A Kiss Left Of You Simon "Ghost" Riley

A Kiss Left of You ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

summary: simon and you, introduced by mutual friends in the military, enjoy a heartfelt moment outside a bar. you engage in playful banter, and despite knowing you will soon part ways, you express genuine affection for each other. tags/trigger warnings: f!reader, sfw, reader is not from the uk, author attempts at accents, jealous!simon, doomed romance (maybe), drugs and alcohol consumption, soap makes an appearance, simon is bad at feelings, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, ambiguous ending, self-indulgent, hints at reader being autistic wc: 3.7k

a/n: this is a very old wip. i may or may not make this into a series. anyway, this is just a short collection of drabbles between simon and you. any constructive criticism is highly encouraged. enjoy!

pt. 1 ･ pt. 2 ･ pt.3

Breathing deeply, Simon admires the evening scenery as the last rays of the Sun disappear beyond the horizon. Hues of orange once highlighted it, but now it has turned into a deep shade of blue. Exhaling, a puff of smoke escapes his lips as he taps the lingering ashes along the railing. He stands just outside a dingy bar, its label, "Velvet Verve," gleaming brightly, casting Simon underneath its neon purple glow.

The cool night air chills Simon's lungs as he pulls deeply on his cigarette. His dark brown eyes follow the specks of snowfall as they dance through the air. As the soft flakes of snow drift by, Simon remains still and unbothered; he can appreciate a good view, and the evening air offers him that chance. Taking deep breaths, he savors the wind's chill against his skin and the scent of the air, which has started to take on a crisp note.

It's fucking freezing. You think to yourself as you step outside, feeling tipsy as you shiver against the wind's icy gust. There are specks of snow twirling downwards just in front of you, teasing you and your distaste for the weather.

Looking to your left, you spot Simon leaning against the railing as he blows out puffs of gray smoke. His signature skull balaclava is pushed past his lips, resting on his crooked nose. He seems lost in thought, yet he somehow always remains alert.

The man was large, much larger than you by far. He was slightly shy from 6'3 with an even more impressive frame. His right forearm consisted of a sleeve of tattoos in swirling black ink. His voice was deep and smoky, yet he rarely raised his voice (or let alone speak). He didn't come off as shy; he just seemed to prefer his company to others—which you could relate to. He was very aloof and a bit socially unskilled in his blunt and impolite nature, but underneath it all, you could tell he was a good man. He has this element to him that no one seemed to be able to cross, like how he was now: secluded and lost in his mind. You wondered what he could be thinking of.

A familiar scent of perfume catches his attention, and upon realizing it's you, Simon flicks his cigarette over the railing and turns his attention to you. The slight smile on his features turns into a more visible grin when he notices your intoxicated state. Simon watches you shiver as chills make their way through your body, your breath forming in front of you as you glance up at him. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he watches you momentarily before finally speaking up. "Aren't ya’ supposed t'be drinkin' inside, or did they cut ya’ off?"

Giggling, you made your way over to where he was standing, the heels of your boots clicking against the hard wooden tile. You could feel the effects of the alcohol warm your belly, leaving your brain fuzzy. Keeping a respectful distance, you stand before him, assessing him thoughtfully.

Simon was very different from many of the men you'd met, yet so stereotypical at the same time. He was mysterious, an intangible force of nature that had always piqued your curiosity. However, you never let yourself wander too close. Unlike many others, you weren't scared of the man. He was intimidating, sure, but never had you felt genuine fear in his presence. Maybe if you were one of his soldiers, or god forbid one of his enemies, you'd think differently. And yet, Simon never gave you any reason to fear him; if anything, it was safe to say you felt very protected under his watch.

You’d met under curious circumstances. Kyle Garrick, a buddy of yours, was stationed in northeast Britain while you were vacationing. After you had met at a bar to reminisce about your past, he introduced you to many of his army buddies. One of them was his Lieutenant, Simon Riley, who most of them referred to as "Ghost." He's always been some enigma, ever since the start. He always sported his typical skull balaclava, which you had yet to see him without, and only pulled up past his nose to take a swig of bourbon or smoke a cigarette.

"Just needed some air." You smiled, watching as your breath formed into wisps of condensation in the crisp, navy-blue sky.

Simon's lips curl into a smirk at the sound of your voice. "Careful there." He gently warns as you stumble, his voice still deep but with a hint of amusement. He reaches forward to steady you, only to stop just before he touches you. His eyes meet yours, and Simon feels the intensity of the moment.

"Thank you." You mumble, gazing up into his brown eyes, the top of his face hidden behind his mask.

"Aren't you cold?" You asks curiously, dipping your head to the side with a grin. Your voice had a hint of teasing mixed in with genuine concern.

Simon remains quiet for a moment before finally responding. "M’ fine." He answers coolly, turning his gaze back out into the evening sky. He leans over, the cool winter breeze brushing past his skin. His expression is genuine as he offers a gentle smile. "But you," he glances back over your shoulder at the bar, "maybe we ‘oughta get ya’ back inside."

"But it's so loud in there," you whine, leaning against the wood. "Need a minute."

The corner of Simon's lips curls up in a half-grin as he watches you. "I di'n't know ya’ can't handle yer alcohol." He murmurs, teasing once again.

"I can!" You protest with a giggle. "I'm just a bit tipsy."

"Jus’ a bit?" Simon echoes, chuckling softly to himself.

"Mmm…” you hum, half-acknowledging him. You close your eyes, embracing the moment as the cold nips at your nose. Out in the distance, a lamp post flickers off and on again, its warm yellow light blinking in contrast to the melancholic blue-and-white atmosphere.

Simon shakes his head internally, wondering when he allowed himself to babysit whining drunk girls stumbling out of bars.

He watches you for a long moment as your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward further. His face takes on a slight hint of concern for a second before he returns to his usual expressionless state. His eyes follow the lamp pole, his thoughts drifting off somewhere far from here. The world seemed to come to a standstill as he watched a million different scenarios in his head. His mind wandered between thoughts of the both of you perched like two birds in the frigid air and going your separate ways like strangers passing each other in the night.

A sudden gust of wind sends the snow swirling around the two of you again, and Simon turns towards you. His eyes take in your appearance, noticing how the cold seems to dig its icy, unforgiving claws into you. He takes in every detail, from the slope of your nose to the slight quiver in your bottom lip. He takes note of the way you huddle yourself inside your coat.

"S'bit nippy, innit’?” He asks, his voice low and warm, a welcomed ironicity. He keeps his eyes on the drifting snowfall, allowing you to meet his gaze at your own pace.

"Haven't gotten used to it yet." You admit sheepishly, grinning up at him as you burrow yourself further into the warmth of your furry coat.

Simon can't help but raise an eyebrow at this. "I take it, it's warm where yer from?" He asks in a puzzled tone, and though he's trying to keep his voice neutral, his curiosity gets the better of him.

You nod animatedly, a small smile hidden underneath the jacket.

A small laugh escapes Simon as his mouth curves into a small smile. His tongue traces along the top row of his front teeth as he watches the small grin form beneath the fur of your coat. A silent moment passes between you before he finally speaks.

“Mus’ be nice.” He murmurs, his voice still maintaining an even tone despite his body language giving way to a more keen and interested one.

You shrug your shoulders with a heave, followed by a long sigh. "Until it was summer," you mumble dramatically. "unbearable."

"So, it's either too 'ot or too cold wit’ ya’.” He observes softly, and something about the fact that he's paying so much attention to this seemingly dull conversation baffles him.

You grin, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, eyes wide and glowing. "Pretty much," you murmur, your smile toothy.

The corners of his lips curl up into a smirk as his eyes follow your mouth for a moment before shifting back to your eyes again. The grin spreads across his face, almost like a blush, as he stares back at you. His expression lightens further as your eyes meet, and it is as if he feels something stir deep inside him when he looks at you.

You breathe a short laugh through your nose, taking in his expression. "I should probably get going soon.", you acknowledge, closing your heavy eyes for a moment longer than necessary.

"Aye, prob'ly." He murmurs, still grinning. Simon's thoughts return to a thousand scenarios as his eyes travel around you momentarily. There's no doubt that he feels something soft make its way inside him, something he hasn't felt in a while. He shifts his weight, his body leaning against the wooden railing as he turns his head toward the bar again, letting out a slow breath.

"Think you could give me a ride?" you ask, leaning into his personal space.

His expression shifts quickly, his heart racing at your playful suggestion. He clears his throat before glancing back at you, his face momentarily caught off guard by your closeness. His eyes meet yours, and he can't help but feel a tingling sensation throughout his body. It's almost as if his body is slowly reacting to yours, the chemistry of a connection.

"Aye, dun't see why not,” he murmurs, his tone shifting slightly more severe with his agreement.

"Thanks! You're the best." You shoot him a playful wink before turning back to look out towards the flickering lamppost, yet refuse to put the space back between you.

"Hmph..." Simon's voice comes out with a tinge of a teasing hilt, and he feels just the right amount of comfort with this closeness between you. Another gust of wind rushes by, sending snowflakes into the air again; he watches as they make a home on your head and shoulders.

"Come on, yer gonna freeze out here." He murmurs, not wanting to let you linger in the frigid cold much longer. He finally shifts his weight off the rail and paces towards the parking lot.

Reluctantly, you push yourself away from the rail to follow closely behind him. "I think I'm starting to get used to it now." You chirp from behind him, not even attempting to keep up.

“Us'd to what?” He forgets about your pointless conversation as he turns back, watching you and laughing softly at the image of your shorter legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“The cold,” you answer, humming to yourself. Your eyes stay closed as you stuff your hands into your coat pockets.

The parking lot is a short distance away, and Simon's steps slow as you approach his truck. He opens up the passenger side door for you, waving you over.

You giggle, strolling towards him with an attempt at grace. "Thank you, Lieutenant." you grin, saluting him with the wrong hand before clambering inside.

He shuts the door with an unimpressed shake of his head.

“You smoke?” Ghost asks, offering you the cigarette between his fingers.

“Not those cancer sticks.” You turn your nose up in disgust, not caring if you offended him. To your surprise, he shrugs before placing it between his lips.

He smirked as the cigarette hung from his mouth, not seeming to mind your aversion towards them. You’ve always been straightforward, preferring to precisely say what you’re feeling or thinking rather than hiding it behind politeness or social conventions. He knows that your tendency to be so direct can sometimes rub people the wrong way. But this is just one of the many things he finds refreshing about you. He leans back against the wall with a sigh and slightly glances at you before saying, “Does it botha’ y’ then?” He mumbles in between a drag.

You take a moment to consider his words before shaking your head. "No, not really. You're a grown man; you can do whatever you want." You shrug, appreciating how he turns his head away from you to blow the smoke from his nose.

"Mmhm..." he mutters, nodding in understanding but looking you over when you aren’t paying attention to him. Your relaxed attitude appeals to him, and he grows more comfortable around you.

He watches, his eyes drifting up and down your body as he takes in your appearance, his gaze landing on your exposed neck. It's a rather tempting sight, as the smooth skin of your throat is only made more attractive by how you lean forward while talking. He watches you intently as you form words with your mouth; your accent, which he used to find unusual, now strikes a chord within him—a voice he can only describe as heavenly.

"Ghost?" You ask, turning to look up at him. Confusion is written on your face when he stays silent after you ask him a question.

He snaps out of his reverie, his body twitching as he realizes you’re now looking at him. A slight smirk flashes across his face as he sees the perplexed expression on your face, as he had been so caught up in his admiration of you that Simon hadn't even realized he was supposed to be paying attention. "Sorry, luv," he says softly, his voice slightly teasing as he maintains his gaze on you. "Wot were ya’ sayin’?"

“Here, try some o' this.” Commands John, otherwise known as “Soap,” as he slides you a glass of tequila. For the past fifteen minutes, it seemed to consist of Kyle’s task force forcing you to try their taste in alcoholic beverages. A vodka-lime wasn’t impressive according to their standards.

“Why do I have to try out every single one of your stupid ‘manly’ drinks?” You grumbled, already feeling the effects of the alcohol as you took a quick sip of his drink.

“Is tha' tequila?” Ghost scoffs as he appears in your peripheral vision, causing you to cough and sputter in surprise.

“Why do you always do that?” You complain, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips as John laughs at your misfortune.

Ghost’s eyes widen in what either looks to be humor or surprise—probably both.

“Gettin’ the lass tae expand her horizons,” John explains after collecting himself.

“You sound like an alcoholic,” you mumble, your face warm in embarrassment.

“Why tequila?” Ghost interrupts, still seemingly confused by John’s choice of beverage.

“Whae naht?” The scot shrugs, taking a sip of his drink with raised eyebrows. You glance back and forth between the two men, trying to decipher their unspoken conversation.

“Ya,’ tryna kill her, mate?” Ghost snorts in sarcasm, sitting beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he makes himself comfortable. He doesn’t even glance in your direction, but John’s eyes flicker back and forth between you two knowingly. You hide your shame behind another long sip.

“Are you?” You mutter, staring out the window as silence fills the air.

“Wot?”

John’s laugh rings loud as your face sets up in a blaze.

“Do you like it?” You inquire with anticipation, watching him take a bite of the cultural dish you had made for him to try. You asked him to stop by your temporary place so you could cook him something other than British cuisine. He seemed a bit irked but agreed nonetheless.

“S’ alright.” He mumbles after swallowing, refusing to meet your eyes as he takes another bite.

“You like it, c’mon.” You giggle, poking his bicep, which he swats away, simultaneously shooting you an annoyed glare.

“I said it’s alright.” He reaffirms, chewing slowly. “S’ a bit spicy.” He comments in a neutral tone, but you assume it was supposed to be his form of constructional criticism.

“Yeah, well, everything is spicy to you people.”

He rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh.

“You could’ve just said ‘thank you.’” You sass, hands on your hips.

“I’d 'ave t'be thankful for it first.”

You swat him in the arm this time. He chuckles in response.

Simon grunts as he slams his fist into the black fabric of the boxing bag. The thick material of his gloves protects his fists, but he can almost picture the bruises and cuts decorating his knuckles as he bashes the face in of that smug-looking private.

Simon had nothing against the man—personally speaking anyway—yet he still couldn’t get over how he looked at you. How he danced with you, twirling you around like some bloke, tripping over his feet and his words to impress you.

And you just smiled and laughed, batting your pretty eyes up at him with a sweet smile—the same way you do with Simon.

Simon furrows his eyebrows, pulling his face into a deep frown. He clenches his fists a little tighter as the images of the man dancing with you and making a fool of himself flash through his mind. Simon can also clearly see how you responded to his advances in those images: your saccharine smiles and bashful glances, your symphony of laughs that could bring a choir of angels to shame. He grits his teeth and raises his fist to strike the bag again; his jealousy is getting the better of him.

The more he seethes, the more those memories twist into something else entirely. He can't help but imagine the way the man must have touched you, maybe even kissing you or pulling you into his arms—holding you close. The thought of that makes him even more furious, as he's now thinking about him putting his hands on you in a way that only he is supposed to—or would if only he just asked.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side as you sit across from Simon in a booth, enjoying the meal he had gotten for you both.

He stops eating for a moment, his busy thoughts halting a little as he hears your voice hit his ears, concerned with a hint of indignation. He hesitates for a second before answering you, not wanting to admit that he's felt a little insecure about his relationship with you. "Nothin’," he gruffs softly, forcing disinterest as he looks at you. "Why?”

You run your tongue over your front teeth as you assess him before looking past his shoulder in thought.

"Is it because I have to leave soon?" You ask softly, deciding to poke at your food with your fork to remain casual.

The mention of your departure only makes his frustration grow even worse, as the thought of you not being here with him brings forth an uncomfortable hollow feeling deep in his chest. "No," he mutters softly, but his response carries a hint of irritation because he believes you have seen through him too quickly. "I jus’...'ave some things on my mind."

He stares at you silently for a moment before looking away and grunting. He can't help but feel slightly guilty for not wanting to be honest with you. Especially when he knows you’ve always been upfront with him, and now he's keeping secrets from you even though there's no real reason for him to. The guilt compels him to consider admitting a little more, but he realizes that doing so would mean ripping back the layers he’s built up around himself for so long. So instead, he says, "It's nowt important."

"Then stop acting so weird."

You sigh, swallowing your frustration. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me." You promise with an empathetic smile.

He sighs and looks away again, feeling even more shameful now that he has to look into your pitful expression after lying straight to it. Simon has been so busy hiding his insecurities that he's lost track of how he’s been treating you, and now Simon realizes that he needs to open up, or else you’ll probably start feeling as if he's abandoning you. "Yeah..." he mutters, shaking his head slightly in disappointment with himself. "I know, m'sorry...I'll be fine."

You soak in the awkward, silent tension for a few more moments, trying to make peace with it.

"Y'know..." you begin tapping his leg under the table with your foot to get his attention. "I'm gonna miss you too." You confess with a bittersweet smile.

His expression softens just a bit, his gaze shifts to make eye contact with you for the first time in a while, and upon seeing your sweet and somewhat sad smile, his discomfort shifts towards a bittersweet tenderness rather than the frustration and resentment he felt before.

"Y'will?" he asks softly, a small smile forming on his lips as he looks away almost immediately, his heart now fluttering at the thought of someone as kind and gentle as you, missing someone as cruel and fucked up as him.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, your eyelids lowering as you admire him with a strange fondness. “But I’m glad—I’m happy I got to meet you, to miss you.” You smile, abandoning your attention on everything else and redirecting it towards him.

“I’d rather miss you every day than not have gotten to meet you at all.”

NEXT → main masterlist, rules

Heaven Is a Place on Earth ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

summary: reader gives arthur some well deserved lovin'. tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, oral sex (m!receiving), rough manhandling, smoking, praise, dom!arthur, sub!reader, cursing, crying, use of pet names ("sweetheart", "good girl", "woman"), author attempts at accents wc: 984

You peer up at him from below, observing how his sharp features become bathed in a warm, golden glow following the rhythmic flickering of his worn metal lighter. With each deliberate flick, the flame ignites, casting an ethereal radiance across his face. As he tilts his chin upward, the flickering flame illuminates the tip of his cigarette, casting a soft glow on his chiseled features. The reflection of the dancing flame dances in his mesmerizing blue-green eyes.

Your eyelashes flutter, and a long sigh escapes your lungs and through your parted lips—wet, red, and kissed raw. Your fingers curl along Arthur’s thighs, anchoring yourself to the rough texture of his jeans. Your knees start to ache against the hardwood floor, grounding you as your eyes get lost in him. He breathes in an inhale, his eyes falling shut, his brows ever so gently drawing closer as his pink lips morph into the shape of his cigarette.

As he exhales, smoke dances from his parted lips in tendrils as his form slumps back into the cushions. His hand reaches up to pet your hair, smoothing the rebellious flyaways the same hand had caused.

“Y’okay down there, missy?” he asks cautiously, yet the side of his mouth quirks into a smug grin. His fingers delicately touch the side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear before he traces the outline of your jaw to your chin, tilting it further upwards.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat.

“Y’sure?” his southern drawl dropping in an octave as his eyes drink in the sight of you down on your knees before him, worshiping him.

You nod languidly, hands creeping towards his thick leather belt. He lifts his hips in response as he flicks away the falling ashes.

“Good girl…”

You let out a choked-back moan; his voice envelops you like the comforting warmth of the sun on a chilly day, leaving fresh goosebumps across your skin.

Your breath becomes shaky as you unbuckle his belt and pull down his fly. You reach your hand into his pants, cupping his forming erection in your hand and squeezing gently for good measure. Arthur sighs, his large hand continuing to stroke your body, making you feel small.

“Go’head,” he encourages, albeit a tad impatient. You pull him out, his cock thick in width with veins running up and down his length. The tip is red and already oozing with pre. You whine at the sight, your thighs rubbing together as your mouth begins to water.

You gaze back up at him as his hand eases behind your neck, coaxing you forward as you part your lips, eager to take him.

He's salty and bitter to the taste. Your tongue shyly laps at his tip, gathering his leaky essence to your taste buds before you wrap your mouth around him. You close your eyes and furrow your brows in concentration.

His hips shift, his thighs spreading wider as delicious groans spill from his sinful mouth, fingers clutching your hair as you take him deeper, trying desperately to reach the base. As soon as his tip grazes the back of your throat, you gag, hands pressing against his abdomen.

“Shhh, easy there,” he consoles, watching as you pull off of him; the strings of spit lewdly break away from his cock as it jumps from your expression, your face flushed and eyes watery, and your lips dark and puffy.

“Look’atchu…” His tender voice softly cooed, and the deep, husky timbre added warmth and depth to his praise.

“Y’alright?” he grins, turning his head to puff another cloud of smoke, the tangy scent of tobacco filling your nostrils.

“Mhm,” you answer, leaning your head forward as you take him in your hands, wrapping them around his cock, suckling on the head.

“Fuck,” he grunts deeply, leaning his head back, closing his eyes as he sets the cigarette aside before curling both hands into your hair.

“Jesus, woman,” he growls, urging your face closer and closer as he lifts his hips involuntarily.

You slide your tongue up and down his sensitive skin, twisting and curling, tracing over prominent veins as you slowly make your way down. You take in a stabilizing deep breath before pushing forward, holding back a gag as he slides into your throat.

You peek your eyes open as his mouth forms into an O-like shape, his eyes screwed shut, and his thick brows pull all the way forward. His tongue spews curses and praises, causing your skin to flush deeply.

He holds you in place as he thrusts into your mouth without grace or rhythm. “Fuck, I ain't gonna last, sweetheart,” he warns, his voice tapering off into a whine.

You close your eyes, moaning around him as he uses you for his pleasure; this seems to spur him on as his cock twitches inside your throat as it contracts around him. “M’close,” he grunts, almost sounding in pain.

You brace your hands against his thighs, fighting to keep your eyes open, watching as his bliss-struck face contorts in pleasure. His grip on your hair grows painful as he holds you in place as thick ropes shoot down your esophagus, causing you to sputter, drool dripping down your lips, to your chin, and onto his lap, causing dark, wet spots to form into the seams.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you sniffle before he's easing his softening erection from your warm mouth. He can't help but grin at the sight of you: flushed, messy, and dipping.

“Aww, ain't that a pretty sight.” his eyes twinkle with mischief, dragging his knuckles across your wet cheeks.

Even after his rough manhandling, you lean into his soft touch, your chest still heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. He pulls you into his lap, his hands under your armpits as he drags you upwards. His thigh slips between yours, feeling your arousal dampen his jeans. He chuckles, dragging a heavy hand over his bearded jaw while his other paws at your hip.

“I reckon I should return the favor.”

main masterlist, rules

© all work and content posted are the property of narciticv3nus 2024. It is strictly prohibited to alter or repost them under any circumstances. do not replicate or assert them as your own. refrain from endorsing my work on tiktok, wattpad, ao3, or any other social media platform. additionally, do not utilize my work for asmr purposes.

⋅ ˚₊‧˖࣪ ⊹ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 Higuruma Hiromi ᡣ𐭩 ˖ ࣪ ⊹

ᰔ if i wasn't so fucked up (i'd fuck you all the time)

higuruma hiromi x reader * warnings: 18+, f!reader, anxious!reader, crybaby!reader, mention of cigarettes, heavy smut, slight angst, hurt to comfort, crying, talk of issues in relationships, p in v * wc: 5.8k

⋅ ˚₊‧˖࣪ ⊹ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ⋅

nothing to see here! :)

tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, fluff, cunnilingus, praise, body worship wc: 1k

Currently daydreaming about being in an arranged marriage with duke!simon riley. And after an extended celebration, it’s time to consummate the marriage.

Simon senses your nervousness and tries his best to soothe you, gently letting you know he will never touch you without your permission. Little did he know, since you saw him waiting at the altar, gruff yet dignified in his handsome glory, you instantly knew you had to be the luckiest woman alive. Listening to his soft affirmations makes your heart beat even faster.

You remind him that, unfortunately, if you did not do your marital duties, it wouldn't go unnoticed. "the bedsheets," you remind him. "the handmaidens will know once they see that they’re clean." You giggle as you listen to your new husband grumble underneath his breath about the 'daft fockin' traditions'.

"It’s okay," you take his larger hands in yours, squeezing his fingers softly. His face takes on a look of surprise, not expecting to be held so gently. "i trust you." You smile, gazing up at him shyly.

Simon swallows, nodding his head slowly as he finally lets his eyes stray from your face and down your body. You guide his hands towards your waist as you shuffle closer to him, having to strain your neck to look up at him. He rubs his thumb over your satin nightgown, appreciating its silky texture.

He lets out a breath as he fiddles with the straps against your shoulders, his gaze never leaving yours. You nod your head shakily, your breath coming in slightly uneven once it finally sets in on what you're about to do.

"Words," he demands, his voice taking on a more assertive tone.

"Please, Simon," you whine, your face and body growing warm in embarrassment. He smirks proudly as he slowly slides the straps down your shoulders, gently running his fingertips across the soft flesh unveiled before him.

Once your gown turns into a puddle around your feet, he doesn't waste time roaming his curious hands up and down your newly exposed body, cupping your breasts, massaging your hips, and dragging his palm up and down the arch of your spine.

After he lets out a long, pleased sigh, he walks you backward towards the bed. and you do so, even sitting obediently down at the edge of the bed, all without him touching you.

He smiles down at you, his gaze dark yet soft, and his eyes flitter all over your body.

"God, yer beautiful, luv, y’know tha'?" He groans as he begins undressing before you. He chuckles at your meek 'thank you' in response, eyeing the way your thighs squeeze together as you watch him intently.

He withholds from teasing you any further as he kicks away his pants.

"Lie up against the pillow for me, luv," he commands again, nodding his head upward. You quickly do as he says, scooting yourself upwards and biting back a gasp as he slides off the rest of his undergarments. You're not quite sure where that's supposed to go. Not inside you, surely?

"It's alright, sweetheart," he says to comfort you, though a hint of amusement underlies his soft tone of voice. "it ain't gonna bite ya'." He huffs as he follows you, pinning you against the bed.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words stay trapped inside your throat as your eyes lock on against his twitching cock.

"Will it hurt?" You ask, your voice thin as you gaze back up at his face for reassurance. He grins toothily, his eyes crinkling as he shakes his head.

"Nah, little bird," he grunts, his voice thick and husky. "I won't let it hurt ya'."

You moan softly as his lips connect with yours in a tender kiss, your eyes fluttering closed as his calloused hand cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing gently across your cheekbone. You blush deeply as his lips continue to smack against your own, even more so as they descend to your neck and naked chest.

You grasp at his short, light brown strands of hair; a tiny squeak leaves your mouth as he licks over your areole before nibbling at the soft, hardening bud.

“Simon,” you whisper as he gropes at your unattended breast. You arch your chest closer towards his greedy mouth and gentle caresses.

He hums huskily at the sound of his name leaving your lips in such a lewd way. “Feelin’ good, luvie? Yeah?” He asks but frames it more as a statement as he kisses down the expanse of your body, his hands parting your thighs wide as he settles himself in between them.

“Wait - what’re you—” you’re cut off by a trembling moan escaping from deep inside your chest, watching in bewilderment as his lips attach themselves to your pussy and keening further as he sucks hard.

"It's-it's dirty!" You protest, your fingers weakly tugging at his hair in an attempt to pull him away, yet this seems only to excite him further. He groans deeply, shaking his head from side to side, his eyes clenched shut in concentration.

He softly chuckles against your mound, tracing his tongue up and down your labia. "dunno' whatcha' mean, luv." He mumbles, nudging his nose against your clit as his tongue pokes against the rim of your dripping hole.

"Tastes good t'me."

You find you don't exactly have the words to respond to him, only bringing your hand up to your mouth to conceal your growing noises of pleasure. You arch your back deeply, lifting your hips to chase the feeling of his sinful mouth.

"Don't stop," you whimper from behind your hand, your brows deeply furrowed, and your eyes glaze over as you peer down at him.

"Lemme' hear ya'," he growls, shooting you a warning look from between your legs.

"But-"

His glare deepens, causing you to remove your hand from your face with a submissive whimper, grasping at the soft linen beneath you.

"Good girl."

Your thighs clench tight around his face at the sudden praise, feeling embarrassed as he huffs out a laugh.

"Dun't get too excited now, luv." He drawls, his fingers dipping in between your legs to rub slow circles against your clit.

"Y've gotta long night."

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If I Wasn't So Fucked Up (I'd Fuck You All The Time) ᡣ𐭩 higuruma hiromi

minors do not interact! | mdni!

summary: hiromi was not someone who sought intimacy or relationships, and he lacked experience with women. however, he ended up with a wonderful girlfriend, you. he tries to take care of you, but sometimes struggles with expressing his emotions. he is often busy, leaving you feeling lonely. he finds it difficult to come to terms with your unhappiness and does his best to make it up to you. tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, no use of y/n, anxious!reader, crybaby!reader, reader has hair, mention of cigarettes, healthy relationship dynamic, self-indulgent, heavy smut, heavy fluff, pillow talk at the end, slight angst, hurt to comfort, makeup sex, mutual obsession, crying, talk about issues in relationships, p in v, foreplay, pet names ("darling", "baby", "love", "my love"'). wc: 5.8k

a/n: a character.ai bot i made inspired this piece! here is the link if you are interested.

As Hiromi drags his feet through the front door, warm, ambient lighting and the aroma of a freshly cooked meal instantly greet him, hitting his nose. He then drapes his coat across a dining room chair before taking off his shoes, neatly placing them beside yours. He sighs in relief as you suddenly appear in front of him. You smile at him, but it doesn't meet your eyes. You reached up, softly undoing his tie while refusing to meet his gaze.

"Are you hungry?" You ask softly, flickering your eyes up at him as you place a hand gently on his chest. A small smile tugs at his lips as he gazes at you, his large, weary eyes taking in every tiny detail of your face. He can tell something is not quite right: you look tired and worn. And your usual loving warmth feels more far away. Still, you look just as beautiful as always.

“Yes,” he says quietly, a hint of exhaustion lingering. He raises a hand, running a few fingers through your curls as you undo his tie.

"Something smells good.", he adds before leaning in and kissing your head.

You pull away, pecking his lips before returning to the kitchen to prepare his plate.

As you retreat into the kitchen, Hiromi's gaze lingers, following your movements while he rolls his head on his shoulders. He makes his way to one of the dining chairs, taking a seat before he loosens the top buttons of his dress shirt. He finds his mind preoccupied after the workday, and his entire body feels physically heavy, but being in your presence puts him at ease - there’s no one else he’d rather spend his evenings with after work.

Placing his plate in front of him, you fill two glasses of wine before sitting next to him. You bite your lip hesitantly as you watch him take his first bite; your eyes are more absent than usual.

"Is it good?" You force out, eyes fluttering over towards him.

Hiromi takes notice of your distant expression and how your gaze is unfocused as you stare at him. A slight frown momentarily creases his brow, but he gives you a nod, a reassuring smile forming on his lips as he turns to look back at the food.

"It's wonderful. Thank you.", Hiromi replies in a low tone, his voice softened by exhaustion. Despite your far-off attitude, he lifts a piece of food onto his fork and takes another large bite.

"You're welcome." You respond, offering him a smile before a thick silence consumes the scene.

As the moment stretches, an uncomfortable silence takes over. The quiet ambiance of the room feels heavy with tension, and a sense of unease settles within Hiromi. He furrows his brow slightly before taking a sip from his glass of wine, his mind racing as the distance grows between you.

"Is everything alright?" he manages to ask, his voice soft and filled with concern. He places his fork onto his plate, turning fully towards you to decipher your expression.

As you look up at him, guilt seems almost to swallow you whole.

"No, no... I mean, yes! Everything's fine." You stammer, taking a sip of wine to hide your embarrassment.

"Just a long day..." You half-lie because, in truth, it was.

He looks into your eyes and sees you struggling to conceal your emotions. He reaches for your hand, gently holding it while rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. His expression is concerned but calm, and he squeezes slightly.

"Long day? Would you like to talk about it, love?" he asks softly, his voice a low rumble. Perhaps it's due to his exhaustion, but all he can focus on is the apparent strain on you - he can't ignore that something is weighing on your mind.

"It's fine..." You try to convince him (and yourself). Yet all you can focus on is the smoothness of his voice and the weight of his large hand encompassing yours. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed gentle circles into your skin. Concern draws his heavy brows together, and his eyes plead. You feel your body grow warm from your desires, the red wine sitting in your belly doing little to help.

"You're stressed and..." You start, your eyes fluttering over his face, taking in his handsome features. "I just don't want to put anymore onto you."

His expression remains concerned as he listens to you, and he squeezes your hand once more, silently reassuring you that he is willing to listen. He can practically hear the tension in your voice as you speak, making his chest ache. A part of him yearns to know what's going on, but another part wants to pull you into his embrace and soothe you.

"If anything is bothering you...you can talk to me, love." He promises with a sweet kiss to your hand.

"I just... miss you." You admit weakly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes darting back down to your combined hands. You nervously begin fidgeting with his fingers.

"I rarely see you, and we haven't gone out in a while. You only come home when I'm asleep most of the time, and then you leave again before I wake up. We haven't... done it either." You feel your face grow hot in embarrassment and guilt, but it feels good to get it out finally.

His heart clenches at your words. He wants to hold you, pull you close in his arms, and bury his face in your hair. He can practically feel the hurt in your voice, which makes him hurt, too, but he grips your hand instead.

"You're right.", he begins softly, his voice filled with guilt and regret. "I...I have been working almost non-stop this month, and I promise you there's nothing I'd rather do than spend more time with you. I'll try harder, I'll do better..."

"I don't want you to feel like it's your fault." You shake your head quickly, feeling the guilt weigh further on your shoulders. "You're good to me and always take care of me. I–I know how demanding and strenuous your work is. I feel bad for asking so much of you, but…” Your words jumble as your mind scrambles, and you let out a long sigh, trying to blink back the rising wetness in your eyes.

"Darling... look at me." he gently cuts you off, softly but firmly, as he lifts his free hand to your face and gently turns it towards him. Despite the fatigue that's settled in his bones, exhaustion and weariness filling his every move, his eyes look you over with regard and care.

"You're not demanding...not at all. And you're not in the wrong for feeling like you miss me or want me home more often - it's alright that you feel this way; I know I'm still here, with you, always."

Smiling crookedly, the lump in your throat grows tighter, and your vision clouds as you look up at him. Hiromi had always been patient with you, never judgmental, and always kind. You feared your emotions were too big—too sensitive, but he never seemed to mind; he seemed to cherish it.

"I know, I just... don't want to put any more pressure on you." You swallow thickly, hoping to suffocate the urge to cry in front of him.

Your words make his heartache for you even more, his thumb tracing circles into the skin of the back of your hand in a way to soothe you, his other hand gently caressing your cheek. He leans in a little closer, searching your face.

"Darling... I want you to tell me when these things bother you; you're not putting pressure on me; you're just expressing how you feel. And I want to listen to you. I'll always listen to you, alright?"

His words hit home, breaking the dam you were struggling to maintain. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks before your hands quickly wiped them away. You sniffle, your smile shaky, and you gaze up at him through glistening eyes. The words: ‘Thank you’ sit on your tongue heavily, yet it feels strange thanking him for something you shouldn't be thanking him for. He's just so good — unabashedly and without selfish reasons.

"I love you." You say instead, and it comes out strangled and pitched, but you force it out nonetheless.

His mouth forms a tight line as he watches you, his chest constricting at your tears and the sound of your voice wavering as you speak. He leans in closer, gently tugging your hand, and he brings you towards him, his other arm wrapping around you and pulling you into him.

"It's alright, my love... there there..." He speaks softly and gently, running a hand soothingly over your back as he pulls you closer. He presses a gentle kiss to your nose, then your cheek, then your forehead.

"I love you too, always."

You giggle at his attempt to console you, contentedly purring as you sink into his embrace. "You're so good to me." You mumble aloud, half of your face squished against his chest.

He pulls you closer still, letting you bury your face into his chest while his arms wrap around you tighter. He rests his chin on your head, running one hand through your hair, and holds you close while you sit perched on top of him. His heart finally settles slightly at the sound of your laugh and the feeling of your body pressed close to his, and he lets out a quiet huff from his nose.

"Of course... you mean everything to me.", he whispers, his voice slightly muffled.

A wide smile splits across your face from his words, your cheeks growing warmer. His voice washed over your being like an incredible wave on a hot summer's day, forcing your body into a calm state of arousal. The feeling of his large, warm hands scoping the reins of your waist causes a shiver to roll up your spine. His pectorals are large, soft, and squishy through his wrinkled, white button-up that you rest your cheek upon.

As you feel his lips press against the top of your head, you drink in the musky, woody smell attached to his clothes. A faint scent of pine and cigarettes clings to his body, a subtle reminder that you know he's been smoking more than usual this month, no doubt from the stress of his job. You never say anything, but you worry. And you know that he knows you worry.

"Hiromi..." You breathe, writhing in his embrace, your thighs pressed together. "It's been so long..." You begin, your voice shy of its usual self-confidence, worried you’d ask for too much. Just last week, when you had tried to initiate intimacy, he had explained he was too exhausted and had promised "another time" that never came. Of course, you remained patient and would never ask for more than he could give. And yet you were growing more and more needy as time went on. Hiromi was a passionate lover, but his libido seemed to be less as intense as yours was.

Your words make his heart flutter as he feels you shift, his eyes flickering down to where you had pressed your thighs together, and his breath hitches for a moment in his throat. His hold around you tightens as if he were worried you would pull away from him, his hand gently playing with the soft strands of your hair while you focus his senses.

"Darling..." he begins quietly as his thumb reaches up, carefully grazing your bottom lip, feeling the slight moisture from your tears still clumped on the skin.

"I... I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry; s’not your fault." You reassure him, your heart clenching at his voice's tone yet beating faster at the feel of his finger against your bottom lip. You press your lips against the tip of his thumb, causing a shuddering breath to leave his mouth.

"I just miss you..." You breathe, pressing your chest against him, your eyes darting towards his lips.

"I know... I miss you too.", he murmurs, gently shifting to close the remaining distance between you. He bends his head down, palm cradling your face as he presses an achingly tender kiss, sighing softly against your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, letting your hands rest gently against his stubbly cheeks. He hadn't shaved in some time, but you quite like the 'disheveled' look on him.

You kissed him back softly or tried to, at least, quickly becoming more and more aroused. ‘It's been so long,’ you justify your impatience inside your head. ‘He just looks so good, smells so good, feels so good’ — the mantra in your head continues. It's not long before your trembling fingers undo his shirt's buttons, desperate to feel his warm skin against yours. His body shudders in response.

His breathing wavers just slightly as he feels you press harder against his lips. Your impatient moans and the way you hungrily press against him sparks even more desire deep within him. Before Hiromi realizes what he's doing, he's pulling you closer than before, practically into his lap, as he deepens your kiss.

He slides his hand to the back of your head, burying his fingers into your hair as he continues to explore the heat of your mouth.

Once you finish unbuttoning his shirt, you don’t bother wasting time by shrugging the rest of it off; instead, you instantly glide your hands down his body and back up again. Without even realizing it, your body begins moving on its own — your hips grinding down against his thigh.

"Missed you..." You huff as you part from his mouth, your chest heaving in lack of oxygen. Your lips find his ear, nibbling softly, and you undo his belt with one hand, the other still pawing at him.

Your movements draw shaky breaths from him, his hands roaming down your sides to settle on your waist. Despite his fatigue and exhaustion, he feels desire and warmth surge through his core as you unbutton his pants, and he gently pulls back to give you a moment to breathe.

"Darling... wait..." he mutters against you, his voice coming out in breathy pants, his forehead resting against yours.

"What's wrong? Do you want to stop?" You panic, worry and guilt quickly settle in at your restlessness.

"Nothing's wrong..." he reassures with a small smile, gently caressing your cheek, and shakes his head. "I just think we might be more comfortable in the bedroom."

He then pauses, a slight frown settling onto his expression, and he cups your face in his hands, his thumb tracing the skin under your eye.

"Are you sure you want to do this...? You don't have to, I-"

You quiet him with a deep kiss, pulling him upwards and guiding him towards the room. You pull him along quickly, hastiness settling into your bones.

"Need you so badly, Hiro." You whine once you enter, quickly discarding your clothes before him.

He lets himself be dragged into your bedroom, slightly stumbling as he follows behind you, and a breathless laugh leaves him once you begin undressing in front of him. His eyes can't help but rove over your curves and the soft expanse of your skin, and once you toss aside the last of your clothes, he steps closer towards you with a determined edge to the way he moves.

"Darling..." he mumbles as he pulls you into him, his mouth grazing your jaw before his teeth sink into the crook of your neck.

Your sudden gasp trails off into a high-pitched mewl. You close your eyes in bliss, grasping at his messy hair as your body arches further into him.

He closes his eyes as he relishes the mewls and gasps you produce as he sinks his teeth into soft flesh, his hands roaming over your bare form, touching you everywhere and yet never staying in one place for long. He pulls back, panting heavily against your skin, and he trails his mouth down and across the slope of your shoulder before he lifts you off of your feet and onto the bed.

You quickly sink into the plush mattress, giggles leaving your lips as your excitement becomes too much. Your mind repeatedly screams: ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ as Hiromi shrugs off the remainder of his clothes. You bite your lip as you watch, your eyes practically glowing with hunger and anticipation.

"You're so handsome... so sexy." You giggle, sighing in utter happiness as you watch him with rapt attention.

His breath gets caught in his throat for a moment at your words, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into an intimate smile as he lets himself sink onto the bed before you, his knee slotting between your legs and hands coming to rest beside your head as he pins you between his arms.

"And you're gorgeous, darling..." he answers before his head dips down towards your neck again, his teeth and lips grazing over your skin, and he bites down on your collarbone as he lets out a huff.

"You're the most beautiful person." You confess longingly, kissing the top of his head as your hands explore the length of his back.

He chuckles breathlessly against your skin, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, and he sighs, shifting closer to press even more against you. At your compliment, however, he lifts back up to look at you, the pink hue that had been dusted across his cheeks turning even darker.

"You're far too sweet to me..." he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours, and he gently caresses your cheek as those warm, brown eyes of his lock gaze with yours.

You don’t bother with a reply, only turning your head slightly to kiss the inside of his hand, your lustful gaze never leaving his.

A fond smile twitches at the corners of his lips, but that smile slips once more as he leans down again and presses his mouth to yours. His tongue quickly sneaks past his mouth and flicks out to brush against your own, his teeth grazing gently along your bottom lip.

One hand slips down towards your hip, wrapping under you and lifting your hips towards his, and he lets out a quiet, shaky groan at the press he feels against his growing desire.

You happily swallow his groan, flicking your tongue desperately into his mouth. Your hand reaches upwards, settling against his own, which he keeps cradled against your cheek.

"You're s'big..." you moan, feeling him harden against you.

A low groan leaves his mouth as he lets his eyes flutter closed at your words, his cheeks growing warmer at the compliment. The sound of your voice is the only thing registering through the fuzzy haze that had settled into his mind, his body growing warmer and warmer as you press flush against him.

He dips his head back down, his mouth coming to nip and bite at your neck, kissing and laving his tongue over the skin as he works to leave a visible mark.

You wrap your legs around his slim waist, heels digging into his backside to urge him further against you. You lift your hips, arching your back as you rest your head against the bed, panting with want and desire. "Need you..." You repeat, dragging your hand through his hair.

He lets you nudge him, and the feeling makes a dizzyingly overwhelming heat spread in his gut. He groans lowly against your skin; he presses himself and grinds against you as his body begins to move on autopilot. He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin when you whine, and he lifts his head to look at you.

"Say it again..." he orders quietly with a groan.

"Need you, Hiromi... please?" You beg; your voice is high-pitched and whiny. Your skin burns up from the intensity, down to your toes. Your eyes are glassy from unshed tears, and your lips are red and shiny with your combined spit. A slight sheen of sweat had formed on your face and body from the shared heat of your bodies pressed together and your breasts heaving with every breath you took. Your eyes were lidded with want, looking up at him like he had hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you; like he was the only person in the world.

He stares down at you, his breathing ragged and shallow as he takes in the sight of the way you looked, so utterly breathless and undone. The way you mewl up at him, the way your hair splayed out against the pillows, and the feeling of you cupping his cheek make his breath hitch in his throat, and the heat in his gut grow further.

He stares down at you for a few more moments before he dips down to capture your mouth in another kiss, his hands gently resting against your hips.

Hiromi can taste the desperate desire on your tongue as he lets his teeth catch your lower lip and lets his body rest against you, his chest flushed against your soft skin, and he can feel your heat against him, sending a shiver down the length of his spine. His hands slip down to rest against your bare thighs, and he presses in closer, grinding against you in response to the way you arch your back once more.

"Need you inside..." You breathe into his lips, swollen, red, and glossy. "Please?" You plead, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

He shudders as you utter the words into his mouth, and he nods in agreement, biting gently at your lip before he pulls back to look down at you. There's a slight flush on his cheeks, and when his eyes dart down again, he can see just how red- and bruised your lips were because of him.

His breath stuttered at the sight, and he leaned in to press his mouth against your neck, his lips trailing up toward your ear. "Anything you want..." he whispers.

You moan at his words, trailing your hand downwards, wrapping your hand around his cock: red, angry, and drooling down your fingers. It twitches with interest as soon as your skin makes contact with it.

His hips stutter at your hand wrapping around him, and his teeth graze against your earlobe at the sensation, his breathing hitching, and he moans as his body moves on instinct, rolling against your palm in a way that makes his blood burn hotter. His mouth latches against yours, silencing his gasps against your tongue.

You move your hand faster, desperate for more of his reactions before you slow it back down, too impatient to have him inside of you as you guide him towards your drooling pussy.

His body arches against you when you guide him inside; he can hear how his breath stutters when it catches in his throat. He can feel how hot and slicked you are against him. His breath leaves him in short gasps, biting down on your skin as he lets his desire drive him forward, thrusting hard until he’s balls deep inside of you.

"Fuck, baby,” you keen, tossing your head back as you claw at his hips desperately. "'missed this." You gasp, your eyes fluttering at the feel of him stretching you open.

He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin as you moan out for him, and his hands come to grip your hips, his nails leaving behind red lines he knows will turn angrier soon enough. He shudders against you, and his brain feels fogged over as pure need for you washes over him, leaving him in a delirious haze.

The way you say you missed him so earnestly makes him feel dizzy with pleasure, "Missed this too..." he mumbles against your skin.

"Yeah?" You giggle breathlessly, raking your nails through his hair and down his back. "…haah…Did you think about me–" you let out another moan as he began moving his hips. "when you were away?" You kiss his ear.

He buries his face against your neck at your question, groaning as he pushes in further, savoring the way your body feels against him. Your nails against his skin make his breathing shallow, and the sound of your moans makes his head feel too fuzzy, "I thought about you all the time..." he mumbles against your skin, his voice low and shaky.

"Me too." You confess, tightening your thighs around his waist. "Played with my pussy thinking you: at work...in your suit..." You whispered into his ear about your fantasies of him, all the while pressing kisses into his skin.

As you spoke, he could feel the heat pooling in his gut and how your words went straight to his dick, feeling it twitch even more inside you. He groaned as he rocked into you, and his hands on your hips tightened. "Did you really?" he breathes against your skin, biting and sucking against your neck.

You pull his head out from your neck, smiling up at him with a crooked, dopey, cock-drunken grin, your eyes lidded as you bite your lip. You lick a stripe of beaded sweat trailing down his neck up to his jaw, sucking at his skin that you know for sure will leave a mark. You pull away with a pop, satisfied with the blooming reddened skin. He lets out a loud, stuttering gasp.

"Every day," You answer with a huff, looking deep into his eyes with a pleased smile.

He can feel your body beneath him, writhing in response to the way he moves, and it drives him into fucking you harder. He gives a sharp thrust upward, groaning as he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder as leverage.

You keen again, your mouth falling open in a perfect 'O' as your eyes close shut. "Yes!" You mewl sweetly, your nails digging into his biceps. "Just like that, Hiro." You praise, arching your back further as you chase the intense feeling.

His groans grow louder and more desperate-sounding as you praise him, and the feeling of your nails in his skin makes him whine. He takes the praise to heart as he moves against you, shifting with a new sense of purpose as he gives another sharp thrust upward to press against you.

Your voice grows uncontrollably louder, drawn-out whines and wanton moans spilling from your lips without a single thought in your mind. You couldn't even form the words to praise Hiromi if you tried.

"Don't stop!" You begged, your climax drawing closer and closer.

His fingers dig into your skin as he moves against you, the heat in his gut and the all-consuming sensation spreading across his body, making his breath shallower and his vision start to blur. The way your voice grows more and more desperate leaves him breathless, and your moans drive him even further.

He could feel you tightening around him, making his body burn hotter, and he shudders at the feeling, pressing into you further. The sounds of your combined lovemaking grow louder: the heavy, wet slap of skin against skin, the shameful groans and keens of pleasure, and the panting breaths mingled with the sound of lips smacking against one another. "So perfect..." he manages to gasp out, his voice shaky.

You felt your body pulsating at his praise, pawing desperately at his body in hopes of grounding yourself from the onslaught of pleasure.

"Says you..." You moaned, digging your heels into his lower back.

He groans low in his throat as he presses against you, his head growing dazed from the heat and the feeling of your nails on his skin. He could feel his breathing grow more shallow with each breath he took, his hips beginning to jerk against you. "So perfect for you..." he gasped out, pulling you even closer against himself as he leaned down to press his mouth to your neck.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his words, so you opted to moan louder. "M'so close, love." You confessed before your voice cut off, tossing your head back. Your lips fall open in a silent scream as you convulse around him, spraying his lower half in your release. You continued to let out pitched whines and mewls, your eyes rolling back in overstimulation.

He groaned into your neck as your body convulsed around him, the feeling of you squeezing around him making his thoughts grow even more scattered. He whines as he moves against you, not stopping for a second as he tries to ride it out with you.

You’re left breathless, and you struggle to keep still as he moves against you through your orgasm, his name falling from your lips in gasps and moans.

Your voice and stuttering breaths make it hard for him to think, but he leans into you, pushing a hand through your hair to pull you in for a trembling and messy kiss, his mouth moving against yours sloppily. His breath still staggers, and the feeling of you underneath him makes his body grow even hotter as he continues to push, his thrusts becoming sharper and faster as he chases his end.

You practically scream into his kiss, pushing weakly at his lower abdomen even as your hips still chase his. "Inside... please come inside me..." You pant hotly into his ear.

His hands tighten on your hip at your words, his breathing growing shaky, and he buries his face against your neck as he shudders at the way your body feels beneath him, "Want you - want you..." he gasps out against your skin, a moan leaving him as Hiromi moves faster against you, his body almost dizzy with need as he presses against you, his rhythm and pace growing more irregular as his release grew closer and closer.

"Want you too— mmph!... haah... all the time!" You intertwine your hands in his, squeezing it in your grip.

He bites at your skin to muffle the sounds he makes at your words, his hand squeezing against yours. His own pace grows sloppier, his movements jerky as he grows closer to his release, his breath coming out in shaky huffs against your skin as his body shudders with need and pleasure.

"Say my name... fuck!... when you cum, baby." You beg, mouthing kisses against his chin.

He groans into your skin at your words, his breath ragged and more hitched as he gets closer. He presses another kiss against your skin, his breath warm against your face as he huffs out your name against your cheek. He gasps out as his pace grows rougher and quicker before giving a final thrust up against you as he comes undone, his body tense and rigid against you.

You smile widely, biting your lip with a surprised gasp. Feeling Hiromi pulse and shoot ropes inside of you always felt so heavenly, like a reward. You look up at his pussy-drunk expression and giggle, your heart filled with too much love to carry.

"Sounded like a good one." You huff, dragging your nails down his back while your other hand holds his face.

Hiromi buries his face against your neck again as he struggles to catch his breath, his body still pressed against you, and he can feel the way his chest rises and falls from how he struggles to control his breathing. He groans at the feeling of your nails on his back, and his breath hitches when your other hand comes up to hold his face, his expression turning more dazed from your touch as he presses his hand against yours.

He pulls away from your neck, softly panting as he looks down at you with a crooked, sleepy smile. "Yeah... yeah, it was..." he sighs out.

"You're a mess, my love." You sigh, kissing him softly before urging him to roll over onto his back. "Y'should get some sleep." You smile down at him with your own sleepy, fucked-out grin, looking at him with nothing but love and adoration.

He willingly goes when you urge him to, groaning at the feeling of your mouth against his as he rolls over onto his back. He looks up at you affectionately, returning your smile contentedly. "So should you..." he mumbles, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear before letting his hand rest against your cheek.

You hum in agreement, snuggling up against him. "Wish we could do that all the time." You mumble sleepily.

He chuckles, one arm wrapping around you and holding you closer against himself, kissing your forehead. "We would die..." he grumbles tiredly, tilting his head to lean his face against yours.

"Not that I'd be against the idea...".

"I'd die pretty happy." You weakly chuckle as exhaustion overtakes you.

He laughs again, the sound of a soft huff of breath against your skin as he nuzzles further against you. "As would I..." he mumbles, his eyes growing lidded and heavier with sleep, his exhaustion catching up with him.

Despite that, he still takes the time to press another soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you in even closer toward him.

"I love you, Hiromi... s’much." You kiss his chest.

He closes his eyes and lets out a deep, tired exhale, smiling as he listens to your words. At your kiss against his chest, his grip around you tightens, pulling you closer to himself as he mumbles out his response against your hair. "I love you too..."

main masterlist, rules

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝

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ᰔ call of duty

ᰔ jujustu kaisen

ᰔ red dead redemption II

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⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

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ᰔ au + series masterlist

a compilation of all my multipart series

ᰔ request masterlist (coming soon)

a compilation of requests related to a particular character a/o aus

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⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 - [updated October 13th, 2024]

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ᰔ kinktober day XII: overstimulation — könig

könig x reader * warnings: 18+, f!reader, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering * wc: 1.7k

ᰔ kinktober day XI: uniform — simon “ghost” riley

simon “ghost” riley x reader * warnings: 18+, f!reader, p in v, rough sex, fingering * wc: 1.7k

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