#its hard to convince yourself of this sometimes

[etheries1015]

I know how hard it can be when a fic you may be proud of doesn't do well. You may feel like a failure, as if you didnt write well enough, especially if you were particularly proud of how it turned out, or spent hours working on it.

So sometimes I need to remind myself, even if it gets 1 like...

That's 1 person who perhaps goes back to read it when they feel sad or need an escape. 1 person who you made smile, or even cry. 1 person whos miserable day you made slightly better. 1 person who probably read it two or three times. Imagine having another person in your room directly saying "I liked this!" To your face, or even 5-10 people in your room simply enjoying your work of art. Each person has their own thing going on in their life- and spent a moment or few just to read your work and mark they had enjoyed it.

And suddenly 1 person doesn't seem as insignificant as you once thought.

[onlyfangz]

it's wild to me how much taking care of yourself really does help. i feel like im stating the obvious, but i really didn't believe anyone when they told me its worth the extra effort. and when your brain is on fire, it really IS extra effort. and to be clear, it's not that im mentally well. i still struggle with low self esteem and depression and thoughts of self harm (still four years clean!) and its not that its easier in the sense of the feelings that cause all of those issues are less intense, it's moreso that youre not dealing with all the extra weight from not looking after yourself. im not feeling guilty and gross because i smell. im not miserable bc i have to walk over a pile of whatever the fuck to get to my bed. my head isnt constantly pounding bc im not eating or drinking or sleeping (or oversleeping). its not EASY. but im also no longer making it harder for myself. and its not to shame anyone for being stuck in that, i promise, wherever youre at ive probably been as bad if not worse, but goddamn, sometimes the difference between that four year streak breaking and that not happening really is a fucking walk and a shower, and it SUCKS, but its worth it.

[the-kipsabian]

i dont want to believe im a bad writer but impostor syndrome after struggling for so long hits just really fucking hard sometimes

[for-ests]

When I talked to the moon last night, I told her about you.

husband!gojo x reader drabble. he loves his wife SO much. just little romantic rituals.

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

Shirtless, leaning against the railing of his balcony, Gojo exhaled blissfully. The curtains from inside flapped against the wind, reminding him that he hadn’t slid the doors shut. But he didn’t mind, as he was able to view your half-covered body tangled in his sheets, chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful breaths. A smile on your face despite the deep slumber he lulled you into. 

Satoru did promise that you would never fall asleep without a smile on your face if you married him. 

And he was proud to keep it. 

You were everything to him, and he found a routine to follow after making love to you—wandering out to his balcony to thank the moon, the stars, or whatever was shining down on him from above. Like he often did as a child, gazing up at the moon as if it contained all of life’s answers, as if its wisdom whispered the key to your happiness. 

Satoru found solace in the moon. And when the moon told him about the sun, he told the moon about you. The brightest, most important star in his universe. Nothing would ever outshine you in his mind. 

He was so lucky to have you, and a day never passed without him acknowledging it. 

Overcome with emotion, Satoru’s fingers tightened around the metal railing, slumping over it, as if he was afraid to keep gazing at the moon and its brilliance. The same overwhelming understanding washed over him. Gazing up at the moon was the equivalent of looking into your eyes. 

Such beauty. An indescribable force. You. His Goddess. How lucky he was to have you by his side, in his bed, in his life. 

The brightness from outside shined so perfectly into your eyes, that they flickered open. As you sat up, the first thing you saw was your husband on the balcony, deep in thought. 

The muscles of his back seemed to contort under the moonlight. Your husband was so melodramatic. 

“Is it a full moon tonight?” You whispered groggily from behind, not giving him a moment to reply before embracing him and resting your head against his back. 

He didn’t need to ask why you joined him, as the first few times he asked, you always mumbled a cute and tired, “Toru, you know I can’t sleep without you.” 

Chuckling softly, Gojo turned around to face you and pulled you into his chest. “Look for yourself, my love,” he whispered, pressing a light, gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Exhaling, your nose scrunched, a playful glint in your eyes as you glanced up at him. Every time he held you so tightly, so carefully and protectively, you felt like you were falling in love with him all over again. 

The brightness of the moon was clear, and it seemed to light up the entire sky, casting shadows along the drifting clouds, and highlighting Gojo’s features. Sometimes, it was hard to believe he was your husband. How lucky you were. 

“What is the moon saying tonight?” you teased with a lighthearted tone. 

Satoru claimed that the moon told him to marry you, after all. You are my sun, Y/N. He whispered every time he had to depart from you. 

Without the sun, the moon would know nothing but darkness. And every morning, the light and joy you greeted him with was an everlasting reminder that he found his other half. 

Glancing back to the stars dotting the sky, hardly visible from the moon’s brilliance, Gojo’s eyes twinkled. “The moon congratulated me.” 

Arms slipping around his waist, you questioned in a curious murmur. “For what?” 

His head tilted back to gain a better look at you. “Somehow convincing you to marry me.” He smiled sleepily, leaning down to capture your lips again. Kissing you would never grow tiresome, it was the action he looked forward to most every morning and every night. It was like he would die without it. 

“Well the sun knows it didn’t take much convincing.” You took both of his hands in yours and tugged him back to the door’s entrance. “But maybe I can ask it again in the morning.” 

“Just to make sure?” He smiled. 

Falling back into the king-sized bed, you sighed innocently, beckoning Gojo to follow you. Once he did, you cuddled up next to him. One hand on his cheek, you pressed your lips against his. 

“The sun makes no mistakes, my love,” you mumbled against his lips. 

[joonieskinks]

johnny soap mactavish who’s the g o d of after care

- likes to hold you close immediately after

- as in, you’re not going anywhere for 5 minutes, just gotta sit here under his weight and let him kiss your neck soothingly

- just wants to make sure you feel loved and cared for after he’s been especially rough with you

- cause although it feels good for both of you to be hard and fast, he definitely wants to take some time making sure you’re okay when winding down

- johnny’s also super sensitive but doesn’t wanna pull out just yet

- would argue this is better than the sex itself sometimes because of how close he feels to you

- will try to make you laugh while still buried inside you. try not to laugh too hard though or everything will slip out

- super handsy, rubbing them all over your body as if he hasn’t just finished. likes to touch you all over, 1. you just feel good but also 2. it’s soothing to him

- if he stays like this too long though, he’ll just start fucking you again. so it’s one or the other every single time. its usually that

- when he does pull out, it takes some convincing to get him off of you entirely, johnny likes to watch it all leak out of you, admiring your pretty body still. fills him with some sort of pride to see his work and effect on you

- gets up to get a cloth or a towel, something to wipe yourself with. sometimes he does it for you, likes to wipe you down softly, coming to rest himself between your legs once again

- throughly enjoys overstimulating you

- he’ll kiss up and down your soft thighs, over your slit, telling you what a good girl you’ve been for him

- his tongue collecting whatever the cloth missed, you’ll be squirming below him, trying to get away from him (fat chance) johnny just holds you down, making you take all the overstimulation until you’re all cleaned up

- forces his way through your legs and back up to your face where he brings his lips down to yours, kissing you and letting you taste yourself on your tongue

- 9/10 you two go again anyway

- he’s insatiable

[sleepincrow]

18+ smut ehe. everything's consensual. not proofread.

im sure its well known that choso kamo looks intimidating, menacing — terrifying even.

nobody looks at him wrong, scared that one breath his way will send them to an early grave. its just instict to the public to not to mess with him.

and yet, you couldnt disagree more.

you never truly understood why everyone was so afraid of him. were people really judging how he looks at first glance? the nerve!

no, you knew him as the sweetest man in the world. you thought he was so cute, waiting for you outside your office with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and takeout for your dinner like the bundle of joy he was.

he hid himself underneath that scarf you got him. whether you made it yourself or bought it for him, he almost never took it off, especially when the colder seasons drew nearer.

and when youre with him, all those nasty icky people never comes close. its perfect, really. you sometimes use it to your advantage whenever you dont want to be bothered by anyone.

your friends even jokingly congratulated you for the free scary dog privilege. awesome!

everyone thinks you two are so unbelievably cute, such polar opposites! your tall, dark and intimidating boyfriend smiles when you hold his big, pale, scarred hand in your smaller, more fragile-looking one.

obviously, he's gotta be so gentle and sweet to you in bed, accommodate his length into your unbelievably tight cunt. its practically an unspoken rule of morality, right?

they could have never been more wrong.

nobody knows the way you ruthlessly roll and bounce your hips against him, engulfing his thick cock into the warmth of you clenching walls while you swallow all his whines and cries with a shove of your tongue while you plummet him into the grasps of utter overstimulation.

hes trying so hard to get out of his cuffs, tugging and squirming, wanting to just touch you because — well, how could he not?

all choso wants to do is please you. he'll gladly get down on his knees and eat you out until the morning rises or you pass out, so why dont you let him? he's your good boy isn't he?

youre such a tease about it too.

tie him up, press a bullet vibrator against his cock on any setting. his swollen tip leaking everywhere, leaving his balls and thighs all drenched from how long youve edged him with a pretty pink bow tied on his hard dick with nothing to do but buck his hips and pretend that he's getting the friction that he so desperately needs. he cant.

he's crying, pleading for you to just let him cum. big fat tears roll down his cheeks as he rambles about how good he was to you. you have this man absolutely whipped, quite literally wrapped around your finger.

but it's all so worth it for both of you, cause when he finally cums under your command, he just feels so good. his toes curl and his back arches so prettily, but his face contorting into one of pure unadulterated pleasure has got to be one of the best sights to ever grace your eyes while your ears are blessed with the most heavenly sounds of choked moans and sobs mixed with thank yous said in a chant.

so you find it quite amusing that everyone is so heavily convinced that choso could bend you in half whenever he wants, knowing there's a whole folder of pictures and videos you took of him in every position you bent him into in your phone.

he has that killer glare that does not hold up the very moment you two are alone — but fret not, he will absolutely kill for you.

in the end, that's just his unwavering love for you. you make him feel entirely human — that it's completely okay to be vulnerable and seen as a faithful and loving companion. you adore each other, and that's all he needs.

[servicpop]

TOJI FUSHIGURO ⋆⋆⋆ msg series(?) pt.1

NSFW › toji has no filter and is just one big pervert

It was a Saturday evening and you were settled on the carpet of your living room with your hands propped against the coffee table. You had an array of different colored nail polish lined up as you stared at them, debating which one to wear today. You enjoyed nail polish — even though it was seen as 'too feminine,' you thought painting your nails was a calming activity to do after long days of work. As you sat crossed legged on the floor, Toji was lazily draped over the couch, watching you silently.

He didn't care at all that you wore nail polish, sometimes you'd even convince him to wear some himself but he always stuck to plain black. He noticed your little situation, observing the way your eyes scanned over the options and the cogs turn in your head. It really wasn't that hard he thought.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Toji questioned, his voice smooth but had a certain rasp to it from his nap 20 minutes ago. His voice catches your attention and you break away from your little trance, turning to face him, you explain your "crisis". It was an innocent question from him at first, until the corners of his scarred lips curled up and a shit-eating grin plastered on Toji's face.

"I have an idea," He starts slowly. You knew he was up to no good when he had that scheming smile, "Make your nails the color of my dick." You stare at him. You blink once, twice, maybe four times while you try and form a reply to that sentence.

"Huh?" Finally, a word comes out your mouth and you find yourself increasingly confused and pretty shocked the more you thought about it. Toji had no shame. "I don't– i don't have a color that matches..." Toji took some time to prop himself up with his elbows before pointing at one of your polishes.

"That pink one is pretty close," he pointed out, "Here, let's do a lil' color match yeah?" Before you could even react, Toji pushes himself off the couch and walks over to where you're sat, picking up the pink-ish nail polish and holding it in his palm. His other hand hooks the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls it down just enough. It was all so sudden, you weren't ready to be flashed! Its not like you haven't seen his body before, more like it still made you nervous seeing it. Heat spread through your cheeks and your head immediately turned to the side, a hand flew up to shield your poor eyes from Toji's shameless display.

"Pretty close," Toji scoffed with a smile. His eyebrows raised when he saw you shielding your eyes and he placed down the nail polish before turning to you, "Don't act like you haven't seen it plenty of times before," He laughed, letting his waistband snap back into place before curling his arms around your waist, picking you up with ease. He lifted you as if you were a stray kitten, moving to gently bend you over the coffee table, using his body weight to hold you flush against the glass.

"I think that color matches your skin real well doll," His voice dropped an octave and became more heavier and sultry. As he kept you pinned between his body and the table, he took this chance to pull off his sweatpants and slide yours off as well. "You can't see but—" He tapped his cock against the curve of your ass, observing how the color of his tip contrasted nicely with your skin, "—it's perfect." His large hand went to grab the flesh of your cheek, spreading it apart so he could see your cute hole all eager for him. Seemed like your body wasn't as pure as you were. He wasn't going to bother fishing for lube so he leaned back and spat a glob over your entrance, using his tip to shallowly smear it across your hole.

He pushed in slowly, groaning as he felt warmth surround his dick. He loved the way you felt. Loved the way your walls would give his cock a warm welcome and a tight hug. His hands — that were placed on your hips — moved to underneath your shirt, feeling your soft, supple skin under his calloused fingers. His fingers kept groping at your skin, tugging at the places were you had a little more plush than others before moving to cup your chest, ghosting over your now hard nipples. You couldn't help but whimper at that, the way his fingers so gently tickled your chest like that had you squirming and Toji for sure noticed it.

"You're cute, you know that?" He breathed in softly, taking in the scent of your shampoo as he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his hands still touching and caressing your torso. "Makes me wanna bite you," Toji growled against your shoulder, grazing his teeth along your skin but never actually sinking them into you, "But you're too pretty for that, seeing as the way you wanna doll yourself up all the time, bet you'd be mad if I leave an ugly mark hm?" His tone was so degrading it almost offended you but that feeling of offense was soon ignored once Toji pulled out and slammed back into you.

His dick rubbed against your prostate everytime he thrusted; at this point it was bullying with the way his cock aimed for your weak spots over and over again. The table creaked underneath your combined weight and the nail polishes on the desk rattled, threatening to fall over. Small strings of moans and mewls let your mouth as Toji kept pounding into you with his hands toying with your sensitive nipples. The stimulation was too much, you felt yourself try and wriggle out of his grasp, attempting to regain a little bit of your composure, but Toji just kept you pressed against the table and his fingers pinched at your buds.

"You can take it, I know you can. I've done worse to you," Toji hummed in your ear, you could practically feel the bass of his voice tickle your brain. He really was your weakness. He was being arguably nice to you right now. Toji really did have a thing for overstimulation and he loved seeing your brain go numb from all the pleasure he gives you.

You find yourself leaking, dripping pre onto your pants that pooled at your knees — luckily it didn't get on the carpet, that would be a pain to clean — and your eyes were rolling back, something you did when you were about to cum. You could tell Toji was too, his groans got louder and his cock pulsed inside you, waiting to spill. "Just a little more yeah?" He cooed, trailing his hands up to your collarbones and then to your neck, squeezing your adam's apple gently. Having your neck cradled like this made you feel somewhat vulnerable, especially considering how strong Toji was, but that was what made it all the more pleasurable, knowing that you were safe with Toji.

His cock grinded against your prostate once more and it sent you off the edge, a high whine left your throat as your toes curled and white spurted all over your pants. "Attaboy," He grumbled into your ear before thrusting into you one more time, groaning as he held your waist close to his body, making sure you took all of it.

Toji fully relaxed ontop of you, making you groan in protest from his crushing weight. "Y'know I heard that the best lipstick color is the colour of your nipple, maybe you should do that with your nails." He lifted you off the table, allowing you to look down at yourself but you slapped his hand away before he did anything stupid.

a/n : short little toji fic i wanted to write + some tests with layout, i also wrote this all in one day so its probably not that good TT

[chuluoyi]

found you

- gojo satoru x reader

in a world in which he isn't the strongest and you're the high school's sweetheart, fate brought you to him once again

genre/warnings: reincarnation au, fluff/comfort

notes: a sequel to everything, but not anything

general masterlist

Everyone knows you. You hold most of the popular guys' hearts in your hand and either break them unknowingly or innocently, and despite that, they still don't have it in them to hate you.

And of course, the school's clown, Gojo Satoru, knows you too. He knows you by name and face, but never had the chance to really talk to you directly.

Why? First, he just simply didn't bother, and second, because there was already another girl plaguing him—the girl of his dreams.

And he didn't mean it figuratively... there's indeed a girl haunting him every once in a while in his dreams. A girl whose face was always obscured from his mind, whom he couldn't picture outside the realm of his slumber. Most of the time it was a happy dream, enough to bring a smile to his face every time he woke up.

But sometimes, it was the most disturbing nightmare.

There would be blood, the girl's empty eyes and still body, and him screaming out at her to not die. But then he couldn't do anything—or even see her open her eyes—as he fell into an abyss and awakened in pure terror.

Satoru was convinced someone held this massive grudge on him for pranking them that they resorted to curse him with voodoo or something. Why else would he keep having these dreams about the very same girl? It was clearly a work of something greater.

You were just not interested in romance. At least not with the guys who were after you up until now.

Or perhaps, because there was this guy in your dreams that captivated you so much that you chose to ditch those real guys for him. This imaginary person.

You were going insane. You were sure of it.

When you explained your affliction to your best friend Riko, she shot you a very bombastic side eye but tried to get you to describe the boy in your dreams regardless.

"He..." you faltered. His face was always blurry in your mind's eye. There were little things that you were sure of. "He has a really cute grin? Crinkling eyes? Like he just likes to smile?"

"Y/N, did you hear yourself?" Riko asked you incredulously. "Are you sure it isn't one of the guys in your anime shows? I'm telling you, watching them too much makes you delusional."

And so your girl talk with her ended up with her pushing you to try this hit dating app that guarantees you to go on at least one date due to its many fascinating features. You tried it on sheer whim and didn't even use your real name. You had been swiping right and left, before suddenly stopped when you saw whose profile popped up in your screen.

Gojo Satoru.

He was in your grade, and he was hard to miss. The school's biggest troublemaker who held the highest record of being sent to the disciplinary room. You never got to talk to him, and before today you were sure you wouldn't even look at him twice. So he plays these things too?

Your type definitely wasn't delinquents or attention-seekers. But why is it that the more you gaze at his profile picture—of him with this widest grin and that funny round glasses—the more you are intrigued?

In the end, you swiped right.

Just because he didn't bother to be in a serious relationship or had a girl who held onto him in his dreams, it didn't mean that he was shying away from real life girls. Satoru, as much of a headbanger as he was, was popular. Some girls were into him and he didn't exactly let his chances to fool around pass.

Girls with questionable virtues though. Suguru, whose popularity was as much as him just in the right way, would always say that his tastes were bad. Shoko would straight up mock him as a wimp, for not having the courage to go after the right girl, such as you.

And so when on one of his boring days that he played with a dating app he found a profile who swiped him right with a picture that was you but a name that wasn't, he was taken by surprise and twice as curious.

For one, he knew it was you. And hey, you were interested in him?

Satoru took up on that offer. Taking advantage of it as now he had the chance.

The two of you exchanged messages in the dating app. He'd tell you his thoughts or crack funny jokes, and you'd reply with these many laughing emojis and stickers.

Until one day, when your conversation went like this...

you: really? but girls must be lining up for you and you could've had your pick from them gojo: nah most of ‘em all boring you: what a red flag. after a while surely you'll find me boring too gojo: you? haha no. boring people don't do things you do you: ...what do you mean?

You and him had this texting thing going on for more than a month already, but you still weren't aware that he knew that it was you.

gojo: you're y/n

And he figured that it was time to go face-to-face. Because he wanted to get to know you beyond this phone screen because who knows what more you faked other than your name?

After he busted you not so gently, he demanded that you'd go on a date with him. You could only lament—you couldn't say that you hadn't seen this coming, with how poor your disguise was. Then again, did you even intend on hiding from him in the first place? Now that you thought about it, no. You were quite alright even when he knew who you were.

On the said day, just right after school ended, he went to the agreed place to take out out to a famous cafe in Shibuya. Only to find a guy from basketball team bowing his head before you.

"I really like you!" the guy declared with sincerity and steadfastly. He was tall, quite famous too. By all means, the two of you would've made a fine pair.

Satoru just frowned. Suddenly he didn't like the sight before him. This wasn't the first time he saw someone confessing their feelings for you—you were famous for that. And anyway, the two of you were just friends even though you've been texting for a long time now. He shouldn’t be upset.

"Ah," you let out a small sigh, your face lit with realization. Your voice was soft to Satoru's ears. Too soft. It resembled something someone had told him a long, long time ago.

"Don't ever leave me, okay?" "Of course."

That voice held the same softness as you did just now.

"I'm sorry," you proceeded to say, giving a look of sympathy to your admirer. "I'm very flattered, and I thank you for that. But I have no room for—"

"Y/N-chan!" Satoru didn't know where this immense impulse came from, he just went with it and it terribly spooked you. You jumped and whipped your head at him, eyes widened in total surprise.

But he merely sauntered towards you, only with his winning grin and nothing else, until he was right next to you, staring down the basketball guy with so much mirth in his blue eyes.

"Hello to you." Satoru addressed him, then put his arms on your shoulder, ignoring how you immediately stiffened. "Too bad, today she is going with me."

You couldn't believe what he just said and before you could rectify anything, the guy who just confessed to you bolted away in humiliation. You immediately untangled yourself from his arms, ready to be cross.

Or at least until you stared straight to his cerulean blue eyes.

And he too, saw his reflections in your orbs.

Suddenly everything didn't matter. You were lost into his eyes as he did yours. As the lines of dream and reality twisted and turned.

Suddenly, Satoru could put a face to the girl he'd been seeing on his nightly wonders. Her smile. Your smile.

And you could see the boy who loved you to death in him. The one who took your heart with him, and agreed to go with you for the second time.

All it took was gazing into these eyes of yours to make the connection. Everything seems right. So right.

As if the two of you are destined for this very moment. As if you’re given everything to understand why you should meet him now.

I found you.

As sudden as it came flowing to your brain—all these images that overlapped with your dreams—it ended. You came back to reality.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed at Satoru, pushing away the fog in your mind.

“Am I?” a shit-eating grin formed at his glossy lips. “But it’s true, you’re on a date with me today.”

And so you went to your very first date. Satoru was every bit the same as the guy who messaged you on that dating app. He was outspoken, effortlessly funny, but still, a bit annoying here and there.

It was strange how comfortable you got around him, even though it was practically your first interaction.

Soon the number of dates increased. Two, three, four—and so on. Soon, everyone knows. Riko questioned you if you were sure to pick him out of all fishes you could’ve picked. In a way, you weren’t sure. It depends on this question: what are you to him anyway?

Meanwhile, on Satoru’s side, everyone either cheered for or envied him. Suguru patted him on his back, thinking he finally got the right senses. And he found himself to like you very much. He couldn’t go a day without thinking what you were doing or messing with you. You were kind, cute and pretty, and as he said it himself, he likes pretty things.

So it came as a surprise when you blurted out that burning question, sounding so unsure and overall out of your character, whereas you should already know how he put his heart on his sleeves for you to grab.

“Are you messing with me?” he gawked. But when he saw hurt crossed on your face, he was thrown into panic. “No—I mean…”

He exhaled sharply. He wasn’t used to this confessing thing at all because usually he didn’t need it.

“I really like you, okay? You do know that I like you, at the very least?”

With that, your relief was visibly palpable, like a sun that went out of its hiding. The hopeful gleam in your eyes—Gods, Satoru wanted to protect that forever.

“With that being said…” he wanted to look cool, he didn’t want to mess this up. And so he extended his hand to you, opening his palm.

“Would you go out with me?”

It was probably the first time you saw him so sincere. He was playful, flippant and overall just a menace, but when he asked you this, he looked as if he brought out his heart for you to see.

When you breathed out a “Yes”, and intertwined your fingers in his, he was over the moon, smothering you with kisses.

From that point onwards, your romance book was brimming with moments that sparkled, ranging from the sweet to the passionate. Each experience with him felt like a first, yet there was an inexplicable sense of familiarity, as if you had known him somewhere from a long time ago.

Those dreams of you and him from somewhere at another time brought the two of you together once again. With their purpose fulfilled, you no longer had to traverse the realm of dreams to be with the boy who had always provided you comfort with his presence. Likewise, he was no longer haunted by the recurring vision of you fading away before his eyes.

Because now, you and Gojo Satoru have a new life. A life where both of you can find happiness together.

[paarksunghoon]

part two for this (https://www.tumblr.com/paarksunghoon/764887604741210112/heeseung-with-a-corruption-kink-and-maybe-size?source=share) please…Heeseung corrupting her into fucking 🤤

part 2 to this drabble

warnings: subtle (?) manipulation but not really because she wants it, she’s just shy

***

Heeseung’s got you on your back with the pillows situated underneath your head for support while he leans down to kiss your lips once before pulling back. He’s bare from the waist down and all you’re wearing is sheer tank top. His breath touches your lips. Paired with the way his dick is sliding between your folds, it almost makes you feel like you’re losing your mind.

“Let me stick it in,” he whispers, pushing his lips to kiss your neck softly. His feather-like touches make you shiver.

You don’t say anything yet. The boy on top of you keeps his ear close to your mouth and your soft whimpers make him hornier by the second. You hear the wet splashes and how it sounds as he glides right against your wet pussy, and it almost convinced you to give in.

“It’ll feel so good,” he says against your neck. “Are you scared, baby?”

“A little…”

Heeseung brings his head up and pushes your bottom lip with his thumb as his dick catches your clit. “Are you a virgin?”

You shake your head. “It’s just…it’s been a while.” Heeseung grunts from above you. His warm cock feels alright against you. You’d probably be really tight, tighter than the girls he sleeps with.

“I’ll make it feel like the first time.” He grinds even slower, letting his dick make its way up to nudge your clit at its own pace. “I’ll make you come as many times as you want, I swear.”

You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You already do.”

“Mm, yeah I do. But I’ll make you come with my dick inside of you. Don’t you want to feel good too?”

“I don’t know…”

“I love grinding, don’t get me wrong, but…” Heeseung lifts his hips just high enough to rest the tip of his dick against your hole. “Grinding only does so much, ya know? Fucking though…your pussy’s gonna love it.” He pushes the head inside and loves the way you gasp and clench his biceps.

Ever since that might a few weeks ago, Heeseung hasn’t been able to get you anywhere farther than grinding, sometimes with or without clothes. He has his share of girls to hookup with when he needs hard and fast sex, but he can’t deny that the slow pace you set keeps him on his toes. He loves that lovey dovey shit in between his rough hookups but he won’t admit that to you. You’re a pallet cleanser for him.

He thinks he might be addicted to the change in pace when he’s with you because you don’t really expect him to be anything or anyone when you’re both together. You let yourself be pleasured in a way other girls don’t. Heeseung enjoys the high intensity he gets with other people but, mostly, he likes that he doesn’t have to think too hard when he’s with you. It’s probably why he keeps coming back even though you haven’t let him fuck you yet. So far, you’re the only person who can get him to stop what he’s doing or leave whoever he’s with for the chance to actually hook up.

“See?” Heeseung says when you clench around his tip. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah…” His tongue licks against yours and captures another moan from you when he starts to thrust only his cock head into you.

“You’d love the way I fuck.” Something about your silence and compliance underneath him makes him crazy. Heeseung seems to let go of his demanding person when he’s got you in his bed and finds himself talking you through it.

“Oh yeah?”

Heeseung smirks against you. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah. I know you want that kind of sex, baby. I feel it every time you sit on my lap and get yourself off.” You feel him push another inch in when he speeds up his hips. “I’ll make you come as many times as you want. I promise.”

“Do you…do this? With other girls?”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow. “Do what? Fuck?”

You look always. “N-No…do you make them cream?” He pushes even more of himself inside you just thinking about it.

“All the time,” he moans. “Love it when my girls get all wet like that. It’ll be hot when you do it too.” You clench again. “Ohhh. That felt good. Do you like it when I talk about how I fuck?”

You suck even more of him inside of you. He grins wickedly. “You’re so dirty, aren’t you? My shy little thing, have you been hiding?” Heeseung laughs. “I prep them all nice so they’re sopping wet. Some like it when I fuck them dry at first. Others like it when I show no mercy and make them all creamy.

“Everyone loves it when I come inside, though. They always tell me it feels so good. It’s good for me, too. Love watching it drip out of their pussies.”

Your legs wrap around his body as his hand comes to grip one of yours. Heeseung pushes the rest of himself all the way in and drinks in the way you moan into his mouth. His pelvis touches yours and he grunts right into you.

“I like the slow sex with you, though,” he says honestly. There’s a lot of truth behind it, even if he can’t figure out why. “I don’t do the whole kissing thing, you know. Just with you.”

You snort. “Sure.”

“It’s true.” He bends down to kiss you and mumbles against your lips. “I’ve wanted your pussy around me more than anything.”

You barely speak above a whisper. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung picks up the pace and feels your chest bounce against him. “Want my dick?” He moves like he’s on autopilot when you nod, keeping the slower pace until you give him a signal to go faster. “We’ll get you up there soon.”

“To where?”

He chuckles. “Rough sex, sweetheart. I know you want it. You clench every time I talk about it.”

“Mm, yeah…”

“Don’t worry, baby.” He kisses your lips again. “It’ll take some time but that’s okay, right? I’ll have you get used to me until you’re ready. We can practice until you get there.”

“We can?”

His cock slides in and out of you like some kind of physical prayer. “As much as you want, sweetheart. All day and all night. Whenever you want.”

You don’t say anything. He feels your arms encircling his shoulders and that tells him everything he needs to know. Speeding up his hips, Heeseung fucks you well into the night and you lose count of how many times he makes you come.

Despite himself, he stays the night.

***

[strwberri-milk]

Hii can I request the L&DS men accidentally finding the readers pleasure toy pls? 👀

hrmm nothing too super explicit but its going under the cut !!!

Zayne notices the toy but doesn't say anything to you until that evening. He wants to bring it up earlier but he thinks it'd be better to wait until the two of you are in bed together for him to bring it up, asking you without malice. You're mortified that he found your toy, trying to tell him that it's not because you don't need him or you don't like the way he treats you. You stumble over an explanation that just boils down to his nights are long and you miss him sometimes.

He tells you he doesn't mind but he'd rather you tell him whenever you need him. He'll always make time for you if he can, knowing that sometimes he really will be too busy to come to you but he also has no problem finding a moment of privacy if it means he can tease you when you have your hand between your thighs.

Xavier picks up the (offending) toy and finds you immediately. He isn't exactly upset about it but he is worried that he isn't satisfying you properly, leading you to have to settle for something like that to sate yourself. You have to tell him that's not the case at all - it's just something to take the edge off when he can't.

Honestly, you probably shouldn't have insinuated that it makes you feel good too. Now you're stuck on his unmoving cock, whining and bucking your hips as he uses the toy to tease your most sensitive parts, asking if this is how you touch yourself when he's gone.

Rafayel is not a fan of you using toys without him. If the two of you are together then that's fine but he likes the thought of being the only thing to make you feel good. Surprisingly, he isn't as "jealous" as you initially thought he would be. He primarily just huffs and puffs about how there's no way that toy can make you feel as good without him and proves it to you.

He's fucking you hard, knocking your breath out of your chest with every thrust he makes. The vibrator rests against your combined bodies, the high setting paired with his rough thrusts stringing out the pleasure. You feel like you can't stop cumming, making a mess on the bed as he taunts you mercilessly.

Sylus isn't very pleased. He looks at the object, telling you if you really have to resort to such tactics to make yourself cum without him. You snatch it from him, telling him that it's not your fault that he's so busy sometimes he can't even see you. You start to blame him for neglecting you, huffing righteously. He hugs you from behind, telling you he's oh so very sorry but the bulge in his pants tells you something different.

You should have known not to run your mouth, now forced to ride the toy for his hungry eyes. He watches your body twitch and keen for him, trying to entice him into fucking you as he strokes his cock slowly to the sight. You won't be able to take him until you manage to convince him that the toy can't make you cum as hard as he can, now totally stuck at his mercy.

[fantasylandloser]

Not Flirting

Pairing; Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You and Rafe want each other so bad.

Warnings: smut, mdni, Public sex, smoking, shotgunning, two uses of slut and one use of good girl, Rafe calling the reader kiddo in flirty way

******

You’re not flirting with Rafe Cameron. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself anyway. The casual touches, and the constant bickering that presents like foreplay is how the two of you have always been. Right?

The two of you don’t even talk outside of when you’re with your mutual friends. That’s probably why you seem so focused on each other. And the only reason the air around you is so charged with sexual tension is because- well he’s Rafe. He could have chemistry with a doorknob. It is not flirting. 

You’ve told nearly every person that’s been in contact with you something similar to those words that you’ve been trying to convince yourself of. Nobody believes you, sadly you’re not even stupid enough to believe it. That doesn’t stop you from trying though.

It helps you feel less guilty about wanting his attention, and having it. He’s a known fuck boy on the island and you’ve been sort of friends since high school, but after graduating your friend group got smaller and it was hard to ignore him. 

You tried to sometimes, but it never worked. The pull the two of you had on each other was too damn magnetic. Like at this party you were at. He’d found you accidentally, laughing with some people, your bikini practically melded with your skin after a dip in the water. 

You don’t see him when he walks behind you, but the way the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you know it’s him. So, you don’t panic when his arms wrap around your shoulders, or when he takes your cup and drinks out of it, even though he knows you hate that. 

“Hey, kid.” You roll your eyes at the nickname he’d given you when he found out about the one year age gap between the two of you. You hate yourself a little for the smile you feel making its way onto your face. 

“Don’t start.” Rafe doesn’t acknowledge that, or the people that were around you because he starts pulling you away from them. “Where are you taking me?” You wish you could sound like you actually cared but you’d go with him regardless. 

“We’re smoking.” He whispers, his breath fanning the outside of his ear. 

You twist your lips in apprehension and Rafe must have a sixth sense for you at this point because he eases your mind immediately. 

“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s more your speed than mine.” Again, you roll your eyes. You don’t stop him from walking you towards wherever he’s going though. 

“I don’t even-” 

“I know, I know. “ Rafe groans. You reach back to flick him for interrupting you and he finally lets go of you since you’re walking with him willingly. “Just trust me.” You miss his body heat the second that it’s gone but you’re going to blame it on being cold, even though it’s ninety degrees out. 

You mock him childishly, to ignore the heat that crawls through your body when you look at him. You remember him saying something about cutting his hair off, and then you teasing him and saying it would look bad. You just thought his long hair added to his cuteness. You were very wrong.��

“Oh you did it.” He lets you run your hand over his buzzed head, while you walk beside him. 

“Mhm.” He smirks and you already know what’s coming. “Is it as bad as you thought it would be?” But he knows it isn’t because you are not subtle in checking him out and his ego is bigger than the sun. 

“It’s somehow worse.”You taunt only to be met with a tug on your hair. It’s childish and violently in character for Rafe. He smiles at the squeak you let out and laughs when you push him back. 

“Yeah, whatever you like it.” Your conversation is cut short when your presence is noticed by your other friends.

“Where have you been all night?” Kelce asks from the hammock he’s lying in. 

“Up your butt.” You answer obnoxiously, skipping over to your friend Natalie’s lap and giving her a hug. You could tell she was a little high on something you didn’t want. 

“I think that is the last place you’d wanna be.” Topper says, patting your head and you can tell he’s been drinking by the way he slurs. 

The conversation between you and your friends is mindless while Rafe rolls the blunt on the patio table. You tried not to stare at his fingers as he did so. Or look at him too hard as he licked the paper. You failed. 

You try not to think too much of it when he’s finally done and he beckons you over, or when he pulls you in his lap, like that's normal. Once again, you fail. It takes you all over two seconds to get comfortable once he wraps his arm around you though and you’re used to ignoring your friends' looks by now. 

You’re a little nervous once he lights it but he brings it to his lips first and you really want your lips to be on that blunt all of a sudden. When he hands it to you, you try to mimic what he had done but you can tell you did it wrong immediately. 

“Inhale, kid.” You try again, you kind of feel it this time. 

“Lemme see.” He takes it from you and inhales the smoke, which you’re pretty sure is like illegal when it comes to rotation, but you don’t say so. You’re a little surprised when he grips your jaw firm and gentle, before blowing the smoke into your mouth.

“Inhale”  You do so, trying your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

 “Good girl.” He says finally releasing your jaw. You choke on the smoke in your lungs as he passes off the joint. Rubbing his hand on your back, immediately reminding you how naked you are in just your bikini. 

“I hate you.” You say once you’ve finally gathered yourself, but it holds no weight as you lean back into him. 

*****

You’re horny. That’s all you can think about by the time your friends and you stop smoking. Everyone had dispersed by now and it was just you and Rafe with you still sitting sideways across his lap. 

“I can feel you.” You squint eyeing your position.

“It would be concerning if you couldn’t.” You're well aware that your skin was touching his. He shakes his head, propping his hand right to the pulse in between your legs that was only covered by the thin layer of your bikini bottoms. 

“You’re fucking throbbing.” Your words are caught in your throat at the sensation of him rubbing you. Intensified by your high and how long you’ve been wanting him.

“Someone is gonna see.” You finally get out, trying to shift your legs. 

‘Good for them.” When he grabs your jaw this time, it’s to kiss you and you immediately forget whatever it was that you were worried about. He lets you shift around until you’re straddling him, kissing him back with equal fervor. 

“So you do like my hair.” He says panting once, you finally give him room to breathe. 

“What hair?” You softly scrape your nails down the nape of his neck. He sniggers, when you begin grinding against him. And he’s a little shocked when you pull his hard dick out his shorts. 

“And what’re you gonna do with that?”

“Sit on it.” Rafe moans, he’s not sure if it’s at your words or the hickey you’re currently sucking into his neck. Possessive. He finds himself noting. “Unless you don’t want me to.” You add, and he almost laughs at the fact that you’re giving him an out. 

“I do.” You’re so excited to fuck him you forget how much of a stretch he would be. But it’s too late to care once you start, you brutally force yourself to take half, ignoring your own pained whimpers at the sound of Rafe gasping into your neck. 

Despite himself, Rafe grabs your ass so that you can’t go any further. “Eager little slut.” 

“You started it.” You accuse after catching your breath. “You’re the slut.” Your voice is whiny, which is unlike you and Rafe can’t help but wonder if that’s a result of you being out of your mind horny or high.

“You’re the one that’s making a mess all over the both of us.” He says gesturing to the slick skin in between the both of you. While he’s talking you continue to take him deeper, nipping at the skin on his neck. He stops you again from taking more of him.

“Too much for you, kiddo.” You push past his hand in an act of rebellion, your ass meeting the top of his thighs. The stinging pain only makes you regret that action a little, but the look in his eye makes it worth it. 

‘Fuck” He lets you continue to bounce on him for a minute, but once you start to finally find your rhythm he starts bucking his hips back into yours. He’s pleased when you can no longer hold back your moans.

“Rafe!” And he knows that warning anywhere, especially mixed in with the way you clench around him. 

“Yeah? You like that?” Your answer to him is nearly gibberish as your body begins to convulse. And initially Rafe had every intention of pulling out, but the thought washes from his memory at the feeling of you. He groans as he finishes inside you, not utterly appalled by the idea of getting you pregnant. 

Once you catch your breath, you laugh a little to yourself. “I guess I like your haircut.”

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

don' ask about the aesthetic k? k 💙

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

With how the hail storm rattled against the hull of the ship, and how the vessel careened on the waves, you were at a loss as to how Nami was fast asleep already.

The crew had settled down for sleep hours ago, the laughter and teasing from dinner falling into a soft silence draping over each and every one of you—well, except you, that is.

Even after months at sea, the incessant rocking had you curling into yourself, headache blooming under the skin of your temples. Groaning, you rolled around on your sheets, burying your face in your pillow as you shoved the blanket off your shoulders and down your body. Chill air hit you instantly, a contrast to the sweat rising from your skin. All you wanted was sleep, but your ears rang with the sound of rainfall and the far off thunder rumbling through the sky.

You tossed and turned again and again, rest ever so far away and the sway of the Going Merry making kept your mind alert with all its tilts and jumps. Yet another grunt of frustration huffed from your lips, and Nami finally sprang up, glaring at you from across the cabin.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, her eyes heavy and her annoyance high.

Great. Now Nami was upset, which usually lasted a whole day if you were unlucky. You didn’t bother turning back to look at her, digging yourself deeper into your blanket. “Sorry…”

She sighed and rubbed at her cheek, gaze drifting over your exhausted form, taking in what she could in the dark. Settling back down, Nami said what she’d been thinking for the past two hours of listening to you loll around restlessly. “Just go sleep with Zoro.”

A beat passed, your eyes slowly opening as you tried to convince yourself you’d heard her wrong. You flipped around and gaped at the girl slinking into her sheets with a smirk you would catch through any dark room. “What? Why would I—Why would you—Nami!”

She chuckled darkly, her bright eyes finding yours. Nami propped her head up on her hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

Trying and failing to make a comeback, you opened and closed your mouth like a gaping fish, settling on crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s none of your business.”

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “But I’ve got dawn watch and am in desperate need of sleep.” All you did was stare at her, your glare fading. Nami rolled onto her back, offering into the silence, “It’s not like he’ll turn you away.”

You tried so very hard to let her logic roll off your shoulders, but it was cold (Zoro was warm) and you were tired (Zoro was a good napping buddy). As appealing as the idea was, you didn’t want to bother him. Zoro was probably just getting back from his night watch, Sanji heading up to the deck in his wake. Zoro wouldn’t turn you away, but he might grumble at you, and sometimes that was worse.

“Stop overthinking,” Nami’s voice whispered through a hiss. “He likes you.”

She was just trying to give you heart palpitations saying stuff like that. “Does not.”

“Mhmm. Get some sleep… with Zoro.”

You threw your pillow across the room, missing her bed by a longshot. You could throw pillows and shout whispered words at her all you wanted—it didn’t change that she had a point.

It wouldn’t be the first time you crawled into Zoro’s hammock late at night, seeking shelter from sleeplessness that seemed to miraculously melt in his embrace. Nami might’ve been right; Zoro might like you, at least more than he liked anybody else. It was confusing most days, but your mind was so mushy with fatigue you didn’t bother running over the finer details of your affections for the swordsman.

You puffed out a huff, eliciting a growl from the dark, “Go. Or neither of us will sleep.”

“Fine.” You threw off your blanket and marched out of the cabin before you could lose your nerve, trudging through the nearly pitch black hall of the Merry. 

You yelped as you tripped over a discarded broom, cursing into the night as you kicked it aside and kept on toward the boy’s cabin. As soon as you laid eyes on the closed door, your footsteps faltered, heart stuttering. 

The ship leaned on the waves and sent you teetering into the wall, and the decision was suddenly easy. You inched the door open gently, wincing at the momentary creak, and slipped inside. 

The boys’ cabin always had a… unique scent to it. Somewhere between burning socks and musk is how Nami described it. Honestly (now, you would never tell her this), you just thought it smelled like Zoro. Though Zoro might’ve been slightly less odorous on good days, you mused.

The swordsman of your infatuation lay in a swaying hammock tied up between two support beams holding up the ceiling. A flash of lightning illuminated his peaceful face for a brief moment, and the room was back to black. 

Collecting your wits, you approached him slowly, careful not to step on any of the clutters the boys left lying about. Lip pinched between your teeth, you stepped around a crate of slingshot ammo Usopp had crafted, catching your foot on the slingshot itself and jumping out of the way. 

You swept the room fretfully, yet no one stirred, the usual snores rising and falling. A sigh puffed form your chest as you turned back to Zoro’s hammock, only to lock eyes with the stoic swordsman as he gazed blearily up at you.

Lurching back, you calmed your racing heart and huffed at him. “You scared me.”

Zoro leaned up on his elbows, confused. “You scared me.” His gaze flickered all over your face. “What’re you doing?”

You fisted your hands, feeling like a deer at headlights, and blurted, “Nami kicked me out.”

Zoro’s brows drew instantly. “What?” He rose halfway when you hand found his chest, gently pushing him back down.

“I mean,” you amended. “I couldn’t sleep, and she got tired of me rolling around…” Bashful in how you averted your eyes, swaying on your feet, “I… sleep better with you. Y’know?”

Not even a second later he tugged on your arm to draw you closer, shuffling over to offer you some room. You smiled softly, falling into the space beside him, molding right into his side. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face warmed, your heart swelled, and you rested your head on the rigid outline of his shoulder, adjusting to find a comfortable place. Zoro’s arm slid under you and curled you further into his side, a sigh pulling from his chest, his muscles literally relaxing under each of your touches. 

There wasn’t a name for what you and Zoro were, not yet anyway, and somehow you were fine with that. He was there, and you were there, and that felt like enough. For now, you let your eyes finally give way to exhaustion, the pelting of the rain growing fainter and fainter. 

Nami was a tease, but she made some good points a lot of the time. You’d have to thank her in the morning, after you finally got to sleep in the arms of your swordsman.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Older!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Bartender!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A military lieutenant closing in on retirement, a younger, beautiful bartender, when you and Lt. Riley meet there is an instant chemistry, though it doesn't really go anywhere as he thinks himself a little too mature for you... until one night he stays at the bar later than he ever has and gets caught in a storm. What will happen after closing time?

Word Count: 9.4 k

Warnings:

The night that Lt. Simon Riley walked into the local bar for the first time started off as any ordinary night would. A man of quiet and solitude, spending nights alone in his room were more of his style, but the older that the introverted military officer got the more a stiff drink at the end of a long week seemed to hit better and since there was usually no liquor to be found on base, the next best thing was the bar not a ten minute drive away…well, seven if he took his motorcycle. 

Accompanied by a few of his long time colleagues he stepped into the establishment with nothing else on his mind other than wanting a bit of liquor to ease the ache in his sore limbs and to take the stress of daily life off his mind. The place was small, the locals that seemed to fill the space were nothing noteworthy, but as soon as he settled in at the table the group had chosen and he caught sight of the beauty behind the counter pouring the drinks with a gentle smile on her lips his mind went blank as his heart leapt in his chest.

The lieutenant had done much in his long career and he found it odd how he couldn’t get himself to even walk up to the bar to order from you as a cold sweat broke out across his body. Was he really going soft the older he got? It took him several minutes of self coaxing to get him to actually get out of his seat. Thank fuck for his customary mask otherwise the product of his racing heart would be plastered all over his face for everyone to see. 

As he stepped up to order and your attention landed on him, all the military training in the world didn’t prepare him for how to keep himself composed in that moment. Even that first conversation you had that night left him reeling. You asked about his mask in the most casual way and something inside him decided to play things up. He told you how he needed it to fend off stares whenever he was in public. 

Trying not to chuckle at that curious furrow in your brow as if skeptical about how a 6’4” man wearing a painted balaclava wouldn’t draw attention, he continued by saying how he was just too good looking to go out without it. The laugh that followed, that genuine wide smiled laugh that you desperately needed after the awful night you had had was already working its magic on him.

He was addicted to your company from that moment on. A strange occurrence for someone who had previously been completely to spend time with no one but himself.

Seeing soldiers around wasn’t strange being near a military installation, you’d gotten used to it rather quickly, but the lieutenant was no ordinary serviceman. Skull masked and huge he was hard to miss, yet what surprised you more than any of that was how his personality was much more gentle than what his appearance would lead you to believe. He was a man of few words, but the ones he gave you were always kind and even sometimes funny and in time you have come to enjoy him being around.

Time has passed, but not much about that has changed. It is always a toss up whether you’ll see him that week or if his presence won’t be around for some time, but you swear that whenever he reappears with his war buddies in tow and those dark eyes find you standing in your customary place behind the bar, the tension in his shoulders eases and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly through the visible gap in his mask as if his mouth has suddenly upturned. You convince yourself that it’s just for the commodities you supply…and yet… that doesn’t stop the way your heart thumps a little harder every time you see him.

It’s dumb, a stupid crush that won’t lead to anything anyway. He’s older, more mature and a bit intimidating, what would he want with someone like you? A man who’s seen the world would surely find a local bartender boring. Still, you can’t help the excitement that fills you up when he returns and immediately seeks out your company for a bit of chitchat and jokes. 

You try to hide away your infatuation as best as you can and soon you feel comfortable enough to call him an acquaintance, maybe even a friend. Just a friend, right? Just a friend.

Don’t mind the fact that you can’t stop yourself from sneaking glances over at him whenever he lifts the lip of that black mask up off the lower half of his face to take a drink. It doesn’t distract you, you haven’t accidentally spilled liquor all over the bar because of it. It’s the only part of him you have ever seen besides his eyes, the only part of him that you truly know, and yet it is more than enough to fuel a certain overwhelming yearning for him.  

Wishful thinking, you constantly remind yourself because nothing is ever going to come of it.

You almost trick yourself into believing that’s true until you notice that the usual routine begins to change. The last couple of weeks he’s been sitting solely at your bar rather than with his friends, lingering until the last minute where they have to shout his name before he decides to leave. It causes your mind to swirl with the possibilities of what this might mean.

Especially tonight.

There is something about tonight that seems different. It’s a fleeting tension in the air, a feeling that permeates the atmosphere inside the bar until you can’t seem to shake it from your mind no matter how you try to distract yourself from it. Is it exhaustion? You try to convince yourself that you’ve just worked a long, busy shift without a break and that’s what got you feeling off, but still something about it won’t quit playing through your thoughts.  

Last call, last rounds, and the bar is slowly emptied out of its patrons one by one until only a few straggling regulars remain inside while they finish up their drinks along with their conversations. Your eyes flit down to the end of the bar and notice that he’s still there. At the counter perched on a barstool, a nearly empty tumbler of whiskey still resting in his large hand, sits the masked military official. 

As you wipe down the glasses you’ve just washed and put them up, you can’t help the quickening in your chest as you keep stealing sneaky glances down towards him. He’s never stuck around this long; you watched as his crew left him behind and yet he doesn’t look too concerned or eager to follow them. Not that you’re complaining, far from it, but you can’t help being curious about how long he’s going to stick around. Could he still be here when the rest leave?  

…please…

You need a plan, something you can put together quickly to make him stay. Every second that passes that he doesn’t move gives you more time to think, even with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Deep rumbles off in the distance can be heard over the music idly playing through the speakers, the first signs of an early storm about to roll in at any moment and that sparks an idea. If he can just stay past closing time, you know how to tempt him into sticking around. You just hope the weather will cooperate with what you need it to do.

From within the shadow around his eyes created by his mask, that autumn-colored gaze follows you carefully as you move about tidying the bar while he pretends to nurse his drink that he hasn’t taken a real sip from in almost half an hour. An empty glass won’t give him an excuse to stay; he just has to wait a little longer and he’ll be the only one left. 

Then what? The lieutenant hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave.

He brings the cup up to his mouth and holds it there, watching discreetly over the rim as you finish up the tasks you can while patrons still inhabit the space. Setting the glass back down as if he’s taking a sip, Lt. Riley pulls out his phone and the screen blooms alive. The light illuminates his eyes as he immediately draws them to the clock at the top left hand corner. It’s less than ten minutes till close and then it’ll just be you and him.

He continues to follow you with his eyes as you leave your spot to persuade the few drunkards still dawdling about the place to head on home to sleep off their hangovers before they get caught in the rain, but you never once make the same request of him even as you pass him to lead the stragglers out into the night. Just as the last patron leaves out the door you are holding open the tinkling sound of rain hits his ears, followed by the distinct click of the door’s lock engaging, and he takes the last swig of brown, biting liquid to finish off the glass before setting it back down on the counter just as you reappear at his side. 

Coffee eyes dart up to yours only to get locked in their gaze as he carefully lowers his mask back over that chiseled, stubble-covered chin and a subtle change in your expression catches his attention. It is fleeting, but for a second the way you look at him with those wide, doe eyes he swears there is a hint of worry in their depths. 

Is he planning on leaving now? No, you need to put your half-baked plan into action fast or you might lose the moment and you don’t know if you will get an opportunity like this again. The rain outside is picking up heavier now, which gives you courage to follow through with this. 

There is a noticeable flush in your cheeks now and he likes the color it adds to your face. He wonders what’s got you all worked up and secretly hopes that it is in fact him, even if he quickly dismisses the idea before it can take hold of him.

“Guess you’ll be wantin’ me gone so ya can finish up,” he says from behind the fabric, though he makes no attempts to stand.

“Who said anything about leaving?” you reply with a smile as you step up to the counter beside him and reach over the cool, sealed wooden surface of the bar to grab you a fresh glass and the bottle of bourbon he’s been drinking that you’ve purposely kept close by. 

Your items procured, you move to the seat next to him and sit down. “Join me for a drink while we wait out the storm. I know you drove your bike here, you don’t want to go out in this. Unless you have somewhere to be, that is.”

He doesn’t say a word, just stares at you as you tip the lip of the bottle into your glass before reaching for his, pulling it to you, and doing the same. He watches the amber liquid pour and swirl into the bottom of his cup and still makes no attempts to exit his seat. You take it as a good sign. “On the house,” you nod towards the vessel of liquid as you hand it back.

Well, no sense in wasting good bourbon; he might as well stay for a bit. Only for the bourbon, he tells himself, only for the bourbon and to wait out the rain and nothing else. 

The sound system continues to cycle slowly through random songs as you raise your glass to him before downing the first swig with gusto, only a slight wince on your face as the alcohol burns its way down your throat. The lieutenant re-situates his mask above his lips and follows your lead. The moment the glass is back on the bar you quickly take it from him and set up another round between your cups before he can object.

“Like a woman who can hold her liquor,” he chuckles quietly and you match his energy with a giggle. 

“Then you’d really like me cause I can handle a lot more than that,” you pick as you place his glass back in front of him. Your heart pounds hard against your ribs as you surprise yourself at how easily the words flew from your lips.

He brings the glass up and keeps it pressed to his mouth for a moment without taking a sip so that he won’t choke from the unexpected innuendo he thinks he’s detected in your comment. Won’t do to look the fool if it actually isn’t there and he’s reading too much into things. 

Heavier still the rain pounds on the roof as it pours down outside, making the small space feel entirely secluded from the outside world. Here within the walls of the bar it’s like you two are the only people left in the world as everything else is cut off by a blanket of precipitation. You turn your attention to the doors to watch the droplets hit against the glass as you breathe deeply through your nose in a vain attempt to slow the racing in your chest.  

“It’s really takin’ a poundin’ out there,” the lieutenant comments as he follows your gaze and you have to clamp your mouth shut as the way he says the sentence has you dangerously close to accidentally admitting that the weather doesn’t have to be the only thing that could be taking a pounding right now.

You swallow hard as you turn back to him and again grab the bottle of liquor. “Guess we’ll be here a while,” you nervously chuckle, waiting for him to finish his second round so you can set up another before tending to your own glass.  

“Ya keep pourin’ free drinks and tha time’ll pass just fine,” he returns as he reaches for the drink and the back of his fingers accidentally brush over the skin of your knuckles before you can pull your hand fully away from the glass.

That stoic military man plays it off as if the minimal contact doesn’t feel like the magnitude from the collision of two universes and it hasn’t just made his heart forcefully restart. You notice his subtle readjustment in his seat and you pretend you aren’t struggling to even pick up your own glass as your limbs turn to jelly and your breath catches in your throat. An uncommon silence falls over the two of you as you both sit facing forward, staring at your drinks and yet you are sure that Lt. Riley is somehow closer to you than he had just been moments ago.

Three shots in and the alcohol is starting to play its deadly tricks. You really shouldn’t be doing this on an empty stomach, but you don’t want him to leave, not yet. The quiet tension that fills the short space between your bodies is thick enough to cut with a knife and the impulsive thoughts that are starting to swirl around in your head are becoming harder and harder to tune out.

Just watch what you say and don’t let the liquor get to your head, you coax yourself internally. If you can just hold it all in, you won’t risk making a fool of yourself. You need to say something, strike up some nonchalant conversation like you usually do; that should help with that ache starting to form inside. 

But as you turn to face him, your eyes get caught in following the line of his strong jaw up to the curvature of his mouth. You begin committing all the subtle details of the lower half of his face to memory now that you are at his side and can notice the beautiful imperfections of those visible features without the distraction of customers to take your attention away: the hints of gray peeking through the hair in his stubble, the mature lines around his mouth, the scars that are aged and faded. He raises his glass to his mouth and you watch the plump flesh of his full lips wrap around the rim in such a sensuous way that your mind instantaneously is overwhelmed with the need to become an inanimate object. 

Squeezing your thighs together a little tighter, you scramble to find an ounce of sanity to cling to while you fight off the desperate thoughts at the back of your mind as Lt. Riley sets his glass back down on the bar top. He feels your gaze boring into him and something about that tonight is sending him into a tailspin that causes him to take a moment to steady his voice from being influenced by the quickening in his pulse before he can ask what it is that’s causing you to stare.  

“Ya alright there?” he poses the question as he turns to face you and he can’t help but get caught up in the look in your eyes, curious about that shine in your dilated pupils as they focus on the bottom of his face.

That’s when it happens; a momentary lapse of judgment, that’s all it takes, one split second where you let your resolve slip and suddenly it isn’t just your eyes that are on his lips anymore. Leaning up into him, you meet his warm mouth in a hazy, quick embrace that makes your mind swim in ecstasy until you aren’t sure how much time has passed. Then all at once you are jolted back into reality as the heat from his breath makes the skin on your lips tingle and the horrid realization of what it is you’ve done slams into your chest with the force of a freight train.

In a flash you break away with an awkward chuckle at the ready to disguise your true feelings by being humorous. “Shit,” you say through your laugh as you place a hand to your temple, “looks like I’m a bit more tired than I thought. Liquor has gone straight to my head.”

Your mind is frantic to come up with something to get you away until you can calm down, but the lingering feeling of the friction of his lips against yours still permeates your every thought. Still it seems your feet know what to do without even thinking as you are now standing. “Let me go clean myself up while you finish your drink, yeah?” you suggest as the man beside you sits silent. “Like I said, it’s on the house, so feel free to leave even if I’m not back once you’re done.”

Those full lips you had just been pressed against stay closed and you don’t give him any chance to respond as you immediately turn tail to head straight for the restrooms at the other side of the bar without a single look back, that euphoric feeling slipping away as anxiety settles itself in your heart. It is probably just a bit of paranoia, but you swear you can feel his eyes staring holes into your back as you finally reach the door and quickly pop inside.  

The hinges on the bathroom door screech through the rust that covers them as you rush to step inside and head straight for the solitary sink near the back wall of the tiny, confined space. “What the fuck was that?” you question yourself as if you have any idea of why you would do such a thing. 

You turn on the taps and cup your hands under the cool water to gather enough in your palms to splash into your face. Fuck, you need to calm down and get a hold of yourself. Blindly reaching for the paper towel dispenser to your right, you grab a fistfull of those coarse bits of paper and pat the liquid off your cheeks before your eyes clock your reflection in the mirror in front of you. Those glistening irises stare back at you as your hands grip onto the sink as if it will help you in taking deep breaths. The blush in your cheeks has blossomed quite bright, bright enough that there is no hiding it even after the few minutes you’ve stood there just inhaling and exhaling. 

Great, you’ve probably run off the one person you actually enjoyed seeing around this shithole by losing yourself in the moment. Is it going to be worth it when he decides to avoid you from now on? That’s the only logical response you can imagine from the events that just took place. Closing your eyes tight, you hang your head with an exasperated sigh as you let the negative self-talk run its course, hoping that at least by the time you finish he will be gone and you can let yourself wallow in shame alone. 

Back outside the bathroom, the lieutenant’s silent gaze follows you all the way until you disappear behind the barrier clearly marked for the toilets. He grips back on and holds tight to the nearly empty glass as he finally turns his attention back around to the rest of the room before him and licks the length of his bottom lip heavily with the end of his tongue to catch the fleeting taste of your kiss as he sits in stunned silence, scrambling to take in all that has just transpired. 

With a few deep breaths inhaled, he throws back the rest of his drink and sets the glass down on the bar with a muted clink for a final time and turning his head back towards the restroom, he pulls his mask down over his face and gets to his feet to slowly head for the door.

It isn’t clear how much time passes before your ears pick up a sound that you do not expect.

Out of your thoughts you hear the familiar squeak of the door hinges and your eyes shoot open to instantly drift towards the source as that can only mean one thing now that the bar is shut down. There, standing noiselessly on the inside of the closed door and taking up most of the frame, is the imposing figure of the one and only Lt. Riley. 

The faint bit of sultry music filtering into the bathroom from the speakers outside the door fills the otherwise quiet of the space as you and that hulking military man simply stare at one another waiting to see who will be the first one to speak. After a few seconds though, the lieutenant makes the first move and slowly crosses the short length of the room with a calm and calculated precision. 

He comes to stop within a few feet of you and finally you find your voice. Those striking eyes never leave yours as he looks down at you through the space in his concealing balaclava and try as you might you can’t read what’s being expressed in his gaze. Is it anger, is it disgust, is it…something else? You don’t know, but you expect the worst and God do you hope you can fix this. 

“Listen, I am so sorry about what I did back there. I’m sure you’re uncomfortable,” you instantly stammer out another apology, only this time with more sincerity. “I genuinely don’t know what came over me to do that to you; we’ve only ever been friendly and I know I’ve overstepped. I won’t make excuses for my behavior, but I promise it won’t happen again. I would just hate to know that I made you feel too awkward to come back.”

There is a pause as his sight stays locked onto your face for what feels like an eternity as he silently tries to discern something within your eyes, a spark that he saw back at the bar, until he finally speaks for the first time since the incident. 

“Did ya not wanna do it?” he asks in a murmur, almost as if he is uneasy to learn the answer. 

The question catches you off-guard, being the only thing that your mind had not anxiously thought could be asked. What are you supposed to say? Under his tender stare you scramble mentally for a believable fib that you can pull off in your distracted state, but the only thing you have is the truth. Goddammit…why can’t you lie to him?

“I- I did, I do, but…” you say in an attempt to explain yourself, but his action causes the words to get lost on your tongue. 

This is not something that Lt. Riley is used to doing, he feels a bit too old and out of place for this sort of thing, but if there is one lesson that the seasoned military man in him always remembers, it’s that when you see an opportunity, you take it and so he moves in until his boots are nearly touching the tip of your shoes. Raising his hand to your head, he brushes his rough fingers through a few loose strands of hair hanging down around your face to tuck them delicately back behind your ear. More of your warm cheek is revealed to his touch and he wastes no time in placing his coarse hand to rest up against it. 

The sound of his voice hits your ears, but your mind is too numb to make out the words as you continue to stare up into his face while his thumb risks a few gentle strokes along the contour along your jaw. You desperately try to speak up, wanting to ask what he said, but your breath gets caught somewhere in your throat as that tender bit of intimacy disrupts all the involuntary processes that normally conduct themselves to keep you functional. 

Being here with him in the soft flickering fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, crammed into this tight space between him and the wall as the natural heat of his body makes the subtle scent of his spicy cologne bloom on his skin, it fills your head with disastrous thoughts that leave you in a haze of intoxication. You swallow hard to gain control. 

“W-what?” you ask.   

Lt. Riley’s strong jaw shifts beneath his mask, preparing himself to restart an admission that could be disastrous, but you’ve already played your hand and now he feels like he should too. “I said I’m done keepin’ this all in,” he reiterates as the softness of your skin under his rugged hand makes his fingertips ache to feel more, “sittin’ in here countless nights pretendin’ like it’s all fine, tryin’ to keep certain thoughts from gettin’ out. Told myself over and over I was too old for ya, that ya’d never go for a bloke like me, and it worked for a time. Then ya kiss me and suddenly I don’t fuckin’ care anymore. Ya say we’re friends, but, ya see, I’ve got enough mates, sweet’art.”

Drifting his thumb over from your cheek to the corner of your mouth he begins to slowly pull the pad of it across the silky skin of your bottom lip. Your mouth parts open with a faint inaudible gasp as he runs the length of all that tender, yearning flesh that is driving him to the brink of insanity. One kiss, that is all it took and now he is sure that there is nothing else that will satisfy him except for you. 

“I wanna be so much more,” he says without breaking eye contact.   

The fingers of his opposite hand find themselves at your side and glide eagerly around the band of your jeans they rest right against your hip. As his exploring touch makes contact with the balmy flesh of your pelvis up under your shirt, sparks of electricity feel like they web out over your skin and your breathing quickens with the increasing beat of your aching heart. 

“Been thinkin’ a lot ‘bout what I’d do if I ever got a chance wit ya like this.” His voice is heavily accented and husky with the magnitude of his need. “Thinkin’ ‘bout all the fuckin’ desperate things I wanna do to ya, but I never thought I’d get an opportunity like this. And now that we’re both ‘ere, I can’t stop the way I’m thinkin’ ‘bout those things again.”

As Lt. Riley traces burning lines over your skin, goosebumps forming wherever he goes, it’s hard to think of anything outside of how he’s never felt more alive than he does right now against you. His experienced fingers flit across your heated flesh the higher they go up your hip and your body trembles under the contact. Is this wrong? Is this right? He isn’t sure of the answer; shit, he’s getting closer and closer to retirement every goddamn day, but all he knows is that he needs you now more than he has ever needed another being before. 

And you need him just as badly.

His inhale is what brings you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. It’s a sharp intake of air and as you focus your sight back onto his eyes, he pauses the movement of his hand before it can get any further up the side of your torso. He’s getting ahead of himself and he needs to hear you to confirm that you need this too. 

“So, that’s why I gotta ask again,” he breathes the words into your face. “Did ya wanna fuckin’ kiss me? Or was it really a mistake?”

You can’t help letting out a wavering breath. Had you been holding it in this entire time? “I did want to do it,” you confirm quietly, struggling to get the words out through the dryness in your mouth. 

In your thoughts you silently beg the universe to not let this be some alcohol induced dream, even though you can feel his hand playing along your skin, sense the proximity of your bodies and the heat that flows off him to let you know that he is real, still you worry. What if this is all wishful thinking? The product of desperation in wanting something you don’t think you deserve to have? You stare back at him with bright eyes, begging for him to prove to you that this is so much more than delusion.

“I swear from the moment I first saw ya behind the bar, every fuckin’ time ya look at me with those pretty eyes ya nearly make me lose myself,” he says, his body so close that you are being physically swallowed up in his massive presence. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad.”

You look into the covered silhouette of his face and up into those dark eyes, the eyes you have adored from afar for so long, and fuck is it intoxicating to finally be the sole object of their unwavering admiration. It is impossible to not feel the want in his gaze, that same want that is overwhelming you too. And suddenly you realize that neither of you is leaving this bathroom…at least not for a while.  

“Y-you don't have to run from it anymore,” you say back softly, “Cause fuck, do I need you just as bad.” 

The desperate way you say it makes his whole body shudder and he struggles to control the ache flooding his limbs as the sound conjures to mind images of him pinning you to the wall and taking you with everything he has, capturing your lips himself this time in an embrace that will leave you faint as that insatiable hunger overtakes him.

Fuck, if he gets any harder he is gonna rip through the zipper of his jeans.

Your gaze pleads with him before it shifts down to the area of his face with the one thing you crave in that moment: his lips, his kiss. You need to have those full bits of flesh against your own again, it’s the only thing you can comprehend the feeling of in the haze that the overwhelming nature of his presence is currently producing to cloud your mind. You have to test that what you felt back at the bar wasn’t just the result of exhaustion and liquor, but that all that chemistry you felt in that moment was real.

And as if in answer to the question you haven’t asked, Lt. Riley slips his fingers into the neckline of his black t-shirt to find the hem of his mask and deliberately he pulls the fabric up to reveal his mouth and stubble-covered jaw to you once again, letting the excess cloth rest across the bridge of his prominent nose in the way he usually does it.

He parts his lips open somewhat to let in a little more oxygen as the space inside the bathroom suddenly feels far too small and the air much too stifling as he succumbs to the anticipation of meeting your lips with his again. This time it is deliberate; what if it doesn’t feel like that first time? It would kill him to know that after all the pining and aching for your touch that he has done that the spark he had just felt was all a farce caused by the liquor and unexpected timing. 

Yet without even thinking suddenly the lieutenant realizes that his hand is cupping the back of your head, his long fingers tangling into the strands of your hair to hold your head in place and you inhale sharply at the rougher contact. A smile forms on his mouth at your reaction, followed by a low groan that emanates out from deep within his chest. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, ya know that? Pretty girl.”

Those full lips of his ghost themselves over your own until the proximity makes you tremble from their seduction and your eyes flutter shut a moment as you let yourself succumb to the anticipation of when exactly he will break the distance. He waits on baited breath until your eyes slowly flit back open and your gaze meets his before he finishes his thought. “I wanna make ya mine so fuckin’ bad, luv.”

A smile crosses over your mouth as you hold his longing stare. You know he’s giving you an out, a way to step away if this isn’t really what you want, but from the moment your lips met back at the bar, there was no turning from this. “Then what are you waiting for?” you ask in the softest whisper as you can almost taste his breath from the proximity of his mouth. “Kiss me. Make me yours.”

You hear the deep breath he intakes before all at once he leans into you in a frenzy, not able to hold back that overwhelming tension for another second. The grip from his large hand palming through your hair is strong and keeps your head safe as he shoves you both into the wall, his firm torso pressing tightly into your curves as the brunt of his need and months of pent up longing is forced upon your lips with a feverish intensity that makes you instantly lose yourself as explosions like fireworks light up inside your mind.

Over and over he captures your mouth with hot aggression until your lips start to burn from the friction the harder he presses into them. You try to draw in air, but his heated advances on your mouth make it almost impossible to breathe; still, you won’t let him pull away even if he tries. The sparse dusting of stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth as the taste of the whiskey that he had just downed for courage floods the inside of your mouth from his breath and it hits your tongue with its sharp bite.

Your own hands decide they need to explore the man currently devouring your lips and you run up the back of his muscular neck to the bottom of his mask only for your fingertips to be met with cropped hair at the back of his head. The feeling of your fingers brushing over the short strands near the nape of his neck makes him shiver as the pleasure of the act snakes down his spine and you sigh into his mouth.

Lt. Riley is completely and utterly captivated by you…and he needs more.   

The hand he has wrapped around you he draws in towards himself so that you are pressed to him even tighter until your bodies are molded together as if you are one being, your curves meeting the firm muscles along his abdomen, and fuck if there isn’t something hard and throbbing piercing against your inner thigh that he starts to grind into you. 

“That’s it lieutenant,” you coax him as you match his movements in that desperate back and forth, scrambling to get as much friction as possible between your aching bodies. 

There is a deep grunt as he shakes his head. “Simon,” he growls into your open mouth as he readjusts his hips more squarely against you, “I need ya ta call me Simon. Say my name.”

Christ, his first name tastes like honey on your tongue and you feel feverishly excited to repeat it aloud now that you finally know it. His name. “Simon,” you groan through a break in his mouth’s connection. 

Those lips of his that dominate your own are frantic to embrace you until your mouth is on fire from the pressure. It’s like a spell the way you say it and suddenly there is nothing else he wants to hear more. “That’s it,” he breathes into you, “Say it again.”

“Simon.” 

He had always been lieutenant or Lt. Riley, but now he is Simon. Just Simon. And even though this has just started, it already feels like he is your Simon.

There is a heat in the middle of his chest, a burning, gnawing desire that has gripped his heart instantly in a desperate chokehold as his essence leaves your soft lips. “Fuck… again, sweet’art,” he begs; never has his name ever sounded so beautiful before and now that he has a taste of it off your tongue, he realizes just how starved he is for it.   

You say his name again, this time like a plea for more and it leaves him in a tailspin. His body cries out to feel you, all of you, without any barriers between your skin meeting his. He needs to experience every detail, explore every curve, relish every soft bit of flesh he can get his hands on; he’s waited long enough to have you. First he has to start with his mask. It’s in the way and he has no need to hide from you, not anymore, not ever again.

“Screw this damned thing,” Simon groans with agitation at the fabric still sticking to his heated features; he doesn’t want a single restriction between you both and with a quick pull starting from the back of his head, he rips the mask up and off his face, throwing it away without even caring where it lands. 

Cupping your face in between his large palms, he pauses only a moment to take you in as a new man, one entirely free of his anonymity, and allow you to truly see who it is that you crave. There is a vulnerability in his brown eyes that he cannot hold back as if he is waiting for you to change your mind now that you know the face beneath the disguise, but that could not be farther from what you are thinking. The desperate need he has for you shines in the depths of his gaze and it makes your already shallow breathing hitch in your chest. 

A gorgeous mess of dirty blonde hair is accentuated with silvery whisps at his temples, making him look distinguished and experienced. His eyes are even more intense now that they are not hidden in darkness and those solid, distinct features are highlighted with a little spackling of hair along his jaw. You can’t help but stare while you scramble to memorize every beautifully mature detail of the man you desire. He is everything and more than you could ever have imagined and all of it only for you. 

Reaching up, you trace the contours of his visage with the tips of your fingers as if sight isn’t enough and you can feel him tremble under your gentle touch. You outline old scars and just forming creases around his eyes as if they are precious and something about the tender way you take him in is enough to stop his heart.

The way your eyes linger on his face has his blood racing violently through his veins and in a haze of lust and euphoria he grabs you by the biceps to spin you round before he slides his hands up under your arms to pick you up, setting your ass on the edge of the small, one person sink. Expertly he slides himself between your open legs while pushing them open wider with his hands to accommodate his broad hips.  

“Fuck, I’ve wanted ta do this for so long now,” he says as his eyeline locks directly onto your full, juicy pout before he immediately has his hand catch the back of your head again to pull your face back to meet his. He connects your mouths back together with another moist, sticky embrace. 

Simon cannot get enough of you, not when it feels like you are meant to take every single ounce of his desire from the moment your lips met each other back at the bar. Unintentionally you roll your hips into him and fuck does it feel good for you to grind against that stiff peak strainging his jeans to capacity.  

He tilts your head back, his hands cradling your neck as his thumb brushes down the side of your throat closest to him. So soft, so silky, his lips ache to get a chance to caress such beauty. The longer he stares the more the idea blossoms in his mind that all that free space would look perfect with a little reminder of where he has been.

Never has he had something so gorgeous at his disposal. It’s enough to make a man lose himself.

“Ya know what I really been thinkin’ ‘bout? Wanna markup this pretty neck ‘a yours,” he groans the desperate request into the skin of your lips. “Leave my signature on what’s mine now.”

His. 

Fuck, why does that sound so good? Now you can’t think of anything else other than that one word being said in his voice: mine. Nothing has ever made you so instantly needy than the sentiment behind his statement. To be claimed by him is all you want.

“Please,” you beg enthusiastically, “I want you to mark me.” 

You’ve barely finished your sentence before your words are quickly followed by an open-mouthed moan as Simon doesn’t waste a single second in moving his lips straight to your throat, using the pad of his thick tongue to lick up to the spot he’s aiming for before latching onto that thunderously pounding vein right beneath your jaw. The sound of your moan pulls a tight knot deep in his belly so that his cock twitches at the tone.

“Gonna leave ya wit somethin’ beautiful,” he grunts the passionate words without lifting his lips off of you. He has to be sure that the pressure takes and leaves the area nice and visible with his signature. 

His mouth latches onto the side of your throat just below your ear before you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig hard into the soft, supple flesh. The pressure is so intense from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow.

“Open. Your. Legs.” 

With shut eyes you hear his demand through the fullness in his mouth and widen the gap between your thighs just as a broad hand slithers its way inside the top of your jeans and into your panties right up until Simon cups it over your pussy. Your lips are already puffy and slick with your need, the heat filling his palm with your desperation for more as his thick fingers part them like a hot knife through butter.

Gently he uses the pad of his middle finger to circle around the tiny nub at the top of your pussy, that sweet little button full of nerve endings that immediately make you whimper as he plays around it, teasing the sensitive tissue with a light, steady touch without making any contact with it yet. He’s waiting to feel a tremble shake its way through you, your body’s way of begging for more stimulation, before he gives in to the gnawing ache he’s desperately trying to create in you.   

“Please,” the whispered plea falls from your raw lips as agony sets in, but he stays the course. 

You groan deeply, your body straining to hold on as your clit throbs, and just as your head falls back and your eyes close there is a quiver that ripples through your inner thighs. There is no way for you to know, but you swear that his lips upturn against your neck and suddenly he is stroking the tip of his finger over that pulsing node.

Raising your hands to his shoulders, you dig the tips of your fingers in hard to the muscles in shoulders through his t-shirt to hold on as your entire body is enchanted by his stimulation. The pressure from your touch causes him to grunt excitedly into your neck, aroused by the desperate roughness of the contact, and you can feel the vibration in the back of your throat. 

The fluorescent lights overhead flicker with a metallic click and his eyes flutter open just as a bead of sweat catches the light as it rolls down your chest and into the valley between your breasts. Simon watches its entire path as it descends into your cleavage before another grabs his attention. Before this one can get away he licks it up with the tip of his tongue, capturing your salt in his mouth. There is nothing on you that he wants to go to waste, not when he has waited this long to finally have a taste of you.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he moans deeply into your skin as if he is trying to fuse his words with the flesh so that you will carry them with you. “I’m one lucky bastard ta even get the chance ta touch ya.” 

“I’m the lucky one,” you breathe. “I’ve wanted you for so long Simon. Just didn’t want to risk looking the fool and driving you away if you didn’t feel the same. I couldn’t stand you not being around.”

Simon pulls from your throat and his face drifts back up to look into yours, his fingers still working their magic. You meet his gaze with an open mouth as the ecstasy builds, the eye contact intensifying the already intimate act. 

“I’m not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere,” he says with conviction that it turns your already desperate need for him completely feral. 

You tug at his belt, your fingers clumsily fidgeting with the buckle until it finally comes loose and falls away, hitting his hips with a jingle as metal clanks against metal. A swift nip at your bottom lip is his response to being undressed as you grab onto the pull of his zipper and rip it all the way down to reach the seam. His pants are barely hanging onto his body now, clinging ever so carelessly at his hip bones and ready to slip off them at any second with the slightest amount of movement. 

“I need you inside me,” you breathe into his mouth as your hands gripped onto his hips push the fabric down, making him lightheaded at your neediness. 

Of course you’re curious about the protuberance prodding into you and as the last of his clothing falls away, your eyes drift down. “Fuck…” you whimper in a whisper as you release his cock and it springs to life as it’s no longer confined. 

“It’s all yours, sweet’art,” he says as he runs the edge of his teeth across your lip while his hands paw at the waistband of your pants. “Been fuckin’ gnawin’ at the bit to bury it in ya. Goddammit, ya get me so fuckin’ hard I can barely handle myself sometimes. Have to rub one out the moment I get back to base.”

It’s your turn now and he helps to keep you steady while you raise your hips off the sink enough that he can pull down your pants and drag them off your legs, taking your skimpy panties with them so that there’s nothing left to remove. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says, his breathing shaky as he takes you all in. All that glorious, soft, supple skin could not be more beautiful.

You cup his cheek and he comes back into himself, back into the moment with you. “Simon, please.” 

That’s all he needs to hear before he moves to align himself at your pulsing and dripping core. “Need ya ta breathe for me,” he reassures, “just breathe.”

Your head is held upright as he peers deep into your eyes while you struggle to take him in, his girth stretching out your tight hole the deeper he goes until your body contours to his specific shape. He tries to speak, but only incoherent, slurred words trip off his tongue at the feeling of his cock being throttled with how tight and wet you are. How can a being so exquisite want someone like him?

“You’re perfect, luv,” he groans as he scrambles to settle himself so that this doesn’t end prematurely by digging his fingers into your hip. “Ya drive me insane, pretty girl.” 

God, his honeyed words act as an aphrodisiac and the pleasure is almost too much. “I’ve wanted you for so long Simon, thought I was gonna break everytime you came in for a drink. I need you to fuck me good. I’ve waited so long for this.”

He chuckles as he lifts your chin. “Baby, I only want to make you come,” he says while staring deep into your eyes, clenching so that his cock twitches within you to make you gasp with a surprised smile.

To be inside you is mind-numbing, but that doesn’t stop the need he has to thrust, to shove his cock further and further up into you. Even within the first few minutes he is already pussydrunk so that he is slamming into you with a feral roughness that leaves his rhythm scattered for a bit as his brain only has one objective and that is to make you both fall apart.

One hand, fingers spread wide, braces against the wall aside the mirror, the other rests around the back of your neck as his hips snap up into you with a consistent fluidity. The sink beneath you groans and squeaks in time with each of his thrusts, the unfamiliar strain putting pressure where it connects to the wall. 

Having him pounding inside you has you so wet that the sound of slapping skin against skin fills the bathroom and Simon pulls back just enough to watch himself pump in and out of that beautiful opening. A sight like this is deadly and he prays that it is burned into his mind cause he wants this on replay in his thoughts. Nothing could ever look better than this.

Taking two fingers he brings them straight in towards your clit, wasting no time in drawing circles over that overwhelmingly sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips buck hard against him at the extra stimulation until you are pushing down onto his hand, your eyes rolling back as the ecstasy flows through your veins and that recognizable warmth starts to gather in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t stop,” you beg, each second bringing you ever closer to your release. “Gonna cum soon.”

Those three lethal words he has longed to hear for months and months now only fuel those strong thrusts and quick flicks of your clit. “That’s it, darlin’, fuckin’ come for me,” Simon growls so desperately it makes your head spin. “I need to feel ya.”

The pace never falters even though Simon is hanging on by a thread and his body is burning from the constant movement. He can’t be stopped, not with his goal so close. And all that hard work pays off as with a few more minutes your head finally flicks back and your thighs clamped down around his hips, a cry exploding out of you as you come violently that you nearly fall off the sink, but he isn’t going to let you go anywhere.

“Good girl,” he praises breathlessly. “Ride it out, all the way for me.”

Your core is fluttering around him, squeezing around his cock as he takes you all the way through your ecstasy until it’s too much to handle. His fingers scramble to rip up your shirt off your torso to secure it above your bra; he won’t be able to hold on much longer. A few heavy breaths get panted out in time with his thrusts and that is it, like flicking on a lightswitch he cannot hold off the pressure any longer as it reaches its peak. 

His raw mouth latches onto the crook of your neck just as he rips his cock out of you and into his hand to stroke out his orgasm and cover your stomach in his warm cum. Simon’s body shudders as he releases a loud groan with a bass that vibrates through your shoulder as he desperately tries to keep quiet as the intensity of his pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave with each stroke of his hand over his sensitive cock. 

“Christ,” he grunts into you as he milks the last bit of cum out and releases his grip on himself. 

Simon’s head hangs limp a moment as he breathes, exhaustion flooding his limbs so that they feel weighted, before he leans down and catches your mouth in a much more tender embrace than the ferocious ones he had been placing on it just moments ago. Your fingers run through his sideburns and he can’t help sighing contentedly with a smile meeting your lips.  

This has been more than worth the wait. “You’re amazin’ sweetheart,” he murmurs sweetly. “The best thing ta ever happen ta me.”

Simon keeps you in his arms even after he’s gotten you cleaned up and back onto your feet, holding you close to his body as he drags his rough, hardened fingers down over the palm of your hand with a light touch, bringing them down to the tips of your own until goosebumps begin to form along your forearm. 

“It’s late; you’ll probably want ta be headin’ home now,” he mutters quietly as his sizable fingers part through the spaces between your own until they latch your hands together. 

“You’re right,” you agree with a nod of your head, both of you still reeling in the ecstasy of your copulation as your eyes linger on the tender connection of your hands.

Simon looks up from your conjoined limbs to meet your bright eyes and the smile he greets with his sight leaves him desperate to feel it on his lips. You grip into his hand tighter as you move to step towards the door. “You coming with me? Gotta lock up before we can head to mine.” 

He smirks to himself with a shake of his head as he lets you lead him by the hand back out into the bar, ready to head to yours for the night to get lost in you all over again. Fate gave him this opportunity and he is going to take full advantage of enjoying the one thing he’s craved for too long now.

[wileys-russo]

alessia “you’ve been hitting the gym” (inspired by her arms in that golf story)

a.russo II morning menace

you chuckled as you returned to the room to find the mess of blonde hair and tanned skin still curled up exactly where you'd left her around an hour ago.

"alessia!" you sung out softly, placing down the coffees and bag of pastries you'd ventured out into the warm morning sun to get, unable to lay down in bed much longer, limbs twitching to do something.

all you received was a tired groan, exactly the same as the one you'd gotten when you tried to convince her to get up and come with you before, when she'd agreed to at least get up and shower while you were gone.

"lessi. babe come on i've been gone for an hour and you haven't even moved!" you laughed, jumping up onto the bed and staring down at the back of her head, another tired grunt all you got in reply.

"svegliarsi! svegliarsi, svegliarsi, svegliarsi-" you chanted wake up in italian, starting to jump on the bed causing her body to bounce up and down. "oh my god!" your girlfriend groaned in annoyance, reaching out blindly for you as you dodged her hands which tried to pull you back down into bed.

"alessia its nearly eleven in the morning. we're in the middle of italy, its a beautiful gloriously sunny day, the water temperature is perfect and i booked us full spa treatments for this afternoon. get up!" you dropped your body down on top of her causing her to grunt.

"can i smell coffee?" the blonde mumbled tiredly as you rolled your eyes. "you might, and breakfast pastries..." you trailed off with a hum, poking at the back of her neck. "from that little bakery we walked past yesterday?" your girlfriend questioned as she stretched out beneath you with a cute noise.

"maybe. you'll have to get up and see for yourself grumpy!" you moved her hair out of her face and leaned down to kiss her flushed cheek a few times, yanking the covers off of her as you stood, smacking her on the ass and tossing them to the floor as you jumped down off the bed.

"you really are such a menace sometimes." the girl sighed as she rolled onto her back, stretching out again and sitting up, pushing her hair to one side of her head and squinting at you tiredly through puffy eyes.

"oh? well thats a shame. suddenly i think i'm so hungry from my walk i'll eat all these pastries!" you shrugged, hand dipping into the bag and grabbing one out, shaking off the excess icing sugar and taking a bite.

"so good!" you moaned out mid mouthful, goading your girlfriend enough that she finally got out of bed with a huff, only clad in an oversized t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "good morning baby." you cheered as she stopped in front of you, a head and a half taller and looking quite unimpressed.

"smile, we're on holiday." you poked her nose, spinning around to dodge her hand which reached for the bag. "nuh uh, i earned these." you tutted, finishing off the pastry in your hand and reaching for another.

"less!" you squealed as suddenly your feet weren't touching the soft carpet of the hotel room floor, your girlfriend hauling you over her shoulder effortlessly with one arm, grabbing her coffee with the other and carrying you out to the balcony.

"you've been hitting the gym." you squeezed her rock hard bicep still hung upside down and humming appreciatively. "you should know, all you do is sit on the bench and stare at me while i work out." your girlfriend chuckled as you scoffed and hit her back.

"i do not! i do my own work out." you defended, though really you knew most of your workout was for your eyes which flickered around the room following your professional athlete of a girlfriend around the hotel gym.

with a teasing mhm alessia carefully lowered you onto one of the chairs in the sun before taking a seat in the other, snatching the bag of pastries out of your hand and stretching out her legs so her feet settled in your lap.

"are you comfortable?" you scoffed, the blonde nodding and dropping a pair of sunglasses you didn't even see her grab down over her eyes. "foot massage please." the striker ordered, digging her heel into your thigh expectantly and sighing happily as she took the first sip of her coffee.

"you're the real menace in the mornings russo."

[triplefrontierbabe]

hello! can i request a dr3 x black cat! reader? we all know dr is like a golden retriever and the dynamic with a tough, badass r, i feel would be so good! it gets to the point where the grid is like “mate your gf is kinda scary” and are legitimately scared of her (except for max, and danny tries to tell them shes not). but one night maybe dr (+more) get tooo drunk and the grid sees how caring and loving r really is (takes care of them) and understands that shes just a tough exterior with a soft loving interior please?

if not, its all good!! thank you 🤍

Opposites Attract

summary: Daniel’s the only person who knows how to crack your hard exterior

pairing: black cat! f!reader x golden retriever! Daniel Ricciardo

warnings: mention of drinking, you are responsible for the content you consume

a/n: I love this prompt!! I truly think Danny has the personality fit for a black cat! gf. hope you enjoy!

Daniel loves to smile, a lot. It’s kinda his thing. If Daniel Ricciardo isn’t smiling then something is seriously wrong. You can’t forget about his contagious laugh that livens up any space he’s in. Overall, he’s just a ray of sun bursting with joy.

So you can imagine the confusion on everyone’s faces when he introduced you as his girlfriend. You, the stoic, keeps-to-herself, only-shows-minimal-expressions girl dating Daniel, the golden retriever of the grid.

To any outsider the relationship dynamic didn’t really make sense. But, to be fair, compared to many other wives and girlfriends of the grid, you keep your life fairly private. You accompany Daniel to his races, you watch the race then you’re ready to go home as soon as the last car crosses the finish line. And, unlike many of the other drivers’ better halves, modeling and being in front of the camera is not your thing.

“I can’t tell if she hates me or likes me? She seems a little intimidating.” Lando says to Daniel one day. Daniel has introduced you to many of his mates and you’ve gotten to know many of them on a personal level outside of the paddock. Your stoicism once again triumphing in confusing the drivers.

“No, she does like you, Lando.” Daniel says. “I know she’s hard to read sometimes but she enjoys the company.”

This was a conversation Daniel found himself having often with other drivers. While you did fraternize with the other ladies, your social battery was quick to wear out on long weekends. Often excusing yourself from conversations because you were tired and could only handle so much interaction in one go.

However, after one race weekend, Daniel somehow convinced you to go out with a group of the drivers and their partners. It was a good race for Daniel, he placed P8, so of course a celebration of points was in order.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” He tried reasoning with you. He had tried many times before in convincing you to go to a bar or club to celebrate. Only once before was he successful, and that was because it was to celebrate his birthday.

“And, we don’t even have to stay that long” he began “just have a couple drinks, mingle a little bit then leave.”

Now that was a plan you could get behind.

“Okay, I guess.” You said, sighing in defeat. It was one night, that wouldn’t kill you. And who knows, maybe people would see you’re not all that emotionless after all.

The night was going along just fine. Drinks were served, conversations were had, music was played. Max somehow ended up dancing on top of a table which resulted in Daniel joining him.

You and the other girls giggled at the sight of the grown men acting like college frat boys at a rush party. Yes, you giggled too. Lando saw it. He tried to take a mental note, amidst his drunken state, of the expression of emotion you had. Who knows if anyone would ever see that again.

“Mate did you just see Daniel’s girl smile?” Lando asked Charles who was standing close by. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a mental note he made after all.

Before you knew it, the clock had gone way past midnight and many more drinks were had. You, however, tapped out after two drinks. Someone in the relationship needed to be the coherent one for the night and it sure wasn’t going to be Daniel.

“Babe, I love this song!” Daniel shouted over top of DJ Got Us Fallin’ In Love as he stumbled towards you and the rest of the group. Once he was standing next to you he started dancing, terribly, attempting to twerk or at least move his butt in a what he thought to be a provocative manner.

As he bumped around you, you couldn’t help but smile at the scene you had now been brought into. Your almost six foot tall boyfriend acting like a newly turned twenty one year old at a bar for the first time. It was truly comical in the way he moved. For being as tall as he was, dancing for him was quite the sight, his lanky arms moving every which way with no rhythm at all.

“Baby dance with me” he whined reaching out to hold your waist and slightly slurring his words in the meantime. He was quite gone. The thing about alcohol and Danny was that it just heightened his golden retriever energy. He’s already very energetic and affectionate while sober, but inebriated? That’s a whole new level.

As much as you were reluctant to leave, you knew if Danny didn’t get to bed soon, the inevitable hangover in the morning would only be ten times worse.

“Okay honey, I think it’s time we head out.” You announce putting an arm around his waist to keep him upright. As soon as your arm is around his tall frame, he leans into your touch just like a puppy who hasn’t seen their human all day.

“But the party’s just getting started.” Daniel said pouting. Once again, a laugh escaped you before you could even process what was happening.

“I know, I know” you began as you put Daniel’s arm around your shoulder. “We can have more of a party later, okay?” You said patting his chest, trying to maneuver him in a way that would make it easy to walk out.

Before heading out, you announce your and Daniel’s departure and thank everyone for such a great night.

The group watches in amazement as you methodically guide Daniel around the crowd and head for the door. And they don’t miss the kiss you press to Daniel’s cheek along the way.

The guys are stunned to say the least.

“I think that’s the most personality I’ve seen from her ever.” Max exclaims, eyes wide at what he just witnessed.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her speak before.” Charles adds.

“It’s no wonder he chose her,” George begins, “she keeps him calm.”

So yeah, is your and Daniel’s relationship dynamic totally different on the outside? Sure. But he’s the only one who has managed to open up your heart just enough for him.

Opposites do attract after all.

Check out my Masterlist

[leclerc-hs]

somebody else - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you find yourself at cross ties with an ex! OR charles just really wants you back. warnings: 18+, smut under the cut!, angst!!!!!!!!!, not proofread word count: ~2.2k author's note: sorry if this is lame?? i was feeling really angsty the other night but then never finished it so i finished it just now. maybe I can continue this or maybe I'll leave it as a one-shot only!!! idk but let me know your thoughts :) xoxo ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE DARKENED CLOUDS swirl ominously above you, intermittently lit by flashes of distant lightning that paints fleeting patterns across the sky. The air is cool and charged with the scent of saltwater as you pull your knees into your chest. 

“Did you ever think we would end up here?” His voice mutters beside you, the waves crashing with a muted sorrow in the background, as if echoing the ache that burned in his chest.

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and dampness, a bittersweet reminder of your shared moments now slipping away. You turned your head to look at him, tugging the corners of your lips upwards into a weak smile.

The burn in your throat made it hard to speak.

“Jamais.” Never.

“I thought we had more time,” You spoke, your voice fragile.

-

You sit nestled on the plush couch, your favorite book lying forgotten in your lap as you emerge yourself into the soft melodies playing in the background. Charles stands by the vintage record player, carefully selecting another vinyl, his movements graceful and deliberate in the dim glow of the room.

The music fills the space. A jazz tune, perhaps, with its smooth saxophone and rhythmic piano. He turns to you eventually, with a smile that practically melts your heart, before extending a hand towards you as an invitation to dance.

“Aren’t you concerned for your toes?” You joke, slipping the book off your lap and onto the couch.

“Concerned?” His lips tug into a small smirk. “You can break all of my toes, and I’d still want to dance with you.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing. A shy grin forms as your hand slips perfectly into his, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

Outside, the city hums softly with the quiet buzz of evening life, but within the cocoon of warmth and music, time seems to stand still. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He mutters as he presses gentle kisses onto your face, one arm wrapped around your waist tightly. “Toe breaking and all.”

Your head falls back as you release a laugh of pure joy. “Je t’aime.” I love you.

“Je t’aime, mon coeur.” My heart.

-

The mornings always held a special charm for him, especially those rare occasions when he found himself awake before you. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but when it did happen, he cherished it deeply. As he woke to the gentle light filtering through the curtains, he would often find himself captivated by the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him, almost always cocooned into the side of his body.

There was always something so mesmerizing about watching you in those quiet moments of slumber. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair fell onto the pillow, and the soft expression on your face created a montage of serenity and beauty that he could never look away from.

He sometimes would just lay there, propped up on one elbow, just taking in every detail of you. The way your eyelashes fluttered silently, the slight curve of your lips, and the way you would sometimes reach out unconsciously, seeking his warmth even in sleep. It always filled him with need for you.

Today, for instance, was one of those mornings. Charles traced the pads of his fingertips softly along the collarbone that was peeking out of his t-shirt that you always stole from him. He didn’t mind though; it was practically yours.

You stirred awake gently, a smile pulling on your lips as you felt Charles hand trail down your torso and slipping under the t-shirt, his hands instantly trailing along the skin of your stomach.

His hands squeezed your sides gently, before pushing you flat onto your back, so he could slip in between your thighs, half his body pressed on top of you.

He peppered kisses to your neck, up to your cheeks, before meeting you at your lips where you awoke with a full-blown smile. 

“Needy this morning, hm?” Your voice was soft, still full of sleep as you felt him gently rut against your core. There wasn’t much fabric between you both, just his boxers and a pair of cotton panties.

“For you?” You could feel his grin against the crevice of your neck and collarbone where he places open-mouthed kisses, sucking gently. “Always.”

It didn’t take much longer before his cock was slipped inside of you. His boxers strewn somewhere along the bedroom floor that you both shared, and your panties pushed only to the side.

“Feel this, mon amour?” He groans softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin as you let your head fall back into the pillows completely. “It’s just for you.”

It starts out slow and lazy. Until you both just can’t take it anymore and he’s flipping you over, pulling you to your knees. 

“Arch your back for me.” He says, the pace of his hips unrelenting as his fingers grip the sides of your hips. “That’s it, mon amour.” 

You can’t help but moan, your knuckles turning white from the harsh grip you claim on the bedsheets. It’s sogood.

His hands find their way to your hair, fisting it tightly as he pulls you up so that your back is pressed to his chest.

“Please,” You beg, in need of a release.

“How bad do you want it?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers trailing along your neck, pressing gently into your soft skin. “C’mon, work for it.”

You begin feverishly rutting your hips, meeting him in the middle. It doesn’t take much longer before your both sent over the edge of your orgasms, collapsing on top of one another in the warm confines of the bed.

“I think we should stay here for the rest of the day.”

-

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with anger that seemed to swirl around the both of you like a storm. You both stood in the middle of the kitchen, a place that usually consists of shared laughter and comfort, now transformed into a battleground.

“How was I supposed to know that she would be there?” His voice was lethal, the veins in his neck protruding from the clench of his jaw.

You were in complete disarray as your fingers continuously ran through the roots of your hair. It’s as if he was listening but wasn’t really listening.

“It’s not about that!” You half-shout back, your voice dwindling towards the end. You were tired. So tired of this. “It’s the fact that you practically forgot I was even there!”

“You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick fights over nothing.”

“So now it’s my fault that you practically spent the entire night talking to your ex-girlfriend as if I wasn’t in the room?”

You felt your temper wearing thin. All you needed was an apology. A sign that he didn’t mean to spend half the night talking to his ex-girlfriend.

“I hate when you do this.”

“I’m so done letting you hurt me like this every time we see her around.” You felt your voice crack. 

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?” His voice was void of any emotion, but the heavy rise and fall of his chest gave way to just how much this was hurting him to hear.

-

“Can you just stay a little longer?” His voice was raw and full of emotion as he stared at you from the archway of the kitchen. You stood only a few feet away with swollen eyes from crying, and a single suitcase by your side.

You could slowly see the unwavering emotions form across Charles’ face as he stood, staring at you. Sadness, hurt, and anger.

You began to shake your head no, but Charles absolutely refused for that to be your response. He took a small step towards you, which had you immediately holding your hand up, begging for him to stop.

“Please,” Your voice shook. “Don’t make this harder.”

“I love you.” He emphasizes. He runs his hands through his hair like he’s in distraught. Because he is. How did it get to this point?

When you couldn’t even say the words back, was Charles’ final undoing. He knew you still did. But he neededto hear you say it. He knew it was selfish. Considering, this was all his doing. His actions.

“You keep hurting me every time we come across her.” You void your sentence of any emotion. Trying your best to hold it together, at least exteriorly. “I can’t be with you when it seems like you want her.”

“I only want you!” He can feel the panic forming in his chest as he sees you make your way to grab the handle of your suitcase.

“It’s too late.” 

-

It’s been seven months since then. Most would say that’s not much, but to Charles it felt like eternity. It would be a lie if you said it didn’t too. But still you moved on. Or at least tried to.

You and Charles regardless of the break-up we’re always still involved in some way. You both knew it was impossible to shut each other out completely. Especially when you both live in the same small city, have the same childhood friends, and live not even a mile away from each other.

So, when you arrive to one of your best friend’s birthday party, hand in hand with another man, you could imagine the burn of nerves that flood your stomach as you spot Charles across the room.

“Mon dieu!” Your friend erupts in a raised voice. “We finally get to meet Andrew!” She pushes the door open widely, allowing room for you and Andrew to step through the threshold.

A short silk dress adorns your body, the perfect shade of blue that embellishes your summer tan. You avoid looking in Charles’ direction as you gather your belongings onto a designated table, where everyone’s belongings also lie. 

You’ve been seeing Andrew for a few weeks, it’s all still relatively new. But he was sweet and caring, and so thoughtful.

You feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment as your friend announces Andrew as ‘your new boyfriend’ because he isn’t your boyfriend. But, you can’t find it in your heart to correct her.

It takes a mere thirty seconds for you to drop your belongings down onto the table, before you turn around to meet the eyes of Charles from across the room. 

It feels as if time has stood still as he sends you a small tug of his lips, unsure of how he should act. It’s not that you haven’t seen each other since the break-up, but he hasn’t ever seen you with another man.

You felt in a complete trance, unable to remove your eyes from Charles, until you feel a hand rest on the small of your back. Andrew.

You break eye contact almost instantly, turning your head to smile up at Andrew. He sends you a quick wink, before bringing his lips down to your ear. “Tu veux un verre?” Do you want a drink?

You nod, a soft smile pulled on your lips as you turn towards the direction of the kitchen, pulling Andrew’s hand in yours.

-

“Is it serious?” His smooth voice elicits a quiet shriek and jump as you hand wash the used wine glasses in the kitchen sink, an eruption of goosebumps forming across your skin.

“Excuse me?” You turn to him. Soapy water dripping from your fingertips before you wiped them with a hand towel nearby. 

“Is it serious?” He repeats, his voice unwavering as he steps closer that you need to crane your neck to look at him.

“I know what you said.” You could feel the anger begin to swirl in you like a storm. “What makes you think you deserve to know?”

For a tiny instant, you swore you saw the smirk on his face waver. But, it was so fast that he pulled it back up again.

“I miss you.” He whispers softly, his hand reaches to touch a strand of fallen hair from your face before he tucks it behind your ear.

“You’re not being fair.”

His face falls to a solemn look, letting only you see the actual hurt that he’s been feeling every day since you walked out that apartment door.

“I want you back, mon amour.” He states. “I’ll risk being unfair if it gives me any chance to get you back.”

Your heart was beating rapidly. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear. But you can’t do this. Not again. Not to Andrew.

“Charles, please don’t do this. Not here.” 

“I know that you love me.” He states. “I know that you do, and you know that I love you. That I’m in love with you and always will be.” His words begin pouring out of him, like a waterfall. 

“We’re broken.” You shrug your shoulders. “We always were.”

You didn’t give him a chance to speak again before you pushed past the confines of his body and back into the living room where all of your friends and Andrew celebrate.