#soft soft bois

[clickerflight]

Clove: Part 9 - Traveling Merchant

Masterlist

Part 8

THE BOYS HAVE RETURNED!!! This is a pretty soft snippet today. I love pampering Hyrum.

Content: Cronic pain issues, healing, social anxiety

Pretty soft one today for sure. Let me know if you want to be on the tag list

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Hyrum’s tail thumped against the table as he leaned against the back of the kitchen chair, on his knees as he watched Ephraim cut up vegetables and put them in the pot that bubbled on the stove. Ephraim kept glancing back at him, eyes glimmering with amusement. 

Hyrum liked to watch Ephraim cook. He liked having porridge and berries for breakfast still, and he usually traded between sandwiches and bread pudding for lunch, but dinner was a special affair. Ephraim made something new every night for Hyrum to try, and tonight he was making something called stew. He’d put chunks of meat in it and everything, and Hyrum was doing his best not to drool on the floor, his tail thumping against the table even harder. 

He shifted down onto the chair a bit more, despite the excitement egging him on to watch closer as Ephraim stirred everything together in the pot. His legs were beginning to ache deep down from the pressure so he needed to move to try and get them to feel better. 

“I should be done soon,” Ephraim said, turning to Hyrum with a broad smile that sent curls of joy through his chest. “Do you want some bread while you wait?”

Hyrum shook his head. He didn’t want to spoil his appetite. The stew smelled so wonderful he wanted to be able to eat as much of it as he could. 

Ephraim ran a hand through Hyrum’s hair and the werewolf leaned into it. His hair was smoother and shinier now, waves beginning to form in it as it grew healthy again. 

“How about we go work on that quilt, hmm?” Ephraim suggested. “Time will go faster than waiting in here for it to be done.”

Hyrum nodded and padded along after Ephraim, heading to the craft room where the quilt was set up. Ephraim picked up a needle from where it had been sitting on the fabric, already strung with yarn and started sending it in and out of the chalked in dots, tying knots at each one before moving on. 

Hyrum went to his side where his needle was. He hadn’t gotten as far as Ephraim had as his fingers weren’t as good as Ephraim’s. The vampire had promised Hyrum that his fingers would heal eventually, but it was really annoying while he had to wait.

Still, he did notice an improvement as he poked the needle down through, and then up again, using his other hand to make sure that the yarn didn’t knot up underneath. 

“Goldenrod.”

Hyrum looked up expectantly, his tail swishing back and forth behind himself still. 

Ephraim smiled and said, “After dinner I’m planning on going down to the village. The traveling merchant should be here by now so we can see if they have some things for you. Do you want to come with me and help me pick out your clothes?”

“Really?” Hyrum asked. He nearly shouted out his agreement when it struck him that they would be going down into the village. His tail slowly came to a stop and he looked down, fidgeting with the yarn. “Is it safe?”

“Oh yes. It’s very safe. There are some other wolves down in the village too. They might want to introduce themselves… would you be up for that?”

Hyrum bit his lip. He wasn’t sure about going down to the village. It sounded dangerous. Jack had always drilled it into his head that if anyone saw Hyrum, they would try and kill him, but… Ephraim told the truth more often than not as far as Hyrum could tell. He was even right in how to make a weapon stronger, despite the way Jack proclaimed himself to be the best weapon maker in the kingdom. 

And if Hyrum was going to be Ephraim’s weapon, then he certainly could be strong enough to go down to the village with him!

“I want to go,” Hyrum said with a determined nod, going back to sewing. 

“Alright. And if you change your mind, let me know. I know it’s almost bedtime so I don’t want to make you do too much if you’re tired.”

Hyrum smiled to himself. He had been feeling less and less tired as of late, and he was sure he could handle a walk down to the village. He tried not to think about how there would be people who would want to talk to him though. How was he supposed to address them? Would they want him to talk to them, or would they just want to look at him like some of Jack’s friends did. That was the only bad thing about living with Ephraim. Things were so unpredictable and Hyrum didn’t know how to handle half of it, but Ephraim was patient with him and explained things until he understood, so he wasn’t too worried. 

An unbidden thought popped into his mind that surprised him enough he stopped sewing again. I suppose I could just ask him. 

Hyrum pondered over the thought and realized it was true. He was confused about something, he didn’t know how he would handle a situation that he knew was coming, and he could easily ask Ephraim about it before the vampire eventually noticed he was confused and explained it for him anyways. All he had to do was ask, and Ephraim practically beamed everytime Hyrum asked him a question. 

Hyrum opened his mouth to do just that when Ephraim lifted his nose, closing his eyes. Hyrum did so as well, curious and opened them again to see Ephraim leaving the room. “Dinner’s ready, sweetheart.”

Hyrum followed quickly, the question blown out of his mind over the thought of food. He sat down as Ephraim ladled some stew into a bowl for him. 

“Be careful,” Ephraim warned. “It’s hot.”

“Oh,” Hyrum said, picking up his spoon. He lifted a chunk of meat out and touched it to his lips. It was hot so he backed off, licking his lips. The flavor of the residue was heavenly, though, and it took all of the werewolf’s self control to not just take the burning cube into his mouth. 

Ephraim smiled and spooned some food up for himself, blowing on it for a moment before eating it. 

Delighted for an answer, Hyrum blew on his like Ephraim did, carefully. He waited a moment, blew on it one more time for good measure which got a little chuckle out of Ephraim, and then put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes as the meat pretty much melted in his mouth, and his tail thumped heavily against the chair again as he savored it. 

Ephraim was done before Hyrum was as the werewolf made sure that each bite wouldn’t burn him before standing up and putting his bowl in the kitchen basin. 

“Alright,” Ephraim said, walking over to the door where he put on his gardening boots. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Hyrum said, coming to stand by him. 

Ephraim grabbed his sun hat and they stepped outside. It was late morning now, nearly bedtime for the vampire and werewolf, despite the pull Hyrum had to stay up and run around. He was glad for the chance to go with Ephraim outside. The sun soaked into the overlarge garments Hyrum was wearing, and he twisted the fabric to pull it closer against his skin, enjoying the warmth. 

As they got to the steepest part of the hill, Hyrum was having a hard time staying steady on his feet. His legs, despite feeling much better, still always ached and the fact that he couldn’t feel the bottoms of his feet made it difficult for him to stay balanced on inclined slopes. 

Ephraim slowed down and held out a hand for Hyrum, and the werewolf took it with both of his as he stumbled. 

Ephraim walked slowly with Hyrum, keeping him steady as they went. Halfway down the hill, Hyrum looked up from his feet to the little village sprawled below and remembered the question he was going to ask. 

“Erm… Ephraim?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What, um, what do I do if people talk to me?”

Ephraim looked down at him, a little surprised, but his smile came back just like it always did. 

“Right, sorry. I should have, ah. Well, when someone sees you they’re likely to ask you your name.”

“And I tell them?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Ephraim said. 

“Can I tell them my name is Goldenrod?” he asked eagerly. 

Ephraim smiled. “Sure. You can definitely tell them that. And then they might ask you about your day and you can tell them. If you get tired I’ll let them know, okay? If you're overwhelmed, I’ll jump in.”

“Okay,” Hyrum said, relaxing a little.

“And if the werewolves come over,” Ephraim continued, which made Hyrum tense up again, sensing this was going to be a little more complicated. “They’ll probably want to smell you first and you can smell them back. They’ll be really excited to meet you so they might be a bit much, but I’ll try and let them know to calm down, okay?”

“Okay,” Hyrum replied and Ephraim smiled.

“I’m actually pretty excited about this. The villagers have been asking about you. I told them a little about what happened and they have actually been a huge help getting me some extra food for you,” Ephraim said as they reached the bottom of the hill where the path went from tramped down grass to dirt. “They’ll love you.”

Hyrum puffed up under Ephraim’s arm, warm and happy as they made their way past the first building. 

There were people gathered around a large cart with two huge animals hooked up to the front of it, stamping hard feet and throwing back huge heads with long manes. 

“What are those?” Hyrum asked, trying not to imagine how much it would hurt to have one of them stomp his toes. 

“Those are horses. They’re pretty friendly, but try not to stand behind them. They can kick when they get frightened,” Ephraim said soothingly, though that didn’t make Hyrum feel all that much better. 

As they approached the cart, people turned and Hyrum did not miss the way their eyes lit up when they saw him.

“Hi, Ephraim!” one woman with three children said as she walked over to greet them and Ephraim took her hand in his free one with a huge smile. 

“Good morning, Anna,” he said warmly. Hyrum pressed himself against Ephraim’s side as much as he could as the three children stared at him, sizing him up. 

The smallest boldly took a step forward and opened her mouth, but Anna cut her off by stooping down and picking her up, making her giggle. 

“Are you here to get something for Hyrum?” she asked, having successfully distracted her youngest, though the other two kept staring at Hyrum. The werewolf wished he could have known this was a possibility. He didn’t like just being stared at. 

Ephraim stepped sideways a little, gracefully hiding the fact that he stumbled because of how hard Hyrum was pressed to his side. “Yup, we certainly are. It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” Anna said with a nod, shooing her children off towards one of the houses. “Have fun, Hyrum.”

The werewolf nodded a little, and Ephraim led him farther down the road towards the cart. 

“Oh!” a deep voice said, surprised as Ephraim stepped up to stand behind a small line of people at the cart. 

A large man had turned around and looked down at Hyrum. Hyrum had never felt smaller as the huge man smiled at him. He was taller and broader than Ephraim, but he had a friendly enough smile, a bit like Ephraim’s. 

“Hello, little one. What’s your name?” the man asked, making his deep voice softer. 

“G-Goldenrod,” Hyrum said, glad to be hiding under Ephraim’s arm. 

“Oh, like the flower? That’s very nice,” he said warmly. “I’m Guntar. I’m the butcher. I sell Ephraim here his blood.”

Hyrum looked up at Ephraim and he nodded. “Yes he does, like his father before him.”

Guntar smiled. “Are you excited to look at what’s on the cart?”

Hyrum thought about it for a moment. He shrugged and Guntar chuckled. “There are some pretty cool things on it this time, from what I hear. Old Morticai’s outdone himself if the toys the wolf boys were carrying off were anything to go by.”

“Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that,” Ephraim said, mostly to himself. “Goldenrod, would you like a toy? Something to play with?”

Hyrum had no idea what he was talking about, so he just shrugged. 

“Well, we’ll have a look when we get to the cart, then.”

Hyrum nodded, still tucked under Ephraim’s arm as they made their way through the line. 

Ephraim was glad to get to the front and Morticai grinned. “Ephraim! My favorite customer! And who’s this?”

Ephraim looked down at Hyrum who seemed to be rather done with meeting people so Ephraim said, “This is Goldenrod. I’m actually here to buy him some clothes, and perhaps a toy or two. He’s, ah, he’s had a rough go of it so far.”

Morticai’s flamboyant mustache drooped. “Yes, yes I can see that. Let’s see if we can get that squared away then!”

Moticai worked fast, knowing his merchandise well, and soon, they had two sets of trews and two tunics, both sets a bit big for the werewolf in anticipation for him growing out a bit. Ephraim was planning on getting up early to talk to some of the empty nesters and see if they had some clothes he could borrow from them as well, just in case. If Hyrum grew into being a werewolf a bit more, he’d need more clothes as he ran these into rags.

“Now, as for toys,” Morticai said, pawing through a crate. “Mmm, what do we think about this?”

He passed Ephraim a wooden bird with some gaps in the wood. A quick shake made a marble inside rattle around. Ephraim saw Hyrum’s ears prick up and he gave the werewolf the toy to look at. 

“Works for me. Thank you.”

“Oh, of course. And did you want to have a look at the blubs I brought.”

“Oh, if I must,” Ephraim said, delighted. Could Hyrum go around to the other side of your cart while I look?”

“Of course!”

Hyrum gratefully took the opportunity to run around the cart and hide from everyone in line. 

“Now, I have some more tulip bulbs-”

“Oh, goodness no, I have plenty. Say, did you have any peonies?” 

“I do! And some beautiful puzzles that I know you’d like to have a look at here.”

Ephraim delightedly went through the goods, distracted by them and Morticai’s tales of the cities that he didn’t hear Hyrum’s small gasp of fear and the small sound of a marble rattling around in wood. 

Part 10

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff @honeycollectswhump

[prettyboyprettyeyes]

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

[gabbigoodboy]

There's something so hot about the way someone says "god you're cute" when you do something silly and it's with the intention to completely ruin you. 😳

[repsgirlfriend]

I got a lust for life

[millyondollarbaby]

Loser Stalker Yandere

(He’s a fucking loser but he’s hot and down bad. And a total virgin.)

You didn’t expect to fuck him.

He’s a little too quiet. A little too intense. The guy who watches you like you invented the color red. Always hovering at the edges of rooms, starving. Your voice makes him flinch. Your body makes him twitch.

You noticed it—how he always seemed to know your schedule before you did. How he’d bump into you too often.

You weren’t supposed to say yes.

But tonight? You were bored.

Curious. Cruel.

You whispered: “Fine. Let’s see if you’re as desperate as you look.”

And now?

You’re between his legs. Back against his chest. Your thighs spread. His hands all over you. His breath is already ragged. You haven’t even touched him.

He’s got one hand sliding between your thighs, the other palming your breast like he doesn’t know whether to squeeze or sob. You feel the tremble in his fingers—the awe, the disbelief.

His thumb finds your clit and he gasps. You’re soaked. For him.

“Oh my god,” he whispers into your neck. “You’re really letting me—fuck—you’re actually—” He cuts off with a choked moan, his lips dragging over your skin, his teeth scraping your shoulder like he wants to bite, but doesn’t dare.

He rubs you with shaky, frantic circles. Clumsy, but desperate. Desperate to please you. To make you cum. To make it count.

“You’re so soft—so warm—so wet, holy fuck-I’ve thought about this every night since I first saw you. I know your scent. I fucking know the way your heels sound in the hallway—”

You arch your back, lips parting. He moans—like you’re hurting him just by existing.

“You let me touch you… You don’t know what that does to me, Bunny. I’d kill someone if they even looked at this pussy now. You understand that?”

He’s rubbing harder now, his breath catching every time your hips twitch. His other hand slides down to your stomach, pressing you back into his lap so you feel how hard he is.

“You can’t leave after this. I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

You cum hard.

Harder than you meant to. Harder than you should, considering the freak behind you.

Your head falls back on his shoulder.

Your whole body tenses—legs shaking, clit throbbing against his fingers as you grind against his palm. You cry out. And he moans with you. Louder. Needier. Like your orgasm is his.

“Yes. Yes—fuck—thank you. Thank you for letting me. Thank you—thank you—thank you—*”

He’s crying. Literally. Holding you like you’re a fever dream and the second he lets go, you’ll disappear.

“I can die now,” he whispers.

“Or I can kill for you. Just say the word.”

[dommelake]

just want to tie his arms to the bed frame and stroke his cock until he’s sobbing and wailing with every agonizing orgasm that rips through his body

[goodboyinagirlway]

“I’m sorry I came without permission, I just couldn’t take it anymore” sub and “It’s okay sweetie now I’m just going to have to fuck your cute little cunt and milk every last drop of cum out of you until all you can do is twitch and squeak” dom

[roguecorvidlover]

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets

♡ GN reader

Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriend… 

You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.

He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a pipe-dreaming wannabe sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed. 

He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.

And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.

But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that. 

Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.

He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.

Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation. 

And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.

This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.

“Will you marry me?”

Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.

Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.

“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit. 

“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”

He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”

“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”

“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”

“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”

You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.

“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”

You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.

“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.” 

You go stiff while looking back at him.

Did he just… did he just threaten you?

You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.

Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.

He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.

“I’m just a mess without you.”

Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.

You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.” 

He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.

He really is a mess.

“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”

He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”

He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.

“If I'm so great, why wouldn’t you stay?”

He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.

“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.

You didn’t come here to get back together. 

"You want to go places, I just can’t follow.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[abyssyby]

sylus has twin boys and one of them is shyer than the other :< baby one takes after his smug, charming bravado— speaks with a loud playful voice, emotes like a cute little cartoon and always ready for a spotlight. baby two is quieter, just wants to be held, hides behind papa's pant leg when he's introduced to new people and buries his face in mama's neck when he's asked for his name.

sylus is gone for forever (two days) before finally coming home. your voice is hoarse of repeating "papa's not home yet, angel," to little boys who want to play on their moving, talking, loving jungle gym of a father.

baby one runs headfirst towards him to play-fight— pulling at his hair and tugging on his ears— while sylus lifts him up, tickling him and blowing raspberries into his round cheeks.

baby two waits. he toddles after sylus only once he settles on the couch and sighs the stress of the day away. with great effort, he climbs up. sylus hears the squeaking stretch of leather, then feels the familiar weight on his side— a little ball of warmth nuzzling his cheek and shoulder to his papa's torso, squeezing himself under his arm to receive an embrace.

sylus responds quietly, bringing him closer and placing a tender kiss in his messy starlight hair. baby plays with the fabric of his expensive sweater, pulling and crumpling it in his little fists, just as mesmerized by the sensation as both are by the crackling fire.

baby one— a rocket— climbs on him too.

sylus has learned more sound effects since his sons were born, beyond your own favorite "bang!" when you poke his side. baby one's little fingers dig into his father's cheeks, as he goes, "pow!"

sylus lets out an indulgent play-dead 'eugh'— then a completely involuntary 'oof' as his son plops on his stomach before he slides to the other unoccupied arm. sylus's palm hovers over his head ever so slightly, making sure he lands safely. there, he also winds down and stares at the flames.

"pa?" baby two says, lifting his head. sylus turns to him— it still astonishes him how much of you he sees in his little angel's sleepy gaze. he carries your same wide, gentle look, now blinking slowly, dreamily.

"hm?"

"home?"

sylus hums. baby feels its steady rumble beneath his fingers. "mhm."

the baby nods slowly— only now understanding the word fully. connecting the dots between when mama says he's not and when he is. this is home. this feels like home. papa is home.

to that, he murmurs a soft m'kay and nestles his head back where it was before.

and you find them bathed in firelight, their white hair turned orange in its glow. his carbon copies, little lips parted, their chubby cheeks squished against their father's warm embrace. and your darling husband, head tilted back against the headrest, arms wound protectively around his sons.

you walk around, pressing a kiss to the crease between his brows before slipping a pillow underneath the base of his head. the photo you take of them stays as sylus's lock screen— until further notice.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

edit: a twin babies fic finally here! ◟(๑•͈ᴗ•͈)◞

[doomed2repeat]

I feel like so many people get catered to with the bad boy archetype being everywhere in the media that they can not even imagine that some people think the sexiest thing a man can be for a woman is a down bad pathetic loser. Just weak and desperate. Colin Bridgerton was on his knees, tears in his eyes BEGGING for chance.

Less bad boys, more soft men, thank you.

[wontyoubeg]

I love non-sexual signs of submission as much I love sexual ones.

Kneel for me, moan for me, beg to cum. After all, you look gorgeous on your knees pleading.

But also lay your head on my lap while we watch something, wear my clothes out, perform little acts of service just to show me how much you care.

After all, my claim over you isn’t just in the bedroom, so why should your services to me end there?

[3m0-b1tchhh]

[mihhkael]

idk I just liked the "🫦"

[charlesoberonn]

I both kinda hate and kinda love that "this peace is what all true warriors strive for" is from fucking Zelda CD-i

[killerqueench3rry]

Need a pretty boy to cuddle with

Need a pretty boy to bury his head in my breast and whine and hump my leg

Need a pretty boy whimpering and panting begging to be inside of me