#need him BAD :(((((

[stargirlrchive]

ROOMMATE!SIMON

cw: simon riley x fem!reader, he’s toxic

one - two - three - four

roommate!simon who purposely hides your things so you aren’t able to go out with other guys.

like he’ll steal your keys and purposely leave the house so you can call and ask him what time he’s gonna be home, so he can keep the door open for you.

just for him to tell you he isn’t going home for the night. and since he’s told you before he doesn’t feel comfortable having strangers over he knows you won’t invite anyone he hasn’t met before.

leaving you sad and lonely at home :((( just for a few hours to go by and he shows up, with your favorite food. using the excuse of ‘know how sad you were gonna be that you couldn’t go out. so i decided to come home and spend time with my best girl.’

and you fall for it every time.

(your keys appearing like 20 minutes after he’s home but that’s toooootally just a weird coincidence)

[cyber333angel]

SOMONO WITH LOGAN HOWLETT you laid peacefully on logans bed sleeping, the blankets covering only just a bit of your thighs as you hugged the pillow tightly. enjoying your slumber as if half of your ass wasn’t exposed in your tiny sleep shorts just tempting your boyfriend anytime he walked by the door.

he contemplated on what to do, walking back and forth with a semi hard bulge in his pants not knowing if he should wait for you to wake up or just play with you a little bit while you slept so he didn’t interrupt your rest. the decision was especially hard because he had just got back from a failed mission so he just wanted to let out a little steam on his favorite girl. however, logan was not a very patient man, he liked to get things done immediately when he could. so naturally with you, he could only give into the temptation.

and that’s how you woke up with your panties pushed to the side with logans cock buried deep inside your cunt. your pussy just swallowing up all of his thick length as you stirred awake from the sudden pleasure. you hear pants and deep growls of “fuck..” behind you as your boyfriend gripped the fat of your ass tightly. you slur out a whine to the man, “mm lo-logan!” and he wasn’t surprised that you woke up — honestly he expected you to wake up much sooner from the rough pace that he was going at. “you up baby? you were sleeping so nicely I didn’t want to wake you sweetheart, I hope you don’t mind.” and of course you didn’t mind, this was an amazing way to wake up from a nap. “s’okay daddy..but slow down a bit.” hearing a deep grumble from him, a little reminder that he taught to you about how to talk to him with manners.

“p-please..!” logan chuckled at you with a wide grin, “atta girl.” with that he softens up his pace with slower thrust, sliding in and out of your sopping hole letting you feel every sensation. how wide he stretches your cunt out, the echos around the room coming from the slick in between your legs along with the grunts and low growls from logan. not long after logan felt himself on the verge of cumming, mumbling to himself as he got faster trying to to chase his climax. “m’gonna cum daddy..!” you cried. the man behind you nods “me too fuck…give it to me baby c’mon.” the feeling of logan trying to bury himself as deep as he can into your cunt has your legs twitching in the bed, he makes sure that your hole is painted with his cum. with this he has you panting below him, beads of sweat at his forehead. the climax taking energy out of you even with your long nap. suddenly you feel the touch of your boyfriends rough hand, softly grip your throat and bring your head closer up to his head. he whispers “good girl.” as he leave a sweet kiss on the top of your forehead.

[bruisedboys]

thinking about finnick odair and casual dominance !!

him taking your jewellery off for you before you sleep because you always forget to, and even if you do remember he’ll always offer to help. (he likes how his fingers on your skin always result in goosebumps and a shiver you can’t quite hide.)

him retrieving things off high shelves when you can’t quite reach them, a hand on you lower back as he stands behind you, easily snagging whatever you wanted and handing it to you with a lopsided smile. the soft “thank you, finnick,” you give him is enough to make his heart swoop.

him making sure you’re eating and drinking properly, and then making you something to eat if you haven’t. speaking of, he always wants to do all the chores while you “sit there and look pretty for me, sweetheart.” and if you try to help he’ll just manhandle you back to your seat, hands firm on your shoulders. “do you ever listen?” he’ll ask you, a brow quirked, something like affectionate amusement in his smile.

he’s a little bossy but only because he cares! and you don’t mind it very much (or at all, really) you kinda like when he tells you what to do <3

[wilson-md]

wilsoncore

[rafey-baby]

the way he slapped his cheek in this scene with that condescending ass tone was so unnecessarily hot…like this side of rafe will forever be my fave idc

[ongshimi]

dongsik’s smile throughout beyond evil (2021)

[whosjunglejim4322]

Home, at last - Tangerine

Warnings: mentions of BLOOD & ANGST And tooth rotting FLUFF because (canonically he is a loverboy TO ME and it is important to ME), mentions of murder, because well yeah...uhm anyways, Tan doesn't know you know but you know. You know?, Lemon is in deep shit (he just doesn't know it yet), domesticity bc once again (it is important to MEEEE)

He's the only one other than yourself that has a key. It doesn't frighten you when you hear the jingling in the doorknob, or the rough, slow scuff of boots against your creaking apartment floor. You've grown accustomed to the rhythm. Of his footsteps, of the heat of his body when he crawls into bed.

You don't ask questions.Tangerine has proven to be a friend, a provider, a committed lover. If and when he can. It's all you've ever asked of him. And all he's asked of you is to welcome him with warm, comforting arms when it's late and he needs a place to get proper rest that doesn't leave him waking up with a paranoia that he might get got. You know?

In the two years that you've had this arrangement, he's been a perfect gentleman. He never comes in your home bloodied or battered, save for the occasional bruising or stitch. Usually well beyond healed, or close to it. Never wakes you up intentionally. Makes sure to kiss you goodbye in the morning if he has to leave early.

From this, a routine has been born.

Keys clink behind your door, the knob being gripped with heavy hands and then turned before the door creaks open. A shuffle of sorts, his boots coming off with the roughness of his heel prying the other shoe off instead of just untying the laces.

You're roused from your sleep, limbs buzzing as you stretch your fatigued muscles. You sit up, tired eyes adjusting to the dark. You're hazy from sleep. You expect him to come in at any moment, to lazily push the door open and begin stripping his clothes that he then folds and places on the nightstand next to his assigned spot on the bed.

Why do you take your shoes off like that but fold your clothes when you take them off? Makes no sense.

He's heard it so many times that while the first syllable is rolling off of your tongue, he knows what you're going to say.

But the moment doesn't come. The silence is all you hear, and for a moment you wonder if you've been missing him so much that you've fully hallucinated his arrival. God.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing away the bleary feeling and the spots that cloud your vision from staring into the dark for too long. The covers are suddenly too heavy and your throat aches with the need for hydration.

It takes genuine effort to pull yourself out of bed still. You grab your phone from the nightstand on your side, 2:00 AM.

Your fuzzy slippers scuff against the floor as you walk towards the door, you've still never learned to pick your feet all the way up. The small hallway smells of the caramel wax melts you had burning in your kitchen just before you went to bed, and lingers as you round the corridor.

"Fuck!"

It's whispered to yourself in a moment of panic, not anticipating the hulking silhouette on your old sofa, splayed out with one leg perched on the back and the other dangling off of the side. Your hands are clutched to your collarbones, more specifically to your metaphorical pearls.

It's him, of course. No mistaking it. But he's not snoring obnoxiously, and his head lifts just enough for you to see messy curls bounce against his forehead in the pale light of the moon that streams from your balcony windows.

"You scared the shit out of me," you're still whispering. For whatever reason. "why are you in here? Come to bed."

As you get closer, the scent of dirt and the unmistakable twinge of blood clouds the caramel wax melts. That concerns you. The scent shouldn't be that strong. And Tang would never come here if he were that badly hurt. Wouldn't want to worry you. Right?

"M'sorry. Didn't know know where else to go."

Your heart sinks to the depths of your stomach. His voice sounds hoarse, forlorn. You're moving towards him within the blink of his blackened eyelids, throwing yourself on your knees and finally sobering to the reality of the scene before you.

"Oh my god, you're hurt."

He chuckles sorely, and the shaking of your hands intensifies.

"Just got the taste beat out of my mouth darlin', that's all. No open wounds."

You reach towards the coffee table to turn the quaint old lamp on. You love antiques, must be why you keep me around. He'd say.

"Oh, how relieving Tan, Fuck."

He wasn't lying. He's more battered than you've ever seen him, pale skin colored purple and blue with splotches of crimson across his face and knuckles and forearms and - if there's no open wounds this must not be his blood.

The look in your eyes causes his ribs to ache more than they already are, like he's being kicked with someone's fucking steel toes all over again. You're scared. And he's not sure if it's for him or because of him.

In his right mind, he wouldn't have let you see him like this. But he's never in his right mind when it comes to you. Not ever.

"I'm gonna get the first aid kit. I don't know what else to do. Obviously you should go to the hospital but no, why would you do that? That's what any sane person would do-" you rise from your kneeled position, rambling like a mad woman. You're distressed beyond belief, taking a sharp breath in of surprise when he grasps your wrist. It doesn't keep you from getting up like he thought, and you slip through his fingertips.

"I mean what the fuck is this? You're hurt. You're hurt bad." You're angry now, tripping on your way to the kitchen, loudly rummaging underneath the kitchen sink.

"I'm sorry love, ah shit, I really am-" he sits up, clutching his abdomen.

"I don't need you to be sorry," you're running back with the kit, unzipping the pack and throwing supplies on the table with as much grace as a circus clown. "I just need you to be okay."

Your trembling hands attempt to unscrew the antiseptic, but the sudden tears streaming from your eyes blur your vision. You wipe them away viciously with the back of your hand, over and over till your face stings.

"Hey, hey." He's firm in his tone.

Two calloused palms blanket the top of your knuckles. It's a silent reminder that he's here. He's whole. He's home. You look up at him and it genuinely takes your breath away. Like the bruises and scrapes aren't even there anymore. Like the smoke has been whisked away from your vision.

Crystalline irises, plush pink lips, a mustache that desperately needs to be trimmed. You're in awe, and the feeling never really goes away. You rise from your kneeled position, climbing beside him with the antiseptic and handful of cotton rounds clutched to your chest like a vice.

You calm yourself, examining his face. It feels obscene, forbidden to see him like this. It's like a sucker punch to the gut. You're a little bewildered at the fact that he's still one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen.

He rests his back against the couch, officially surrendering. You push his wild tufts of hair back, and as your nails scrape his scalp his head lulls with the movement. Your hands are a prophecy, and he is being fulfilled in earnest like this. Silence drowns the space between you two while your tears dry. It's welcoming. He drifts in and out of consciousness as you dab and wipe at his face.

You're taking care of him like he's the most precious thing that exists. It's an encapsulation of affection and tenderness, one he's never known in his life. Not from a mother, nor a lover for that matter. A couple years ago, the thought would make him sick. Letting anyone that close? That would be suicide. But with you it is wholeheartedly redemption. His eyelids flutter open and closed, open and closed, dark lashes kissing his cheekbones.

Ten, twenty, thirty cotton rounds. He's lost count, and the heap of them soaked in alcohol and blood on the floor is unguessable.

"Here. Take it."

"Hmm? Oh, thank you."

He throws back the four Tylenol and gulps down the glass of water, sighing in relief at the welcome of hydration and the erasure of copper in his mouth. He attempts to wipe the stray droplets from his mouth and chin, but your soft hands clap his thick wrists and place them in your lap. He keeps them there.

And before he can blink again, your warm lips touch his.

Over and over, gently, serenely.

Slowly you move from his cupids bow to the high arches of his now blemished cheeks, his forehead, between his relaxed brows. If a human body could melt from touch, he'd be a puddle of the goopiest, grossest most lovesick flesh known to man. Maybe the only one known to man. He hasn't checked the stats on spontaneous combustion as of late.

"If the other guy isn't dead already, I'll kill him myself."

Inhale once. Exhale once. Or is it inhale twice, exhale three times? He's forgotten how to breathe. Ringing fills his ears and only dissipates when the thundering of his heart becomes so loud that's the only thing he can hear.

"Sorry, come again?"

It doesn't even sound like him, and maybe under different circumstances you'd even chuckle and tease him about it. His voice breaks and everything.

Blue irises become obsidian in shock. Jaw slack as he stares at you. Your fingers begin undoing his dirty dress shirt, starting underneath the two that are already undone. You can already see the blossoms of blue and purple the more his skin is revealed, and your stomach turns uncomfortably.

"Throwing this in the whites basket." You say, as if he's even remotely concerned with why you're stripping him out of his clothing. He watches with a sort of wonder, a curiosity as to how this conversation is going to go. A fear twists deep in his gut, like a jagged blade. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows, and he realizes that he's scared.

This feeling he's struck with, is actual fear.

"Last year. That trip to Sydney you took with Lemon." You're down to the last few buttons, offering the beginnings of an explanation so he can stop staring at you like you've just killed his puppy.

"He sent the confirmation photo to the wrong person. Me. You were uh...behind the uhm...the guy. On the floor. Your lower half was behind him, anyways."

You pull the garment off of his broad shoulders, and luckily it's already untucked so it's easy to pull it off of his body with the way he's sitting. You toss it behind you, intending to worry about it at a later time. You're not sure if he's even breathing anymore. The rise and fall of his chest has lessened exponentially.

He's deathly still.

"Grandpa was in Special Forces. When I was a kid, my cousins and I would ask him how many people he'd killed. Of course we were too young to know how extremely fucking inappropriate it was to ask a veteran about the people he'd shot."

You smile at the memory, only because of the irony. This specific moment in time, under these circumstances. Your fingertips graze over the valleys of muscle, the ridges of tendon underneath his skin. It's hard not to get distracted.

"I don't think you're innocent. But I...I don't think the people you're killing are entirely innocent, either, you know? I mean, if you're an assassin, it's not your job to go after the good guys."

You finally look up to meet his eyes. You're not sure what you expected. A deer in headlights, a moth to a flame, a lamb in the lions den. Maybe all of them combined. A reverence washes over him like cool water, and the air between you two is as still as steady water.

"Are y'gonna leave me?"

It's the first thing he says. And it doesn't come from a conscious part of himself. If he were in any rational state of mind he'd be yelling, screaming, maybe not at you but at the mere thought of his brother fucking up that badly, not only risking his career but...but you? You. No no that's too much to bear. It doesn't even seem like it should exist in his realm of thoughts, or reality at all. It's excrutiating.

So yes, the first words out of his mouth are uttered with the voice of someone Tangerine hasn't been in a very long time. Someone who's vulnerable. Someone who actually has something to lose. Someone who can't fathom the thought of being abandoned, but more so, being without your presence in his life.

And just like the angel you are, you cup his face in your hands. Delicately, as if you're not holding a killer in your hands.

"No, silly. I think if I was going to do that I’d have done it already.” You push the sweat dampened curls from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. He looks so incredibly vulnerable. Somewhat innocent in the unintentional pout of his bottom lip.

The blood has finally returned to his face, to his limbs. It's like he's a tin man slowly being oiled in all the right places until he can move and function correctly, normally. A small part of him is still waiting for you to run away.

His world isn’t sweet. It isn’t soft. It isn’t kind or understanding. So this is all sort of perplexing for him, accepting that you’re here, still.

You stay right where you are, and his hands reach out feverishly to pull you closer, closer, closer. You're spreading your thighs and stretching your legs so that he can seat you on his lap - big, strong arms holding you like he's never received affection before. Or been able to give it at all, for that matter.

"You knew. All this time? Un'fuckin believable."

You lean in to kiss him once again, but he meets you halfway - consumed within the feeling of your love, your tenderness.

He stares up at you with stars in his eyes, breathless to the full extent.

He has never had a real home. But he's realized, on this thrifted sofa in a room that smells like you and caramels, that he's found it in his arms.

[carefree-melanin]

So which one of yall writing the Alex Cross fics because I need it

[dipperscavern]

I need Cregan tryna kiss his wife but his big (sexy sexy) nose means sometimes clumsy lil kisses and bumping noses, especially if it's a brief kiss or one that leads to THE THROES OF PASSION

brief kisses of departure that are rushed & clumsy & sometimes he pulls you back to him to kiss you properly (and makes you late)

ugh clumsy kisses because you both want each other so bad you don’t know what to do with yourself !! FAWK

[homesick4la]

YUP chase be feeding us fr😇😇😇

[pedroscurls]

I CAN FIX HIM YOUR HONOR (i am so fucking obsessed with this character - hugh plays such a good bad / toxic character)

[nottsangel]

save me dealer!theo save me

[sejanusfan]

Josh Andrés Rivera as Sejanus Plinth in The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023)

[avidhorrormoviefan]

wayne mccullough nsfw alphabet!!

i kinda got carried away and just kept adding stuff so haha yeah you’re welcome

alright before we start this off i just wanna say that wayne was so so very awkward during the beginning of your relationship but now he’s loosened up and so comfortable w you

alright here ya go

characters are 18+!!!

smut under cut

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

- he loovvvees taking care of you after sex. like he always has water on hand ready to give to you if you want it. he’ll get a cloth of you need it. he also just kisses all over your body telling you how much he loves you over and over

B - Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

- he likes his hands and arms. watching his fingers disappear inside of you over and over again mixed with the sounds that you and your pussy makes drives him up the fucking wall

- he sticks his thumb in your mouth

- when he starts to get tired and his head slumps down into your neck and you see his shoulder n back muscles………

- he loves your whole body, just the fact that he has it all to himself is wild to him

- but he does like your hips and thighs in particular though, like when he eats you out and he can just dig his hands into your skin???

- and also when he can see himself in your stomach phewwwww

- man he’ll just stare at it moving inside of you

- “fuck, is that me?” you look down to where he’s staring, seeing a bulge in your stomach from his dick.

- “yeah-yeah that’s you, wayne…” he does something impulsive and presses his hand flat against it and you moan out unexpectedly.

- “holy fuck…”

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

- when you go without a condom (wrap it b4 u tap it) he cums on your stomach or back for “easy cleanup” and totally not bc he loves backshots

- but when you’re sucking him off and he cums and some slips out of the corners of your mouth and down your jaw and throat and seeing that j gets him hard again

D - Dirty secret (A dirty secret of theirs)

- he wants to bend you over a desk or counter don’t ask me how i know

- or doggy??? he wants to see the arch in your back so fuckin bad

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

- he’s only been with you so he doesn’t really have any experience

- you’re his first everything

- it’s kind of self explanatory to him so he knows where everything goes

- he just doesn’t know what to do to add that extra layer of pleasure for you, so he has you touch yourself and puts his hand on top of yours to see what he can do to make you feel sooo good

- and fuck is he good at it

- “like that?” he says innocently as he moves his hands though your folds just right

- “fuck, fuck yeah like that…” you say lulling your head back onto the pillow behind you, moaning out as he does it over and over

F - Favorite position

- anything where he can see your face. he loves when you make faces for him

- he also loves when you make eye contact, it makes it more intimate

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

- he’s rather serious bc it’s such an intimate moment between you two

- buttttt, when you both get real into it yall go hard?? fuuuck he gets into itttt

- “yeah? you like that?”

- he can get goofy though like when he realizes what he’s doing he can laugh a bit maybe

- he can also make fun of your moans, mocking them when he’s more dominant

- “like it so much you’re fuckin droolin, yeah? fuckin whore…”

H - Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

- he’s not that bad just a bush around the base

- and he doesn’t care about your hair at all, like honestly as long as you’re happy and comfortable so is he

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect.)

- oh is he romantic

- sometimes he sets things up w flowers n shit all cheesy but you both love it. it shows he really cares and its so fucking cute

- makes you cum every time is all i gotta say. that’s his main goal, just make you feel good

- there’s nowhere else to put this so i’ll put it here, he puts his hand in the back pocket of your jeans please help me why do i do this to myself

J - Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

- he was never really the type to jerk off a lot but he did enjoy the few times he was alone

- but now that he has you he doesn’t really have to

- but when you’re not with him for long enough he jerks off but it’s never as good as the real thing with you

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

- BLOOD KINK PAIN KINK KNIFE KINK MY GUY IS A MASOCHIST

- ok one by one

- blood kink: he loves seeing either one of you bleeding in bed, he loves the taste, the sound when you wince for him, you bet you’re covered in scars that only he can see. OH MY GOD sometimes he cuts his fingers or thumb n sticks them in your mouth, saliva mixed with either of your blood at this point dripping down the sides of your mouth and down his hand

- knife kink: I MEAN COME ON??

- pain kink: goes w the last two but come onnnn. you see how much he gets beaten up for fun you can’t tell me he doesn’t get off on it a bit

- PULL HIS HAIR TRUSTTTT

- praise + degradation, he wants to be called a good boy what can i say

- choking is a big one, when he’s fucking you missionary and his hand travels from beside your head and onto your throat, he’ll squeeze just enough to feel your pulse

- he can also feel every single sound coming from your throat when he chokes you and he loves it

L - Location (Favorite places to do things)

- fucking anywhere and i mean it. the bed, the floor, the couch, the shower, a bathtub, a car, a fucking alley. anywhere kinda private, he’ll take you wherever

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

- always in the mood, he’s a teenage boy, but when you’re in the mood? just pushes him further

- whenever he gets mad though, you’re in for quite the night ahead of you. fuckin pounding into you like nobody’s business and saying the most outrageous stuff in your ear especially after he gets beaten up bad

N - No (Turn offs, things they refuse to do)

- i mean he’s down to try anything once but maybe not pegging

O - Oral (Preference in receiving or giving, skill, etc)

- he loooovvveeeessss oral like omfg

- he’s so good at it lemme tell you

- he really doesn’t have a preference, whatever yall are in the mood to do he’ll do

- he fucks you w his tongue every fucking time

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

- depends on how he’s feeling but usually he’s somewhere in the middle

- he’s fast and rough when he’s mad or just feeling more in the fucking mood

- he’s slow when he wants to just be with you in the moment

- you love both sides of him

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

- he doesn’t mind a quickie here and there but he loves proper sex

- he loves the foreplay leading up to it and the closeness + aftercare, he’s very sentimental

- but a quickies always good for when you’re on the run and have time

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

- down to try anything once 🤷‍♀️

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

- he can go for a while sometimes three or four if he’s real pent up but usually just one or two

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

- nope not really but if you have one he’ll sheepishly ask you how it’s used and you’ll show him and it inevitably turns him on and says “fuck that, i can do it much better,” and fucks you much better

U - Unfair (How much they like to tease)

- he likes to tease you just to see how far you’ll let it go, like only circling ur clit and not going anywhere from there.

- sometimes he’ll go into the bathroom w you when he knows there’s nobody else is in there and he’ll kiss your neck and maybe play w your pussy over your clothes and get you all worked up then stop

- “fucking every time?”

- “yeah.”

- off topic but speaking of bathrooms, once when yall were in the bathroom together and someone knocked he yelled “fuckin occupied” while going down on you. hot as fuck.

V - Volume (How loud are they, what sounds they make)

- he’s actually pretty loud

- he’s more of a moaning and grunting kind of guy but sometimes he’ll whimper when he’s trying to be quiet and it’s so nice bc you can hear how much he wants to be loud but doesn’t want to get caught :(

W - Wild card

- he calls you “ma” sometimes, both in and out of bed

- he doesn’t know where it came from but one day he was like “you want anything from the gas station, ma?” and you never questioned it and it stuck

- in bed he’s like “ma, please enough with the teasin”

- “needja bad, ma, please” all whiny n shit too

- shit like that AUHHHHH

- he’s a talker in bed

- “come on, one more f’me.. i know you can do it, baby”

- whenever you say his name in bed it gets him even more worked up

- “fuck wayne, please…” you don’t even know what your asking for at this point, his dick is so far in you and you’ve came already but he’s making you feel so good you just want more.

- and you KNOW his accent gets so much stronger like cmon

- oh and he follows you around like a fuckin dog, and wherever you need him for absolutely anything, he’s always in a 5 foot radius

X - X-Ray (What's hiding under the clothes)

- he’s a good 6-7 inches and does he use it well

- he’s well toned but not buff, he’s got abs and when he noticed you staring he flexes and you get all flustered and he loves it, smirking and laughing a bit when you turn away

- when you’re fucking, his stomach and arms flex and you can see every indent of his abs and biceps

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

- again he’s a teenage boy so his sex drive is pretty high

- he wants to be with you 24/7 and when he is he always has a hand on you never letting you go

- when you get in the mood you find him in the house and sit next to him, after a bit maybe move your leg on top of his, and this catches his attention from whatever he was doing. still not fully paying attention to you, you sigh and move to straddle his lap, fully taking his attention

- “what’s up” he laughs a bit

- “haven’t seen ya all day. missed ya” you say playing with his hair on the back of his neck

- “oh yeah?” he smirks, putting his hands on your hips, moving them up to your waist and down your thighs

- “yeah..” he slides his hands up to your waistband and hooks two fingers in them

- you tug on his hair, making his head jerk back and a grunt fall from his lips, smirk still plastered across his face.

- “you gonna do somethin about it?”

- and yall fuck right there on the couch

Z - Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- he’s pretty good about not falling asleep right away, he wants to take care of you first before thinking about himself.

- you fall asleep in his arms after he gets you two cleaned up and he’s right there after you

——

ty for reading!! this was so much fun to write omgg

i’m probably gonna make a fic out of some of these bc wayne is taking up my every thought help

also happy 2024!

[anilovie]

Anakin loves the softness of your thighs, the inner parts especially.

his touch gravitates for the crease that forms between your thighs and hips when your legs bend, long fingers spread out over your thigh, squeezing softly, stroking the skin, obsessed with your warm, velvety flesh.

He especially loves when his head is between them and he can kiss the baby soft skin all over, suck it into his mouth, bite it. God, he has to be careful with that or he’ll easily go overboard, might hurt you. But he nibbles, teeth scraping the sensitive skin, drawing a path down your thighs like he’s ready to tear you right open— but then he kisses. Just kisses, lips as equally soft as your skin, tongue laving out to collect your smooth taste.

The squish of your flesh over his ears when it feels too good and you can’t hold ‘em open anymore, blocking out the rest of the world from his head— he goes a little insane. It’s quite therapeutic in a way… like it could fix him. Or make him worse.

Surround him with your softness, pull him in with your soft thighs, block out the rest of the world, never let him leave. He’d gladly suffocate right there, if you never let him go, fingers digging into your plush hips , teeth skimming , begging to break through smooth, thin skin that smells so much like you.

and fuck — don’t even get him started on what lies in between.

[nakedinthetrees]

The way he looks at us!!!

Literally kicking my feet like, “EEEE HI BAE😍✨✨”