwa tries to bring him back down to earth, “take a breath,” 

Yunho’s hands tighten on your thighs. 

“Seonghwa,” You shake your head, “please,”

“Alright,” He murmurs, dropping the chain, “I got you.” 

He slides out from behind you, and then Yunho’s above you, wasting no time at all. He finds your entrance with ease, rocking his hips slowly until his cockhead catches inside you, and then with a slow press forward of his hips he fully seats himself inside. 

The stretch is delicious, dizzying and deep, and you moan, biting down on his shoulder. 

“Am-am I hurting you?” He asks, breathless. 

You shake your head, “No, you feel so perfect,” 

He drops his head against yours and sighs into your hair, “God, you’re so tight, I can’t,” 

Your muscles clench around him, pulsing wet and warm around his cock and he chokes, his hips dropping lower. 

“Jesus, fuck,” He breathes low through his nose, “I’m trying really hard not to fuck the life out of you,” 

“Mm,” You rock yourself up against his pelvis, “why don’t you,” 

“Because,” He shifts back enough that he can see your face, “I said slow,” 

He draws his hips back, dragging his hot length almost all the way out of your channel, before pushing in again just as torturously slowly. You moan, hard and arch in his hands, “Again, please, again,” 

He does, just as slowly. He repeats himself, and then his eyes flick over your body, softening at the sight of you below him. Yunho sighs, dropping over you so that your bodies are flush together, still careful to keep the bulk of his weight off you. His mouth closes on yours, tongue dipping into your mouth, sharing one single warm breath between you as he starts to roll his hips. You taste yourself on his skin, the sharpness heady and hot between you. 

You moan against his mouth, your skin slick with sweat and oil. He cups your cheek, drags his hand down your side, slipping a little and his head bumps softly against yours. You grin against his mouth and he laughs and suddenly you realize, this is your life. Held beautifully between these two men who love you like no one else has ever loved you, their child inside you, not a single second of it a dream. 

Your breath hitches softly and you can’t stop staring up at him grinning. 

“What?” He asks softly, studying your face. 

You kiss him soft, “I love you,” 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He breathes, “so much, I can’t… I don’t even know how to say how much,” 

“Show me then,” You cup his cheek, drawing him closer, “please,” 

He slides his hands up the back of your arms, drawing them above you, “Hwa,” 

Seonghwa catches your wrists with ease, holding them to the mattress as he moves closer to watch you both and have his hands on you. Yunho turns his head and kisses his shoulder, the closest part of Seonghwa’s skin he can reach, before snaking his way down your chest. 

“Use me,” He cups your hip, drawing you tight to his body, “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“You won’t,” You assure him, threading your fingers into his hair. 

He shakes his head, “Use me anyways,” he says, bearing down his hips so that your clit is pressed up hard against his pubic bone, “please,” 

You draw him close, finding purchase with your heels on the mattress, and slowly you start to rock, grinding your body up into his. You sigh, the pleasant feeling of it spreading through you already, and he smiles against your chest. 

Yunho’s kisses grow hotter, little bites across as your skin and his hot breath across your nipples, but you moan when his teeth close over the chain and he draws back his head, pulling it taught. 

“Oh,” You shake, your hips stuttering to a stop, “oh, god,” 

Yunho nods, tapping your hip with his hand and begging you to start moving again. He holds your gaze as he pulls back, and suddenly you’re straining against the lead, the clamps pulling you perfectly and striking a hot stroke of need through your entire body. 

“Don’t stop,” Seonghwa offers, filling in where his husband can’t given his full mouth. 

“I can’t,” You whine, almost too tired and raw to work yourself against him like he wants. 

“Give her more,” Seonghwa instructs, and with just the slightest adjustment of Yunho’s head, the clamps pull harder. 

You’re crumbling. Desperate need strikes in your belly and you roll up into him, your muscles are aching but if you just keep going, just a little more, you’ll give him what he wants and what you know your body needs. 

His hips drop a fraction more and he hisses through his teeth, your cunt pulsing and aching as you build up, close to the edge and ready to tip over it. 

“Please,” You babble, even though you don’t know what you’re begging for. 

Yunho groans as you shift, his cock inside you bumping again and again into a velvet spot. 

“Beautiful,” Seonghwa sighs, his hands squeezing your wrists, “look at how well you take Yunho’s cock, hmm?” 

Your eyes roll, thighs starting to shake.

“Is he deep in your pretty cunt, sweet girl?” He drops his lips to your ear, pushing you closer and closer, “Do you love it?” 

“Y-yes,” You work yourself against him harder, the rolling pressure of his firm body against your sensitive clit bringing you closer and closer to release. 

“You do love our cocks, don’t you?” Seonghwa smiles, reaching between you and taking the chain from between Yunho’s teeth. 

“God, yes,” Your legs wrap around Yunho’s hips and hold him steady as you jut against him. 

“Are you close?” Yunho asks, voice broken and tight. 

“L-let me go,” Your wrists jerk against Seonghwa’s hands and he releases you immediately. Your hands fly forwards, bracing on Yunho’s shoulder and side, nails digging in as you hold onto him, “please, Yunho, move, please,” 

He sighs heavily, his hips jerking against yours and finally, finally he can’t resist it. 

You can feel how much control he’s using, trying his best to not thrust too hard or hold you too tightly, but it doesn’t matter. The rhythmic drag of his cock over your g-spot over and over sends you up, and when Seonghwa pulls down on the chain between your bodies, it all crashes into you again. 

Yunho groans at the feeling of your release, pulling back and out of you suddenly and Seonghwa switches focus. The chain drops on your chest as he moves and when your eyes open, you nearly come again just from the sight. 

Yunho still has one hand braced on your hip, but leans against Seonghwa, their lips crashed together. Seonghwa’s hand works fast over Yunho’s slick cock, and with a shuddering groan Yunho comes hard, his nails digging into your skin as he paints your body with ropes of hot, white cum. 

“Oh my god,” You breathe, your body still trembling. 

Yunho’s chest is heaving, bright pink with blush and shining with sweat, and Seonghwa brushes his fingers through his hair, pressing kisses across his face as he releases Yunho’s now softening cock. It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, Yunho’s eyes find yours immediately, “Okay?” 

You nod, emotion flooding you as your mind finally starts to reconnect after the haze of orgasm after orgasm. Now your body is aching. You wince a little at the taut clamps, reaching for them to remove them yourself but Yunho moves more quickly. 

“I got it,” He soothes you, “Does it hurt?” 

“Not too much,” You ease him, sighing pleasantly as he unclips them. 

“Here, love,” Seonghwa uses a towel to clean you off, and it’s no replacement for a shower but it’ll let you relax here for a little bit longer until you can trust your legs. 

Yunho drops the clamps onto the side table along with the other toys, any of the ones unused forgotten in a minute. He hadn’t meant to fuck you, that wasn’t in the plan necessarily, but logic and reason left his brain the minute he saw you falling apart on his fingers. 

You’re blushing hard and recovering, limbs still a little shaky, when Seonghwa clears away the towels and pulls the sheet up over your body. He tosses the towels in the hamper and clears away the clothes off the floor, and he’s heading for the shower when your brain starts firing on all cylinders. 

“Seonghwa,” You call into the bathroom, listening as he starts the water. 

“Hmm?” He calls. 

You trade a quick smile with Yunho who’s still collapsed at your side before you call back, “Baby, I’m not done with you,” 

The look on his face when slips back into the bedroom is priceless, one brow raised and his shaggy black hair a mess of slight curls, “You need more?” 

“No,” You sigh, stretching and rolling onto your side, “you do,” 

His eyes flick over you, “You really don’t have to,” 

Yunho huffs behind you, “Just come back to bed,” 

“I know I don’t have to,” You sigh, pushing yourself up to a kneeling position on the bed, “but I want to,” 

Since getting up, Seonghwa had thrown a towel around his hips but you can still see the hard line of his cock beneath it, pushing against the thick fabric and begging to be touched. You wonder if he was going to try to quickly take care of things in the shower, try not to bother you with his needs, and that thought makes you want him even more. 

“Hwa,” You repeat, “come over here,” 

The corner of his mouth tips up in a smile and he makes his way back to the edge of the bed, “Yeah?” 

Your hands slide over his chest and find the top knotted corner of the towel, “Yeah,” you breathe, pulling the towel apart and letting it drop to the floor, “Yunho, can you help?” 

“What do you need, baby?” Yunho shuffles across the bed to be at your side. 

“Do you think Seonghwa would like my mouth? Or yours?” You ask, feigning innocence. 

“Yours,” Seonghwa interrupts, cupping your cheek, not waiting for flirty banter. 

Yunho laughs softly and nods, “There’s your answer,” 

“Sorry,” Seonghwa sighs, “I didn’t mean to answer that fast,” 

Yunho shakes his head, “I’d pick her too,” he stands, “but maybe I can still help, hmm?”

You feel Seonghwa’s fingers twitch along your jaw as he waits for what’s next, and you take the moment to reposition. You slide down onto your front, propped up on a pillow and using your leg for leverage, and then when you look back up you’re perfectly eye to eye with his pink, aching cock. 

A hand closes around it and Seonghwa moans, and your eyes flick up to see Yunho pressed flush behind Seonghwa and reaching around him. The smile on Yunho’s face is wolfish and hungry, his lips at his husband’s ear, “Do you like when I touch you?” 

Seonghwa sighs heavily and melts back into him, “Yes,” 

“Do you like when our baby touches you too?” Yunho pumps his hand and meets your eyes, nodding for you to get involved. 

You let saliva gather in your mouth, and slowly rake your nails down Seonghwa’s bare thigh, then back up to dance close to the base of his cock, down again so your fingers can slide over his balls. 

“y/n,” He chokes, “Jesus,” 

“Shh,” You murmur, and with your hands braced on his hips, you let the gathered saliva drip from your tongue over his cockhead. 

His cock jumps at the sensation, and Yunho’s hand sweeps up to take your saliva and work it down Seonghwa’s shaft as lubricant. You spit again, and once again Yunho catches it and pumps his hand up and down. 

“Baby,” You say softly, almost lazily, pressing a featherlight kiss to his velvet tip, “can I have a taste?” 

He fights the urge to jerk his hips and he nods. 

You lean forward, and Yunho slides his hand away so you can work your mouth deeply over him. Seonghwa might want to take it slow with you, but you don’t want to take it slow with him. You know they’re just being careful with you, considerate and lovely given the baby, but there’s nothing you want less than to take it slow right now. 

You surge forward, taking him down your throat in one move, your tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft until you’re pressed against his pubic bone and steadying your breathing. 

Seonghwa’s cock jumps in your mouth and he curses, hand tight in your hair now. 

“Oh, she’s hungry,” Yunho teases, “look at her,” 

“I’m looking,” Seonghwa’s voice is breathy, “God, darling, warn me next time,” 

You make a negative noise, and he groans at the vibration. You don’t warn him, when you draw back and sink forward again and then set a pace, your wet lips tight on his cock, tongue flicking at his length, hollowing out your cheeks to draw that suction you know makes him crumble. 

“Fuck,” His hand locks onto your scalp and you moan around him. 

“Does that feel good?” Yunho’s voice is husky above you, “I can give you more,” 

You suck hard and Seonghwa groans and you know whatever combination of your mouth on his cock and Yunho’s hands doing something has Seonghwa ready to melt. 

“Mess,” Yunho groans, “you and your pretty fucking mouth,” 

Seonghwa shudders. 

You pull back, taking a heaving breath and clearing your throat before you find your voice, “Fuck my face,” 

Seonghwa moans and you look up to see the way that Yunho’s teeth are attached to his husband’s throat, fingers expertly tweaking at his nipples and helping make the man a shaky mess. At you words, Yunho lifts up and moves right back to Seonghwa’s ear, “Don’t make her wait,” 

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, and you’re about to tell him that being pregnant does not in fact make you a virginal saint and he can and should come down your throat, but he reaches the same conclusion a second later and tugs you forward by the hand in your hair. 

“I didn’t say stop,” He says gruffly, pushing your head back towards him. 

You open your mouth wide and accept him with a deeply genuine sigh. 

“Your mouth,” Seonghwa thrusts forwards, knocking his hips against your lips and forcing your throat open, “is almost better than your pretty pussy,” 

You whine, breathing slow through your nose and opening up the back of your throat more for him. 

“Almost as tight,” His hips find a rhythm, “almost as warm,” 

“Almost as wet,” You feel another hand in your hair, Yunho brushing the hair from your eyes. 

“But I only get to hear you like this when I’m down your throat,” Seonghwa pants, bucking his hips as he holds you perfectly still to accept him, “I’m in love with this sound,” 

You choke a whine, trying again to regain your breath, and you’re dizzy but he’s so, so close. 

Yunho’s hand finds yours and he gives you a squeeze, an offered lifeline if it gets to be too much, but you don’t need it. You brush your thumb along his knuckles to let him know you’re more than fine, despite the heady, wet noises in the room. 

“Oh, fuck,” Seonghwa curses as his pace stammers a moment, and you double down with the suction, “fuck, darling,” 

“Fill her pretty mouth,” Yunho urges him, “come,” 

It takes two more thrusts before he groans, locking your head to his pelvis and spilling himself deeply down the back of your throat, so far you barely taste him. 

You give him a moment, but when you’re sure he’s done and just holding you in the afterglow you squeeze Yunho’s hand. 

“Come here,” Yunho must indicate something to Seonghwa, because he pulls out of your mouth slowly and takes a step back. Yunho drops into your eyeline and finds your gaze, “okay?” 

You swallow hard, clearing your throat and nodding, “Mhm,” 

“That was,” Seonghwa trails off, no words really enough to justify the orgasm he just had but he leans against the side table and exhales heavily. 

“Really hot?” You offer. 

He chuckles, “Yeah,” 

As you steady you see immediately that Yunho is rock hard again and you smile, “Are we ever going to get out of this bed?” 

“I have a better idea,” Yunho grins, and he moves forwards and wraps his arms around you. 

“What-” You start to ask, but then he’s hauling you up over his shoulder and you’re falling apart into hysterical laughter, “Where are we going? Put me down!”

“Nope,” He says, “I’ve got more plans for you,” 

Seonghwa follows you both, and then you realize the shower was never turned off. The bathroom is full of hot steam, enveloping all of you the minute Seonghwa shuts the door. 

“We’re multitasking,” Yunho slides you off his shoulder to the floor, kissing your cheek as he does and reaching in to check the temperature. 

Seonghwa wraps his arms around you, hand closing over your belly as he nuzzles your head, “Good, because I have plans too,” 

They have you again in the shower, Seonghwa on his knees between your thighs, and then once more braced against the glass doors. It’s insatiable, your need for each other, even after all these years. You’ve shared everything with them, every inch of your body and desires. Not a single moment of it worth trading away. 

It takes time to come out of your hazy morning, every time you think of pulling away something brings you back. Their lips, hands, tongues, cocks. Every part and piece of them. 

But eventually, after what feels like hours, you’re clean and dry and changing the sheets. 

You only have a little more time before Dasom comes home and your life changes once again forever, so you slip back into bed with them for just a little while longer. 

Seonghwa strokes your stomach slowly, lips on your cheek as he does and kissing the corner of your mouth, “I think it’s a girl,” 

“Yeah?” You murmur, Yunho curling closer behind your back so that you’re all tighter together. 

“Mhm,” Seonghwa smiles, “I have a feeling.” 

“You thought Dasom was a boy,” You point out softly. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “I know it this time,” 

“Do you want another girl?” You murmur. 

“I think so,” He confesses, “it just feels right,” 

“You know,” Yunho kisses your shoulder softly, “I think you’re right, I think it’s a girl,” 

“I don’t want you to be disappointed if it’s a boy,” You find his hand between you, threading your fingers together. 

“Nothing about our baby could disappoint me,” His brows knit together as he shakes his head, “girl, boy, Yunho’s… mine, it… none of it matters, it’s just a feeling,” 

“You really mean that,” You smile softly. 

“I really do,” He nods, “no matter what, they’ll be so loved,” 

Yunho’s breath catches in your ear, and you can’t quite see his face but he reaches past you and cups Seonghwa’s face, his thumb stroking along his husband’s cheek, “Oh, yeobo,” he sighs, “of course they will.” 

You duck into Seonghwa’s chest, pressing a kiss to his skin, “You have so much love to give, Hwa,”

His warm hand on your belly is a comforting weight, grounding and sure and he nods against your hair. 

“Dasom will be home soon,” Yunho murmurs, and you can hear his voice is tight and shaky, “we probably shouldn’t be crying messes when she gets here,” 

“I’m not crying,” You grin against Seonghwa’s chest. 

“Me either,” 

“Right,” Yunho takes a deep breath, “fine, I can’t be crying when she gets home then.” 

“Aw,” You twist in his arms to face him, cupping his cheek, “baby,” 

“Don’t,” He scrubs at his eyes, “you know I cry at everything,” 

Seonghwa laughs, snuggling closer, “We know,” 

“I’m just,” He sighs, “fuck, I’m really happy,” 

“Me too,” You kiss him softly. 

Seonghwa nods, “Me too,” 

“Sometimes I think about the night we met,” Yunho smiles, pushing your hair behind your ear and glancing over your shoulder at Seonghwa who makes a soft humming noise of recognition. 

“Yeah?” You cup his cheek. 

“We almost left you there,” Yunho confesses, “did I ever tell you that?” 

“No,” You study his eyes. 

“We were watching you for a little while,” He strokes your neck softly, “and I said we shouldn’t bother you. You looked ready for a date, I was sure whoever the guy was was just running late. You looked… beautiful, I thought there was no way someone would let you just sit there all night.” 

“You’ve never told me that,” You shake your head, “are you serious?” 

“Mhm,” He nods, and then his eyes travel up to Seonghwa, “but then he said, ‘What’s the worst that happens? We buy a pretty girl a drink and go home?’” 

The idea that they would have left, there at the end of the bar one second and gone the next. Interesting strangers and a passing thought in your whole life. 

“So you changed your mind?” You manage. 

“It would have been the worst mistake of my life,” Yunho says. 

“Our lives,” Seonghwa corrects. 

“Mine too,” You tug them closer, wrapping them tight around you, “and I wouldn’t have even known it,” 

Your phone buzzes on the side table and you smile, it’s probably close to that time. Dasom would be ancy to come home and at the end of Nari’s good graces. You shift to get up, but they tug you right back down. 

“Five more minutes,” Yunho shakes his head. 

“But,” You start to say. 

“Just five,” He repeats. 

For a little longer, it’s just the three of you. Tucked between them, you imagine the life you might have had without them. You would have found someone, you might have had children with them. You might have bought a house or moved out of Seoul. You would probably be happy, in that other life in that other place, you might be happy it’s not impossible. But it wouldn’t be this. Full, complete, whole. You might in some other life be a wife, but not their wife. You might in some other life have a child, but not Dasom. Not this new life. You can’t conceive of it. You’re sure you would have figured it out, but you can’t really imagine how without them. 

Your phone rings again on the nightstand, and slowly you unfold yourself from their arms to pick it up. Yunho slips his hand under the hem of your shirt while you talk to Nari, Seonghwa presses warm kisses across your neck. Not long now. 

The day stretches into itself until the afternoon sun warms your sheets and your skin. The door downstairs opens and you hear your daughter's fast footfalls on the stairs. Your stomach turns with nervous butterflies, but your husbands hold you close and the wing beats calm to a subtle flutter. You think maybe they’re not butterflies, maybe they’re something more. In an excited rush Dasom pushes through the door and throws herself up on the bed. Strong arms catch her and bring her in to cuddle close. She’s home, and now you all are too, together always. 

#HI IM BACK #yunhwa husbands #honeyhotteoks fics #yunho x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunhwa x reader #yunho #jeong yunho #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez series #yunho fic #yunho ff #yunho smut #seonghwa fic #seonghwa smut

[dungeons-and-dictions]

And ANOTHER Hazbin Hotel thing. Short Duck Daddy vs Deer Troll Daddy is my current favorite episode!

Lucifer is nothing I thought he would be, and soooooo relatable. His song is a certified bop too!

But alas, it definitely showed the bad side of Alastor. Up to this point, I’ve seen Alastor’s antics as mainly being a silly troll. Here, he is actively, aggressively malicious. He actually cussed! And his fake laugh was delightful, too.

Let’s be clear since no one is talking much about it; Alastor does not see Charlie as a daughter, maybe not even a friend. He was poking the hornet’s hive from the moment Charlie opened the door to Lucifer.

I love it, you love it, the two dads memes are top-notch. But also, Alastor may not have been irritating Lucifer for funsies. We still don’t know who Alastor made a contract (confirmed) with, how Lilith and him are connected, what the contract entails, or his true intentions with the hotel.

We also know there’s definitely a catch that will come along. The demon’s airtight on this. Regardless, something he’s involved with meant it was in his best interest to motivate Lucifer’s depressed butt into stepping up as Charlie’s dad. Totally wholesome results, too!

As a side note, I am hoping he and Vaggie have a good relationship! I am betting he identified Vaggie as an angel immediately, but didn’t find it a big enough deal to bring up. That link as two fallen angels could be so awesome in future episodes.

And… is his angel form a duck?! Because I based a whole subplot in my D&D campaign on ducks, and I already love the back-flipping, flame-throwing abomination he made!

Anyway, Alastor shows his bad side finally, and is now tied as my favorite character with Lucifer. They share a rivalry Vox could only dream of!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel essay #alastor #lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin Lucifer #found family #troll #analysis #cutest king of hell ever #is he hiding something #short duck daddy #deer troll daddy

[junkdrawerfics]

First Suspicions

And final findings.

Previous

Summary: Two instances when your curiosity gets the best of you and Jasper has to distract you from the truth. And one instance when he's not there to do so. Curiosity might just be the thing that kills you.

Words: 1768

Note: I like this part a lot more, so I hope you guys also enjoy it! I tried to do a quick but believable process of discovery. Longer note at end.

Also @little-miss-loves-fictional-men your comment on my last post almost made me cry. Thank you for that.

---

“So you’re not related to your siblings, right?”

A month into the semester, and Forks feels like home already. Largely in part to Jasper, not that you’ll ever tell anyone that, especially him. It took only a few days for you to become fast friends. Being around him felt easy, maybe because he never seems to judge you for your odd habits, or maybe just because he’s one of the kindest, most empathetic people you’ve ever met.

Whatever it is, your friendship quickly breaks from the confines of the school. Whether it be studying at you new favorite coffee shop - though you’re thinking of going somewhere else since he rarely wants a drink or anything - or going on a walk through the woods as you’re doing now.

Jasper offers a wry smile as he helps you over a large log, “Just Rosalie, I’m afraid.”

You shoot him a disapproving look, though he catches the glimmer of laughter in your eyes, “Don’t be mean, Jasper Hale. She doesn’t seem that bad.”

It is strange though. Except for their matching gold hair, there’s not a singular similarity between him and Rose. They’re honestly the most different out of the family, personality-wise at least. Maybe that’s normal for siblings though.

“No, I suppose she’s not,” Jasper murmurs, looking up at the sky, which is practically hidden behind the canopy of pine needles. “Though I’d much rather listen to Edward go on about Bella than her talk about herself.”

Bella Swan. The girl who moved to Forks just one year before you. You have a class with her, and you honestly like her quite a bit. While you’re both awkward, it’s nice to know someone else who’s close with the Cullens.

And she might know things that could answer your growing list of questions.

Like why are they all so pale? Why do they avoid most of the school? Why do you never see them on the rare sunny days Forks gets?

“So why do you ask about my siblin’s darlin’?” Ah. Right. You weren’t being too subtle, you guess.

“I just think it’s crazy how similar you all look,” you explain, keeping your eyes glued to your shoes. Mud sticks to the sides, both dry and wet. You’ve been walking for a while now. “I mean, you all look different, obviously, but you all have the same eyes. And you’re all gorg-”

You bite down hard on your tongue and come to a stuttering stop. 

That wasn’t supposed to come out.

Jasper stops right beside you, lips drawing into a wolfish, slanted smirk. You stand completely frozen, eyes wide as he steps closer, too close, leaning forward against the tree behind you. Your heart flounders wildly in your chest. Sometimes you forget he’s so tall.

“I’d sure like to hear you finish that declaration, miss (L/n),” he hums, tone bright with barely concealed mirth.

“Nope!” Your heart lurches as you duck under his arm and scuttle away. Heat burns across your cheeks despite the chill in the air. His laughter echoes behind you, warm and deep and lovely. Too lovely. Your face goes darker. “You didn’t hear anything. I didn’t say anything. Oh hey, look at that tree!”

Jasper watches you dash away, relief warring with his amusement as he follows close behind. You’re observant, more observant than he expected. He’ll have to be more careful. At least he was able to distract you.

This time.

---

“Do you always run this cold?” You poke Jasper’s shoulder as you pass him on the way to your desk.

The blond glances up from his textbook, eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to figure out where you’re going with this, “I suppose I do.”

“Maybe it’s cause you don’t eat enough,” you muse, reaching for the bag of chocolate you keep hidden in the bottom drawer. You hold it out to him with a conspiratorial smile, “I always like to keep a secret stash, want one?”

“No thank you, darlin’.” Jasper smiles, though it’s tighter. Maybe you only see it because you’re looking for it, but you swear he looks uncomfortable for a split second.

“I feel like I never see you eat,” you admit, putting the bag back in its hiding spot, “Even at school. None of you eat.”

Jasper’s brow furrows. He can feel your concern, but also your curiosity. They radiate off you in equal degrees, so he can’t tell how carefully he should tread.

“My siblings and I are on a…special diet,” he explains slowly, eyes falling back to his textbook. He can’t hold your worried gaze while he lies to you, even if it’s not really a lie. “We prefer not to talk about it.”

You tilt your head, pouting softly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push.” 

Guilt. Jasper can feel it biting at the back of his mind. But he smiles and murmurs a soft, “Thank you for understandin’.”

You nod. It still seems strange, though. The more you think about it, the more questions you have. You’ve hardly seen him even drink water, and that can’t be normal, even more for a special diet. But it’s not like he looks unhealthy. No one can look that good if they’re not eating enough.

A sudden heat creeps up your neck. Coughing awkwardly, you turn your attention to your own homework, trying to not focus on just how good Jasper always looks. The man is surprisingly fit under all those sweaters -

Then why does he run so cold? The thought comes back to you, like an annoying fly circling your head. You’ve noticed the same thing about Alice when she gave you a hug. Their touch is like ice, cold enough to leave you shivering after the smallest graze. It’s the kind of cold you read about in your murder mysteries, when someone is dead.

Curiosity burns hot in your chest, making you all but forget the slight warmth in your cheeks. Some things just don’t add up. And you know you shouldn’t pry, it’s none of your business and you don’t want to push him away. So why does it matter so much to you?

“Do you need help with that problem, darlin’?”

You jump, glancing up to find Jasper looking over your shoulder at the worksheet in your lap. You didn’t even hear him get off the bed. It’s almost like he’s a ghost.

“Um, sure, yah.” Your growing anxiety seems to slip away with him so close, and with it goes your curiosity. Shaking your head, you cast him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted I guess. Did I space out?”

Jasper squeezes your shoulder warmly, voice tender with something fond, “You were starin’ at it for a few minutes. I figured it might have been givin’ you trouble.”

“Yah, yah, I guess I’m stuck.” To be honest, you don’t even know what worksheet you’re on. Help can’t hurt though. “Thanks, Jasper.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Another successful distraction.

---

“Huh.”

You pause in your reading, jaw dropping a little.

To end the quarter, your U.S. History teacher was allowing you to do a report on anything that has been covered in class. You decided to do research into the Civil War, specifically the confederate army since you felt like it was often dismissed in class discussions. Understandably, since it’s an uncomfortable topic for most.

But you were curious, as always. There’s no doubt they were on the wrong side of history, proven by how things ended. Even if you hate what they stand for, you want to know both sides of it.

So you dug up some old books. And by old, you mean old. Written very close to the time period of the war old. They’re only digital copies, since there’s no way you could afford them otherwise, but still. And it took searching some obscure website to find them.

It makes this all the more confusing. You double check the publication date. The copyright. All of it. They all confirm the age of the book.

So how are you looking at what seems to be a carbon copy of Jasper?

It’s an old photo, dated 1862. Black and white and a bit fuzzy. A young man sits perched on a horse, decked out in a full confederate uniform and a cowboy hat. His hair is longer, light, brushing his chin, just like Jasper’s. But that’s not it. No, it’s something about his face. About the lopsided grin on his lips.

You quickly skim the few paragraphs next to the photo, eyes going wider with each word you read.

‘Jasper Whitlock, born in Texas, became the youngest man to earn the rank of Major in the Confederate Army. Major Whitlock was labeled missing in action in the year 1863, when he disappeared while evacuating U.S. citizens who were at risk in the wake of the war.’

Jasper.

They even have the same name. Different last names, but still. Can that be a coincidence? Maybe they’re related, you try to reason. That wouldn't make sense, after all. It’d be crazy. Absolutely crazy. 

You decide to google this man, Jasper Whitlock, but only a few generic results for ‘jasper’ show up. Nothing about the young Army Major. You lean back in your chair, brows furrowing. That doesn’t make sense either. Unless-

“What are you reading?”

You shriek, slamming your laptop shut.

Bella holds her hands up, eyes wide. 

“Oh my gosh, you scared me!” You press a hand to your chest, laughing breathlessly. “I thought you were Jasper.”

The brunette looks at you strangely, “Why? Are you hiding something from him?” 

You flinch. That’s straightforward. For Bella at least.

Trying to give her an easy-going smile, you explain, “No, he just has the tendency to sneak up on me. I’m working on a history project, that’s all. He knows all about this stuff and I definitely don’t, so I’m trying to spare myself some embarrassment.”

You hate lying. It makes you feel gross, but you don’t want to freak Bella out. There’s a lot of ways this could be explained, you’re sure, and you’re probably overthinking all of it. 

Yah. There’s no way that this Jasper Whitlock could be connected to your Jasper. It’s impossible.

Right?

This time, Jasper isn’t there to blow out the spark.

---

Unless.

The word rings around in your head.

Ringing and ringing and ringing until you jolt up in bed later that night and snatch your laptop from your nightstand.

‘cold skin’

‘doesn’t eat’

‘avoids sun’

‘doesn’t age?’

You click enter and only one word comes back.

‘vampire’

---

Next

So! I was so excited to incorporate the whole history thing! My headcannon is that Jasper would have been recorded in history because of his accomplishments (I mean, the real youngest major of the confederate army was 36 so him being 19 is crazy) but the Cullens have worked to to keep his name off the internet somehow. I'm sure one of them could pick up some computer skills with all that time.

And that's why you only see him mentioned in old, written text. I don't know, I think it's something really cool to think about! And what a cool way to do a reveal!

Anyways! I hope you guys enjoyed this!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #jasper whitlock is a minor historical figure and you can't prove me wrong

[strawberryraviegutz]

Great. Just great. First we’ve had people making fun of Alastor fangirls/simps for pretty much everything(headcanons, selfshipping, ect.) and now people are starting to do the same towards Lucifer fangirls/simps too. As for what triggered it, the reason why people are getting upset is because of....

*checks notes*

headcanons that involve him giving his s/o cute nicknames related to ducks like “duckling” or “little duckling”

…

HUH??? BE SO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW THERE IS NO DAMN WAY YALL ARE GETTING MAD OVER FUCKING NICKNAMES BE SO FOR REAL NOW LIKE WHAT???

Why tf does this fandom hate selfshipping and or headcanons so much like yall are crazy(hate towards hcs and selfshipping it’s not necessarily exclusive to the hazbin/helluva fandom but yall sure love to pick and choose things and get on people’s asses when it’s something you personally don’t like.) What happened to cringe culture being dead huh? Are people just not allowed to have fun anymore???

“Lucifer fangirls are a different breed lol he’d never say/do that”

Sweetie…that’s the beauty of FICTION. We get to imagine WHATEVER WE WANT. I promise you a silly little self indulgent headcanon and or AU someone makes of your fave is not gonna fucking kill you. Also the fact that this shit always happens everytime whenever women/afabs simp over any fictional male characters(or fictional characters of any gender)makes this whole thing reek of internalized misogyny.(I’ve seen it happen towards other genders too but it’s almost always women people go after first)

What’s wrong with Luci calling his partner duck related nicknames??? Dude like that’s fucking cute af yall are so damn boring..

#hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader

[birds--daily]

welcome to birds daily!!

this is my blog where i draw a bird every single day! the idea was completely ripped off from one of my best friends of all time, @fish-daily !! please go check him out :0)

my name is sunny and i'm a wildlife biology major and art minor from the eastern united states. i'm 21 years old and i use they/them pronouns!

i'm here because i love birds so much, and i'm assuming if you're following then you do too!!

IMPORTANT INFO BELOW!!

what to know before you request

please check if i've drawn a bird before you request it! if you don't want to scroll through everything, all my birds are tagged by order. don't know the order of your bird? look it up! the IOC world bird list has a great resource for this.

i tag them by name, but some birds have multiple common names.

i also have a spreadsheet of every bird i've done so far! but i can definitely see myself forgetting to update this, so it's best to double check.

any avian dinosaur archaeopteryx-and-beyond can be requested! many ornithologists consider avialae to be the cutoff for "modern" birds.

i can't guarantee full-accuracy of prehistoric birds as i'm not very well-versed in paleontology.

please keep asks to only one bird! feel free to send multiple asks though. if you include multiple birds in an ask i'll just pick one. when i answer the ask to post it, the other birds will be gone forever...

i will prioritize requests in the order i received them in, but a couple times a week i might draw a personal pick instead.

not accepting duplicate birds doesn't mean you can't request a different version of the same bird, which leads me to…

sexual dimorphism and seasonal plumage!

yes! you can request different plumages and sexes of a bird i've already done! want to see a female ruddy duck? of course! want the breeding plumage of the willow ptarmigan? absolutely!

i have sex, maturity, and plumage recorded on my spreadsheet, but i'm bound to make some mistakes on there. once again, double-checking my blog is your best bet to getting accurate bird info!

if you don't specify anything, i'm going to assume the basic mature male with breeding plumage that you come to expect from a bird.

breeding and non-breeding plumage can also be called summer and winter plumage. some birds also have special names for their plumage forms. just to keep things consistent i'll be referring to it as breeding and non-breeding!

final notes

my main blog is @eggpathy if you're interested in any of my other art! i forget to post there a lot. most of my art is on my twitter under the same name (trying to move here though)

i'm a full-time college student with a job, so some days i won't be able to get a bird out. sometimes i might even have to take a few days to a week off just to keep my sanity. this doesn't mean i'm not having fun and enjoying drawing birds! it just means i'm busy and maybe need time for other things

i'm also still human. this means i WILL MAKE MISTAKES! i have not finished my degree yet and i'm still learning! one of the big reasons i made this account was to help myself learn my birds! i take extra time out of my day to find facts to post with my birds, and sometimes those are wrong. if you see me post misinfo, please kindly correct me with a comment, dm, or tag!

any post that isn't a daily bird will be tagged #not birds. any post that is a daily bird will be tagged #birds.

please feel free to add extra fun facts, info, and generally any other silly comment in the tags. i love reading them and they make my day!

asks don't have to be request-related! feel free to ask me anything :0)

thanks for reading! peent!

#about time i made an introduction post lmao #birds daily #not birds