#drawn from template

[fleaseditstuff]

srced from pinterest ★ edited by me

[kayvalencourt]

Lukas the Notable

[laugtherhyena]

Character inspo things, i thought about making these a lil while ago when the trend was going around but i could never think of enough characters to fill it all the way (i still can't, but eh fuck it)

[faerieluvss]

Celine Vires

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[ Technical Info ]

Gender: Female

Birthday: April 19th

Age: 17

Star Sign: Aries

Height: 166cm

Hair Color: Night Brown

Eye Color: Dark Yellow

Homeland: Edelweiss Empire

[ College Info ]

Year: 2nd

Class: 2-A

Club: Magical Shift

Best Subject: Animal Linguistics

[ Other ]

Hobby: Woodcarving

Likes: Nature, Rain, Her alone time

Dislikes: Bright lights, Loud music, Having attention be solely on her.

Favorite Food: Hazelnut Soup

Least Favorite Food: Meat in general

[ Overview ]

‘ A Harpy beastman who prefers solitude most of the time. She feels more connected to nature than to other people, and struggles quite a bit with making connections. She has her bouts of aggression sometimes, and will physically harm someone if she gets angry enough. She doesn’t wish to be so aggressive though, it’s simply in her nature. ’

[ Unique Magic ]: Nothing there yet, simply a late bloomer I suppose..

🦋 That drunkard butterfly has made its way to your window once again…

how that golden bird once soared!

how it longed for greater heights!

Even though it was warned not to stray too far,

it still followed the wind, still took flight!

It flapped high above your head, before stopping.

until the pitch dark night swept in,

and ripped the wings right off of her.

and there she was put in a golden cage,

for all to see, on a golden stage!

the sights, the sounds!

the heckles, the curses!

all the torment she had to abide

made her long once more for the sky.

alas, poor ringmaster!

blinded by greed, and could not see,

that the circus he made would soon be gone

for not letting a caged bird free.

It slowly flies circles around your head, mimicking a vulture..

with her golden talons now stained blood red,

the lone bird finally stepped out of her cage.

and flew and flew for who knows how long

back in the skies, where she belonged.

It flew away.. what a strange song! To clear your head, you should probably take a walk somewhere outside..maybe the woods! Of course, just be careful not to disturb her while she’s having her alone time..

marcoritas belongs to @revivemyreverie :)

[jellycreamjammedart]

so a discord sever had a prompt for using a simple pumpkin template for users to 'carve into'/draw over to make jack-o-lantern arts. so i went and made the Glamdad

left: OG

right: candle flame moves slightly

[ask-the-pearloftheorient]

3/5 - Malaysia

Ring ring ring. . . Hehe, hello~

[Reminder that Piri canonically said that to his face, lol]

[boyheros]

are there any fun facts abt ur clones that ud want the average viewer to know?

SO sorry i got this ask when i was super busy and then. forgot. ANYWAYS here we go. crash-course in oc clone basics:

in the context of the story, the human species has been on a major decline for a whiiiiile. going extinct basically. cloning was meant as a sortof stop-gap to try and bolster the population, BUT, making clones wasn't actually the original goal of the whole endeavor, it was making "human facsimiles." they're very similar conceptually but not the same! human faxes are basically the clones you see often in popular media. an exact copy of someone, mind and memories and personality and all. conversely, clones are just. genetic copies of someone, they're completely unique people otherwise. like an identical twin (that you made in a lab, perhaps...) so yeah technically human faxes are leaning into the "trying to obtain immortality" area bc you're trying to make a new version of yourself that'll outlive you. whatever. no one was ever successful in making a true human fax, so clones became the hot new thing.

originally, clones were made test-tube baby style (again, how you see in media lol) BUT it took just as long as a normal pregnancy and was expensive and blah blah blah. eventually a new method was perfected which utilized techniques from 'base black manufacturing,' which was an innovative (nearly) no-waste method of manufacturing. that also was only performed on non-living things, prior to using it for cloning... so now clones are made on cloning machines !! (or sometimes "human facsimile machines," because when they found the new method they tried making faxes again lol. still didn't work). it's also important to me that you know: they aren't grown anymore. they're made. on the machine. you no longer have to wait a pesky 9 months for birth. and they aren't even born

when you donate your DNA, there's a posited rule that only 3 clones of you will EVER be made (3+1, or "three's a crowd" rule) but this often isn't the case depending on lineage. if your clone goes off and fosters a bigass (biological) family, then LIVON isn't gonna introduce more people with the same DNA into the gene pool. the human population is too low to risk that.....so yes LIVON basically monitors everyone they can in order to track this but. don't worry about it....

ok so those were large exposition paragraphs not "fun facts"... so here's a fact that is more fun (hopefully): almost all clones are made with bellybuttons, despite not ever being attached to an umbilical cord or anything. BUT! some clones do lack that feature. Maverick is one such clone lol.

[marshmallowgoop]

Repostober Day 19 | 19 OCs

Nineteen original characters of mine, drawn from 2007 to 2013. Most are from my NaNoWriMo novels (1, 2, 4, 5, and 7, but especially 1), but a couple are from some one-off comics I made.

[backwardpuzzle]

obligatory 2024 art summary (which i forgot to post earlier LMAO)

[neverendingford]

.

[jmbringitonworld]

So colourful... I forgot how much of an explosion of colour MLP is! I'm glad most of the colours are nice and soft. I can't imagine how long it takes you to draw the background, but it looks so good!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

That was really sweet of Twilight; I hope Sombra tells her so to her face next time XD But where's the 'thanks' for Spike, huh?? XDDD

MLP - Twibra - Sombra's Room

MORE TWIBRA~!｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡ I had fun drawing Sombra's room~ (Where's the bed? Well it's on the other side of the room! lol) 更多 TWIBRA～！｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡ 畫Sombra的房間畫得很開心~ （床在哪？在房間的另一邊！lol）

DeviantArt:[link]

☕Buy me a coffee~?☕｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡

✨Want to commission me? 🖼️🖌️ヾ(･∀･)

[fleaseditstuff]

[star-mail]

draw svsss from memory ! keyword being memory- i haven't drawn most of them before

template by: pompipurin !!

i dont wanna talk about how long this took <3

[coyotelip]

starchaser microfic: baby || old married couple || @into-the-jeggyverse || wc: 905

James wakes up alone next to the still-warm pillow on the other side of the bed and to the sound of the water running in the shower. 

Long, lazy mornings in bed are meaningless to James without his husband, so he quickly gets up, puts on some shorts, and heads for the bathroom. 

The door is unlocked, as locks become irrelevant in a long marriage, so James calmly enters the room, does his business, washes his hands, and splashes cool water on his face. Through the noise of the water, Regulus still doesn't notice his presence, the shadow of his slender figure moving as he reaches for the shampoo on the shelf. 

James touches the blue curtain that separates him from the shower and pulls it back a little to look inside. Regulus has his back to him and still doesn't notice the other man's presence. His back muscles are tense as his raised hands massage his scalp, lathering his hair with shampoo. The hot air, along with the strong smell of soap, hits James in the face, but his attention is drawn to the figure of his husband. He follows the line of his spine downward, the tattoo on Regulus' side half hidden but still familiar. Two distinct dimples on his lower back, his favorite mole between them. Round buttocks... James can't help but reach out and pinch one of them. 

“Shit!” rings through the room, echoing off the wet walls. Regulus turns to him with frightened eyes, but the fright quickly turns to irritation. He shakes off some foam in James' direction, trying to shoo him away. “You sick pervert, get out of here!” 

James laughs heartily at the sight of Regulus' skin turning red from the combined efforts of his little pinch and the hot shower. But he obediently pulls the curtain back and turns to the sink. “Is it a crime or a perversion to look at your own husband in the shower?” he says loudly, so that he can be heard over the sound of the water. 

The mirror above the sink is fogged with steam, and James isn't wearing his glasses, so his reflection is just a blur of color. He picks up his toothbrush, adds toothpaste, and starts brushing his teeth. 

Regulus, meanwhile, replies, “Your love of sneaking up on me is actually the reason why we're going to divorce someday.” 

James just smiles to himself with a mouthful of toothpaste, the same thing Regulus has been saying all along their relationship. “One day this will be the reason we break up,” he said during the first year of their relationship. He attributed his first gray hairs to James' behavior. However, he still blushes every time.

Spitting out the paste, James says, “Tell me more about it.” 

Regulus clicks his tongue, “About our divorce?” 

“Yeah.” James rinses his mouth. “Have you added this section to your whole life planning folder yet? It's got to be somewhere before the retirement section, right?” 

Despite James' joking tone, such a folder did exist in Regulus' desk. In fact, it was just a collection of all the necessary documents and templates that might come in handy in the future. To it, Regulus added old materials from their wedding planning, drawings of the renovation they had done ten years earlier, property documents, and old templates for adoption papers. The latter were in the deepest corner, long forgotten, because the topic had never gone beyond discussion. But Regulus still couldn't just get rid of them. 

“Uh, I have an appointment with my lawyer for the divorce papers this Thursday, so expect a letter,” Regulus says lightly. Meeting Dorcas for coffee on Thursdays was a long-established tradition, and the woman's career as a divorce lawyer has become a favorite playful manipulation of Regulus for any occasion. 

James just snorts, running his palms over his face. He wipes the mirror and almost bumps his nose into it, carefully examining his reflection. He runs his fingers along the line of his beard, checking to see if it needs trimming here or there, and strokes his neck. His stiff hair on his chin and above his upper lip seems more perfect than ever, giving James a statuesque appearance for his age and confidence in his attractiveness. 

He really didn't care how many women or men turned to him on the street, how wide the baristas smiled at him, or how many years they gave his look. All that mattered to James was how Regulus reached across the table during his morning coffee to wipe the milk foam from his mustache, or simply took his face in his hands and ran his thumbs along the smooth line of his cheek stubble. His gaze at these moments spoke more than anything else. 

Looking at his reflection, James suddenly remembers his late father, whom he had never seen young except in photographs. But now, looking at himself in the mirror, he resembles him more than ever. The muscles in his chest clench simultaneously with sadness for the dear man and a rush of happiness because of his memories. 

With wet hands, James brushes his unruly hair back and gathers the strength to say, “Regulus?” 

“Hmm?” comes the man behind the curtain. 

“I think we should have a baby.” 

Silence reigns for a second before the curtain is abruptly pulled back, revealing a naked and foamy Regulus staring at him wide-eyed, “What?!”

[fayes-fics]

NSFW Alphabet for Benedict Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The A-Z of sexual experiences with Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex, sex acts, kink. Mentions of: oral sex (m to f, f to m), cum play, poly/bisexual experiences, sexual fantasies, voyeurism, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, public sex acts, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk, masturbation, bondage, breath play, suspension/rope play, object insertion, sex toys, pegging, cock rings, sensory deprivation, blindfolds, sensory play, temperature play, period sex, pregnancy kink.

Authors Note: This is a version of the classic nsfw alphabet challenge. Template available here. I found this lurking in my Google Docs recently. I wrote it two years ago, but I still agree with it all. Enjoy! 🫶

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Benedict is the king of aftercare. As much as this artistic boy loves a bit of kinky play, what he loves even more is cherishing you after a vigorous session. He will cleanse your body, apply balm to any areas that need salving and wrap you in a loving embrace as you float down from your high. He loves to take soothing baths together and unwind with sensual touches and gentle kisses before climbing into bed, your bodies still damp, smelling like soap and radiating warmth from the hot water.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body parts of his own are his talented, artistic hands. Not only does he create beautiful art with them - including a private collection of nudes of you - but he knows exactly how to use his hands to please you. To not only soothe you through gentle touches or massage but also to get you off with his fingers buried deep inside you. 

His favourite body part of yours is your lips. He loves to watch your mouth move as you talk, the little smirks when you are amused, the way you bite your bottom lip when aroused. The way they taste and feel against his lips, and the way they look wrapped around his cock when you are taking him down as far as you can.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His favourite place for his cum to be is deep inside you. He doesn't have a particular fetish for seeing it on your body, despite being an artist. He would prefer to paint your skin with actual paint. The only exception was when you licked the cum off his fingers after you found him masturbating, and he couldn't stop thinking about it for days. To this day, when he masturbates, he still thinks about it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Benedict is full of surprises. One dirty secret he hasn’t told you yet is that he fantasises about you getting fucked by another man while he watches. There’s only one person he would trust to be intimate with his partner: his older brother, Anthony. One day, he might pluck up the courage to ask if you’re amenable to it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Before meeting you, he had many years of varying levels of sowing his wild oats. His hedonistic nature has drawn him into bohemian crowds, so he has experiences of threesomes and plenty of flings with all genders. He knows what he is doing with the female and male body but is never boastful about it, more enthusiastic about applying the knowledge he has gained and adapting it to your wants and desires.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where he can watch your face, he loves to see all the little expressions you pull in the throes of ecstasy. So, face-to-face works best. But it doesn't necessarily have to be in a bed. In fact, he quite enjoys it anywhere and has the stamina to hold you up against a wall if you want it. He also loves taking you from behind in front of a mirror so he can see your face, and you can watch yourself being fucked by him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Benedict is a natural comedian and the king of the reactionary goofy face. So yes, humour during intimacy is a natural extension of his fun-loving personality. He loves to make you giggle in bed; after all, naked bodies and the noises they make can be funny, especially during sex. He loves to laugh with you, his nose buried into your neck as his rich laugh vibrates his chest against yours as you share an amusing moment. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

This boy has a beautiful head of chestnut hair but has surprisingly little body hair. You have to really search for the four tiny chest hairs he has. So he doesn't have a lot of hair down there (yes, it matches, with a slight gingery hue). Both modern AU and Regency trim a little to keep it neat—he appreciates the beauty of a well-maintained body.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

This man is an artistic soul and a true romantic to his core. Romance and intimacy are his sweet spots, and he is effortless in both. Depending on his mood, he can be filthy, romantic, funny or sometimes all three at once in the moment. He is always hyper-aware of your needs, intuiting them often before you know yourself. And he is a giver by nature, ensuring your satisfaction as well as his own. He is very loving and caring; he enjoys kissing a lot during sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He has a private stash of sketch (and, if modern, artsy photo) nudes of you and will use them to fuel his fantasies if you are apart. But when it comes close to the moment of coming, his eyes are screwed shut as he pictures you panting his name, knees splayed apart, his cock leaking down his own fist. The quintessential masturbating Benedict to me can be found in my fic Temptation, to be honest. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He enjoys powerplay and is a switch to his very core - he can take charge, but he enjoys submitting to you, too. He loves bondage but just light. He loves to tie you up in beautiful silks or his cravats. Either tying your hands together or sometimes to an object like a bedpost. He enjoys it when you tie him up, too, especially if it's with your stockings taken off your warm body, his eyes dilated, and his lips quivering as you tease him and then ride him.

He has a strong exhibitionist streak, and with your permission, he loves to finger you in public, especially during a theatrical or music recital. He loves to watch you try to conceal your reactions from those around you, watching you struggle to come quietly and then discreetly licking his fingers clean afterwards, just to tease you further.

Lastly, he never knew he had a breeding kink until he met you. But now… he wants nothing more than to come deep inside you, hold you down and tell you to take every last drop of his seed. 

L = Location (favourite places to ‘do the do’)

If he's honest, his favourite location is the plush daybed/chaise in the greenhouse he has repurposed as an art studio attached to the side of your home. Sometimes you will be modelling for him, and the urge overtakes him, and you will fuck right then. He loves to take you bent over the arm of the chaise or have you ride him, holding on to the arm of the chaise as he sucks your nipples. If he is working into the night as his muse strikes, he appreciates it when you come to visit him to take him to bed, but you usually end up right on that chaise, Falling asleep looking through the glass roof to the stars. He keeps pillows and blankets stored in a nearby ottoman for just such occasions.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, really. Especially if you are being playful or just paying him loving attention. He loves good banter sometimes, but mostly, it's the sight of your smiling face and the way your pupils dilate when you look at him that really has him aroused. Especally when you voice your desires–just walk up to him and say you want to fuck and he is instantly putty in your hands and raring to go. The more details you whisper, the more turned-on he gets; he loves when you talk dirty.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

This man is a try-anything-once type of person who isn't quick to judge anything that may occur between consenting adults. He is, however, not into anything that involves inflicting lasting pain (beyond the sting of a good spanking) or drawing blood.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He LOVES oral, both giving and receiving. He will give and not expect reciprocation, but nothing makes him weaker than someone just dropping to their knees before him and taking him in their mouth. He is VERY skilled at oral too. Whoever gets to sit on that pretty face is one lucky person. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His usual pace tends towards slow and sensual, but sometimes when the need is great in both of you, there is nothing quite like a fast and rough fuck. Just breaking out into an alleyway behind a restaurant, pushing aside underwear and fucking so hard you both carry fingermarks and light abrasions from the wall.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It's not his preference; he would prefer to indulge time in lovemaking, but he is always amendable, especially if you demand it, like sneaking away during an event. Modern Ben isn’t against climbing into the backseat of the car together and having a round if you just can't wait until you get home. That usually happens when he picks you up tipsy from a girls' night out, and you just can't resist hopping on board.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is very open and willing to experiment. He will take some risks, yes, but only calculated ones that are consensual with his partner. He is always responsible if he is in a dominant role, if, say, undertaking breathplay or suspension during rope play. He willingly submits, too, loving being a switch. Semi-public sex with the risk you could get caught makes him so desperately horny; he will quietly beg in your ear to take you outside and fuck you against the garden wall mid-party. And you will let him, liking nothing more than his hot breath panting into your ear, your dress rucked up around your hips, as he makes your toes curl with breath-stealing thrusts.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Surprisingly good stamina; he can undoubtedly last as long as you need to be satisfied—every single time. He will need some refractory time between rounds, of course, but you have the ability to arouse him more than anyone else. One memorable night, he kept you up until dawn, eating you out while he recovered from each fucking session, ready to go again as soon as you come screaming on his tongue, ploughing his cock into you while you are still fluttering from your orgasm. You lost your voice that night from all the screaming.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

The Regency period was somewhat lacking in sex toys, but he is an inventive boy. He can find a use for many everyday objects in the pursuit of pleasure, including paintbrushes, mahl sticks, and even hairpins. Modern Ben has a few toys but considers them your joint toys as a couple. He will mostly use them on you, but once in a while, he will let you use a vibrating cock ring on him, and occasionally, yes, he will allow himself to be pegged by you with a special dildo just for him. Those days are very special for you, him giving you all his trust and body.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man was born to tease. Be it with filthy words, dirty promises or with his hands and tongue, he loves to drive you insane. One of his favourites is to blindfold you and engage in sensory play, running items like feathers or ice over your skin, teasing your senses until you are writhing and quivering. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not theatrical, but he does make the most delicious low noises, and he moans so beautifully when you are riding him, his hands clamped around your hips. And, of course, there is LOTS of dirty talk. The man is a poet; he can and will spout knee-trembling filth as easy as breathing. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves to wait until you are so turned on that you are almost shaking before he will enter you. Body quivering, pussy leaking profusely, clinging to him and begging him in a raspy voice. He loves to arouse you to the point of mindlessness, babbling for him, for his cock… then he will grab your hips and thrust into you so deep and hard you cry out, scraping your nails down his back. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The statue of David made flesh—broad shoulders and a trim waist, strong but lean. He is more lithe and less hirsute than Anthony or Colin. His skin is soft, pale and smattered with some freckles with downy hair on his surprisingly muscular thighs. Even in Regency, he keeps his pubic hair trimmed a touch, just neatly, not excessively. His cock, even unaroused, is appealing to look at. Although you mostly see it raring to go, red at the tip, leaking just a little for you. Not so enormous as to be intimidating but substantial enough in length and girth to make your eyes roll with pleasure when he pushes into you and feel so full when he’s buried in you, never failing to bring you off. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When you first get together it is intense, barely leaving the bed except to eat and cleanse. But as your relationship evolves, so does the sex. He will have sex every day if you want, but he can go a few days without before he may get a little too horny. He has no fear of sex when you are on your period, so if you are up for it, so is he. If you are apart for a few days, he will masturbate to the private collection of art he has drawn of you. Modern Ben will Facetime you for remote sexy times. When you are pregnant with all of his babies, he is VERY horny for your pregnant body and will have sex all the time, right up until you give birth. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He is out like a light. It’s actually quite endearing. He will get all like a sleepy cat after sex. He will curl into and around you and make little contented noises, then within seconds of kissing and bidding you goodnight, his breathing is deep and even. Luckily he doesn’t snore much at all. You bring him such peace and solace—he just wants you close, in his arms, and he is instantly asleep. 

masterlist • wips • taglist (must be following this blog to be tagged)

Benedict Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[mintfullyyours]

Past Lives

SIMON RILEY x READER

summary: the past always finds a way to haunt you

PS: honestly probably shouldn't have been a one chap fic. I had so much more I want to write. Also had to look up this man's bio to get the cannon ages right. I guess also older reader but Si and reader are around the same age. Thank you for reading!!

For your consideration: angtybf!price drabble, Amnesiac!Simon, wallpaper w/simon

tags: tattoo inaccuracies, fluff, angst

“This is dumb.” You giggled, as Simon Riley held his arm out for you.

No one ever said it was a good idea to tattoo your significant other but when you’re both 17 and in love, everything seems like a good idea. That's why you're both sat on the floor of your room with a tattoo gun in hand that Simon pawned off somewhere.

"You want to be an artist." He gestured towards his bicep, "Make some art."

It was a pipe dream -- Become a famous tattoo artist and make enough money to get out of this small town.

“You sure about this?” You ask, leaning forward as the sound of the machine whizzed to life.

“Sure.” Simon shrugs, pulling his sleeve higher up. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He puffs out his chest, “Life is too fucking short to care."

His words caused your cheeks to tint pink. You leaned forward and started permanently etching the key template you two had drawn together. This night marked the first tattoos of many and there wasn’t anyone else you wanted to share this moment with than him.

Smiling at your finished key, Simon lifts his arm examining it with a scrunched face. “I've seen worse.” He purses his lips and you smile, quickly pecking his.

“By the way, have I told you about this thing called chapstick?” You tease, handing over your arm to the table.

Simon scoffs and takes over, drawing onto your skin: a heart-shaped lock.

You watched as he diligently shaded the areas, heart swelling with pride. Simon was everything you could’ve asked for in a partner. He admires his work as he wipes the excess ink and knowing you’re staring, he asks,

“What’s on your mind, love?”

Shaking your head, you give a smile, “Nothing, nothing.”

“It’s something.” He takes cling wrap to protect your new tattoo, just as you had for his own, “Tell me.”

Silence as you rest your arm flat on the table and he does the same, heart and key. Two halves of a whole. It’s not that you were ignoring him, you just didn’t know what to say. 

“Just that you'll always have a piece of me” You smile down at the fresh ink.

“As you for me.” Simon cups your cheek gently guiding you to look up at him. You were weak against his touch, “So what’s wrong?”

A sigh escapes your lips, knowing the truth has to come out eventually. “We can’t keep this up forever, you know? Secret meetings. Midnight getaways. I just… I want to be with you but not like this.”

“Alright. Then tell me.” His thumb brushes away the tear that fell from your cheeks, “What can I do?”

A moment of silence as the truth wracks your brain. “Come with me!” You blurt out, “I’m moving… To the States for Uni. And I––” The thought of getting away from this small town brought comfort to your mind.

“I want you to come with me, Si.”

The blonde pauses for a moment as he lets your request sink in. Leaning forward his lips capture yours in a gentle kiss, you closed your eyes allowing him to take the lead. Far too soon, he separates your lips and presses his forehead against your own. Eyes still closed as you let your lips curve into a smile, you’ve never felt more loved than right here in this moment. 

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow.” He states.

But that was then and this is now.

Two decades and some years later, you found yourself as an owner of a tattoo parlor in Los Angeles. The place was in a neon-lit, upstairs studio. Cozy and intimate. If you looked close enough flecks of Manchester littered the room.

But you could never go back, not after what he did.

In the break room you were putting on a fresh pair of gloves, Javier the cashier knocks on the door with the clientele briefings.

“Just one. Booked the whole day.”

You arch a brow but Javier nods and leaves the room. Taking one last glance into the full-length mirror, glad you chose to work in a tanktop that showcased your tattoo sleeves. Most clients felt at ease knowing you have the experience of being tatted so you wasted no time blending in one piece with another.

Exiting the break room, you look up and come to a complete stop.

He wore a leather jacket, smelled of gun powder and smoke with a black KN95 mask to cover his lips. But you knew this man.

Every fiber of your body knew this man all too well. Teenage lovers that whispered secrets against bare skin. There was something in the air, something electric between two passing bodies.

There was a slight squint in his eyes, you couldn't tell if it was a smile. You couldn't remember the last time he smiled.

The fucking nerve.

He thought he could waltz in here after all this time and what? Think nothing of it?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumble, turning your heel. “Cancel it. I’m sick.” You emit a fake cough and head back into the break room.

You’d rather be anywhere than here. 

Javier rolls his eyes, “I’ll leave you to close up.” He says, heading out. You stop and weighed your options. You could close. Losing the money was no big deal, especially if it means saving your sanity.

But accidentally stabbing Simon a little too harshly with a tattoo gun also seemed like a good idea.

You chose the latter and make your way over to your ex. He’s watching you, ever vigilant. Your spine straightens ever so slightly. You haven't heard much of his whereabouts since he left for the military but it wasn't pretty.

“Hey.”

“Don’t hey me.” Your hand reaches for his broad shoulder and forcefully pushes him down onto the leather seat. Simon Riley had filled out and by the looks of the ink on his skin, he'd added to his collection of tattoos. Dark black ink covers his once blank canvas.

“Sit.”

He looks shaken, as though the sudden touch and command woke something in him. 

You take the seat across from him, the table dividing you both. Glad the partition was there otherwise you might strangle him yourself, which was still an option. You unpack the tools, feeling his eyes glued to your every movement. Heart pounding in your chest, why did he still make you feel this way? 

“Whatever you have to say, don't.”

“Okay, ” He says, handing over his left arm to rest on the table. He lowers the KN95 mask too. You took a look at him and your breath hitches at the sigh of scars that marred his face.

He was still so beautiful to you.

“Just something simple. Something that says… I’m sorry.”

Your ears burn at his apology. He had no right to bring back feelings from so long ago. So you point at the blank skin, “How about  Idiot instead?”

Simon chuckles deep and your lips slightly tug upwards, you missed that. From his jacket he pulled out a template, it was a complex design that you estimated would take three hours. You rubbed your temples, knowing he did this on purpose. 

“Fine. But no talking. I don’t want to hear a word come out of your mouth.” You state, dipping the gun into the ink cartridge and getting to work. 

Finishing the last touches, both of your arms rested on the table as you shaded in his piece.

He cleared his throat as though to begin a conversation.

“Not a word, Riley.” You warn, gaze locked on his arm. 

“Hear me out.” Simon pleads. 

“No, I––”

“I went to the airport!” He cuts you off. Your eyes snap to his at his admission. 

Simon took your silence as a cue to continue his statement. There was stirring in the pit of your stomach. 

“The day you left for the States. I was there too. I made it so far to the gates but…” His eyes clouded over with a memory so clear in his mind. “Got scared. Fucking scared of uprooting my life and then holding you back from something greater."

Simon sighed, "I joined the military not long after you left."

"Oh so much for not being scared of war torn countries." you quip.

"We have different definitions of fear."

"Clearly."

He had a point but you were stubborn and would be damned to let him change that.

“You wanted this.” He gestures around the parlor. "You needed it."  

“No, I needed you.” You interrupt him. You couldn’t continue to hear how he was so close yet so far away the day you left Manchester. The day you both were supposed to leave. “You didn’t think I was scared? I loved you and the day you stood me up crushed me into a million pieces. Fuck, two decades later and I’m still putting those shattered parts back together.”

The anger bubbled in you as did the pain of having to live a life without him. No rhyme or reason until today. But you also understood how important family was, for both of you. So you weren’t punishing him for not coming but rather for not telling you. 

You sigh with defeat, “What made you think you could make that decision for me, Si?”

“This.”

With his free hand, he gently turns your right arm over to reveal the heart tattoo. Smiling as he lines it up with the key that was on his own. 

Two halves of a whole.

“I know your strength.” He admitted, "A bond like ours, once in a lifetime."

Silence falls between you. Anger was a heavy heart to bear for all these years.

“'m sorry, Love.” Simon leans down to place a kiss on top of your inked heart like it would heal the wounds on your own. Heat built in your core from the simple act of intimacy. 

“I will spend the rest of my life apologizing and making it up to ya.” Your man-child sighs, “You’re right, 'm an idiot. But I love you and will continue to love you if you let me.”

You allow his words to sink in. Love. You loved the man in front of you even after all these years. 

Still, one question remained, “Why now?”

Simon looks at you with the smallest smile, “I've seen a lot of shit. Killed men. Died, m'self. Came back... A ghost." He admits, the words falling freely. "Maybe doing all of that so to make the world a better place for one person who never left my mind."

With that, his hand reaches for the back of your neck as he pulls you into a kiss. You close your eyes and find yourself reacting to him. His tongue slips inside your own as you both battle for dominance. Exploring each other and trying to unravel secrets with such a kiss. He felt like a dream against you, one you never wanted to wake from.

You moan and whimper, realizing how long it had been without his touch. The kiss satisfied every need you had.

The kiss grew urgent, long gone was the gentle embrace. Lips still connected, you moved the portable easel that separated you both, and Simon guided you to straddle his lap. Clumsy, sure. But soon enough your legs secured both sides of his waist and never once did you break. 

He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. 

Simon leaned back on the chair as his hands roamed underneath your shirt to touch bare skin. His touch felt like fire to your skin. You moaned in his mouth at his touch and ground your hips against his cock, feeling him harden beneath you. He bucks upwards and you relish in the control. 

You felt his fingers reach to pull the hem of your shirt up but placing a hand on his chest, you gently push him back. He groans with protest. You inhale a sharp breath, “I’m not doing this unless you commit to me, to this life. And if you can't, tell me right fucking now because we're both too old for this."

He leans up to press his forehead against yours. It’s his next words that cause your own emptiness to fill fully and wholly with love. 

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”