#big sweat

[crocodiller]

Out of curiosity, but I don't know if anyone has asked this before, does Rowan have a last name?

If I remember correctly, it's a durge, so maybe something like Baalson? Slayer? Orinsucks? (just kidding 😁)

He actually doesn't have a last name (that he knows of)! And not just because I can't think of one For backstory reasons! You could say he had an isolated childhood, so he didn't need one. And now with his nomad-type lifestyle it's never really been a problem.

He's also just normal tav. While he doesn't shy away from bloodshed, there's no Bhaalistic tendencies here~

[doraemonfanclub]

Doraemon with big drops of sweat on his head, scared eyes, shivering mouth and whiskers. Scared 💩less.

[sleepy-hyperfixations]

welp, somehow im glad im not the only one

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[abbyscoochiecruncher]

NEEDDD PLEASE

Uncensored under cut!

I always give her a belly button piercing

[montereybayaquarium]

For the cabezon (Scorpaenichthys marmoratus), every meal is an all-you-can-eat buffet! 🐟🍽 As an indiscriminate predator, if it fits in their mouth, it’s on the menu—no picky eating here!

Meal time!

[tzarrz]

i listen to fog lake too much

[flowersforthemachines]

There is something so sweet about just how innocent Lucanis can be. Between him saying "Oh, I have other plans for the evening 😉" only to sneak out of the villa to drink coffee by himself, and reacting to Rook's "So you want to stay up all night? However shall we pass the time?~" with "I'd like to just listen to your voice 😊" you can tell it may just be a recurring thing.

Imagine him being completely clueless about any subtle hints. You tell him you are cold sleeping alone at night, and he gets you a thicker blanket. You seductively stretch before him at the end of the day saying your back hurts and you could use a massage, and his first thought is to set you up with a prominent Treviso masseur. Zero flirting awareness, just big brown puppy eyes and a kind heart.

[minkieater]

sweat — jyh ˚ · .

p. jeong yunho x fem!reader w. smut mdni, sweat kink kinda went crazy here, can't help but write yunho rough it just comes out of me wc. 3.2k

a bare face, disheveled hair and scarlet tipped ears greeted you in the bedroom, two hours after you’d last seen him. his puffy eyes were low from exertion, his strenuous workout was ultimately for him but you couldn’t pretend it didn’t benefit you, too. your eyes caught the sweat that sparkled across his skin, the warm light from the side table lamp making it appear like a second layer of a golden sheen — nothing short of a gift that the hotel’s gym provided you. his chocolate brown shirt hung loose and baggy, definitely damp by this point, crumpled at the bottom hem from how many times he’d pat his face dry with it during his session. his shorts sat just at mid thigh, shorts you’d bought for him just for this purpose, coming back to you in your hotel room after a late night workout.

“check out my pump,” he flexed his biceps with a proud smile, looking at his arms that he held up on either side of his face. such an adorable action, the opposite of how he looked right now, so massive and so manly.

you didn’t answer, you couldn’t answer, too entranced by how he spawned in your bedroom looking effortlessly godlike. it was sinister, it should be illegal, an article written somewhere in the federal register that jeong yunho shouldn’t be able to look this fucking good. 

the sweat that laid across his skin made him look so edible, so delicious, you knew that taste all too well — the warm saltiness tangled with a hint of him, it was your favorite flavor, you could eat it all day and all night. the ruby red flush to his ears, his cheeks and his nose you wanted to bottle up, put in a tube so you could wear it like lipgloss. maybe chapstick instead so you could put it on him, get his lips back to their usual luster, nourish them so you could kiss him until they were chapped once again.

his hair being so abnormally fucked up only made you think of one thing, how you wanted to sink your fingers into his hair, see the muddy olive brown colored locks between your fingers, tugging at his roots so he’d tell you to pull them harder. you were working yourself up in your head, staring at him through lidded eyes from the comfort of the white bed sheets, it only took seconds of ogling for yunho to read your thoughts as if you said them out loud. 

he scratched his head with one eye shut, a knowing smile playing on his lips, “i should do that workout more often if you’re gonna react like this, i feel like you’re gonna pounce on me.” 

a sound of amusement leaves your lips as you lift one hand, curling your index finger towards yourself to say get your ass over here. 

“i’m all sweaty, we have to sleep there,” he cringed, “i’m gonna shower, care to join?” 

you hopped up at a speed comparable to light despite the fact that your hair was still wet from the shower you just took, but you’d take another, you’d do anything he asked. yunho chuckled as he made his way to the bathroom, flicking on the lights, the loud hum of the fan filling the space. 

“come here,” you murmured when you entered the bathroom hot on his tail, the order sounding like a plea as you tugged at his shirt, pulling him down to your height. 

he was still smiling as your lips met, he brought his hands up to your cheeks, cupping them as his palms completely enveloped your face, fingers going deep into your hair. you were obsessed with him, the size of him, how every part of him seemed to be double of what you were. it made you dizzy, unlocked a part of you that you didn’t realize was laying dormant until you met him, ushering him to do anything to prove how big he actually is, to show you how small he could make you feel. 

you switched to kiss his jaw, tongue lolling out to lick at his skin, tasting the sweet concoction of sweat and yunho that tased like the fountain of youth. it kept you awake, kept you alive, added fuel to the fire of need that started to spread through your gut like a lit match in a dry forest. you moved his hands down your waist to your ass as you licked up the column of his throat and he groaned, lifting you up with those massive twin palms and placing you flat on the counter. 

your lips met again and he smirked into the kiss before detaching for a moment, “couldn’t even wait for me to turn the shower on?”

“can you blame me?” you asked with a sweet smile as you spread your legs atop the counter, already wearing nothing underneath the white hotel robe, as if you’d planned jumping him as soon as he got back. 

the air hit your core and you shivered, yunho taking his place right between your knees as if he felt it, the wetness that caught the draft. his hips were still taller than yours as he stood in front of you and you could moan just at the sight, the mere thought of your giant of a boyfriend. 

“my eager girl,” he hummed as he attached your lips again, fingers running up your calves, over your thighs that laid flush against the counter. he let them slip under the robe, fingers gripping your hips, squeezing as he pressed his abdomen against you from the distance he’d closed. 

“more,” you moaned into his lips at his touch, back arching into him. you could smell the sweat coming off of him, through his shirt, on his skin, in his hair. if you weren’t so horny you’d feel a little concerned about how much it affected you, mouth watering as the scent hit your nostrils. “please,” you begged, your hands coming up his forearms to squeeze at his biceps, back arching impossibly farther to collide your chest with his abdomen. 

“only because you said please,” his voice was ragged as he rested his forehead against yours, slipping a hand from under the robe and bringing it in front of you, running the pads of his fingers over the tops of your thighs, quickly coming closer to your core. you gasped in anticipation, hips bucking up to give him access. he didn’t let his fingers go farther, though, instead they trailed up over your stomach to the tie of your robe, playing with the knot you tied when you hoped out of the shower. 

you whined, an impatient, annoying noise, one that yunho loved so fucking much. his smirk returned at the sound, taking his time as he untied the knot, tugging lightly at the fabric fastened across your waist, using little to no force to drag it out solely to frustrate you further. 

“yunho, please,” you begged, tilting your chin up to look into his eyes where you found a pair of puffy, chocolate brown glazed over eyes staring right back down at you. 

he saw the need in your eyes, the way your eyebrows furrowed, how you took your bottom lip just between your teeth and his resolve was gone. he used both of his hands to tug it free with no effort, slipping the robe off of your shoulders, leaving you bare for him atop the bathroom counter. 

he groaned again from low in his gut, a choked sound, “so fucking sexy.” 

your head tilted back with a muddled moan as his hands swallowed your boobs, squeezing at the fat, rolling his thumbs over your nipples, biting his own lip when they hardened under his touch. his hands slipped down to your waist and he kissed you again, running his hands over your skin, the pads of his fingers leaving dainty touches across your hips and thighs. 

you reached between your bodies, you opted to grab for him instead, feeling his already hardened length in your palm. yunho physically shivered, hips bucking into your hand with a small noise, one that not just anyone would catch if they didn’t know yunho like the back of their hand. you did, you knew it was a sound of lust, a noise that meant please keep going. 

you palmed him through his shorts, the shorts that you bought because they were shorter than the rest of his collection, ones that showed off his thigh muscle so perfectly. you leaned up and attached your tongue to his neck again, a different spot that you hadn’t tasted yet, hadn’t licked the sweat clean off of it. you hummed in delight, working your hand faster over his shorts as his head hung loose, small groans and puffs of air leaving his lips.

“taste so good,” you mumbled between licks to his neck, sucking at small spots, easily leaving bruises across his skin. how his makeup artist would have to cover that up, you didn’t care. your hands went to the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head, marveling at the damp cloth in your hands, hoping he didn’t notice how you took your time or how you had to physically stop yourself from bringing it up to your nose. 

of course he noticed, the revelation gave yunho back the upper hand, his smirk returned to his face as he said, “yeah? you like it when i’m all sweaty baby?”

after years of being together he knows this, you’ve licked the sweat off of all of him numerous times, but it still affected yunho the same every single time you did, and he never hesitated to tease you for it. you mumbled a mhm as you raked your hands over his abdomen, his chest, the skin that was dry by now but still slightly sticky. 

his hands gripped your hips again, right at the crease of where your thigh met your hip and you jumped, bucking your hips towards him once more. your ass was right on the ledge of the sink and you would’ve fallen right back into it if his grip wasn’t so tight. he kept one hand on your hip as the other dragged closer to your core, ghosting over your center, thumb dangerously close to where you needed stimulation the most. 

you gasped, throwing a hand behind you on the sink, using it as leverage to open yourself up to him, let him get full access to where you needed him. he took a step back and looked you up and down, his eyes darker now, so low and glazed over with lust as he stared directly at your center. 

“such a pretty fucking pussy, this sight’ll never get old,” he shook his head and he braced his hands on the counter, right between your legs as he knelt down onto his knees. he moved his hands to grab at your thighs, holding them open as he wasted no time, licking a fat stripe up your center.

you threw the other arm behind you to keep you up and steady as you moaned, a long, languid noise at the stimulation. he made quick work of you, swirling his tongue between your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit. 

“yes,” you moaned and threw your head back, arching your body up into him, bringing your feet up onto the counter to spread yourself impossibly wider for him. he took advantage, eating you like a man starved, letting his saliva trickle down your center and not bothering to lick it all back up. he created a rhythm quick, flicking his tongue over your clit, making you cry out for him, chanting his name like a mantra.

“close,” you cried, taking a hand to fist into his hair, the dampness of his locks only pushing you closer to the edge. the knot in your stomach only tightened further, bucking your hips into his face, and he didn’t pause for a moment. he followed your hips, keeping his lips wrapped tight around your clit, one devastatingly harsh suck made you lose control, had the knot snapping immediately. 

he rode you through it, keeping his rhythm until you forced his face off of you with a tight pull to his roots. he let go of you with a pop, eyes dazed, his head most definitely somewhere else. 

“should i turn the shower on?” he asked with a lazy smile then licked his lips, sitting back on his calves. you giggled, your body shivering as the chill of the room hit you again, your center wet and sticky and cold. 

you hopped down from the counter as he stood up, turning to the glass doors to turn the shower on. as he turned back to you you grabbed him by the neck, pulling him down to kiss him again. you wanted to taste him, all of him before the shower, before his sweat got washed off of him. 

“are you hungry or something?” he joked between kisses, a smile on his face, and you laughed in response. 

“just wanna taste you,” you answered as you dropped to your knees just as he did, a lot less gracefully. he paid no mind as his lips parted, eyes slightly furrowing as he realized what you were doing. 

you tugged his shorts down quick, the length of him springing up against his stomach, standing red and angry and leaking. you salivated, eyes widening at the sight, at the smell of sweaty, post workout yunho. it was delicious, desperation ran through you as if you’d never seen him before, never smelled his sweat before. 

you wrapped your lips around his head, sucking down every drop of precum he gave you, moaning at the taste. so salty, so fucking yunho, your center throbbed with desire even if you just came on his tongue. you spat it all back around him along with your own spit before you took him down your throat as much as you could, hands wrapping around his base, pumping whatever you couldn’t fit – you’d never be able to fit it all. 

he groaned, his hands flying to your head, hands tangling in the roots of your hair, tugging at it just to get a reaction from you. a gargled noise erupted from your throat, vibrating around him, making him stumble for a second as his abdomen clenched, six pack on full display. your eyebrows furrowed at the sight and his hand went to grab for the wall to keep him steady as you bobbed your head, tongue swirling on the underside of his length, hand squeezing his base. 

“you’re so fucking good at that,” he moaned, a gasp leaving his lips right after as your hand went to cup his balls, massaging them in your palm. “i’m gonna cum if you do that, baby, fuck.”

you smiled around his length, breathing through your nose, the smell of him combined with the steam filling the room was making you dizzy. your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, keeping your rhythm, gagging around him as you tried to take him deeper. 

his moans increased in pitch and you knew he was close, teetering at the edge of his release and you stopped, ripping your mouth off of him and putting your hands back at your sides. he whined, a sweet, high pitched noise as you sat back on your calves, a cocky smile sitting on your face as you wiped your lip with your thumb. 

“oh, you’re gonna regret that,” a low chuckle left his lips as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your entire body off the floor with one hand. you smiled, hoping this would happen, knowing all too well what happens when you edge him – what headspace it puts him into. 

“spent the whole fucking night waiting for me just to act like a brat?” he said as you stood up, his voice laced with venom, harsh and stern and so fucking sexy. “you were the one who wanted this, and you’re gonna tease me?” 

he turned you so you faced the massive mirror behind the sink, your hands shooting out to grab the counter, bracing yourself for what comes next. he kicked your ankles apart, spreading your legs, and pushed your chest down on the surface with his right hand wrapped around the back of your neck. 

you moaned, the noise slipping right through your lips, and he chuckled again, the same menacing kick to it. “that’s crazy, i sit you on the counter and make you cum in record time because you’re acting like a bitch in heat, and what do i get?”

“this is all planned then, huh? you acting like a desperate slut so you can get fucked like one?” he lined himself up with your center, quickly pushing in, making your head drop into the sink, a low cry leaving your lips. 

“pick that fucking head up and watch,” he reached for your hair, tugging at your roots, making you moan as he lifted your head to watch him through the mirror. his face is covered in sweat again, the steam from the room combined with the sheer energy it took to make you cum, get edged and bend you over the counter after a full workout. it only pushed you further, your center completely slick, he fucked into you harshly with no resistance, forming a brutal rhythm quick. 

your cries came out one after another, you looked fucked, face sweaty and your half dried hair a knotted wreck. he looked victorious behind you, an evil smile planted on his face as he drilled himself into you, your knees threatening to buckle. 

“too much,” you cried as your legs sagged, forcing yourself to stay upright, using the counter to put your weight on so he could fuck you with ease. 

he laughed instead of slowing down, “you fuckin’ asked for it, baby.”

you didn’t dare look away or let your eyes close as you watched his hand land a harsh slap against your ass, a wicked smile on his face as he watched it ripple under his skin, he loved this just as much as you did – maybe even more. 

you cried out, your head dropping for a moment at the impact before you picked it right back up, keeping your eyes focused on him as his eyebrows furrowed, clearly inching closer to his release. you weren’t far off, the knot in your stomach forming, the angle of him made him hit that spot inside you with each thrust. 

“fuck, i’m close,” he muttered as if on cue, his thrusts staggering, losing their rhythm as he picked up speed. 

“don’t stop,” you huffed out, you couldn’t afford to lose a hand on the counter, your clit begging to be touched. 

yunho knew, of course he knew – he knew you like the back of his hand yet he ignored it, solely focused on his release. a few more thrusts and he was emptying himself inside you, you were so close, right on the edge, your legs wobbling underneath you.

“yunho don’t you dare fucking stop,” you huffed out, your voice hoarse and harsh and he laughed again as his thrusts slowed. you brought a hand down to your core and he was quick to snatch your wrist, leaving you empty and frustrated, a loud whine leaving your mouth. 

“sucks, to be edged, huh?” he asked, holding your wrists behind your back, then planted a kiss to your cheek. 

“we should probably get in the shower now.”

[eggsdrawings]

the big three!

[swordsonnet-bardofwar]

Everyone always talks about Logan being protective over Wade - and sure, I love that too - but have we ever thought about protective Wade?

Someone insults Logan and Wade is at their throat immediately forcing them to apologise.

Logan gets hurt by someone (outside of a fight) and yes, Wade knows he can regenerate at a really fast rate, but he doesn't care. Logan gets a kiss on the head and a cartoon band-aid for his wound.

If he gets hurt emotionally (or just if Wade wants to) he will pick Logan up and carry him to any kind of cozy spot close to them, plop down and hug Logan till both of them feel better about it.

Jean/Scott/some X-Men that reminds Logan of his own universe: *tries to talk to Logan*

Wade: *carrying Logan away* Nuh uh.

Logan, not understanding how Wade can even pick him up: Fuck you mean Nuh uh !?

[amarriageoftrueminds]

cannot stop thinking about an AU where Bucky gets the same treatment as Steve (ie. serumed and vitarayed.)

So he shoots up to 6' 8" or something ridiculous and is built like a brick shithouse. To everyone else he's almost Too Big, but to Steve it's just like being small again while Bucky is ...Large, and Steve is permanently flustered about it. 😳🥺

[tsuchinokoroyale]

When the spot got a sauna that doesn’t work 🔥

[robiinurheart33]

I’m obsessed with ghost being obsessed with soap.

The way he knows tidbits and fun facts about soap is just unparalleled to everyone despite ghost seeming unbothered. They go on missions together more than anyone else in the task force or god forbid, any other military they’re working with. As much as military life would like you to believe, there’s just as much waiting and planning than there is executing.

Soap is notoriously not patient. Ghost is, but only when it comes to work. Anything else he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Unless it comes to Johnny. But no one will ever know that except for Ghost himself. But back to the point, they’re mainly on missions together and they stakeout together, they hide in itchy bushes for hours together, they stay in each other’s space, no matter if they want the other to or not. Soap cannot keep his yapper shut for the life of him and he’ll go stir crazy if he has to stay still for 2 whole hours. So he talks. Whispers, really so as to not give their position away. Ghost is a professional after all, he can split his concentration between the mission and Johnny. It’s endurance training. (Or whatever he tells himself anyways.)

Soap doesn’t mind the mindless talking if it helps him concentrate, and if Ghost doesn’t seem to be bothered then it’s all good. He knows that he isn’t actually actively listening, which is okay. He’s not offended, per se, but he feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest whenever he looks back at Ghost as if it were an actual conversation to be met with nothing. Soap is a professional and damn good at his job at that, so he doesn’t let that bother him. (He doesn’t.)

One hazy night, Soap and Ghost (Ghost and Soap) are staking out a warehouse across the street, a bone-deep exhaustion hangs in the air as they both slump in their seats near the open windows. Cicadas make themselves known and the humidity doesn’t let down even in the night. Soap’s eyes are hazy, blinking ever so slowly and almost slipping shut for good a few times before he jolts himself awake.

“Go to sleep, Sargent.” Sargent. Ghost’s rough but tired voice cuts through his mind as he slides open his eyes again, not knowing they were closed in the first place. He rolls his head over to Ghost, where he’s sitting rigidly upright. To anyone, it would seem like he’s the picture of alertness, eyes trained out the window, posture perfect. But to Johnny, he can see that his fists are clenched too tight, his gun is still strapped to his side, and he hasn’t even taken a shower yet, when Johnny already has.

Guilt pangs softly in his chest, and he purses his lips in thought. Ghost wouldn’t take a shower now seeing that Soap was so tired. He would probably stay up the whole night staring out the window, sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back but still endure it for the opportunity for Soap to rest. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s something between them that they can’t name, a connection that isn’t quite friends, but crosses the line of professionalism. Whether Ghost knows that or not is still up in the air for grabs. He pushes himself off the chair with a soft groan, sliding his bare feet over the wooden floors to the bathroom. He splashes cooling water on his face and rubs his eyes, blinking harshly. He stares at Soap in the mirror, and Johnny bristles a bit. He looks like pure shit. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, eye bags threatening to pull his eyelids closed, and he hasn’t shaved in quite a few days. Definitely not up to military regulation. He doesn’t bother to clock in the rest of himself now, wanting to focus more on Ghost than himself.

He walks back out to the shared living room, which is also their bedroom and kitchen, and behind Ghost’s chair. He bends down to swiftly unclip his vest off.

“Wha’ are you doing?” He doesn’t even sound annoyed, just tired.

“Gettin’ all this shite offa’ ya.” Soap doesn’t need to look to know that Ghost is probably even more tired than him. His Lieutenant with all the responsibilities under the sky, and no one to share that burden with.

The vest falls with a heavy thump on the ground and Johnny continues to clatter the remaining knives and guns onto the table, right beside their haphazardly placed maps for future ambushes. He pulls a knife from the sole of his boot, and Ghost huffs in amusement.

“Didn’t know you knew about that one, Johnny.” He’s Johnny now.

“I know everything about you.” It scares him a bit how it slips out that easily, but it scares him even more that he doesn’t take it back.

Ghost’s eyes bore into the side of his skull as he throws the rest of the equipment onto the table, keeping a gun in the pocket of his cotton pants. Johnny juts his chin towards the bathroom, arms akimbo.

“Go shower.” he doesn’t bother with a jab now, God knows they’re both off the table for that. It’s come to a point in the night where jokes lay to rest and honestly is the only thing left to say.

Ghost doesn’t look like he’s going to move and Johnny won’t blame him. He knows how hard it is to leave your post, how you scream at your body to move but nothing works. Nothing happens. Johnny’s eyes eventually hone in on Ghost’s eyes, trying to get a grip of what he’s feeling at the moment. Brown. It’s stupid, but Soap’s never been good with all the metaphorical side of describing things. Ghost’s eyes are brown. It’s brown. And it looks soft around the edges, calm and present, moving ever so slightly as he looks back at him. And they look at each other. And Johnny melts. He wants to melt and be safe in Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing wrong now, there can never be anything wrong. How could it when the stars and the moon crafted them to orbit around each other so perfectly and intimately? And how could anything go wrong when this is the most right Johnny has ever felt in his life?

He feels his hand rise like silk, cupping Ghost’s cheek, like he’s done it so many times before. He hasn’t. Johnny’s not so sure what makes tonight different, or what changed, but he doesn’t want to question it. He’s not jinxing or screwing anything up this time. The cheekbone of the plastic skull digs into the palm of his hand and Ghost’s eyes droop. His thumb drags up and down, up and down right under his eye, not breaking the eye contact he has with Simon. He watches in real time as his eyes dilate and flutter, his head tipping forward, as if he could feel his touch over the plastic and the balaclava. Before Simon’s head could fall forward, eyes finally closing, Johnny grasps his face with both hands, murmuring.

“Hey, big guy. Not yet.” Simon’s eyes open again, looking up at him and Johnny wants to cry at how desperately he wants him to just relax right now, but he knows that if he isn’t completely safe and comfortable he’s be screaming awake 2 hours later.

“Shower.” He whispers. Ghost seems to snap back into reality slightly, standing up straight and towering over Johnny once more. Like this, his eyes seem black in the shadows, and things are jagged and sharp again. He grunts once, stepping out of their safe bubble and sliding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door with a click.

Johnny sighs softly as he sits down on Ghost’s seat, the wood still warm as he looks out the window. The gun burns where it’s pressed against his thigh, but maybe that’s just the absurd heat at the moment. His eyes are trained on the warehouse, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his mind drift off for a bit. There’s no one in the warehouse at the moment, and any movement would be extremely obvious in the dead of night so he figured it would be okay.

Johnny thought of his family. He thought of the soft yearning he felt whenever he wanted to be small and tucked in his mother’s arms again. he thought of how accepted he felt if one of his older sisters threw an arm around his shoulder. He thought of his home back in Scotland, an empty living room with an aging woman who would spend the rest of her life waiting for children that were not guaranteed to come back. The sadness plagued his mind whenever he was alone, wishing he could come back as soon as possible to his home. To what? Put on the obnoxious military persona and acting as if he were immortal to not worry his family? He knows better than that. He knows he’s soft and pliable, that no matter how many muscles he builds, his body will always cave to a bullet. He knows his family will always worry and he can’t do anything about it.

Ghost steps out of the shower and Soap’s thoughts dissipate, head tilting in his direction. He’s swapped his hard skull mask for a clean balaclava, traditional hoodie and sweatpants. He looks…domestic, in a way. A too big man standing in a too small hallway, hunched over and fatigue evident. Love, Johnny realises, comes in many shapes and forms, but it all takes root in the same place.

Simon lumbers over to stand behind his chair, eyes boring down to meet his. Their positions have swapped now, Simon looking down while Johnny reaches up to meet his. Love is a gentle thing. Soap realises with a calmness that shouldn’t be there that he couldn’t pick between his family and Simon. His family meant the whole world to him, but Simon was his sunlight and his saviour. They floated in a nice limbo between everything, Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon. Love is a gentle thing.

“Go to sleep, Johnny. you’re tired.”

“You don’t kno’ that.” He’s slurring.

“I know everything about you.” The line is thrown back into his face, and Johnny’s eyes widen. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach, twisting in an exhilarating way. He swallows and watches Simon stare at his Adam’s apple bob up and down, eyes crinkling. Johnny’s a bit speechless, partly due to overwhelming fondness and partly due to his body screaming for a rest. Simon cares. He cares for Johnny. He thinks about him. He cares. He cares. He cares.

Love is a gentle thing.

“Aye.” John whispers.

All is right in the world, because Simon cares and his mother is at home waiting for him, and he is loved. Johnny is told to sleep, and so he will.

[tboychewtoy]

getting my boycunt bred by a guy while huffing a pair of his sweaty boxers and getting called a good puppy would fix me tbh