#licks him

[dawnofiight]

Day 9 Redactober: Christian

Chains

Yes my Christian sort of looks like zuko from ATLA shut up

Taglist because I actually sort of like this one:

@achios

@ashertickler

@astrodude-87

@aurorialwolf

@dukecollinsbf

@idontdomathlol

@indigo-greer-collins

@infinitelovewiithoutfulfilmentt

@moronkyne

@pandoraroid

@porters-fangs

@plaqying

@nevaroonie

@puffin-smoke

@sereh624

@skunkox

@s0lairee

@starlogician

@sunsickcrab

@themeridian

@tunacatfishes

@vind3miat0r

@www-dot-why-are-you-here-dot-com

@zimix-whispers

Damn that's a lot of people

[poppy-metal]

HAVE YOU SEEN THESE??!

when he puts his cigarette out on my ass

[laikuh]

also holding a very sharp image in my head of john, probably drunk, cornering dean against a wall and roughly shoving his shirt up and grinding against his ass and shoving his nose in dean's neck and gripping his hips and dean gasping and sighing and john just releasing immediately and stumbling away and dean's brain is like wow this is what it's like to be in love.

[enden-k]

YESSSS HAHAH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[huenistar]

rewatched this todo episode and this sonic gif is literally me

[squiddlebarf]

Hi can we get my fursona to two (2) likes

[gifsofhubris-a]

Harold Lindsay-Jones

[pigeon-in-anguish]

Sometimes I think about his absurdly hot Charles is with the sides of his head shaved, and I kick my feet in the air and giggle

[maimndevour]

almost said “love my boyfriend”…. he’s not my boyfriend :/

[pangur-and-grim]

Grim let Belphegor share her churro, which was very, very kind of her

[benevolenterrancy]

additional thoughts on why they had better stick to sword drills: Liu Qingge would doki-doki himself into a qi deviation and Shen "middle sibling" Qingqiu would immediately ruin his ~aloof immortal~ persona

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Actually, the bars aren't so bad anymore.

Think you can fix him? Read about his care instructions over at Tiger Tiger)

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki hides his face in your neck when he gets embarrassed. that’s it send tweet.

[freyaphoria]

I can't stand his slutty waist and his slutty attitude anymore I AM NOT SORRY

[shotmrmiller]

those few first initial thrusts at the beginning, the ones where the guy gives that sigh of almost relief as his hands tighten around you, fingers dimpling your skin, eyes glued to where you two meet absolutely lost in the sauce makes my head spin because simon savors nothing. not the smokes he puffs down to the filter in less than a minute, the energy drinks he guzzles down more than he does water, not even the damn food. if he could just swallow it whole without risking death he would but you (and your pussy)???

like the guys sitting around a safe house waiting for dawn to break to exfil and they're just talking about what they miss about home the most. they all say generic stuff, miss their beds, pets, family, whatever so when it's simon's turn they all assume it's food because he's talking about a specific little burger joint that, in their opinion, sounds like a hovel, but no one's ever thought simon has sane taste but then when kyle asks him what does he like off the menu the most his eyebrows furrow and he looks almost repulsed.

because he is.

"the food's bloody terrible. couldn't make me eat there even if it was the last place on earth."

no, he explains, my bird makes up for it. best damn pussy he's ever ate.