#first give away for this was how much he was glossy and sweating

[catwouthats]

lol I can’t believe Logan was in heat through out the Deadpool and Wolverine movie /hj

Link here ig

[fxymi]

part 2

okay pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda, rin is beyond obsessed with you and your pussy.

rin, regardless of how much of an egoist he is, has never touched a girl. sure, he’s gorgeous n all but his personality doesn’t exactly scream “welcoming” and “lovely”, which is why he’s thrilled that he landed an angel like you.

you’re his first love, his first girlfriend, his first kiss, his first everything—of course he’s obsessed. he doesn’t just want you, he needs you. really, he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever leave him.

he’s devoted to you and solely you, and you are just as down bad for him as he is for you. that’s why it’s his job to take care of you and your needy little cunt that he just can’t seem to get enough of! <3

you had a bad day? no worries, he’ll pound his cock into you until you’re practically clawing at the sheets, crying and begging for more, and the only thing on your mind now is rin looking down at you through his lashes as he makes you cum one more time.

he leans down and presses chaste kisses to your jaw while you ride out your orgasm and brushes away any hair falling over your face.

“feel better?” he mumbles against the skin of your neck that’s glistening with sweat.

of course the answer is yes. if your voice isn’t too hoarse to say so, at least.

tired? he doesn’t just make cringy trash talk with his mouth, so he’ll gladly get on his knees in front of you and needily lap and suck at your clit while you weave your fingers through hair and tug on it. your thighs are clenching around his head and of course, even though he’s doing his best for you, he’ll complain about it a little.

“quit it,” he grunts, forcefully parting your thighs with his arms.

his tongue skilfully works past your folds and at your soaking pussy. he doesn’t care that his nose and lips are glossy with your arousal, he’s just focused on knowing that he’s making you feel this good. you tug on his hair a little harder, head tilting back as you let out a moan that basically shakes your body.

rin thought you were tired?

and if you’re in the mood? if you just get so needy for him? he’ll gladly oblige, no matter how busy he is. even if this means leaving you begging for his cock, you should be grateful that he’s fingering you so well and letting you cum ^^

“rin—hah—please…need you inside me,” you whine out, squirming against the soft silk sheets of the bed.

rin’s sat beside you—one hand flipping through the book he had to read for english, and the other one pistoled and almost idly pumping in and out of your hole while his thumb slowly rubs circles right above your clit.

he shoots you a sharp glare while your incessant begging interrupts whatever jay gatsby was rattling off about on the pages.

“i’m a little preoccupied, if you couldn’t tell,” he says flatly. “jesus, ‘thought you’d be grateful that i’m even taking care of your slutty fuckin’ cunt right now.”

you let out a soft noise of protest? or maybe it was just another needy mewl? whatever it was, rin sighs and caves. how was he supposed to resist when you looked at him all teary-eyed and sounded so desperate, just for him? he loved you too much for this.

“if you can stay quiet until i finish this chapter, ill give you what you want. but only if you shut up and let me get through this.”

[lovegasmic]

Making satoru squirt and him making fem reader squirt. I'm dying for some switch content

⭒ mdni. mutual overstimulation, whiney Satoru my beloved. ( i had to pause writing at least 5 times to scream in my pillow ) please read the first two tags lmao

“b-baby, p-plea-se, I can’t, not anymore, a-ah!” Satoru sobs quite loudly to be honest, his eyes are glossy and filled with tears, the rim of them slightly reddened and matching the color of his bitten lips from endless hours of overstimulation. you’ve probably sucked the strength out of him through his dick, since his hands weakly push against your forehead in a failed attempt to keep you away from his throbbing length, “j-just pull it out, ah-a!”

“how many so far?” you giggle, pulling his cock out between your lips with a loud pop and getting in return a grateful sigh out of your boyfriend, one that doesn’t last long as your palm comes to rub circular motions on his tip, smearing the remaining cum all over the swollen flesh.

“d-dunno... ngh! haa, it’s too much!” he chokes on his own sobs, arching against the couch backrest so his heaving chest glistens with sweat under the living room lightbulb, his thighs squeeze your sides tightly, kicking and fighting the intense mixture of pain and pleasure running through his flustered pale body from the tip of his cock. you’ve never seen your boyfriend so worked up and overstimulated, all whiney —more than usual if you had to admit— but he looked absolutely cute begging for mercy.

“just one more, c’mon, and i’ll let you go” you smirk pressing your lips to the underside of his messy cock, feeling the veins throb under your tongue and palm warm up from where it continues to rub on his tip.

“n-no! stop please, feels weird!” Satoru begs, his body curving so he hovers over your body, so close to your face you’re able to watch his eyes open wide in shock, panting loudly and holding onto your hair for support barely seconds away from half screaming and shooting a translucent and diluted cum-like liquid in hard jets that landed on your face and the floor.

“wha—” you mutter back, staring in surprise at how your boyfriend’s body flops back against the couch, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon, “Satoru... did you just squirt? ” it comes out as a giggle, still dumbfounded from what just happened.

he doesn’t reply, and you’re a bit worried that he might have fainted, deciding to sit on his lap and observe his unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“Toru?” you softly slap his cheek, biting back a grin “are you dead?”

your boyfriend is a box of surprises, that’s for sure, but something that never failed to amaze you, even though you’re well aware of, is his incredible strength and stamina, yes, he might look all brain fried right now, but you should have expected for him to flip you over in the blink of an eye, pushing you underneath his body and spread on the couch with one leg over the backrest and the other bent so far it almost touched your ear.

“i told you to stop” Satoru growls, hands hooking under your thighs, positively bending you in half with his fattening cock dangerously close to your dripping cunt.

you laugh breathlessly, pushing the damp hair out of his eyes and slicking it back to watch how his bright blue eyes are now slightly darkened and almost disappearing around his blown out pupils, “please..., that was so fucking hot”

“we’ll see if you say the same after I make you squirt and beg” his voice is erratic, deeper and a bit dangerous, barely giving you time to process his words before he’s plunging deep into your pussy with a broken moan, he might act all dominant now, but the way his thighs shook and cock twitch told another story.

“don’t exaggerate! it wasn’t t-that ba-ah!” you get to mutter, cut by Satoru’s hard and precise thrusts inside your sopping wet cunt, moving in frenzy while choked out sobs came out of his mouth, drunk in the feeling of your tight hole squeezing him.

“so good, oh my fucking god!” your boyfriend moans, caging your body underneath his by pressing almost his whole weight on top of you, allowing only his hips to fuck into you with a loud wet sound from where his balls slam against your slick coated ass, barely rising before he’s back deep inside your walls, continuously slamming directly against your g-spot.

“S-satoru, i’m sorry alright, b-but please! slow down!” you cry out, begs falling on deaf ears as the man thrusts never falter, continuously driving you insane, and himself into the border of crying from fucking his overstimulated sensitive cock inside your pretty pussy.

“ah, ah! i’m gonna cum again” he sobs, ignoring your screams and nails digging on his back, and instead wrapping his arms around your thighs, bending you in half as he mounted you with whines and whimpers coming out of his lips, “uh, feels amazing, i’m going insane” is the last thing Satoru says before digging his teeth in your neck and cumming drily inside your pussy, the position causing his cock to bump and twitch directly against your g-spot and forcing your own orgasm out.

a loud beep rang in your ears at the same time your eyes clouded, unaware of the force of your own squirt gushing out and dropping from Satoru’s toned chest and flushed cock, you couldn’t hear a sound, but were certain you screamed quite loudly, only a couple of minutes after, once he knew you were a bit more lucid Satoru dared exhale a soft “payback” directly against your ear.

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIMAL — Weapon X!Logan

Summary: You are right where he wants and won't escape the subject's twisted mind.

Warnings: heavy non-con smut, dark stuff, mentions of being tortured, female!reader. Read at your own risk tbh, thank you if you do though. Someone pls write more Weapon X! Logan, I'm going crazy at this point.

GEN MASTERLIST!

He has you exactly where he wants. Between the concrete and his intimidating aura. Your eyes are glossy, chest going up and down, ready to be the next victim. His last one.

You study the Weapon X subject one more time. He’s broad and muscular, strong frame with adamantium bones, claws out his knuckles as he walks to you, full in his naked glory. Stains of blood start to dry off on his chest, abdomen and shoulders. And even though in other circumstances he would make a good-looking man, he is far from being one now.

He is not human anymore, he is an animal. And you had been part of the experiments since the beginning. For some reason, he had saved you last from all the personnel of the base. A twisted and sick choice.

Logan takes the last two steps towards you, closing the distance. He can smell your fear, sense the shaking of your whole body, the beating of your heart… He had been watching you, paying special attention to you each time he could. Your voice, your silhouette, your job, your routines around the lab. Everything you did he had learned.

And now, after killing and dismantling the place, leaving a horrid trade of bodies and red around, he feels like finishing everything with you.

He doesn’t know your name, he just knows you were part of them and he fucking hates it.

How could such a pretty thing like you could bear torturing a lost soul like him? He growls at the thought, leaning until his nose is almost touching yours.

You gasp loud, the echoes of your breathing filling the empty place. Your eyes shut and you feel tears running down your cheek.

“Logan…”

He replies with a deep groan again, taking in the scent of your neck and the salty sweat covering your skin. Oh and how he loves the reactions of your body as he traces his way to the shell of your ear with his nose.

“Please… You- you’re not like this…”

Begging would do nothing, he knows it. You keep begging and begging, calling his name as he takes in the features of your face, eyes barely opening. And when you cross glances, besides the fear on your gaze, he can sense something else building on you: arousal. It’s not the first time he’s sensed it on you, but sure he will take out his own suffering and frustrations on that.

“Logan…”

Claws come close, cutting your blouse and bra off. He rips the fabric with his hands before your trousers and panties come off the same way. You squirm and cry, but don’t make any effort on pushing him away because you know he would win the same. He’s massive, stronger, and dangerous. He’s a weapon you helped to build, and compared to him, you are nothing.

Probably he will get vengeance by tearing you apart, forcing you on the smudged, cold floor. He’s all over you, not quite giving kisses but bruises with his lips and teeth on your neck, biting on your skin, legs wide as he feels your wet cunt against his hard cock.

You cry his name, more like a moan, when he forces himself inside your tight walls without any preparation. He’s animalistic, erratic, growling, almost howling, like a dog in heat.

The scratch of your nails do nothing. He pounds harder into your abused cunt, tearing an orgasm out of you. He spills himself in seconds, feeling your walls around him sucking him completely, and he continues fucking you over and over his own high, increasing the sensitive feeling between your legs. And just as you think Logan is over by how quick he keeps rutting on you, hips making an obscene noise every time he buries balls deep inside your cunt, it feels like he goes faster, harder, that it becomes too much and you cling into him with nails and loud whimpers, sore throat crying into the void.

He comes a second time with a deep moan, filling you up once again and you do nothing but take it. Slowly, he pumps his white seed into you until he fully stops inside your abused, needy pussy.

The primitive need to kill now is replaced with a more primal urge, and you would be perfect for that from now on.

[samubytheocean]

that thin line of making out

You want it, you’re pretty sure he wants it too. So what do you do when nobody has the courage to make the next move?

Suggestive fluff, maybe smut

His hands are gripping your shirt, so tight just enough for it to wrinkle and ride up your soft skin. It’s funny, because at the same time he is laying down facing you, with this some wall between. But his tongue feels so desperate, and that thin line of sanity you can feel it on his lips. It’s been how long? Hours? You don’t even know. There’s chills along with spit running down your jaw of constant making out. Correction; just. making out.

The feeling of numb lips, an unfamiliar feeling, shoots down into your spine. The fact that you can now recognize his heavy breathing- for it’s basically yours at this point- makes the warmth between your legs pool, and you’re just praying that it’s not seeping through your shorts. He hasn’t even touched away from your shoulders yet.

Your hands are gripping his face, and you can feel every vibration from his throat on your fingertips. Soft hitches of groans escaping into your mouth, it seems to echo back to his, however hard you’re even to keep it down. There’s sweat all over- shit, it might be the spit, you don’t know- and the room feels so hot it’s dizzying. You carefully experiment your fingers- tiptoeing down to his neck, hoping your slow movements won’t give away what you’re thinking.

It’s a weird feeling. You’re so content in this moment, feeling him all around you. Your hands are glued where they are, and you’re holding onto your sanity for dear life, not even knowing why you’re holding back in the first place. In all honesty, you’re sure he feels the same. If you grabbed off his shirt, you know he would be thanking you. The burning twitching in his thighs, every time you bite his plump lips, bucks into yours messily.

You’re curious. The thick layers of sweatpants- something you’ve never even considered before- limits the warmth, and the hardness to be felt from your thighs, where all your senses seem to be focused on. The realization of it- that the fabric is limiting you from him, a part of him that you’ve never explored before, makes your face burn. Yeah there’s no doubt about you wanting to go further. But something in you stops you, as it does him. Shit, you never knew being so similar to each other could make this so frustrating.

He pulls away from you, and the feeling of him taking a shaky warm breath makes you hesitantly open your eyes. And you swear you could have devoured him right there- rolled him over and climbed right on top- by his sinfully blown eyes staring right at your puffy glossy lips. You tense up a little, and glance down to look at his, bitten all cherry red and so pretty. He looks back into your eyes, and you’re not sure what’s in that look. You’re not sure because you feel the exact same way. His eyes are begging with pure adoration and devotion, but of what? Permission? Dismissal?

At this point you wish he would just undress you, or just push you off. Anything, anything to make this situation something else. Anything else than this pure anticipation. Your hands are still on his pulse point, the skin now searing hot and drumming of adrenaline. His hands are gripping your arms, now the sleeves all ridden up and the tense skin touching- quite the courage, by your and his standards, but fuck. You wanted much more. Or a definite less. But oh, so desperately more, if only possible.

“Just so we’re on the same page here, I’m like really hard right now” he spurts out, and the random confession makes you blurt out a blushy laugh. Especially because the vocal expression of a vulgar word to you made his neck glow red. And that bulge in his pants visibly twitch. Huh, would that be the same shade?- hell, the thought makes you look away from his eyes, barely keeping your amused expression. The tension seems a little eased. You sink back into the bed, and God, it hits you that you’re so close to this handsome boy who you’ve got this crush on. And he’s so, so turned on by you. Lucky you.

“Yeah? I can tell.” you giddily whisper back, and for a second you catch the frustration seep out and a adorable mix of embarrassment and relief into his face. Cute. He’s so close, but he’s also so far away. The shallow breathing fans your face, and it smells like lemon candy, along with your chapstick. It’s a dearing combination, you make the mental note to ask about it later. His hands rise a little to fiddle with the edge of your elbows. It’s the most he can do right now, pretty much the only part of your skin that won’t bend his sanity into two. Yet the slim sweat on your arm is really testing him.

“It’s so hot in here” he breaks the silence again. You turn your head to look at him, and he shoots you a sweet puzzled face. To you it looks like a question. Almost a suggestion, a test, maybe a request. And you can’t help but very slowly blurt out, a trembling answer to your darling boy. You already know the answer. It’s almost like you’re asking this to yourself, to convince yourself that you’re in safe, loving, careful hands.

“Ca- can I take your clothes off?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he nods almost absentmindedly with the dumbest nervous smile forming on his lips. But judging from what you’ve seen under the dark lights, his pretty eager face flushing furiously, glittering mouth slightly agape and dark eyes for the tiniest second rolling back- fucking hell-

he almost came right there, in his pants. By your words only.

Yeah. You’re going to fucking devour your man.

YAMAGUCHI, LEV, YAKU, ASAHI, KUROO, OSAMU (come over babe one chance)

YUTA, YUUJI, MEGUMI

ARMINNNNN

[cheonstapes]

omg plss do a miguel x bimbo reader im in love <3

miguel o'hara stars in... 'HANDY MIGGY'

(っ╹ᆺ╹)っ

a/n ~ I. LOVE. BIMBOS!!!! thank you for the request sweetie, love you💗 miguel would deffo love a cute little bimbo, i just know it

summary; you don't know how to change your tyres. why would you? that's what your boyfriend's for!

pairing; miguel o'hara x bimbo!reader

wc; 1.4k+

cw; SMUT!!!!, breeding kink (can you tell i have a breeding kink), semi-public sex, fuckin on the car, reader speaks a bit of spanish, daddy kink, meanish!dom miguel, sub!reader, reader is a bit stupid, princess treatment!, reader is a bad bitch, overstimulation, squirting, orgasm control, teensy bit of aftercare, THEY'RE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR, nawt proofread - i cannot drive, yet.

surely you weren’t that dumb? were you?

standing there in the 40° heat - wedge sandals, short skirt with your thong riding high on your hips, sweat-sheened tits spilling our of your cute little crop top. a girl always has to look her best, even when she’s about to melt into a puddle from the sun. doing things that required you to use your brain wasn’t something you did often, that’s what your boyfriend’s for! 

to be fair, you were never big on cars. barely passing your drivers test, and your daddy getting you your first car shortly after - you didn’t really want to drive around everywhere yourself, the pink porsche taycan collecting dust in your garage, being a passenger princess is the lifestyle now. unfortunately for you, your boyfriend - even though he would collect all the stars in the sky for you if you asked - refuses to let you put that car to waste. so now you’re forced to resurrect the thing, cleaning it up a little bit - and…you have to change the tyre’s. 

you even forgot about the punctures, after you accidentally drove over a few spikes in the road coming out of the wrong exit - sometimes you question why you ever qualified for a license. all the tyres were severely fucked up, deflated so much they look like they melted into the floor. your daddy gave you a bunch of spares in case (he knew it would) it ever happened. they were just so heavy, though. you weren’t built for lugging around fucking tyres - but your boyfriend is!!

so you called him, in the middle of the day, knowing he’s probably busy doing his big man job or whatever - but you knew he would drop everything to come and help you, this is an emergency girl! to no one’s surprise, he got there within 15 minutes of you ending the call, speeding into your driveway as he jumps out of the car. sometimes, you forget how mouthwateringly sexy your boyfriend is. 

a tight black compression shirt, matching shorts that clung to his thick thighs - black rimmed sunglasses matching yours pushing his hair back. not to mention the little grimace on his face from stepping out in the heat. “what’s up, baby? you ok? need me to get anything for you?” aw, he was so worried. he’s gonna be so pissed when he finds out what you really need him for.

“hi papito, so glad you’re here.” let’s try to sweet talk him a little bit, maybe it won’t be so bad if you give him a little love - the one thing he can’t resist. you hold his face in your hands, pressing a glossy kiss on his puckered lips. his brows furrow slightly, big hands resting on your hips as he pulls you close him, a low moan escaping him as he pulls away. “good to see you too, angel.” he had an amused smirk on his face, lightly caressing your ass under your skirt. “now, tell me what you need help with.”

nodding, you shyly take his hand in yours and lead him to the garage. it was a mess, to say the least - tools scattered everywhere, tyres rolling around where they’re not supposed to be, something that looked like grease spilled on the floor. “the fuck were you tryna do here, babe?” you smiled sheepishly, looking down at the floor before looking back up at him with round eyes. 

“…’m tryna change my tyres.” 

he rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at you - an unimpressed look on his face. “god, you’re really a-

——————————————————————————————————

- dumb, fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” the hood of your car was covered in a mix of your shared arousal, drool dripping out of your swollen lips down your chest. “only good for taking this fat cock, hm?”

hard nipples rubbing against your windshield, body jolting violently as your boyfriend abused his cock into your cunt. he was stretching you out so deliciously, his arms under your legs to keep you stable. “m-miggy, mm- fuuuuck, ‘s too much!” he really didn’t care, not when you looked so pretty under him. secretly, he loved how much you would rely on him - seeing that look on your face when you’d ask him for help, shit if it didn’t make him so fucking hard. but, god did he love to punish you for it. 

“too much for your stupid, little brain, baby? y’re so cute, you know that?” nodding dumbly, you grind your hips back onto his, flipping up your skirt to slam your ass onto his pelvis so he can watch the cheeks ripple. miguel let out a low growl, slamming a hand down by your head so he can lean against your back, the other gripping your hip. “just wanna fuck you ‘till you’re nothin’ but a senseless breeding bitch f’r me.” his breathing was heavy against your ear, sharp teeth nicking at the sensitive skin. 

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you muñeca? quieres que te llene de mi semen. esta linda barriga toda pesada con mis bebés. wouldn’t let you raise a finger again, ‘m gonna do everything f’r you - since you’re too fuckin’ dumb to do it yourself, gorgeous.” he had such a mouth on him, didn’t he. that didn’t sound too bad, being a stay at home mum. as long as you don’t have to do anything, then you’d happily stay plugged up with his cum all the time.

his balls were heavy, smacking against your stiff clit as he worked your hips back on him. the sensations were overwhelming. every ounce of your body was feeling the pleasure, the reflection of his strained face through the windshield making you clench tightly around him. he hissed, smacking your cunt before gripping your neck and holding you against his hard chest. “stop fuckin’ clenching. if there’s anything that small brain of yours should comprehend, it’s don’t cum till i tell you to.” 

“papitooo- please, i need’ta cum - i can feel it, baby!” you, poor, poor thing. too bad he doesn’t give a fuck. he pounded into you even harder, blunt head bullying your cervix. he quickly flipped you around, pressing your back onto the car as he gripped your hips, grinding slowly into you. “hold it.”

angling his hips just right, he drove his fat cock deeper into you, coarse hairs tickling your clit. his fingers trailed up your body, ripping your shirt as he flicked your nipples, spitting on your chest to get them nice and wet. “y’re so pretty, mm, my pretty baby.” his balls tightened, cock twitching hard inside of you as his tip drooled all over your walls.

“gonna cum in your tight, fuckin’ cunt, babe - rub your clit f’r me, or is that too hard for you?” he was so cruel but so sweet. sadistically watching your shaky fingers work your aching clit as his pelvis slammed into you. “goood girl. squirt f’r me, muñeca.” he gazed deep into your eyes, big hands caressing your cheek. 

it all gushed out at once, a heavy stream jetting out of your and coating his chest as he let out a deep chuckles, plugging you up with his girth. he fucked you through it, pinching at your throbbing bud as you shook in his hold. “w-wait, miggy, ‘m too sensitive!” he grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the car. he let out a low snarl, covering you completely as he rammed deep inside. “quiet. keep that pretty mouth shut.” he didn’t realise how much that would set him off, his orgasm coming before he could even process it.

his whole body tensed up, ass clenching, fingers bruising your hips, hips jutting in and out of you - filling you to the brim with his cum. he was breathing sluggishly, pulling your hips down towards him to keep all his seed inside. “you…you did so good, baby. i love you, yeah? so much.” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your face affectionately. “i love you too, papito.”

you stayed there for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other as you found each others lips, making out smoothly on the car. you pulled a way, placing a hand on his chest - staring at the new tyres that he fixed on for you. “migs?” he nodded, kissing and biting your neck.

“how do i change the oil?”

-quieres que te llene de mi semen. esta linda barriga toda pesada con mis bebés - you want to be filled with my cum. this cute tummy all heavy with my babies.

-muñeca - doll

-papito - daddy

-i wanna be a bimbo doll!

[wonton4rang]

Kiss and make up ¡!

pairing: bnd legal line x gn!reader

warnings: smut +18, some toxic behaviour (ig idek atp), cursing, unprotected sex (be safe y'all 😔) and I think that's about it, lmk if I missed anything.

genre: smut. ♡

summary: how would be make up sex with boynextdoor members (legal line - everyone but woonhak)

note: I was going to post an ask I got ready for today but tumblr kinda glitched and it delete half of it so I need to re-write and edit it again :'( please enjoy this as an apology <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sungho; make up sex with him can be overwhelming, and it most likely will, there could be two reasons for it: he is sooooo sorry for everything that he keeps whispering little "sorry, baby" into your ear or he's still kinda mad and just fucks you out of despair. either one you will feel so good and full that you will forgive him for anything you got mad for in the first place. it was sungho and his strong body and gifted cock against you, tbh who would go against that? his pretty foxy eyes looking down on you with so much appreciation, his lips glossy due to your own saliva and his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat. he was so hot and it was just a small disagreement anyways, nothing you guys couldn't talk about after you were stuffed full like a pillow.

riwoo; i see him into some dynamic type of sex, nothing crazy but something that would consume lots of energy, like fucking you in some odd yet pleasant position with no rest, your knees numb and your arms trembling, but when it's make up sex he would be the sweetest and most cliche person, laying you on your back and caressing your cheeks while he left a trail of kisses all over your face, neck and your collarbone, mumbling how pretty you were and how much he hated to fight with you. he's just so sweet and good for you :(( you guys definitely talk about things and get to a solution together, it might be even faster than with other members since i feel like riwoo will understand and make his point clear so that it can be solved accordingly and fast.

jaehyun; he's crying. but not like a few tears shed, he's crying his eyes out whenever you guys have an argument about anything and everything and he really doesn't wanna see you afterwards because he feels so wronged. but when you knock on the door of your shared bedroom after giving him some space, he would make a light pout, looking away so you can know that he's still mad. it only took you two minutes of "baby, I'm sorry, it was not my intention to yell at you. It's not your fault that I'm stressed and I'm sorry I let it out on you, can you please forgive me?" and he will, cause jaehyun is like a little puppy to you, he would never say no, better yet, his answer was "i forgive you, y/n, how 'bout I help you getting rid of that stress, hm?" and then he made you come around his cock twice, giving you a third orgasm while eating you out and softly giggling at your wasted look, kissing you before helping you get a relaxing bath and then tuck you in bed.

taesan; I think I've said this before but I don't see him as a highly sex-drived person, not really understanding all the hype about it, yes, it was good and he loved to fuck you and make love to you, but it was not his top priority. yet I do believe he has his triggers. so when you guys got into this heated argument he realized something: he found your angry self very appealing, the way you yelled at him and pushed his chest making him grin a little bit at the fact that he could tower you and stop you in any moment but you felt that you controlled him. the whole discussion was about some girl that held his arm earlier and he did not move her, you were furious cause you knew how much he hated physical contact with most people and letting that random girl do it like that? you raged. "is this funny to you?" you said, getting him back from his thoughts. "she's no one, love, but I can show you why you are mine right now" you were confused, not following his words are they were so out of place. "you're so hot when you get cold" was the last thing he said before taking you into a deep kiss that ended up with you crying out his name while he made love slowly to you, pounding your cunt full while his soft and wet lips kissed your face. taesan was yours, all yours, no else mattered to him, he did not have any interest in other girls. it was you, you were his one and only.

leehan; where do I even start? he would listen to everything you have to say, quietly nodding to the points you're making and chewing his cheek to avoid saying anything stupid that would interrupt your failed version of an apology, because right now all he can think about is the away your boobs wiggle under your loose large tshirt with every move that your hands do, your tights looking so pretty that he couldn't avoid staring and you noticed, snapping your fingers in his face and rolling your eyes when he just smirked at you, throwing his hair back and sitting comfortably in the couch before spreading his legs a little bit. "if you're so sorry you could show me with actions, y/n" he was so cocky that you couldn't even be mad at him, straddling in his lap and moving your panties aside when he took his dick out and aligned it with your soaked entrance. "you're going to fuck me so good, aren't you, baby?" a soft kiss was pressed in your lips and he leaned back to let you ride the shit out of him. the so called argument long gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you guys enjoyed!! <33

[arachine]

u asked so I shall deliver :3

but imagine whiny n fucked out Dave Lizewski omfffhhhgggggg, his hair is a mess n his glasses are falling off, they're all dirty too bc he's handsy! Ik he is! and he tries to grab anything he can on u but u just tut him and tell him to keep his hands to himself, so nowwww he's whining even more, he's begging too atp, all glossy eyes and jutted out lips. I KNOW he's a pretty crier, so why shouldn't u mess with him a lil yk?

moral of the story, Dave. Just Dave.

nghhhhh rina i’m gonna scream SO loud.

warnings: unprotected sex, dacryphilia (i think? cba to check if i included it), whiny dave (like down bad, pussydrunk dave) + so rushed i’m sorry but i need to fr study lol :3

can just imagine him begging to touch you. at first, he tries to bargain with you. asks if he can just ‘hold your hips for a bit’, so you don’t ‘fall off’—as he puts it. but you’re ruthless. all bite and no bark.

“good boys keep their hands to themselves,” you tsk, swatting away his wandering appendage. the admonishment forces a whine from his throat, and he retracts his hand quickly like a child scolded for getting into the cookie jar. “don’t you wanna be a good boy for me, baby?”

“yes—fuck—god, yes. j’st let me touch you, let me h-hold you,” he pleads, and it’s so cute. the knot between his brows, the erythro in his cheeks—the crystalline droplets cascading down his face. it doesn’t take much persuasion to get you to acquiesce; not when he’s beneath you like this. looking up at you like you just hung the stars in the sky. “ok, go ahead, baby. touch me.”

and as soon as you give him the okay, he’s flipping you over onto your back, all muscles and eagerness. grabs the weight of his cock and bullies it into your little hole, unconcerned by your protests and light-hearted pleas for him to slow down.

“easy, ‘m not going anywhere,” you giggle, but it falls on deaf ears because he’s concentrated. focused—on one thing and one thing only—or maybe two things—or a few things: your skin, the rivulets of sweat between your breasts, your eyes—the perfect little ‘o’ shape your mouth makes when he hits that spot just right. yeah, he’s focused.

“babybabybaby, i’m close,” he says in your ear, a mixture of a whine and cry, “please, lemme do it inside. can i? i’ll get you the pill, swear i will, s-swear it!”

and at the nod of your approval, he’s pistoning into you like a rabid thing. all mumbles and whimpers, expletives and grunts. telling you how sweet you are to him, and how lucky he is to have a girlfriend who let’s him finish inside her.

says he’ll, “never fuck another girl again,” while the weight of his hand rests firmly against your jaw, and his lithe fingers maneuver your head to meet his lips. and you know he’s telling the truth—because his eyes are all hazy and glossy. they get like that when he’s close; and they got like that when he declared his love for you some time ago. a tell-tale sign.

“so close, baby. use me, you can do it,” you caress his cheek, clenching once, twice, three times around him in an effort to get him to finish. and it works. he manages a few more lazy thrusts before he’s plopping down onto you with a strangled moan and a sigh.

“about that pill…” he starts, “i only have $10 in my account. don’t think we’re ready to be parents.”

gasping, you raise a hand to yank him back by the hair, “lizewski, get off of me right now.” the brunet chuckles but it only coaxes you to pull tighter at the scalp.

“ow, okay, okay. i was just kidding,” he admits, grabbing at the hand holding his hair by the root, “let me go and i’ll go pick it up.”

“alright, go,” you release him, “but seriously, get off of me. you’re heavy.”

© arachine 2023

[seungiepop]

1:27 pm ✰

yang jungwon x older idol gf!reader

wc: 0.7k

caution: cursing, giving head, smut

masterlist

∘ ₒ ✰ ∙ ✧ ₒ ∙ ★ ∘ ₒ

“Noona! f-fuck that feels so good!”

“Shh wonie we don’t wanna get caught.”

Y/n whispered against his neck sucking on the flushed skin, her strokes not slowing down one bit. Jungwon cursed himself for getting in this position, he explicitly told her to wait after they were done with the show but she was just too good at getting what she wanted. The way she batted her cute eyes at him and pouted her glossy lips was all it took for him to pull her into the small crowded closet. Leaned against the door, head thrown back in pleasure with her hand inside his pants, stroking his hard cock all while kissing on his neck. They only had a few minutes before they were called on stage to perform, yet he wanted her to also receive some type of pleasure from this make-out session. So grabbing her by the waist Jungwon turned them around so she was now leaned against the door instead of him, “wha- I want to make you feel good too pretty..” he cuts her off, placing his lips on her, returning the kiss she wrapped her arms around his neck pulling his body closer than it already was.

Moaning when he stuck his tongue inside her mouth she broke into a smile, she was happy being with him. Whether they were having sex or just hanging out at their dorms she loved his presence. “Why are you so smiley noona? hm?” he asked, pulling away from her lips and slowly getting on his knees. Watching the way he kneeled on the floor and bunched her skirt up to her waist made her press her thighs together. Clicking his tongue in disapproval he separated her legs to give him access; he began placing open mouthed kisses between her thighs. Y/n whined at the feeling of his lips on her skin, they were so close yet so far from where she needed him the most. “Won..” she groaned out of frustration, thrusting her hips towards his face but he immediately held her down.

With his free hand he pulled down both her safety shorts and underwear, wasting no time to place his lips on her. His tongue sliding up and down her lips to give himself a taste “Mhmm, taste so good!” he moaned against her, sending vibrations of pleasure throughout her whole body.

It’s like Jungwon was born to eat pussy, he knew exactly how to make her cum so hard with his tongue it's fascinating. The first time he’d ever gone down on her she had to lay there and just think about what had just happened with her legs violently shaking. It was crazy.

Wrapping his lips around her clit he began sucking at a slow pace, enjoying the way she whined and started moving her hips against his lips. Jungwon let her do her thing for a few more seconds before wrapping his arms around her thigh and squishing his face into her core. Humming from the sweet taste of her arousal that gushed from her hole “Fuck! Won right there— just like that!” she moaned. Pulling away from her clit he slid his finger into her wet hole, his dick twitching at the feeling of her warm gummy walls sucking his fingers in perfectly. “Such a pretty pussy..” he cooed, looking up to see her staring down at him with hooded eyes and gaped mouth. Without looking away he leaned down and placed a small kiss on her swollen clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucked while the pace of his fingers sped up.

Y/n felt her legs wanting to give out, the pleasure being too much to be able to hold herself up. The knot in her stomach snapped, her orgasm crashing through her body like a tidal of waves. Jungwon removed his lips from her clit but continued to move his fingers to ride out her high, when he felt finger wrap around his wrist he knew it was too much. Her heavy breathing was all that was heard inside the bathroom, a thin layer of sweat created on their skin “You okay?” he asked once he was in full stance, brushing away the damped baby hairs that stuck to her forehead. She nodded, swallowing the small lump of spit that had formed in the back of her throat. Suddenly remembering she looked down and see the very prominent hard on he had “Do you still need hel-“

“Y/N?”

“JUNGWON? WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?”

Their eyes widened hearing their manager's voice. Fuck how much time had passed?

[lieutnt]

Trans!simon being bred and squirting 🫡that is all

bullseye

Trans!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male Reader Summary: You try and make Simon squirt as many times as you can. Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only. Mating press, squirting, breeding.

He can feel the pleasure bubbling belly-deep, the wet slap, slap, slap bouncing off the walls as you fold him in half, pressing his legs into his shoulders as you piston your hips, fucking your cock into him seamlessly, his pussy sucking you in greedily.

You’ve fucked him countless times, but he’s never felt so full, felt so wet, and as his orgasm approaches it feels different, like it’s building to something he’s never experienced before. 

He’s too in his own head to warn you, too lost in the pleasure to say anything, and with just a few more thrusts he’s gushing, clear fluid squirting out and coating your thighs, splashing up to your abdomen as he moans lowly, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head with the pleasure of relief as he twitches underneath you, hips jerking as if pulled by an invisible force.

His pussy clenching around you becomes secondary as what just happened settles in your brain. Eyes wide with awe as you watch him come down from his high, chest heaving with breaths until he’s mostly recovered. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, eyes glossy with pleasure meet yours as he lifts his head. There’s a beat of silence before you laugh in disbelief, “That was fucking hot.”

Simon grumbles, legs falling to land either side of you up as you lean back, and he cringes internally when he begins to feel the dampness on the sheets under his ass, damp with him. His head falls back as you grin at him like the cat who caught the canary, sighing as you press yourself against him again, placing an exaggerated wet, smacking kiss to his lips before teasing the edge of his jaw, down his throat. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, confused by your sudden bout of affection.

You gently rock your hips, letting Simon feel how much you still ache for him, cock twitching inside. “I want to see if you can do it again,” you explain between lavishing his neck with kisses. You don’t move any faster than a slow rolling pace, giving Simon time to think. 

He exhales through his nose heavier than normal at your movement, pleasure stirring again. He barely manages to speak his agreement, “Yeah, ok-” before he’s interrupted with you pinning his legs back and beginning heavy thrusts, cock dragging against his insides that has his head growing fuzzy, pleasure building each time you strike as deeply as you can.

Simon clings to your arms as each thrust rocks his body, the clenching of his pussy around your cock sending pleasure sizzling through your veins. You can hear his almost silent moans and ah, ah, ah, with each thrust as a similar feeling builds inside Simon- a big buildup that needs release, and this time, his brain manages to scramble together a warning, “Fuck, I-I think it’s gonna-”

“Yes, yes, let it all out,” you encourage, his pussy sloppy and rapidly bringing you to your own orgasm. 

His orgasm tears through his body, head thrown back in a final moan as another wave rushes out, coating your body in further wetness. It’s enough to push you over the edge, a hearty groan pouring from your chest as you spill inside him, cock kicking with each pulse as his insides are streamed with white. Simon’s convulsions milk you until he’s overflowing, your spend leaking out around your cock and streaming down. 

You stay interlocked after, chests heaving with exertion until discomfort settles in, your bodies covered in fluids and drenched in sweat. With Simon pinned you move first, settling back on your heels as you draw out, eyes unable to look away as you catch sight of Simon’s pussy, shining with a mixture of your cum and his release, twitching as white begins to slowly trickle out. 

Your body moves before you can think, two fingers gathering up what’s leaking out and pushing it back inside, a hiss coming from Simon who picks his head up to look at you. “Better not let any of it go to waste, yeah?”

[peachsukii]

— A harmless movie date turns steamy when reader and Yuuji have the theater to themselves.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — (18+ MDNI!) first time writing yuuji! i wanted to make it sweet and sensual at the same time, so hopefully it reads that way!

You spent an embarrassing amount of time on your hair, makeup and picking out an outfit for your date with Yuuji. Loose curls, pastel eyeshadow with wispy lashes to match your freshly manicured nails, and a cute skirt with your favorite top.

Too bad he’s making a mess of it all in the darkness of the movie theater.

“Mmph, Yuu…fuck!” You attempt to cover your mouth in time to silence yourself and fail miserably.

“Yes, baby?” Yuuji sighs as he pulls away from your sticky center, half lidded honey irises gazing up at you like you’re a star in the sky.

Your eyes fall downward to the your bubblegum boyfriend in awe. Your skirt is shoved halfway up your ribcage, pink panties stretched around your ankles while your thighs rest comfortably atop Yuuji’s shoulders. He’s got you on the edge of the folding theater chair to be sure you don’t leave a too much mess, and to let you watch him obliterate you with his tongue.

His hands grip the plush of your thighs, squeezing and rubbing them daintily as he sensually devours you, agonizingly slow and purposeful. Every single swipe of his tongue and pop of his lips are intentional - calculated, even. Yuuji knows what drives you wild versus what doesn’t after being with you for a few months. It was experimental and sloppy at the start of your relationship, but once he got the hang of things, his confidence skyrocketed - your constant praise helped of course, too. He never thought he’d be the type to be so excited by it, but your sweet nothings never cease to make him melt.

Another mewl spills from your glossy lips as he dives back between your thighs, rocking your hips forward to silently beg him for more.

“You’re…so hot like this,” you whimper, hand traveling to fist his salmon locks. “Like you can’t get enough of me.”

Yuuji chuckles, the vibrations tugging on the rubber band in your belly, pulling taut and ready to snap. He gently takes the your hands and interlaces his fingers with yours, holding them as your thighs are quaking with anticipation. He was always a sucker for holding hands during sex of any kind and reminded you just how much of a sweetheart he is.

Your walls clamp down on his tongue, locking him in place as your release washes over you, flooding from your core and all over his face. Chest heaving and a bead of sweat rolling out from under your bangs, you sink into the chair as he laps up every ounce of your arousal. Your cheeks and neck are beat red in the afterglow of your orgasm - Yuuji’s favorite thing about you. You look like a goddess to him when you come, blissed out and angelic as your lashes flutter with delight.

With one last flick of his tongue, he removes your legs from his shoulders and sits back on his knees with a grin on his face. He’s enamored with how beautiful you look under the dim light of the theater, wondering how he got so lucky to find someone as pretty as you.

You shimmy back into your panties and ruffle your skirt back into place, smoothing out the wrinkles the best you could. Yuuji moves back to the seat next to you, leaning over to help fix your hair. He thumbs away a smudge of your eyeliner from the corner of your eye - he knows you’re going to check your makeup any second now to be sure it meet your own standards.

Instead, you bend over and give him multiple soft kisses on his cheek, nuzzling your face against his.

“Thank you,” you whisper, even though there’s no one else in the theater. “Can I do anything for you, babe?”

Yuuji shakes his head. “Nah, that can wait for later.” He kisses your forehead and finds your hand to hold once again. “I got impatient. Your thighs are so inviting in that skirt, baby.”

“Guess I should wear skirts more often,” you tease, booping him on the nose playfully. “I like keeping my good boy on his toes.”

That makes his cheeks flush, your praise going straight to his groin. You notice his reaction and giggle, resting your head on his shoulder peacefully as you squeeze his hand in your hold. “We can skip the rest of the movie if you don’t want to wait.”

Yuuji jumps to his feet excitedly, tugging you along with him. “I’ve seen this movie twice already, let’s go!”

was inspired by @kweenkatsuki-fics to finally dive into writing yuuji! hopefully this isn't too ooc for him~ ♡

[akicult]

contains ; domesticity. bf!suguru. suggestive themes. modern / college au. geto wants you to be his housewife basically. just a short drabble. mostly fluff.

just thinking about college bf!suguru that didn’t realize he was a domestic person until he met you.

he’s still young, only in his third year at university and he’s still deciding on what his near future will look like. he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, and little hookups, and to be quite frank—he didn’t think he was done either.

how was he supposed to know the first night he met you, bent over his backseat, was about to be the start of the most serious relationship he’d ever have.

that night started the first of many, slowly realizing he was only asking to hookup just because he wanted to see you. how he’d send a pickup text, with a frown on his cheeks because he thought you were only in it for that reason.

and when he finally swallowed his stubbornness, he was met with the most amazing two years of his life, stuck with you by his side.

college bf!suguru who, until he met you, hardly even dreamt about a future where the love of his life would carry his child in her arms, kissing his cheek and brewing a cup of coffee for the two of them to share in the morning.

he didn’t even care to imagine what that future would be like, what the woman would look like. it didn’t feel achievable, or even desirable until he fell in love with you.

and it was a random realization, but looking back on it—it was building. slowly.

weeks and weeks spent of you just pampering him, praising him, for even the most average things. like, getting an amazing score on an exam, and all you had to do was say, “aw! good job, baby!” before he was putty in your fingertips.

his room is all messy, deep dark circles under his eyes. it was procrastination’s fault—his fingers hurt from typing on his computer all day thanks to waiting until hours before a huge essay was due.

you offered to leave his apartment, to give him the concentration he needs to get it finished, but he was ushering a “no, no stay,” because he honestly didn’t want you to leave. so you stayed, situating yourself in the other room, occasionally popping in to check up on him—and eventually lay on his bed after he insists you to.

it’s only when he finally finishes—8 hours later and it’s already nighttime. his shoulders are slouched, his back is stiff and he’s walking out of his room with his closed computer weighing by his side.

and you’re still there.

not only are you still there, but you’re washing his dishes.

hair clipped back, sweatshirt engulfing your body and sweats tightly tied around your waist. you’re humming along to some music that plays over a speaker—quiet but loud enough to know what song is playing.

you look so utterly homey.

so…domestic.

like you’ve settled into your personal home after a long day at work, just blissfully scrubbing away on glossy white dishes that were previously eaten on. your clothes acknowledge that you’re comfortable, uncaring of what he sees you in.

although it’s not just the fact that you’re dressed like that—it’s the fact that you’re cleaning his things.

cleaning a mess you didn’t even make, just out of the kindness in your heart that’s making geto’s throat close and his palms sweaty. he’s in absolute awe that he doesn’t realize you’ve noticed his presence until you’re turning to face him.

“oh! did you finish?” you ask, turning the water off and rushing towards him.

he’s blinking, nodding slowly. “yeah—just submitted it.”

“yay! ‘m so proud of you!” you grin, lacing your fingers behind the back of his neck and pulling him in for a chaste kiss like you always do—but it feels so much different this time.

like you’re congratulating him on a big promotion, tugging on his work tie and kissing him until he’s forgetting his own name.

he feels like his ring finger is so cold, and there’s a missing heavy weight that’s never even been there in the first place.

like he’s an idiot for not tying you down on the spot—wrapping vows and vows around the two of you until you’re barely mobile.

and he wants to be your doting husband for the rest of his life. he wants to walk through his front door every evening with an awaiting kiss to his cheek, and a home-cooked meal fresh in his senses.

he wants to go to sleep with you in his arms every night, mumbling sweet ‘i love you’’s after flickering off the bedside lamp.

and maybe, just maybe one day, he wants to hear the gentle pitter patter of two little feet charging down the hallway.

this is accidentally freud coded (emphasis on accidentally)

[lasciviouspoison]

had to write this concept before i forgot it, lol. tw: toji! x chubby!reader, reader is mentioned to be bratty and submissive, use of pet names (mama, sugar, baby), breeding!, reader being cock drunk and toji is pussy drunk like a mf. per usual, i write with black women/woc in mind but all are welcome to read and enjoy. love ya!

toji fucks his pretty chubby bunny like there’s no tomorrow every. single. time.

now of course it took the two of you a bit of time to get comfortable with each other. and by the two of you, i mean you. at first, you were apprehensive to toji seeing you in a bra, much less completely nude!

but after a couple of months, the two of you grew to love each other and your guard completely crumbled to the ground. finally allowing toji to see you, whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

hence why now, it doesn’t matter the occasion, time, or place, when he can fuck you. but just how many times he can get u to cum before he does.

and right now, in your shared candle lit bedroom, he’s at a record number of three…

“jesus fucking christ baby, love it when you lemme fuck ya like this” toji says in between thrusts. there’s sweat beading at his hair line, causing his raven black hair to dampen ever so slightly.

mindless babbles and cries leave your lips as a response, causing him to chuckle and stroke you at a painfully slow pace.

“c’mon baby, talk ta me. lemme know how good i make ya feel.” he’s in your ear, but it feels like his voice is traveling all over you. at this point, you’re so delirious, it feels like he’s talking from inside your head.

“toji y’feel s’good. wanna do this f’rever” you say with a heavy tongue, glossy lips, and tears streaming down your face. if you’d have seen yourself right now, you would’ve ran away from him, but toji can only think to himself how beautiful you look right now.

beautiful hair splayed over the pillows in such a perfect way. your sleepy eyes looking up through those beautiful eye lashes. the perfect nose and full lips. silver jewelry all tangled from the movements, but he doesn’t care. how could he care when your body, that perfect and pliant body, is on display for him? so soft and pretty. smelling of vanilla, you’re like his own piece of heaven. one that he gets to build up and tear down each time you let him.

it’s why each time you let him fuck, he does it like he wants to put you through the mattress.

“forever huh? maybe you should quit that stupid job like i told ya. stay at home and sit pretty for me while i take care of ya. would ya like that mama? tell me sugar.” he’s baiting you, but you’re too cock drunk to care.

“yessss! yesyesyesyes! i’ll quit, i’ll do wha’ever toji jus please don’t stop” your eyes are crossing and your toes are curling. it’s quite shocking how toji can turn such a bratty girl like you into such a submissive and mailable mess.

but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“‘kay baby. i won’t stop. not gonna till i fill ‘er up. make ya a mama. oh! yer lil pussy must reallyyy like that idea, she tightened up on me, hehe” he says. but his strokes are getting sloppier by the second, so you know he’s close too.

without a second thought, toji sticks his thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck on it. he pulls it out with a ‘pop’ and rubs tiny circles on your clit. it makes your legs shake while you attempt to close them despite toji’s body being in the way.

he grabs your face with his other hand and kisses you deeply, tongue swiping over your bottom lip before entering your mouth. at this point, the two of you are moaning and whining into each others mouths like some horny teens.

it’s amazing how your neighbors haven’t complained about the noise yet.

toji removes his mouth from yours and buries his head in your neck, “gonna cum baby. want it inside?” his voice is gravely and his thrusts are getting harder by the second.

“yes toji! wan’ it inside me!” you manage to whine out.

didn’t have to tell him twice, “okay baby, g’nna give it to ya- ah- fuck! there ya go baby. there ya fuckin go. take it all”. he’s cumming so hard that his jaw locked, forcing him to talk through his teeth. his hands pry your legs open as far as they can go, trying to savor as much of you as he can before the sensitivity kills him.

you can feel the warmth from his cum shoot deep into you, which triggers your fourth orgasm of the night. the two of you are mindlessly grinding against each other while riding out your highs. toji making note to not drop his full weight onto you, but hold you close, which results in you being elevated slightly off the bed.

soon after, you can feel toji set you down gently and lay on top of you. hes stroking your hair and wiping your tears away until he hears you let out a loud breath.

“ya back with me mama?” voice laced with concern.

“m’okay now toji.” you say with a slightly shakey voice. your hand comes up to brush some of his hair out from in front of his eyes.

toji sits back on his knees, still inside you, and examines your face and upper body for any signs of him being too rough.

“was scared i hurt ya. i know i can get a lil too rough at times” he says while rubbing your boobs gently.

you let out a small laugh and adjust yourself on the bed, causing your hips to move back slightly on toji’s dick. he tries not to hiss at the feeling but his brain has turned to mush again and now all he can think about is how good you smell. “you’re never too rough toji. i’d tell you if you were”. you say with such a sweet and gentle smile, meanwhile toji feels like a fucking rabid animal.

and suddenly, he’s laying on top of you again, kissing and sucking on your neck. his hands have moved back down to your thighs where they’ve begun to push your legs back.

his head knocks into your jaw and he licks the side of your mouth. his body is burning hot and he’s running low on stamina, but he can’t help himself.

“good. cause m’still hard”.

[its-echo-song]

Plague AU Ch. 1

This is a fanfic au of @tuna-jsgross oc, Donny :) @yellowsticky-notes made an amazing piece for this fic!!! (Thank you so much!!!) The art below belongs to them ^_^

(I told them I'd like to use it as the "cover" as it were) No matter how many rigid, pale, glossy-eyed corpses I toss into a pit- I never get used to it. The smell clings to you, not just physically, but in a way that you can recall it at any given moment and it’ll be precisely correct every time. Your mind locks on to it, a cruel fate when you’d only ever wish the memory away upon recalling it.

But we do what we have to do, those of us who are healthy enough to carry on must bear the burden of the souls that leave us behind. Hundreds of them. 

Things have been bleak, lately, the population dwindling, the doctors working tirelessly at all hours, the keepers doing our best to support their efforts.

Despite the curse that’s seemed to land upon us all, the cold grip of death that drifts as fog through the town, I do my best to remain the optimist. I try, through the sweat, vomit, and exhaustion, to be the smiling face that others may need to see. I want to grant the damned one last comfort before their walk to the other side, if nothing else.

I’ve been told that I’m going to fall victim, myself, if I don’t learn to keep my distance. I try -I swear I do- but what is humanity if I allow myself the coldness of turning a blind eye to the tears of a widow in her last moments? I hold their hand through it, I think I always will. If that’s what brings me to the end, I will take that journey with pride. 

In some way, I believe this trait is what saves me. I’ve far outlasted friends, those who have worked beside me, and other members of town- the clergyman in our parish says my soul has been granted divine graces for my actions. The plague doctor tells me that his spiritualism is nonsense, there must be another reason.

Though, admittedly, he’s never been able to provide any sort of reason for it.

I suppose it would be hard to believe in divinity after seeing so many people’s lives extinguished, as he has. There’s no sense to it, I confess, it’s hard to believe in anything caring for us when so many have succumbed to the sickness. I’d glanced at the book they keep in the church, records- weekly death tolls growing larger and larger as time moves forward.

I’m on rounds today, moving through the makeshift hospital, trying to keep patients cool despite their fevers, dabbing a rag into a bowl of water and passing it over their foreheads. I try not to look at the blackening flesh, rotting while they’re still alive- everyone knows once this happens, death follows. We’re told to skip these patients, there’s nothing we can do.

The plague doctor is here, letting blood from patients, examining wounds, and swearing roundly at the losses as bodies are dragged out to the street to be disposed of later. I watch him work between my tasks, methodically, moving from person to person with the confidence of a man who seems not to fear death at all. As far as doctors go, when the death started spreading, many of them fled. The plague doctors are mostly new doctors, some not even doctors at all. The instructions they give vary from person to person, but this one in particular has been the most consistent- showing up day after day, always seeming to be around in one way or another. 

After a while, it seems that he’s grown familiar with me as well, calling me by name when asking for assistance, sending me on errands for him. I’m happy to help in any way I can, and just like that I’ve found myself becoming a close assistant. 

When he shows up in the morning the first thing he does is summon me. He hands me supplies, asks if I’m ready, and we make our way inside. 

Despite the time I’ve spent around him, I know very little of him. He doesn’t tell me his name, doesn’t disclose where he’s from, but his accent speaks of France- some things cannot be so easily hidden.

As it turns out, nobody knows much about him. The other plague doctors have names, previous jobs, we know where they were hired from, but this one? It seems he refuses to discuss anything other than business. 

This has led to a web of rumors surrounding him. Some of them are run of the mill- he’d run away from some rich family to lay down roots, he’d left his wife when he couldn’t stand her anymore, he’d had so much debt he couldn’t dream of paying it back. Some of the rumors are a little more scandalous. His wife caught him with a mistress, he’d never married due to his affinity towards the same sex, he had a drinking habit and got kicked out of his old town when he performed medicine drunk and killed a man.

Whatever may or may not be true, I find myself becoming more and more curious with each passing day. One evening, on a particularly grueling day, the doctor pauses on our usual walk out from the ward. I’m carrying supplies, a bit of a habit from working with him for so long even though he hasn’t actually asked me to in a while. “Donald- have you noticed anything peculiar?” I run through a mental list of the day's goings-ons, turning up only the usual. “No?” “Hm. I’ve noticed things.” This is the most conversation I’ve managed to get from him at evening time, so I take the bait. “Care to share, or are these things going to live and die with you?” “See, that’s just it. You live. The others- they die.” “Oh- we’ve talked about this, I’m blessed-” “-but the others who shared the same disposition? Divinity found it fit to turn his back on them?” “Well… I guess.” “No. I don’t believe it to be so.” “What do you suggest? You’ve found no answers previously, are things any different tonight?” “Not yet- but I want to propose something.” This piques my interest, I move the supplies to one hip, shifting my weight into a comfortable lean. “I’m listening.” “I’d like to do research on you. Nothing terribly invasive, nothing painful. Mostly just observation.” “Observation? Don’t you watch me work all day?” “I confess, I do. Quite closely.” There's a stillness in the air after he says this, a moment where the chirping of crickets and the distant sound of wind through brush is all my ears catch. He sets in again, shifting and grabbing the supplies off my hip. “Apologies, I just want to understand. There must be a reason for it- I’m hellbent on finding an explanation.” “Well- I suppose there’s no harm in it. What would you like me to do?” “Come to my quarters in the evenings. Let me observe, let me perform a physical- probably once a day. I’d like to note any variables or changes.” “A real life science experiment.” I mean it as more of a joke but with a singular bob of his head he agrees. “Right. If I can figure out why you’re immune- maybe we could use it for the others.”

“A worthy cause.” “Quite.” “Alright. You’ve got a deal.” “Wonderful! Let’s head over then-” “Tonight? Right now?” He freezes mid stride, turning to peer back at me. The movement would’ve been bird-like even without the plague doctor costume. “Is that alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t ask if you had plans.” “I don’t I just- it’s somewhat late and I’ve not had a bite to eat all day. I’d like to get supper first.” “I’ll supply food if you’d like. You can eat while I go over the death records.”

“Oh- okay, sure.” I shuffle along beside him, awkwardly. After a few strides it’s evident that the supplies are heavy to him. “You sure you don’t want me to carry that? It’s no problem.” “I’ve got it.” We march along a few more yards before I can hear him huffing as we go, trying to keep up the pace despite restricted airflow due to the mask. “Seriously, boss, I can carry it. Let me help-” “If I accept your help now, I’m admitting defeat. I’m not letting three stone of glass do me in.” “It seems the doctor has a stubborn streak.” I’m mostly musing to myself, slightly amused at this new tidbit of information. He looks up at me, and I swear I can feel the glare behind the mask. “Damn right I do.” He marches forward with determination. “The only way to get anything done around here.”

“Hey! I seem to recall doing a lot of stuff!” He sighs. “Yes, with you being the one exception.”

“So don’t give up on the task. Just… delegate it so you can save your energy for more important stuff like research.” He stops so abruptly that I nearly trample him, the question of who’s carrying what nearly becomes completely invalid as the box almost fully topples out of his hands. “You’re right. Here.” He holds the box out to me with weary arms and I take it easily. It doesn’t feel like much weight to me, though I suppose a lifetime of heavy lifting far better suits me for the job.

We finish making our way back to his quarters. It’s mostly temporary, but he’s been housed far outside the city, quite the walk. When I comment on this he lets out a low hum of agreement. “I can’t be near anyone in good health. I’ve agreed to isolation.” “What about- I’m in good health. Will you get in trouble?” “Well, you’ve been exposed first-hand plenty. If you were to fall to the sickness I’d imagine it would’ve happened far sooner. Besides… I’m my own master, here. Who is going to chastise me for it? Do you see anyone around? Nobody knows or cares what happens in my quarters.” I glance around at the hollow houses surrounding his, empty and dark, somehow cold as if they suffer from the disease as well. I can almost hear them moaning in the same kind of pain, feel them longing for the life that once graced their walls. “I-I guess that’s true.”

“You’re coming in or you’re dropping the box off and leaving, this much is up to you. If you choose to stay I will be grateful.” “I’ve committed, I’m not going to abandon my word.” “Very well, step inside.” He opens the door for me and lets me in, upon entering I see he’s set up a comfortable living space for himself. There’s a stew still warmed on the cinders of the fire, a bed set off to the side, a desk laden with parchments, several lamps and plenty of oil to go with them.

Upon closer inspection, his desk has more than work notes. There’s a few sketches of flowers, each with the scientific name scrawled underneath them. Viola odorata, or commonly, the wood violet. 

It seems he has both a knack for artistry and a fondness for botany. “Violets?” I hold up a drawing and he nods without looking over at me, stoking up a fire. 

“Yes, they’re used in my mask.” “Oh, so… not because you like them?”

“Well- I find the scent pleasing. As it should be, for a plague doctor’s mask, such is the point of it.”

“What else do you put in there?”

“Lavender, if I can find any. Tea, maybe mint if it’s not too scarce. Mint and lavender work the best, in my experience.”

“The smell keeps the illness at bay, right?”

“It’s the theory- the scent is what makes you sick. But then you have others who… don’t seem to obey that rule. So now I’m trying to figure out what else it could be. I thought perhaps contact, but that doesn’t seem to bother you whatsoever. I have to wonder to myself how someone could be in such close contact, breathing in the same air, and still be left standing a month later? It’s phenomenal… it’s maddening.”

I chuckle, cocking my head at him. “I’ve kept you up at night thinking about me, then?”

There’s a long silence before he shakes his head. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.”

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint. What do you want me to do first?”

He stands and collects a bowl, filling it with stew before handing it to me. “Eat. Keep your strength up. I’d hate to lose the subject of my interests so early.”

I take it and make a ‘cheers’ motion. “Yes sir.”

[doumidas-whumps]

shanghai rummy (part 1)

masterlist / part 2

Sonny meets his master's friends.

this is before sonny came into mr. oz's hands. a whole lotta backstory.

cw: BBU/pet whump, kneeling on rice (that's right another rice related punishment), non consensual touching (not sexual)

A couple of ice cubes hit the edge of the tray and bounced to the floor, scattering across the tile. “Damn it,” he muttered.

Sonny could feel the exact moment his mistress directed her sharp gaze at him, almost like a sixth sense. “Clean that up,” she snapped. “And watch your mouth. Honestly. How hard is it not to drop everything?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” came his automatic reply. He picked the ice up with his bare hands, feeling the cold wet shock on his fingertips. He tossed them into the sink and swiped a paper towel over the floor. 

As he straightened back to standing, Ms. Han looked over her shoulder. “Did you wipe the floor? I don’t want wet socks.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

She went back to ignoring him and continued arranging her charcuterie board, which Sonny much preferred. She seemed to revel in criticizing him, and her bite was even worse than her bark. 

Her slaps may sting, but they didn’t bother him much. They weren’t even close to what he endured in training. Her true punishments were deceptively harmless and usually humiliating. Last week she made him kneel on uncooked grains of rice. He couldn’t even remember what he’d done to deserve it.

He had been confused when she made him change into shorts, and upon returning downstairs he was only confused further by the pile of rice on the living room floor, starkly white against the glossy brown finish. She ordered him to kneel on it. Forty-five minutes. He thought it was stupid at first, but he realized what he was in for as soon as he set all of his weight onto his knees. It hurt like hell, and what made it worse was when she had him hold his arms straight out in front of him and placed a heavy dictionary on them. It wasn’t even a minute before his arms started aching. 

She stayed in the room most of the time to keep an eye on him. She put on a record and busied herself with her latest embroidery project while Sonny suffered in the corner. He tried distracting himself with the scratchy tunes from the record player, but they weren’t much help. It was agony.

At one point she left to do something else and Sonny took the opportunity to lower his arms— carefully, so the dictionary wouldn’t hit the floor with a thump that would surely give him away. It was a welcome reprieve, but it only made it harder to raise them up again when he heard her approaching footsteps. 

Eventually she took pity on him, only because his arms had started to tremble so violently that the book might fall off. She put it back on the shelf and let his arms hang at his sides. They were sore from wrist to shoulder. Most of his attention went to the pain of his knees, which by that point felt like two burning open wounds. Sweat prickled all down his neck. 

His master came home not long before the forty-five minutes was up. When he saw Sonny kneeling there in the corner all he said was, “What did you do this time?”

Sonny remembered how his face burned. He had almost expected him to put a stop it, to tell his wife she was wrong for doing this to him, but he said no such thing. He stayed there for as long as Ms. Han wanted him to. He was embarrassed his master even saw him like that, with his red face and rice-dimpled knees. He tried so hard to please him, and most of the time he thought he succeeded. Not with Ms. Han, though. She was frustrating. She was impossible to please.

Sonny pulled himself out of the memory, emptying the rest of the ice cubes into the tray. He refilled the mold with water and carefully carried it to the freezer, not letting a single drop spill over the sides. Right as he closed the freezer, his master wandered into the kitchen.

“How’s it going?” 

“What do you think of my spread?” asked Ms. Han. 

Mr. Han peered over her shoulder at the arrangement of cheeses and meats. “Looks good,” he said. Sonny doubted he had much of an opinion, but the answer seemed to satisfy her.

“Have you vacuumed the carpet yet?” he asked Sonny.

“I was just about to,” he said. “I did the ice cubes already.” 

“Great. Thanks, son,” he gave Sonny a firm pat on the back as Ms. Han sighed heavily. “He’s not your son,” she said. It seemed like they were always rehashing this.

“I know that. It’s a term of endearment,” Mr. Han said. “I don’t know why you have such a problem with it.”

“Because I swear you treat him better than you treat your actual children.”

He seemed to contemplate this. “He doesn’t disappoint me as often as they do.”

Ms. Han sighed again and Sonny unsubtly coughed and wiped at his mouth, trying to hide his smile. He hadn’t yet met any of their three adult children, but his master had told him plenty of things about them.

Ms. Han whipped her head around. “I can hear you laughing.”

The grin slid off his face. “Sorry, ma’am.”

———

His master and his friend Manuel were in the backyard admiring the new grill Mr. Han bought a few days ago. Mr. Han left Sonny with instructions to open the door for his two other friends who should be arriving shortly. “And for God’s sake,” his mistress had added, “Don’t let Klaus track mud inside the house.”

He had just finished vacuuming the living room carpet and was busy winding up the cord when there were a few rattling bangs at the door, like someone was slamming their entire fist against it. Sonny poked his head into the foyer. Through the slim frosted glass windows on either side of the door he could see the hazy silhouette of someone outside. They seemed to see him, too, or at least a blob of color that was him, because it looked like the silhouette waved. 

He opened the door, revealing the man on the doorstep. The first thing Sonny noticed was the large cowboy hat on his head. The man seemed a little taken aback to see him, dark eyebrows raised above his pale eyes. “Well, look who it is! You’re the new boy.” His nose was sharp and crooked, and he had a pale scar on his lip extending into his short brown beard, a mark where hair didn’t grow.

“Yessir, that’s me.” Sonny opened the door wider and stepped to the side. The man took this as an invitation to come in, stepping on the mat. Sonny eyed the streaks of mud left by his boots. This must be Klaus. “You can leave your shoes by the door, sir,” he said.

Klaus looked down at his boots. “Oh, yeah. They both got pissed at me last time.” He removed his hat and hung it on a row of hooks, then stepped out of his boots and kicked them to the side. Sonny resisted cringing at the scuff left on the wall. 

“Is Manny here already? I thought I saw his truck.” 

“Yes, sir. He’s in the back with Mr. Han. I can take you to them, if you’d like.”

“Nah, that’s alright.” He padded past Sonny in the direction of the living room. Sonny followed him.

“Would you like something to drink, sir?”

“I could go for a beer.”

Sonny went to retrieve one from the kitchen. Ms. Han was absent, and her charcuterie board was sitting in the fridge covered by a loose sheet of plastic wrap. When he returned to the living room, Klaus was reclined in one of the armchairs and had his feet up on the ottoman. His sock had a hole in it, revealing a small circle of white skin on the ball of his foot.

Sonny tried to hand him the beer, but Klaus didn’t extend his arm to meet him. It remained relaxed on the arm of the chair. Sonny had to step around the ottoman to press it into his waiting hand. 

As Sonny stepped backwards, Klaus suddenly jerked forward and his other hand shot out, pinching Sonny’s soft side. Sonny jumped away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His hand flew to cradle underneath his ribs where Klaus pinched him. It was still cold from the can of beer, cold enough to feel through his thin shirt.

Klaus was laughing. Sonny stared at his flashing white teeth. It reminded him of one of the handlers who liked to put his hands on him. He always found his startled reactions hilarious. Sonny could never stop his eyes from going wide. He still felt the phantom press of fingers.

“I’m just messin’ with ya,” Klaus said between laughs. “Don’t be mad at me.”

Sonny only backed away further, closer to the vacuum that was still sitting abandoned in the middle of the room. He needed to finish with the cord, then he could take it with him and leave.

Klaus seemed unvexed by his lack of response and pulled up the tab on his beer, cracking it open. He took his first sip, peering at Sonny over the can with his blue eyes. 

Sonny crouched and grabbed the cord, trying to conceal his shaking hand. 

“So,” Klaus said. “Do you have a name?”

“Mr. Han calls me Sonny,” he said without looking up. It wasn’t exactly his name. It was more like a nickname that stuck. Mr. Han took so long trying to decide what to name him that he never really ended up getting named at all. 

“Sunny? Like sunshine?”

“No sir,” Sonny said. “Like…” Like someone’s kid? “Spelled with an O.”

“Ahhh… empty nest syndrome.” A few months ago, before Sonny arrived, Mr. Han’s youngest child left for her first year at college all the way in California. Mr. Han had mentioned this offhand, then regarded Sonny strangely. “You’re probably about the same age,” is what hesaid. Sonny had been thinking the same thing. He imagined what it would be like if he was the one going to California instead. He tried picturing what it would be like to stand on the beach and see the Pacific Ocean with his own two eyes.

“So, what are you supposed to be? Like, a butler or something?”

“I’m a domestic companion trained to perform various household tasks.”

“Damn. Okay. Fancy.” Sonny finished looping the cord on the vacuum and heard Klaus take another sip of his drink. “I haven’t introduced myself yet,” he said. “I’m Klaus.” 

Sonny finally looked at him. He was holding his hand out like he expected Sonny to get up and shake it. Sonny made no move to do that. “C’mon,” Klaus said. “I promise I won’t pinch ya again.” He winked. 

Knowing it was incredibly rude to refuse a handshake, and that it was a punishable offense, Sonny resigned himself and rose to his feet. Just as he was about to cross the room, Mr. Han and Manuel entered. Klaus dropped his hand.

“Hey,” Mr. Han greeted. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Your pet opened the door for me.”

Sonny caught Manuel’s eyes bounce between them. “Are you being nice?” he asked.

Klaus shot him an exaggerated smile, showing off all of his weirdly white teeth. “Me and Sonny are getting along great. Ain’t that right, Sonny?”

An automatic, “Yes, sir.” Not really.

“Cute name, by the way,” Klaus said.

Manuel huffed and Mr. Han cast a sidelong glance at Sonny.Sonny hunched into himself a little, feeling like he shouldn’t have told Klaus. But what else could he have said?

“It’s a nickname,” said Mr. Han.

“Uh-huh.”

Three crisp knocks sounded through the house. All four of them perked up. “That must be Parsa,” Mr. Han said. To Sonny, “Would you get the door?”

Sonny dipped his head in a bow and obliged, heading to the foyer. He was grateful to escape the room, though he still needed to put that damn vacuum away. 

The sun had fully set since he let Klaus in, but the porch light was on. He could see Parsa’s dark silhouette through the window. He opened the door. 

The guy had to be at least six feet tall, if not taller, meaning Sonny had to tilt his head up to look him in the face. His deep-set eyes were in shadow, but Sonny could see them give him a once-over, bottom to top. He suppressed the shiver that wanted to wash over him. 

“Hello,” Parsa said. He looked over Sonny’s shoulder in the direction of the living room. The muffled voices of the others floated through. “Am I late?”

“No, sir. Mr. Klaus just arrived a few minutes ago.” Sonny stepped aside so Parsa could come in and shut the door behind him. Parsa slipped his shoes off without needing to be asked, neatly placing them beside Klaus’ mud-caked boots. He made no move to go further into the house. He just stood and watched Sonny, who was feeling more awkward by the second.

“The rest of them are in the living room,” he said.

“Hold on. I want to talk to you.” Oh, Jesus. “So you’re Dave’s new pet?”

“Yessir.”

“How much did he pay for you?”

“Uh.” That wasn’t a question he was expecting. “I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry. You could ask him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously I could ask him if I wanted to. What company do you come from? Are you from that W.R.U. place?”

“No, sir.” And thank God for that. Sonny had known a few transfers from there and the consensus seemed to be that their training was even worse than it was in the Barn, which Sonny had a hard time even imagining. That, and one of the W.R.U. guys he knew had a serious superiority complex. So fuck that guy. “I’m a product of W-Barn.”

Parsa’s head bobbed in a nod. “What’re you trained for?”

“I’m a domestic companion trained to perform various household tasks.”

“I see.” Parsa stared at him impassively for a few uncomfortable seconds. “You can call me Mr. Osman. Or Mr. Oz, for short. That’s what my own boy calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Osman it is. Sonny didn’t want to associate in any way with belonging to him. 

part 2

———

taglist: @ziptiesnfries

[velvetluna666]

The things that get him

A little emo fluff snippet I wrote while thinking about all of my beloved jjk men.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

It’s not just the obvious things—it’s all the little things too. It’s the way your nape looks from above, a faint sheen of sweat catching the low light of the bedroom at midnight, and how the strands of your hair stick to its contours. And how the deep red marks littering your skin, left by his hungry lips, peeks through your hair from various angles and positions. And it’s the wrinkles that suddenly appear in the sheets when he hits that perfect spot inside of you, making you claw at the fabric frantically—the sheets that smells like the both of you, even though it was freshly washed that morning.

It’s how your pretty voice breaks after getting out only the first syllable of his name because he suddenly buries himself deeper and it takes your breath away. And even if you can’t say the rest of his name, it drives him crazy, knowing that it’s his name on your lips—and only his.

It’s how you bite your lip, trying to quiet your sounds, embarrassed by how loud you’re being, or how you turn your head away and close your eyes because you’re self-conscious under his greedy gaze. And it only makes him adore you more when you inevitably give in to his coaxing, letting him hear your unabashed whines and cries, and your glossy eyes open to meet his that are equal parts reverent and feral. It fills him with pride that he can quiet the mean voices inside your head when he plays with your sensitive spots in the perfect way that only he knows how to. He can’t resist the urge to tease you when you suddenly shut up and your hips stutter, even though it’s driving him dangerously close to his edge too.

And no matter how many times he’s seen it, it’s beautiful—the way you come undone, and he can’t help but to follow. This alchemy between you feels as inevitable as gravity, as if it were written in the very laws of the universe, and he can't believe his luck.

And it’s how perfectly you fit into his arms, like you were his other half from the very beginning, and how you always end up curled up against him, like your body knows where it’s meant to be.

And it’s how no matter how much you two share—shampoo, soap, everything—you still smell like you. So he finds himself immediately smiling when he puts on his hoodie that you had been wearing around the house; and when he buries his face into your hair after a long trying day, his frayed nerves instantly settle.

It makes his chest tighten, how you smell like the home he’s always longed for, the one he never had. And though he may be a godless man, he would happily grovel at the feet of whatever force that brought him to you, his forever home.