If Birdie Asked To Move Seats And Does, She Just Ends Up Between Price And Gaz. While More Considerate

Just the tip (Day 3/8 of 10k followers event)

Minotaur x fem!reader || size kink, soft (but filthy) sex, dirty talk, breeding, oral sex

Artists of the image can be found here.

You are quietly walking through the supermarket one day when you have to climb a shelf because you can’t reach the fucking cereals you want. You are pushing your body up when you slip and brace yourself for impact. But the impact never comes. You feel strong big arms around you and when you look up you are staring into the eyes of the biggest minotaur you’ve ever seen.

From that point on, you see him every time you go to the supermarket, it’s like magic. You are going grocery shopping? He’s walking the aisle like he’s there just for you. Days pass and you can’t stop thinking about how wonderful he is, how pretty… and how fucking big. He insists on helping you get everything from the top shelf, you aren’t exactly little, but he’s so tall and broad and fucking magnificent… You agree. And just like that, you have a new grocery shopping friend.

Your friendship develops from there, you gave him your phone, he texts you when he’s going shopping, you met there. Sometimes you go out for coffee after, sometimes he insists on following you home and helping you put the groceries away… You never thought it was wrong because if felt completely fine, it felt natural and amazing to trust him, to feel cared for. And you think you might be in love.

When he finally asks you out, you say “yes” so fast he starts laughing as you blush like a teenager. He embraces you human body against his big minotaur one and lifts you up, burying his big head in your neck as you grab his horns. The sinful groan he lets out makes you whimper in need, and just like that, you two are horny as fuck and it’s like something broke inside you. A new kind of need awakening.

You go on a date that feels like the longest foreplay you’ve ever felt. The date is fucking fantastic, you two fitting better than puzzle pieces, and you can’t stop thinking how much you want to suck his cock. If he’s somewhat proportionate, he must be huge, and that thought plagues your brain every time you look at him. But you don’t say nothing that day.

You continue dating and going groceries together, and after a month of constant turn-on state, you are casually hanging out in your kitchen putting the groceries away as he sits and looks at you while you two talk.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring at him for the hundredth time, a big smile in his pretty face. He’s so cute you want to hit him, sometimes. You can’t deal with such adorable being.

You look at him, feeling your cheeks getting hot already. “I- Nothing,” you say, embarrassed to admit you were thinking about his dick, once again. You are in a constant state of sexual frustration since you started dating. You thought it would be more sex and less cuteness, and you aren’t mad about it being cute, but dang, you want his cock so deeply inside of you, you could feel him for days after.

He smirks, grabbing a grape out of the bag and chewing it slowly. “Come on, don’t be shy, tell me.” His absurdly hot face and body look so tantalizing and you feel so ready to climb him like a tree every time you get close to him...

“I- I lowkey… Never mind, it’s too embarrassing.” You look down as you take some more groceries and store them in the cupboard. You hear him getting up and getting closer to you, his heat behind you making you melt against his chest. His strong arms coming around you as you sigh, happily. He turns you around and pecks at your lips, his big eyes making pleading as he says nothing. “Okay, okay, stop using those big eyes on me. I… I was thinking about your dick,” you confess, hiding your face in his chest.

He pulls his fingers under your chin and pushes your face up. He’s looking at you with such tenderness and heat in his eyes that you have to grab at his shirt harder not to fall, your knees weak under you. “Say that again?” He asks, his tone pleadingly.

“We… We’ve been seeing each other for a long time and I… I want to move things further,” you let out slowly, looking at him for any reaction. But his face is completely blank and you start doubting everything about your relationship. The voices in your head are loud as you let out a choked: “It’s okay if it’s too fast, I get it. I know. Shutting up now.” It’s been too little, he doesn’t feel the same, he’s just with you because you are exotic… Your inner monologue is filled with self-doubt.

“No. No, it’s not that,” he says, an edge of self-doubt mirroring yours. You blush hard as you look at him up and down, your brain going a mile per minute and falling into the worst possible scenarios.

“What then?” You ask, neediness bleeding into your voice. “You… You don’t find me attractive?” You finally ask, your self-esteem issues making you want to cry as he looks down at you with the most shocked expression ever.

“What?! Are you insane?!” His growl is so deep and feral that your knees turn into jelly under you.

You grab the edge of the counter not to fall. But you can’t respond with anything before he’s manhandling your body over your kitchen table and pushing all the groceries to the ground. You are about to protest when he leans over your body and starts kissing you senseless. His arms part your legs and he steps between them, his monstrous bulge fitting perfectly against your clothed pussy.

“You want this?” He says as he grinds against you. “Are you sure?” He sounds hesitant, but his dick is so hard against you that you want to scream.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, trying to grind against him. He growls and rips your clothes off in two fast tugs, leaving you naked over the table, like a sacrifice for the minotaur. And you are more than ready to be devoured.

He pulls his fly open in one tug, probably breaking it in the process, but his movements are frantic. He pushes against you once again, his dick huge against your dripping cunt. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he grunts, his dick leaking precum. Leaking so much of it that you feel it dripping over your wet pussy, making a bigger mess. “I don’t think I would fit, you are so tiny.” He proves his point pressing a finger inside you, making you arch your back and moan loudly. He grunts as he fucks you slowly. His finger feels already so big...

“Just the tip,” you try to argue, wanting nothing more than to be fucked. You know you can take him. At least some of him, but he’s so caring and so worried about you… Always worried. You moan and try to move your hips, but his grip is non-forgiving. You can’t move even a millimeter as he rubs his tip against your wet folds around his finger still buried inside. “Please, please,” you always thought you were above begging, but today you learned a new thing about yourself.

“Just the tip?” He asks, the big head of his cock teasing your entrance. “You are so tight,” he grunts. You feel like he’s going to break you apart as he presses lightly, making you cry out. He pulls back, scared that he hurt you, but you shush him, kissing his snout and grabbing his horns. You know he loves when you play with his horns, he told you how sensitive they were.

“Just the tip,” you repeat. You are already feeling needy and desperate, wanting nothing more but for him to fuck you into oblivion, even if that means you’d be impaled by a giant dick.

“You are soaking,” he groans as he gets in position, making you hot all over. The sounds he makes are so erotic you can’t stop moaning in response.

He starts pushing inside millimeter by millimeter and you feel like your body is being torn. He’s so big, so massive inside of you. You don’t know if you can take him. You don’t know if the tip was already too much for your poor human pussy.

“You feel amazing, such a good little human for me.” He keeps going, shushing your whimpers and telling you how good you feel, how pretty you look stretched around him. “Your pussy is so good, you feel so tight around me. Your pussy feels amazing, best pussy I’ve ever tried, I’m not gonna give you up for anything in the world. You are MINE.” With a roar he pushes a bit deeper, making you cry out.

After that it’s like a switch turns off inside him. Before you realize, he’s slipped a bit more inside. And a bit more. And he’s halfway there when he starts to fuck you in earnest, losing complete control of himself because of how good you feel. You start chanting his name as he keeps hitting deep inside of you. Too much, too deep, but so, so good you can’t stop the tears from falling freely.

He fucks you like a piston, so lost in the pleasure of your body that you can’t even think straight as he goes and goes and goes. You don’t know where his body starts and yours ends. You don’t know what day it is or what’s your own name. You just know his dick pushing far and deep inside of you, harder and harder with each thrust. It’s maddening.

“I’m gonna breed you,” he starts. You groan in response, the idea of being filled to the brim making you hotter than expected. And he keeps going, “I’m gonna come so far inside of you, you are gonna feel me inside for days.” You groan again, rocking your hips against him. “Rub your pretty clit for me, fall apart around my dick, let me feel your pussy milking me.” You scream at his words, overwhelmed.

You obey, rubbing your clit as he fucks you furiously on the table, the wood underneath you creaking under the force of his thrusts. It takes you less than two seconds to come around his shaft, only halfway in, but bigger than anything you’ve ever tried.

“Just like that, yes. Yes. Good little human.” He starts babbling nonsense as he fucks you though your orgasm.

When you are coming down from the extracorporeal experience that is an orgasm with him, you feel the first shoot of his come inside of you. He comes, and comes, and comes a bit more. You feel some come leaking around his dick, you feel so full you don’t know what to do but squirm under him. The movement just makes everything move and you groan, clenching around him as he grunts.

He pulls out after what feels like an eternity hugging each other, your pussy feels raw and abused. You whimper when he touches you, so tender and fucked out, but he doesn’t really care, a dazed look in his eyes as he looks at your leaking pussy. You push your body up on your elbows, looking down at him as he kneels on the floor, between your legs. He launches at your pussy, eating you out until he deems you are clean enough. You come three times before he’s done.

And then he takes you to bed and does it all over again.

Argyle headcannons!

Personal head cannons

Sfw and nsfw included

Listed as i thought of them ❤️

(let people have opinions 🙄)

Sfw Headcannons

-His love languages are physical touch and acts of service

-He likes driving friends around bc he likes feeling useful

-He moans loudly when people get to close so that way they leave him alone

- laughs when they walk away knowing he made them uncomfortable

- gives off middle or youngest sibling vibe

- either l o v e s or h a t e s kids, theres no inbetween (im leaning more towards loves with a lack of knowledge about them)

- definitely a people person

-had a milf crush on Joyce when he first met her (same)

- says the most unhinged shit out of nowhere, high or not

- loves being around you

- 100% would walk with his hand in your back pocket

- helps his mom out with house bills

- cuts down on the weed when hes around you

- he doesnt care if you smoke or not but will always offer if hes smoking

- loves soft make out sessions when your in his lap, hugging around his neck and he can pull you closer around the waist

- kinda strong from lifting things out of the supply trucks (ingredients for Surfer boy pizza)

- he hates receiving gifts

- doesnt skip class often unless him and Jonathan made a plan to

- knows basic spanish from talking with his relitives

- was so awkward with cuddling at first but the more it happens the more he gets used to it (but he loves it more every time)

- he doesn't get jealous often but when he does he gets insecure instead of mad

- has to be touching you at all times

- loves when you play with his hair

- you have to have a hairtie on you at all times for him

- 👏nic👏names👏in👏spanish👏

- he likes to snap your bra straps when he knows they have the plastic peices on them

- likes to snap the waistband of your underwear too

- will scream if you chase him

- wont give in to pouting or puppy eyes but as soon as you start the silent treatment hes on his knees appologizing

- likes to hold your hand when he drives

- scared of locker rooms

-favorite color is orange

-god of forehead kisses

- loves being as close to you as possible, sometimes leads to both of you in your underwear cuddling just to have more skin to skin contact

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Nsfw Headcannons

- oral fixation, he always has to have his mouth doing something

- he is a sit not hover guy, he would love to soffocate if it was between your legs

- more of a giver then a receiver

- tits? Ass? Thighs? Stomach? He doesn't care, he loves all of it

- likes when you g e n t l y pull his hair

- refuses to do anything that would cause pain, he would feel so bad :(

- loves when you sit on his lap and ride him

- he loves being able to look at you and what hes doing so he can make sure hes doing it right

-often in the back of his van bc he doesn't know his moms work schedule and doesnt wanna get cought

- has atleast one or three poloroids of you with your top off, in his room or wallet (maybe in his van, but he doesnt want anyone to see them but him so probably not)

- likes to have music playing quietly in the back

- is a gentle lover

- is never rough, only soft sex

- likes when you beg for him

- likes begging for you too

GYM CRUSH SIMON

sfw + nsfw. unsafe sex. womb fucking. no condom.

you never planned on becoming a late-night gym rat. it just …happened. like most things in your life, it started with good intentions and spiraled into something you weren’t entirely in control of.

you’d made a new year’s resolution to get in shape— because health, discipline, all that crap— and, in a moment of overzealous optimism, you splurged on a gym membership. a pricey one, to add. the kind that made your bank account cry, which meant quitting wasn’t an option.

there was only one problem. you were busy. between classes, assignments, and the absolute joke that was your sleep schedule, the only time you could consistently work out was well past normal human hours.

at first, the idea of hitting the gym at midnight felt… weird. like stepping into a parallel universe where only insomniacs and questionable life choices existed. but then you considered the alternative— going during peak hours and getting judged for your piss-poor form, or worse, waiting in line for machines behind a dude who was live-streaming his workout.

midnight schedule it was.

it grew on you eventually. the routine became second nature. drag yourself in after class, half-asleep, toss your bag into a locker, and start on the treadmill to wake yourself up. a slow warm-up, music blasting through your headphones, then a mostly half-hearted attempt at strength training.

the people who showed up at this hour were predictable. a few other students— dead-eyed, running on caffeine fumes. a handful of older folks, the dedicated ones who treated the gym like a sacred temple.

and then there was him.

tall. broad. built like something out of a military recruitment ad.

the first time you noticed him, you’d nearly tripped on the treadmill. one second, you were zoning out, staring at the clock, and the next— there he was. buzz cut barely visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, arms thick with muscle, veins running down his forearms in stark lines. tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, black ink tracing the ridges of his skin.

(the combat boots were what threw you off. who the hell wore combat boots to the gym?)

he moved through his workout with terrifying

efficiency. no wasted movements, no unnecessary pauses. heavyweights. circuits. the kind of training that looked more like preparation for war than casual fitness. he never looked winded either. no gasping for breath, no pausing to rest, just relentless, controlled effort.

you developed a— not a crush— an appreciation for him. admiration. respect. that was it. not the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders when he adjusted his grip on the barbell. not the way his jaw clenched in concentration. not the way his fingers wrapped around the weights with an ease that made you feel woefully inadequate.

“it’s a crush,” your friend announced one evening, stabbing a straw into his juice box.

you scoffed, flipping through your notes. “it’s not.”

“it is. i’m fit too, but i don’t see you staring at me like you wanna lick salt off my abs.”

you made a disgusted noise. “jesus, shut up.”

he grinned, tipping his juice box back dramatically. “i’m just saying. the fact that you haven’t even talked to him and yet know his entire workout routine is very-"

“i do not know his entire workout routine.”

your friend raised a brow.

you sighed. “…he does back and legs on tuesdays.”

his brow lifted higher.

“…and arms on thursdays.”

silence.

“right.”

“shut up.”

you’d considered talking to him. maybe asking for tips or making some awkward joke about his frankly ridiculous choice of gym footwear. but he didn’t exactly radiate approachable.

the man looked like he’d rather be waterboarded than engage in small talk.

and you? you weren’t some plucky rom-com protagonist who could charm the brooding loner into friendship with a dazzling smile and sheer force of personality. so, you kept your distance. which was fine. totally fine.

What the hell would you even say? “hey, nice pecs, can I bury my face between them?” he’d call the police on you.

so, you stayed quiet..

until the night you made the monumentally stupid decision to start lifting weights.

in your defense, it wasn’t entirely your idea. you were perfectly content with your usual treadmill-and-machines routine. but then your friend had to go and mock you.

“you’re paying for a full gym membership,” he said, flicking a fry at your forehead, “and you’re not even using the weight room?”

“i use it,” you protested.

“you walk through it.”

okay, fine. he had a point. which was how you ended up here, standing in front of a barbell, mentally preparing yourself to lift it like you were about to perform brain surgery.

you’d done your research— watched some youtube tutorials, read some articles. you knew the basics. foot placement. core engagement. not arching your back like a possessed demon.

you took a deep breath, squared your stance, wrapped your hands around the bar, and— nothing.

the bar didn’t budge.

you frowned, adjusted your grip. another deep breath. still nothing.

okay. you could do this. just, more force. maybe a little momentum. you planted your feet, sucked in a breath, and heaved—

"y’need a spotter?"

you startle so hard you nearly fall backward, breath catching as you whip around. close— he’s close, and jesus, he’s even bigger up close. broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes flicking between you and the barbell like he’s already making peace with witnessing an injury. his hoodie is pulled up like always, shadows cutting sharp over the edges of his jaw, but there’s something vaguely unimpressed about his expression. braced for disaster.

you swallow. "uh."

his brow lifts, expectant, as if this is some kind of trick question. "that a yes or a no?"

"i-" your brain short-circuits. every ounce of confidence you had a second ago shrivels up and dies. "i totally got this."

he exhales sharply, something between a scoff and a sigh. he shifts his weight, one foot bracing slightly forward. "sure you do.

your face heats. you turn back to the barbell, fingers tightening around the metal, and pull. it lifts— barely. your arms burn, hands already sweating, but you’re stubborn. you have it. almost.

"you’re about to smash your fucking face in," he mutters.

you falter— just for a second— but that’s all it takes. your grip slips, the weight tilting. shit, shit, shit!

he moves fast. faster than you expect. before you can even panic properly, his hands brace yours, steadying the bar with zero effort. he’s strong, fingers wrapping over yours for a brief moment before smoothly guiding the weight back onto the rack like it weighs nothing. you stumble back, arms trembling from the strain, but he doesn’t step away yet, just watches you catch your breath.

"right," he says after a beat, stepping back. "now that you’ve definitely got it, mind if i give you some actual pointers?"

you blink up at him, still processing the fact that you almost died, and this guy just saved your life like it was nothing. "you train people?"

"no. just rather not watch someone crush their skull in." which is… fair, you suppose.

you wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings, trying not to look as embarrassed as you feel. "okay. please. teach me."

you and simon— you learn his name by the third day!— slowly fall into a routine, much to his chagrin. he hadn’t expected offering to help you not splatter brain matter across the gym floor would lead to... this. a persistent presence. a shadow in his periphery.

he doesn’t know how it happened, how you managed to wedge yourself into the one place he thought was untouchable, but somehow, you did. and now, you’re there. always. not in an overbearing way. you don’t talk his ear off or force yourself on him. if anything, you’re surprisingly easy to be around. and worse— comfortable. which is fucking dangerous.

a routine starts forming. he hadn’t expected that offering to help you not crush your own skull under a barbell would lead to… this. hadn’t expected that you’d still be here, three days later, four, a week, waving at him when he walks in, bright-eyed and warm despite the ungodly hour. he tries to keep you at arm’s length, really, he does.

but you’re not loud. you don’t force yourself on him. you don’t pry or try to push past his walls— you just exist, alongside him, like it’s a natural thing in the world. you ask him questions, ease him into conversations so seamlessly that sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until he’s already halfway into answering.

"you ever listen to anything in those headphones?"

he glances at you, then down at his battered over-ear set, blinking like he’d forgotten they were even on. "sometimes."

you hum, stepping up to adjust your weights. "what kinda music?

he hesitates. "depends."

"on?"

"the day."

you narrow your eyes. "that’s not an answer."

"sure it is."

you mutter something under your breath about how “everyone in this gym is allergic to giving a straight answer,” but drop it— he notices that about you. you ask, but you never push. never press. you’re content with whatever he gives, and somehow that makes him want to give you more.

it’s little things at first. small details. he learns that you hate most protein juices but drink it anyway, that you run cold so you always wear a hoodie even when you’re sweating through it, that you hate country music and give him a long, horrified look when you learn that he doesn’t. ("not all of it," he defends, rolling his eyes. "some of it’s alright." you just shake your head at him like he’s beyond saving.)

you learn things too. that his tattoos are actually a full sleeve ("when’d you get these?" "over time." "wow, thanks, that clears so much up."), that he has an endless supply of grey hoodies and sweatpants that he refuses to explain.

"you ever heard of color?" you ask, plucking at his sleeve, and he swats your hand away. "practical," he grunts. "s’not a fuckin’ fashion show."

and then— of course— you fixate on the boots. the combat boots. “okay, but why?” you prod, nudging the toe of his boot with yours. “you know you can wear actual gym shoes, right?”

he gives you a flat look, expression unreadable under the shadow of his hood. “they’re my only pair.”

you freeze. your face twists, and there’s this flicker of genuine horror in your eyes that throws him completely off guard. “simon... are you... homeless?” your voice drops to a whisper, hesitant, like you’re afraid to even ask. his brain short-circuits. he smacks you lightly over the head, more shocked than anything.

"what the fuck- no, i'm not homeless, jesus."

you rub the spot with a pout, still eyeing him like you're not completely convinced. “well, i don’t know,” you mumble.

“you wear the same thing every day, never see you with a bag or a wallet or-”

“drop it.”

“-you don’t even buy pre-workout, simon, who does that-”

“drop it.”

some days, he comes into the gym in a mood. the kind where his head is full of static, his skin prickling with the restless need to exhaust himself into oblivion. those are the days he doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to be seen. and you— you notice. you don’t come up to him, don’t pester him or try to joke around like normal. instead, you just stand off to the side, watching him with this soft, wide-eyed expression like some kind of kicked puppy.

it’s unbearable.

like an itch under his skin that won’t go away. it eats at him, gnaws at the edges of his concentration, and before he can help it, he’s groaning and gesturing you over with a sharp flick of his fingers. “for fuck’s sake, just get over here already.”

you grin like you’ve won something, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you jog over, and he regrets it immediately.

you bring him coffee sometimes. at first, he doesn’t know how to react. he just stares at it when you shove the cup into his hands, blinking down at the little scribbled name on the side like it’s some kind of foreign object. he doesn’t even like sugary coffee, but he drinks it anyway.

the next day, guilt eats at him, so he shoves a protein shake into your hands, unwilling to meet your eyes. "s’only fair."

you squint at it, shake the bottle, listening to the liquid inside slosh around. “what’s in it?”

he scoffs. "fuckin’ cyanide."

you take an exaggerated sniff before grinning. “smells like peanut butter.”

his eye twitches. “just drink it.”

and then, somehow, that becomes a thing, too. a habit. every other day, one of you brings the other something— coffee, protein shakes, the occasional energy drink when you can tell he’s running on fumes.

one night, the gym is nearly empty. just the hum of air conditioning, the occasional clink of metal, the low buzz of some forgotten playlist over the speakers. the late hour has driven most people out, leaving only you and simon.

you’re exhausted, arms shaking, muscles burning with that deep, satisfying ache, but you’re pushing for one more rep. just one.

simon stands behind you, watching through the mirror. arms crossed, weight shifted slightly forward. tracking every movement, every shift in your stance, the way your hands tighten around the bar.

"you're on fumes," he mutters, but steps closer anyway, close enough that the heat of him presses against your back.

you roll your shoulders, shake out your wrists. “i got it.”

he exhales sharp through his nose, scoff and sigh rolled into one, but he doesn’t argue. just moves in, bracketing your sides, his presence steadying.

"alright," he murmurs, watching as you adjust your grip.

you brace yourself, pull, and the weight barely moves. your arms burn immediately, tendons screaming under the strain. your grip shifts, fingers trembling, slipping—

his hands are there. firm and certain, sliding just beneath yours, adjusting your hold without taking over. his chest nearly against your back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

"fix that grip, sweetheart."

you do, fingers locking down harder, shoulders bracing. he doesn’t let go, not fully, his palms ghosting over your forearms, steadying you just enough.

"lock it out," he says, quiet but insistent. his hands shift, one flattening against your stomach, the other hovering at your ribs, like he can feel where the tension is pulling wrong, where you need to engage. "push through. i’ve got you."

your breath stutters, something curling low in your stomach, and you force everything into that last pull, dragging the bar up, arms shaking, until you finally lock it out.

his fingers press in, just briefly, a quick squeeze at your ribs. "good."

you hold it for a second before guiding the weight back down, slow and controlled. the second it racks, your body gives, arms dead, shoulders screaming.

you stumble, just a little, and his hands are already there, catching at your waist. warm. solid. fingers pressing in just enough to steady you. they linger, just a second too long.

and then— "good girl."

barely above a murmur, just breath and heat against your skin, but it slams through you all the same.

your stomach tightens. your pulse jumps. you freeze.

you turn, still breathless, muscles trembling from exertion.

and he’s right there. solid. massive. crowding you. broad chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to the fabric stretched over muscle. too close, heat rolling off him, sinking into your skin, and making your stomach twist. up close, he’s all sharp lines and thick muscle, biceps flexing slightly as he rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head down to look at you.

"don’t-" your voice breaks. you swallow hard. "don’t do that."

simon’s brow lifts, lazy. "don’t do what, sweetheart?"

your fingers twitch at your sides. you gesture vaguely, heat curling up your spine. "that. the- the praise."

his mouth quirks, amusement flickering at the edges. "what, telling you you’re doing good?"

"yes."

he makes a sound low in his throat. "why? thought you liked it."

you try to start a defense, but he steps closer, and fuck, there’s nowhere to go.

"you did so good," he murmurs. his hand lifts, brushing over the curve of your waist. "pushed yourself real hard. took every single rep like a good girl."

your breath catches and oh, does he catch on to that.

"you like hearing that, don’t you?" his fingers curl, pressing into your hip. "knowing i’m right there, watching you, making sure you finish strong."

low, warm, approving—

"bet that’s why you pushed so hard," he continues, like he’s musing to himself. "just to hear me say it. just to make me proud."

simon’s eyes flicker to the vein in your neck. his other hand lifts, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, slow, almost tender.

"say it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "let me take care of you.”

“please.”

the rest of the gym is a blur. you don’t even register leaving, don’t remember how you end up outside, only that simon’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, dragging you through the parking lot with a single-minded purpose. the concrete expanse is empty except for simon’s truck parked just underneath a street lamp.

simon hauls you into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind him. the truck rocks with the force of it, windows already fogging, the stale scent of leather and the last remnants of his cologne in the air. the streetlights outside cast a dim glow that cuts through the darkness in thin streaks, glinting off the sweat at his temples.

his hands are on you before you can think. rough, impatient. he grabs your hips, yanks you into his lap, drags you down until you crash against him. the heat of him burns through every layer between you.

his hips roll up.

you jolt, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping tight as the thick shape of him grinds against your clit. even through the fabric, you feel everything— the ridges, the weight, the solid pressure slotting perfectly against you.

he does it again.

your breath catches, legs tensing where they straddle his thighs. you try to move, to adjust, but his hands flex, fingers digging in, keeping you pinned where he wants you.

"shh," simon hushes, arm against your skin, grip tightening as he forces you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you. "let me feel you."

his hips drag against you and you react before your brain can catch up, instinct driving you forward, grinding down, chasing the pressure.

his breath stutters, shoulders tensing as he watches you move. the friction grows slicker, hotter, the damp fabric sticking between you.

you glance down— and then you see it. his sweats, darkened, soaked where you grind against him, your arousal leaking through, making a mess of him.

"fuck-"

he exhales sharply, hands shifting, one palm smoothing down your thigh before gripping, pulling you into him.

"that’s it." he’s almost slurring his words now, his hips rolling up to meet yours. "so fuckin’ wet..."

your nails bite into his arms, your body working without thought, hips rolling, pressing down harder. the truck shifts with every movement, the worn leather seat creaking beneath you.

"fuck, baby." his lips brush your jaw. "so messy. feel that?"

you nod frantically and his cock jumps at your eagerness.

his patience snaps.

one moment you’re grinding down against him, chasing the delicious friction, and the next you're scrambling for purchase as he lifts you.

simon shoves his sweats down, and his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. it's thick. throbbing. the flushed tip leaking pre, smearing along the ridges of his abs, catching in the dim of the streetlights.

he’s big. not just in length— though fuck, he’s long enough to make your stomach clench— but thick, too. veins run along the shaft, disappearing beneath the flushed, ruddy skin. the head is a deep, aching red, fat and swollen, leaking so much it dribbles down, streaking along his cock, mixing with the slick mess you’ve already made on him.

the weight of him makes his cock hang low even as it twitches, pulsing with the rush of blood. it looks almost angry, the veins along the base throbbing, his whole cock flexing with each slow pump of his fist as he strokes himself, spreading the mess of precum along his length.

simon watches your expression shift, pleased. "knew you’d like that.”

he's teasing but you barely hear it. your eyes stay locked on him, pulse hammering as you take in the sheer size, the stretch you’re about to take—

he shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his cock. your hips twitch, instinct making you reach for him, trying to press forward, but he holds you back, squeezes to get your attention.

"look at that..” simon presses the head of his cock against your stomach, dragging it up, smearing wet along your skin. "gonna take all this, yeah? let me stretch that little cunt open?"

"yes- yes, please-"

"fuck." his breath shudders, his hold on you tightening. "greedy thing."

he yanks you forward, spreads your legs wider, fits himself between your thighs, grinds his cock through your slit.

the first press makes you jolt, your whole body twitching, a choked sound slipping from your throat. he groans, gripping your waist, shoving you down, rubbing your swollen clit against the head, dragging himself through your slick over and over again.

"desperate," he muses, almost cruel. "thought you could take me just like that?"

you try to answer, try to say something, but your brain doesn't work, body too busy chasing relief, hips jerking, cunt aching, a mess of whimpers spilling from your lips.

his cock is heavy against your stomach, his tip leaving a damp streak along your skin as he drags it upward. the grip he has on your waist is firm, fingers pressing deep into your flesh, keeping you still, making sure you see exactly how much of him is about to disappear inside you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, lilted by something dark and pleased. “gonna fit all this inside, yeah? stretch that little cunt open real nice for me?”

your breath shudders in your throat. the weight of him, the sheer size, sends a pulse of heat through you, thighs trembling where he holds them apart. he presses his cock higher, smearing himself over your navel, dragging slow just to watch the way your stomach flexes beneath him.

simon's fingers tighten at your hips, anchoring you in place. his eyes flick up, locking onto yours. “still want it?”

you can’t nod fast enough, hands fisting in the hard muscle of his shoulders, your pulse drumming against your ribs. “yes-”

he huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head. then he moves, his hands shifting to your waistband. simon doesn’t take his time, doesn’t tease— just yanks your shorts down in one rough motion, shoving them past your thighs, tossing them aside like they’re nothing.

your panties are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to your skin, darker where arousal has seeped into it. his gaze drops, and he groans, fingers flexing against your thighs.

his eyes practically shine as he reaches down, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling the fabric to the side instead of taking it off completely. “how long have you been sittin’ here all wet for me, huh?”

then, without warning, he lifts his cock and slaps it against your cunt. the obscene sound echoes between you.

you jolt, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. the weight of him presses down, drags over your swollen folds, smearing your slick along the length of him, leaving him just as messy as you.

simon's breath hitches, jaw going tight for a moment before he grins. “feel that?” he rocks his hips, slow and deliberate, the ridge of his head catching against your clit with every motion. “soaked for me. filthy girl.”

he keeps at it, rutting through your folds, dragging his cock against you in long, teasing glides. every lazy roll of his hips spreads more wetness between you, slick growing messier, needier, your arousal coating every inch of him.

his voice drops lower, almost awed. “you always this wet?”

you shake your head. you're not even sure why you're this wet. it’s obscene, every slow slide of him making a sticky, wet sound, the kind that makes your face burn with embarrassment.

his grip on your thighs tightens. he presses against you harder, lets his cock drag through the mess, smearing it everywhere, making it worse.

“just for me then?” he asks, watching the way his cock glistens, slick with everything you’ve given him. “i kind of like that.”

he lines himself up, pressing the thick, leaking tip against your aching entrance. he lets it catch there for a second, teasing, before dragging it up one last time, rubbing against your clit, watching you twitch beneath him.

then he settles back down, pressing again, the heavy weight of him poised to sink inside.

his eyes flick back to yours. “gonna let me in now, yeah?”

the first push is a mistake. he realizes it the second you tense up, sucking in a sharp breath, thighs trembling where they’re spread over his lap. his cock barely breaches you— just the tip, barely an inch— and your body locks up, refusing to take more.

simon grits his teeth, hands firm on your waist, trying to ease you down, but you’re too tight, squeezing around him like you’re trying to push him out. the head of his cock throbs where it’s barely inside you, thick and unyielding, stretching you too much, too fast.

he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, and tries again. rocks his hips, nudging deeper, letting you feel the weight of him pressing in. but you whimper, body trembling, nails biting into his skin. your walls clench down hard, resisting, and—

he stops. groans, and drops his head back against the seat.

"jesus christ." his palm drags over his face. "knew you were tight, but- fuck. you’re not gonna take me like this."

your face burns. your throat aches. frustration coils hot in your chest. "i’m sorry-"

"oh, sweetheart." simon's hands slide up your back, rough palms smoothing over your skin before he leans back, head tilting, eyes flicking over you. half amused, half exasperated. "you apologizing for having a cunt this tight?"

you sniffle, shifting in his lap, arousal sticky between your thighs. "but i wanted to-"

"you will." his voice is steady, calm, but his grip on your hips tightens. "just gotta take my time, yeah? don’t want you cryin’ when i finally get this cock in you."

you sniff again, blinking up at him, vision blurred, lips parted. "too late."

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuckin’ hell."

then his hands are moving again, trailing lower, fingers slipping between your slick folds, pressing in slow.

you jolt at the touch, a sharp, wrecked little sound catching in your throat. simon groans, watching the way you twitch in his lap.

"fuck, baby. so sensitive. all worked up and nowhere to put it, huh?"

you nod, heat crawling up your neck, hips jerking as he rubs slow, lazy circles over your clit. his fingers are thick, rough, dragging through the mess between your thighs, teasing, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.

"s’not fair," you mumble.

"life’s not fair, sweetheart." his fingers press in again, pushing deeper. one first, stretching you open, curling inside. then another. then a third. his other hand stays on your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you open so he can watch the way you take him.

"gotta get you nice and open." his voice low and warm. "don’t want you breakin’ on me just yet."

you whimper, rocking into his hand, clenching down around his fingers. your clit throbs under his thumb, swollen and aching, every slow grind of his palm sending another shudder through you.

"shh. just let me do this for you, yeah?"

you do. trembling, gasping, grinding down, taking everything he gives until you’re loose, slick, ready.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, walls fluttering around nothing.

then his cock is back, pressing against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing for only a moment before he pushes in—

you take him.

the stretch is unbearable. every inch forces you open, slow and deliberate, the thick drag of him pressing deeper than anything ever has. your breath stutters, body shaking, thighs trembling where they rest over his.

"fuck, sweetheart," he groans, voice tight, hands gripping your hips, keeping you still, keeping you from pulling away. "you feel that? squeezing me so fuckin’ tight."

you do. every ridge, every vein, the slow, impossible push of him splitting you open, inch by inch, pressing deep— then he stops.

breath stuttering, you blink at him, dazed, confused, still so empty. "w-why-"

"baby," his voice is almost pained. "m’pressing right up against your cervix. can’t go any deeper."

but it’s not enough. you whimper, hips twitching, shifting to take more, to sink lower. "but i still feel empty, si.."

his jaw clenches, fingers digging into your thighs, trying to keep you still, stopping you from punching a fucking hole through your guts. "jesus, sweetheart. you don’t know what you’re askin."

"please," you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. "si, please, want all of you-"

he groans, head dropping back against the seat, restraint hanging by a thread. "fuck."

then his grip tightens, and before you can say another word, he forces you down the rest of the way.

"oh-oh my god-" your whole body shakes, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as the thick head of his cock breaches your cervix, slipping into your womb, stuffing you full.

simon grunts, the squeeze of you making his vision blur for a second. "jesus fuckin’ christ."

the moment he bottoms out, your walls clamp down, fluttering, pulsing around him— the pleasure snaps without warning, white-hot, rolling through you all at once.

"fuck- fuck, baby." he curses, the squeeze of your cunt almost painful. his half-lidded eyes are trained on where the two of you connect, the way you gush around him, soaking his cock. "just from takin’ me all the way? filthy fuckin’ thing-"

he huffs a rough laugh, fingers flexing against your hips, appreciating the extra slick easing the way. "makes it easier, at least," he mutters, then starts to move.

it’s slow at first— just enough to let you feel it, to make you ache through the thick drag of him pulling back, just enough to let you whimper at the sheer pressure of his cock pressing against every swollen, overstimulated inch of your cunt.

but you’re already gone.

your lashes flutter, your lips part around soft, wrecked little sounds, your hips twitching even though he’s holding you down, even though you’re already stuffed so fucking full.

"look at you," he murmurs, dragging a palm up your belly, pressing down right where he’s so deep, groaning when he feels the outline of himself inside you. "fuckin’ cock-drunk already, sweetheart?"

you sob, thighs squeezing around his waist, hands grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as your hips jerk, rolling forward mindlessly, instinct driving you to take more, take everything.

he groans, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can see all of it.

"can’t even talk, can you? too fuckin’ dumb to think straight."

"s-simon-"

"what, love? too far gone already?"

his smirk is wicked, his grip tight as he presses his hips up, spearing you open all over again.

you scream, body jerking, back arching, thighs trembling around him. "ohh- oh fuck-"

"there we go." his voice is full of praise, full of something dark and indulgent. "there’s my good girl."

he sets a slow rhythm, dragging his cock out until only the thick head is inside you before slamming all the way back in, spearing you open, making sure you feel it, making sure you take every inch.

"bloody hell," he mutterd, feeling the way your walls squeeze him, the way you shudder, the way you drip around him, slick gushing, soaking his cock, ruining his seats.

"listen to that, sweetheart," he groans, shifting his grip, spreading his knees just a little wider to pin you in place. "fuckin’ mess you’re makin."

he glances down, eyes nearly rolling at the sight— your cunt stretched wide around him, slick dripping down to his balls, pooling beneath you.

"christ, love." he has to gasp for breath. "fuckin’ leaking all over me- ruinin’ my fuckin’ truck-"

"s-simon-" you lose your train of thought, babbling incomprehensible strings of words.

"can't think?" simon's grin sharpens. "good. don’t need you thinkin."

then he fucks you properly.

felt this in my soul 😭

thinking about giving onyankopon the most stupendous upside down blowjob in the world but because he’s literally pushing against your gag reflexes you’re just so focused on trying to take him without choking so youre doing so without any pleasuring noises and your eyes are just glassed over? concentration focused?? spit and precum everywhere??? like hes just lowly groaning out curses and the occasional “you’re so pretty like this” but hes not even being rough?? just so intrigued in seeing you fucked out its crazy god

Hello! I noticed that you’ve been liking my work 🥰 I’m glad you’re enjoying them!

So sorry for the late reply but of course of course. Your writing is truly amazing and I've fallen in love. Thank you and I hope you continue 😘😘😘

I've been robbed of pleasure and I would like it returned ASAP no rocky pls 😔

I’m screaming! I had a BALL last night, finished writing this before I went out, got soooo drunk and when I went to edit the pictures in I deleted it 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️

“Fats, get up” your boyfriend of three years today smacked you ass to wake you up.

“Mhmm” was all you said as you stirred around and gave him a blank look and looked over at the clock that read 7:36 am. Why was he waking you up so early.

“Ony it’s 7 in the morning, why are we up so early” you asked him rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “It’s our anniversary today, got a busy day planned for us, now go get dressed” he said leaning over to you kissing your cheek.

After getting yourself together and dressed you walked down stairs to see Ony standing next to the kitchen table that showcased your favorite breakfast food. “Ony baby, what is all this?” You asked him walking up to him to place a kiss on his lips. “Gotta make sure we start our day off right so the rest of it can go perfectly” he said grabbing your waist and leaning into your kiss before pulling you into your seat.

You ate in silence just enjoying the food and each other’s company and when you were done Ony pulled out a piece of paper before reading, “ight ma It’s currently 8:43, you got a nail appointment at 9:30, then at 12 you got a wax, at 1 is your lash appointment, then at 4:15 you get your hair done, and in that same suite you’re gonna get your makeup done at 6:30 then come back home to me. We got dinner at 8:30” Ony rushed out making you look at him with wide eyes and said,

“Ony what? Ion even know how I want my hair to be done or my na-” ony cut you off before you could finish expressing your concerns. “ don’t worry about nun of that. Everything is already paid for, stylists already know what they are to do , now all you gotta do was show your pretty ass up and relax baby,now go” and with that you were off.

9:30 Nails: Done

12 Wax: Done

1 Lashes : Done

4:15 Hair: Done

6:30 Makeup: Done

Ony literally had you ripping and running all day but you weren’t complaining because you felt absolutely beautiful. You did wonder tho. What was he planning because he has never taken the time to actually schedule any of your appointments your past anniversaries, yes you always do a dinner but this was different. You pulled into your driveway and walked into your shared house.

The smell of weed and the sound of music hits you when you walked in shaking your head you headed into the bedroom room and the sight before you made your thigh clench, there was Ony standing there butt naked, Blunt in his mouth, and a fresh line up. Your clenching thighs didn’t go unnoticed “ Nuh uh baby nun of that. We’re on a time frame now go bathe real quick” you pout a little before going to do what you’re told.

Taking a chill hoe bath was the best thing you could do because you didn’t want to sweat out your makeup or hair. Grabbing a towel you stepped into the bedroom and saw a pretty dress on the bed. Glancing at the time you saw it was “7:43” yea you need to move. Running back into the bathroom to oil your body and grab your gold accessories before running back into the room and getting dress when you were done you slipped on your gold heels and grabbed your LV wristlet and walked down stairs.

Ony who was already dressed sat on the couch man-spreading as he scrolled down Instagram. The sound of your heels coming down the stairs made him turn his head and boy did his heart skip a beat. Getting up to help you down the last few steps he grabbed your hand and said, “beautiful as always” lightly kissing your lips not wanting to ruin your lipstick then guiding you out the house.

The car ride was peaceful Ony had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh while you took pictures of your face to post on your story. When you pulled up to the expensive restaurant Ony turned off the car and walked over to your side to open your door. Walking inside hand in hand your boyfriend spoke to the host, “Reservations for Onyankopon” “yes, please follow me”

Walking behind the host you feel Onys hand start to shake and become sweaty so you look up and ask him, “you okay” giving a gentle smile to which he said, “ yea yea im good mama” returning the smile.

“Here you guys are, please do enjoy your dinner” the host said stopping at a closed door. Ony gently took his hand out of yours and got behind you allowing you to walk in first.

The sight in front of you confused you because why was Eren, Jean, Mikasa, Sasha, Armin, Connie, Reiner, Levi and your other friends there along with both of your parents and your siblings. But when they all had their phones out recording and smiling it dawned on you and you couldn’t help the tears that were now flowing because no way what you think is about to happen about to happen.

“Baby turn around” Ony told you making you shake your head no because you didn’t want him to see you ugly cry.

“GIRL YOU BETTER TURN AROUND OR ILL TAKE YOUR PLACE” Your aunt who had the hots for your boyfriend yelled out making you, your siblings and mom look back at her with a glare shutting her up real quick making Ony and some chuckle.

“Mama look at me please” Ony gently tugged on your left hand causing you to turn and when you saw him you couldn’t help but sob placing your right hand over your mouth. There he was down on one knee, both hands holding your left hand and looking up at you with so much love and admiration.

“Ony” you whispered out

“ Ssshhh baby, let me do the talking for right now” he spoke causing some to ‘Awwee’ before continuing, “ Y/n, 3 years ago you captured my heart by being exactly who you are. The sweetest, most loving, compassionate and sensitive person I’ve ever known. You have been my best friend through the good and the bad. You have been the reason I smile and you have given me comfort beyond measure when I have cried. You believed in me when no one would, you rooted for me even when I gave up on myself. You have shown me how to love with passion, purity, and unconditional acceptance. I’m not sure a lifetime is long enough to return all you have given me but I promise to spend the rest of my life with you. Promise to continue to love you, grow with you, and change for you because you deserve the world and I’m willing to give you that. Never in a million years I would have thought I’d be here on one knee committing to someone, but it’s you Y/n, you’ve changed me, you make me want to be a better man. From that smart ass mouth of yours, to those tantrums you throw when things don’t go your way, to the fact that YOU’RE a damn bill itself, to how you’re so gentle and compassionate to people that you don’t even know, and to that fat ass and those nice tits of yours” Ony who smirked at you showing his bottom grillz whispered out the last part hoping your parents didn’t hear causing you to laugh through your tears. He continued, “ I love everything thing about you baby, I want to continue to grow with you, learn from you, to start a family with you. I promise to laugh with you, to believe in you and support you. Together we are better than we can ever hope to be alone and today I give you my love, my trust, and my fidelity forever. You will always be the best part of my day, so Y/n Y/mn Y/Ln will you make me even happier and marry me princess?” Ony finished his proposal taking a box out of his suit pocket and showing a gorgeous ring, now tearing up a little himself. You who was now bawling couldn’t do anything but continue to cry and nod your head yes multiple times. “Nuh uh mama, you a big girl use your words” he told you causing some of the women in the room to let out a “wooo” because he was such a daddy. Yeah he was definitely getting this pussy tonight, the tone in his voice, so mhmmm

“YES YES YES” you were able to let out. Ony smiled and slid the ring onto your finger before picking you up and spinning your around. Not caring about the others in the room, Ony put you down before pulling you into a nasty kiss causing everyone to whoop and holler.

“Hey hey hey, don’t get too carried away now, dats still my little girl” your dad interrupted causing your mom to smack em in the back of his head and told him to shut up. You let out a “sorry daddy” to which Ony replied, “it’s ight baby”

“I wasn’t talking to you Ony” you cried shoving your face in his chest from embarrassment causing him to laugh and your dad to widen his eyes and let out a small “My God” making everyone laugh but anywho you turned around and screamed,

“IM GETTING MARRIED BITCHES” showing off you new piece of jewelry and twerkin on your FIANCÉ!

Now go time to go home and put that pussy on him 🤤😏

Omg! You and Ony are engaged!! I enjoyed writing this sooo much. Hope you like it just as much as I did 🤧😩

Authors note:

Thank you all for all support. It really makes me happy knowing that so many of you are enjoying my work. So many likes, reblogs, and follows in a short time of two weeks. I’m glad the community is growing and we’re able to enjoy each other’s work and fics that we can relate to. But again thank you all, I love you 🫶🏽🫶🏽

-getoscrybaby💖

When y/n gets too annoying to the point you want to stop reading

“posts you may like” then its all callout posts 😭

simon knows something is wrong as soon as he comes home. (a little 18+, f!reader)

you're sitting on the floor of the living room. there's acrylic paint in your hair, and you're crying, eyes red and puffy cheeks wet. you're sitting around a floor of strewn about toddler toys, and you're rubbing your chest in the way that simon knows means your breasts are sore.

he shuts the door behind himself. there's dishes piled up in the sink. he smells something that's burnt. the kitchen table is littered with remnants still from breakfast, and there's clean laundry still piled up in the basket, forgotten next to the couch.

"wot the fuck is happenin'?"

you jump a little when you hear his voice, as if it's the first time you've noticed something in your house is different. you want to smile at him, but it falls short. simon kicks his boots off, hanging his jacket up, and he lets out a deep breath as he kneels down in front of you.

"hey, baby," he murmurs. you sniffle, wiping your face, and simon cups your cheeks to make you look at him. "wot happened?"

"he hates me," you whisper. "h-he hates me, simon, h-he said it."

"who hates ya, swee'eart?"

"joe," you whine. "i told him...i told him you wouldn't be here for supper, and he..." you start to cry. "he said he hates me. he wants you, he only wants you. he hates me..."

simon sucks on his teeth under the mask, shaking his head.

"mm...and where's our sweet girl then?"

"s-sleeping."

"havin' a nap?" he kisses you softly. "olright. time to pump, huh, love?" he cups under your breast tenderly, rubbing over your sore nipple. you sigh, nodding, and he nudges his nose against yours. "olright. you 'ave a go. take a nice bath. have somethin' ta eat."

you collapse against his chest in a fit of soft tears. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close, and he rubs your back gently.

"we'll 'ave a chat," simon murmurs. "sort this out."

"i-i'm sorry, simon."

"no need ta be sorry, baby. i've got it."

"i...i wanted to have it, too. i wanted..."

simon rubs a thumb over your face gently.

"you do, baby. you've got it. i know you do. there now, that's a girl..."

it takes a few minutes to get you to go into your shared bedroom. when he sees you relaxed as you get your breast bump, he makes his way down the hall, to where your son's bedroom door is just ajar.

when he pushes it open, it creaks. simon sighs as he sees your little boy sitting on the carpet, playing with his trains. he's quiet, which is unusual; when he comes home, normally his son is bounding towards him, jumping up and down, so happy and excited to see his father. now, he looks shy, and he won't acknowledge him.

"oi," simon murmurs gently. "that a way to greet me, lad?"

his son just shrugs. he looks up at him, the picture of shame, and simon closes the door behind him as he takes a seat on the little bed. it creaks under his great weight, but it holds up. simon looks positively funny—he takes up most of the bed, and he has to hunch over to get closer to his son.

"i missed you very much. been gone awhile, haven't i?"

his son just shrugs again.

"'n i come home, and i see y'r mum covered in rubbish, very upset. would y'like ta tell me wot tha's about? huh, joe?"

his son, predictably, just shrugs.

"y'r mum thinks y'hate her," simon continues. "tha' true?"

shrug.

"oi," simon's voice hardens, but it's still gentle. "i'm havin' a conversation with you, lad. i'd like it very much if y'gave me y'r attention."

joe finally stops touching his trains. he sniffles, looking up at simon, and simon tilts his head to the side. when they meet eyes, simon tries to be less intimidating. he wants his son to know he's done something wrong, but he doesn't want to scare him.

"y'r mum thinks you hate her. tha' true?" he asks again. when joe shakes his head, simon narrows his eyes. "then why'd ya say it?"

"wanted a lolly."

"uh huh. but mummy said it was supper time, didn't she?"

"yeah."

"so you hate her?"

"no."

"then why'd ya say it?"

"i dunno," joe shrugs. he frowns a little, thinking, and simon is satisfied with this reaction. punishing joe never works; taking away his toys, his coloring books, playtime, it never works. joe is like you—too smart for his own good. he learns when he's confronted with the truth. "i wanted..."

"ya wanted to hurt her," simon finishes. "like you think she hurt you."

joe turns back to his trains. simon sits up, taking a deep breath.

"one day," simon murmurs, "y'r gonna love someone the way i love y'r mummy."

"i am?" joe is interested. he turns his head a little, blinking up at his dad, and simon just nods. realistic. honest.

"right," simon tells him. "y'r gonna love them 'n y'r gonna wanna protect them, like i want to protect y'r mum. you can't stop everyone from hurtin' them, but i would hope that at least it...wouldn't be family. tha's y'r mum, mate. i remember when y'were the size of a tiny bean, inside of her tummy, yeah? she was so happy. 'n when y'were born, she cried so much. said y'were the most wonderful thing, said she would love you more than anythin', more than me." simon chuckles. "was a bit jealous of ya for a bit, won't lie. 'n she does. loves you with all of herself. tells me all the time."

"she does?" joe's eyes are big and bright now. he feels bad. he's sad.

"tha's right," simon mutters. "'n when i'm gone, i'm not here to protect y'r mum, so i thought you'd be a big help, but here we are, joe. 'n y'r mine, mate, all mine, but y'r mum is special to me, y'hear tha'? she's my special girl. my special girl tha' loves you more than herself, so i need you to go tell her y'r sorry, and i need you to mean it."

joe stands up onto his little legs, and simon watches as he toddles over to simon. simon scoops him up into a big hug, and joe wraps his arms around his neck and buries his face into his shoulder.

"i'm sorry," joe whimpers, and simon rubs his little head gently. "i-i don't hate her, i-i got...m-mad..."

"tha's olright," simon whispers. "you can get mad. but ya can't hurt y'r mum. she does oll the heavy liftin' when 'm gone, and...can't do tha'. won't 'ave it."

"i-i won't. i-i won't anymore—"

"good lad..."

when it's quiet in the house, and the babies are sleeping, simon is rubbing lotion into your hands gently. you're tired from feeding the baby, and you're tired from scrubbing the paint out of your hair, but now simon is home, and he's here, and your son sobbed in your arms blubbering about how much he loves you, how he's sorry.

"you come home, and everything..." you sniffle, "everything just gets better again. i-i...why am i so bad at this, simon?"

"you're not bad," simon tells you. "i'm the bastard, baby. the one leavin' ya here...all alone..." he sighs. he pushes your hair out of your face, thumbing at your cheek. "work so hard, love. make my life so easy."

"easy?" your eyes water. you reach up and clutch his forearm, leaning into him. "what you do is so hard, simon. a-and...and so scary."

simon shakes his head, meeting your eyes. you look tired. you look beautiful, but you look tired, and he feels it—he knew one day he would feel it, but he didn't realize that day would come so soon. it's time. it's time for him to come home. it's time to put the papers in, to stomach the desk job, to bite the bullet, because he won't leave you and come back like this. not again. he can't do it. not to you.

"my pretty girl," simon mutters. he licks over his teeth, moving his hand lower to cup your jaw in a big palm. you arch up to meet him, fisting his shirt, and you open your mouth as he bends to kiss you. his tongue is hot against yours; he devours you from the inside out, kissing you wet and eager. you whimper softly, sinking into him, and he smiles into the kiss when he feels you nearly liquefy underneath him. "open, swee'eart."

you do. you let your jaw hinge and mouth fall open, and you accept his fingers easily. you tongue at the pads of his fingers, closing your mouth around them and sucking softly. when he removes them, he slips them under the shirt you wear, where he finds you soft and warm and wet between the thighs. he tucks his fingers under the gusset of your panties, and he feels all the blood swell into his cock when he has to feel between a nearly full bush to find your puffy clit.

"didn't want to touch it while you were gone," you whisper.

"yeah?" simon smirks, slipping two fingers inside of you. his thumb keeps its place on your clit, and your toes curl as you leak onto his palm. "why's tha', love?"

"b-because...because..."

"cause why, baby?"

"cause...c-cause it's yours, simon. your pussy."

"tha's right," simon hums. "my pussy."

Once you unintentionally found marital documents on Simon's office desk, you thought oh finally the infamous cool and reserved lieutenant of task force 141 got someone who he can take care of and spend his time after retirement. You're genuinely happy for him to actually meet someone and couldn't not think of how lucky that person is. That was all the thought until you inspected the document closer and later you noticed the spouse name there right after Simon was your name.