#we're not calling it x

[html-tryhard]

Html Tutorial Rec Wednesday

Twitter

Do the characters in your works use Twitter? Would you like them to?

Are they posting thirst tweets? Long threads compiling information against a specific celebrity or politician? Are they regular people whose tweets accidentally go viral, or are they celebrities that people pay close attention to?

Either way, this tutorial by gadaursan makes it super easy to make tweets for your AO3 fanfictions! Gadaursan has also taken the time to make a code free html generator for any tweets you might want to embed into an AO3 fic!

The tutorial lets you embed images, show polls, and use quote retweets, all while explaining the HTML and CSS structure behind it all. Dark mode tweets are also available, if you prefer that!

Multiple AO3 users have created their own versions of twitter work skins, each with a slightly different look and feel; check them out!

[Ao3 Skin] Twitter with threads by oakleaf

Mimicking Twitter Posts for Fics - Some Twitter Workskins by Ultraviollett

Twitter Work Skin: Tweets & Profile (newest layout) by starskin

Twitter Work Skin Template by etc e tal (pe_pe_peperoncinocandy)

and so on!

These examples are just to show you how there are many different ways to convey the same information / achieve the same result. Hopefully it inspires you to incorporate twitter into your own fics!

[bucketyd]

Alerudy doodle (ft. poor vaqueros)

[the-raindeer-king]

Simon and Price are the kind of guys that insist on paying for everything on a vacation. They're paying for the hotel, the rental car, food, any stupid knickknacks you want. If you even pull out your wallet, they're going to be all huffy. John will politely tell you not to worry about, he's got you covered. On the hand, Simon's taking your wallet from you, telling you that you don't need to spend your money, you've got him for that.

Johnny and Kyle don't mind splitting things with you. You pay for the hotel, he'll pay for the flights, dividing out the expenses so you've both got money for the actual trip. Johnny gets all lovey-dovey when you buy him things, jokes that you're spoiling him. But don't fret, he'll get you back later. Gaz gets all warm and fuzzy when you pay for dinner, staring at you with a lovestruck expression. He thinks it's so sweet, and it's just one more push towards finally pulling the ring out of his pocket.

[konigsblog]

as my favorite könig smut writer you’re the only one i trust to do dbf!neighbor!könig x early 20s!reader with the dirtiest, sloppiest, most toe curling age gap smut 💗💗

dbf!neighbour!könig?! sign me the fuck up, i could write a whole series for that filthy man!

synopsis; your father's best friend, könig, has been struggling to get himself into a stable, loyal relationship lately. luckily for him, you offer him some sort of release.

tw/cw; age gap/difference, early 20s! reader x late forties!könig, weed use, blowjob, mutual masturbation, PinV, tell me if i missed anything. MDNI 18+ 🍃

photo credits; @ave661

You've had the hots for your father's best friend for quite a while.

He doesn't live very far from you at all. In fact, he lives next door and visits your father pretty often to smoke together and talk about whatever is bothering him, which usually includes topics like König's failed relationships and inability to hold a woman for longer than a week.

Aside from wanting to rant about his horrible, fucked-up love life and to smoke weed with your old man, he wants to see you as well—maybe even more than speak with your father.

When your father is busy doing something else, like washing the dishes or cleaning his car outside, König will excuse himself to the bathroom and will sneak into your bedroom to admire the place. You have plans to move out soon, but currently, you stay with your father inside of your childhood home. König's hand "mysteriously" sneaks into your clothing hamper and begins looking for a pair of panties.

It's alright, you won't notice surely...

And you can't deny your attraction to him. The sound of his familiar, accented voice leaves your knees weak and your panties damp and soaked with the thoughts running through your dirty mind at the moment. You smile at König and talk to him about your plans for college, watching as his eyes flicker from your chest to your eyes, your nipples turning into little stiff buds at the cold breeze in the living room.

Today was like any other saturday; your father was away down the road for some beers with his other friends in the afternoon while König had just arrived home from another fucked-up date, ending like the rest of his dates have. He looks dishevelled and in dire need of some sort of release. He's visibly and clearly pent up and exhausted, rolling himself a joint to relax, leaning against his porch and closing his eyes tightly. He's deep in thought and doesn't realise that you've sneaked up on him, practically jumping out of his skin at your sudden presence.

“Shit, Mäusi— I didn’t see you there... What’s wrong, dear?” He smiles forcefully. He doesn't want to bother you with his shitty life since you're probably all worked up from college and stressed out, but you insist that he tells you what's bothering him. It doesn't take a lot of convincing since it's hard to deny you, especially when you say that you can help him if he explains.

He invites you inside and offers you a joint, in which you gratefully accept and seat yourself beside him, ready to act as a therapist for him.

“Another fucked date with another woman who seems interested in me, but actually isn’t. It seems like I can’t please any women.” He admits through gritted teeth. At the sight of his frustration, you place your hand on his thigh teasingly. “Do you think there is anything I can do to help?” You ask quietly with a mischievous and playful smile plastered on your face. Your voice is seductive and sultry, eyes half-lidded and lustful. God, You really are a tease, huh?

“And what are you hinting at, Liebling?”

König always thought he'd be the one to initiate, but right now, he was struggling to keep his composure and quickly found himself falling for your acts of seduction. You lowered yourself onto your knees and began to unzip his jeans, cocking your head to the side at the sight of his aching cock springing out in your face. You giggled while König pulled his large hands into fists, throwing his head back at the wet sensation of your lips wrapped around his swollen, weeping cock. He'd been dreaming of this moment for months, Liebe.

The things you do to König fucked-up head, Good Lord. He couldn't help the sounds of pleasure running through his lips, his dick painful at your tight grip and pleasure.

His sounds came out pained and guttural, pleased but so on edge and anxious of what your father would think about him after being so touchy-feely with his best friend's daughter. He curses himself out for agreeing to this, feeling like such a pervert despite yearning for more of your addictive, sweet touch. “Feel good?” You question him, knowing he'll get frustrated and will force your head down onto his leaking boner. He huffs and puffs, gripping your hair in a tight fist and pushes your head down with a loud moan leaving his mouth, choking on his groans and grunts.

You coat König's lengthy shaft in your spit to get him slick enough, before seating yourself onto his big lap, your hand stroking and fisting his dick. He slides his fingers into your hole with his eyes wide at the sensation and texture of your gummy walls. He chokes on his pleased sounds as you tease his tip by rolling your soft thumb over his uncut, creamy tip and feel as your folds are stuffed with his thick digits. He pumps them into your soaking cunt and admires the sticky mess left between your fingers, curling his fingers deep inside your gummy cunt.

“C’mere, Taube—Kiss me, please.” He grumbles out, getting obsessive with the pleasure you offer him. He places his lips against yours, making out with you messily and sloppy, the effects of the marijuana leaving him relaxed and at ease with all his concerns and worries forgotten about. His tongue rolls over your bottom lip while you squeeze his dick, whimpering into the sweet kiss. König's fingers begin to pump into you even faster, pulling away to beg you to sit on his cock. You're on edge and shaking pathetically, nearing your orgasm but not quite fully there.

“Sit on it, dear. Don’t be so shy, not now you can’t.” The smell of nicotine sticks to his skin, your thighs shaking as you begin to ease down onto his weeping, veiny dick. König doesn't hold back the sounds of his arousal and euphoria as it burns through his large body, bucking his broad and sturdy hips into your body while cursing you out for being such a dirty tease. You leave König totally obsessed after finally receiving some action after so long.

You bounce on his lap while he fucks his bulbous cock deep into your drooling slit. You gasp and roll your eyes to the back of your head at the ache andd pleasure between your thighs, unable to stop letting out the most perverted and pleased noises. You can feel as König hits your cervix with each thrust and his heavy balls slap against your rear as he drives his hips against your tight rear. Your eyes fill with tears at the pain and stretch, his girthy dick leaving you breathless as you admire the state he leaves your pussy in; raw and sensitive.

König can't hold himself back when you begin to lose control. Sweet, pearly droplets of your sweet arousal run down his boner and coat his length, allowing him to fuck you even harder and deeper with ease as he uses your sweet juices as lube.

“That’s it, little one—God, look how well you’re taking’ me, princess. You’re a mess, such an addictive mess, huh? You’re gonna be an obsession of mine, that’s for sure.” König grits his teeth as he bucks his hips into you even harder, his eyes shut tightly as your walls clamp down around him one last time, filled with ropes of his white creaminess. You pant and heave at the stomach bulge caused by his loads and ropes of his hot release. You grip his jaw to make out with him, your body sweaty and hot with König's cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

You have to sneak back home before your father comes back and asks what you were doing over at his best friend's house. König would be slaughtered if he found out the truth.

You just have to act all innocent, as if König's milky and potent load is oozing out of your hole and dampening your panties at the dinner table.

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 3 - Pet Play

Ghost x Soap, Gaz x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader - 3.7k (on ao3)

summary: Gaz and Ghost have an arrangement that allows their pets to get out some restless energy with one another. (Reader POV)

cw: puppy play, kitten play, muzzles, bondage (armbinder, handcuffs), leash, rough sex, reader is consenting but lowkey pretending she's not into it (she has a safeword but it's not mentioned in the drabble), degradation, exhibitionism

“Hey, Kyle,” Simon says, the door held open for Gaz to guide you through. “Brought the girl?”

“Course, mate,” your boyfriend laughs, one big hand snagging the hem of your sleeve and tugging you out from behind him. “You know her, she’s just bein’ shy.”

Your heart beats a little more quickly when Ghost just hums, looking you up and down with dark eyes. Kyle’s jacket covers your entire body, the long tan trench coat making you look just like the hooker you feel like tonight. The feeling of the material on your mostly-naked skin keeps you just on edge enough to hover around Kyle’s back, Simon's presence only making you more nervous. 

“‘S that them?” A voice calls out from further in the house, and you can’t help but wince at the loud and quick footsteps as Soap runs to the entryway. He nearly stumbles to a stop when he appears in the doorway, too ridiculously large and broad to look anything but clumsy. His wrists are hooked to the collar around his throat, hands wrapped in black mitts and hanging loose over his chest, and he can’t quite keep his balance without leaning a shoulder against the doorway.

Other than the collar and the wire muzzle strapped to his face, he’s naked as the day he was born, cock hard and dripping between his thighs. You shift a bit, can't help imagining what he'd taste like if you were allowed to use your mouth tonight.

“Who the fuck else would it be?” Ghost gruffs, taking a puff from his cigarette and locking the front door behind you. Your nose curls beneath your muzzle at the smell of smoke, thankful that he snuffs it out a moment later. 

“Hey, Tav,” Gaz greets, nodding at Soap instead of stepping forward for a bro hug like he usually would. He wraps an arm around your shoulders instead, leading you further into the cabin with Ghost at your back and Soap eagerly turning to lead the three of you to the living room, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. He looks silly with his hands locked like they are, but you know that's the point.

None of them try to speak to you, the black mask covering half of your face making it obvious that you couldn’t respond even if you wanted – that, and none of you are under any illusions of who’s role is what tonight, and yours has been the same since the four of you started playing around like this.

Johnny’s still got his freedom to speak, though, even with the wire muzzle strapped to his face. You’re thankful that he won’t be able to get his teeth into you this time, but a spiteful part of you wishes Ghost would’ve just shut him up fully instead. Johnny can get mean when he’s got his cock stuffed to the hilt inside a warm hole.

(You like it, is the thing, but you’d never admit it – Johnny’s insufferable enough with Ghost as a partner, and you’ve never met someone meaner and quicker to humble. You’re sure if you gave him even the slightest compliment, he’d somehow become a smug monster.)

Gaz shifts one hand to the base of your neck as he guides you behind Johnny and into the living room, where the couch and coffee table have been shoved against the walls to make room for you and Johnny. Ghost heads straight to what you’ve come to know as his chair, the seat of it sunken in from his weight and a beer already resting in the built-in cup holder. Soap follows him and kneels in front of his legs as soon as Simon settles, twisted to watch you and Gaz.

Kyle is sweet when he takes his jacket off of you, tugging it off slowly so you’re not exposed to the cool air too suddenly, calloused fingertips petting your skin.

“There we are, pretty,” he hums, tossing the jacket carelessly to the side and caressing your hips. “Gonna let Johnny have fun with you?”

You lean your head back, exposing your throat so you can nose at his jaw through your muzzle, trying to convey yes, but only for you without words. The little bell around your neck tinkles with the movement, the metal warmed by your skin.

Johnny moans aloud when your half-naked form is fully revealed, knees spreading as he sinks even lower, cock nearly brushing the floor. Your cheeks heat as you follow the way his eyes trace over your body, just as eager as he was the first time you did this.

You were fully naked then, but now Kyle’s dressed you up in what has to be the most girly lingerie he could find. The bralette provides no support whatsoever for your chest, but you have to admit that the white lace covering your nipples and cupping your breasts is pretty. The bows on the garters and panties were a nice touch, too, adding to the hyper-femininity of the overall look that you know Kyle loves. He let you keep the makeup from your face though, knowing how much you hate the feeling of streaky mascara.

Your arms are tied together straight in front of your body, with enough slack that you can fold them in half but not so much that you have anywhere near full movement. Kyle had spent almost an hour meticulously tying little white ribbons around the rope, kissing your arms as he went and making sure he had you exactly as immobile as he wanted.

The muzzle over your mouth is a clean white leather, something that Kyle works hard to keep clean and pristine, and it's fitted to the bottom half of your face. The gag in your mouth is small and non-invasive, allowing you to make as much noise as you want but keeping you from saying anything – that would ruin the fantasy. The gag causes plenty of spit to gather beneath your tongue, and every time you swallow you can feel your lightweight collar press against your throat, the little bell attached shifting with even the most minute movement. 

The resulting look – the rope, the bows, the lace, the muzzle – is one that you love, even if it does make you feel like a doll being dressed up for someone else’s approval. You’re happy to get it in this case, when you know that Johnny will enjoy the look just as much as Kyle does and be all the more eager for you.

Ghost appreciates your appearance too, if his hum and the smirk lifting his lips is anything to go by.

Kyle presses a kiss to your shoulder as he lingers behind you, running his hands over the lace wrapping each of your curves, toying with the ribbons. “Like what you see, Si?”

Simon hums again, shifting further in his seat and spreading his knees, a king on his worn leather throne. “Sure. ‘S not gonna last long, though, not with this mutt.” He snorts, one booted foot knocking against Johnny’s naked thigh. “You know how he gets.”

Kyle laughs, warm breath puffing against your naked shoulder, then moves towards the couch, leaving you alone in the middle of the room, unsteady in your heels. You try to instinctively follow him, unsteady without your arms to balance.

He holds you with one hand for a moment, steadying you just enough so you don’t fall before moving away again. “You’re alright, love, just stay there for a second.”

You track him intently, feeling incredibly vulnerable without him at your side. He’s got a calm confident about him as he settles onto the couch, smiling at you and giving you enough comfort that you don’t quite melt into a puddle. You can’t keep yourself from shifting nervously, but your heartbeat is steady.

“We ready then?” Kyle asks once he’s comfortable, tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch.

“Hm,” Simon hums, shifting forward to lock a hand in Johnny’s collar where the chain connecting his hands is still locked. “Get on your knees, girl.”

Your eyes dart to Kyle’s, and at his nod and reassuring smile you take a deep breath, settling into your skin a bit.

It takes quite a bit of balance to sink to the floor without falling, trussed up as you are, but you manage it. The fact that you can bend your elbows helps tremendously, and you’re thankful for Kyle’s foresight. 

You hesitate for a moment on your knees, taking a few steadying breaths and making sure you're not pushing yourself too quickly. You let your eyes linger on each of the other men, sizing them up, then begin to shift even lower.

Soap moans loudly when you sink to your stomach, back arched and ass pushed in the air with your arms laid out flat in front of you. You watch him carefully, face pressed to your arms as you settle as much as you can against the plush rug. 

Johnny’s panting open-mouthed behind the muzzle, pupils already blown and cock kicking against his thigh. His hands keep twitching above his chest, like he’s tugging against the chain keeping him caught. You’re certain that if Ghost weren’t holding him, he’d already be on top of you and shoving himself deep even without hands to guide him.

“Pretty girl,” you hear Gaz coo, and when you glance at him you see he’s pressing the heel of his hand to the tent in his pants. “You gonna let your boy go anytime soon?”

“Please,” Johnny pants, wiggling towards you as much as he can.

“Easy,” Ghost scolds, yanking Johnny closer as he unclips the chain leash from his belt, metal jingling. “Trust me, Garrick, you don’t want him havin’ free-rein with the mood he’s in.”

You mewl behind the gag, but it goes unheard. Johnny certainly doesn’t miss the way you wiggle your ass though, eyes trained on the lace cupping you perfectly.

“Fuck, sir, c’mon,” he moans, turned to face you fully and straining to get as close as he can.

Ghost only grunts as he yanks Johnny back, forcing him to fall back against his legs and clipping his leash to the D-ring on the back of Soap’s collar, holding it tight to keep the pup from moving forward.

“You want to actually use your paws or not?” He growls, grabbing the chain connecting Johnny’s mitts to his collar and yanking, nearly sending the man to the ground. “Huh?”

“Yes, yes, c’mon, lemme touch her, sir, please–”

“What do you think, Gaz?” Simon asks, eyes trained on your form as you shift against the floor. “Want him touchin’ your pretty kitty? He might fuck her up.”

You mewl again, just barely audible, and Johnny moans like he’s already coming.

Gaz hums, stroking himself slowly over his pants. "Leave the mitts on,” he decides. “I like what she’s wearing, don’t want it ruined because one mutt can’t control himself.”

You know Johnny’s already sunk decently far into his headspace because he doesn’t respond to that even though his mouth's free, just continues to wriggle in Simon’s hold with his focus centered solely on you. 

“Fair enough,” Ghost says, tone near a laugh. “Wouldn’t mind seein’ that set again, myself.” He shakes Johnny a bit, the leash’s links jingling loudly. “How about it, pup? Want to get dressed up all pretty for me?”

Johnny’s eyes nearly roll back in his head as he moans, and you’re momentarily concerned he’s going to come before he can even properly fuck you. 

You shift against the floor to try and encourage Simon to just let go, shifting your knees apart so that you’re exposed more fully, the crotchless panties letting air brush over where you’re most sensitive. 

Johnny’s whine is nearly drowned out by Simon’s laugh, and he’s unhooking the chain keeping Soap’s hands tied in the next moment.

You can hardly blink before Johnny’s on you, his heat enveloping you entirely as he throws himself over your back, hard cock already pressed against your folds. 

Your arousal coats him immediately, and the two of you moan in sync at the feeling, his sound vibrating through your back and yours silenced by the soft gag in your mouth. His mitted hands rest on either side of your head, and the wire muzzle digs into your cheek as he tries his best to kiss you.

“Pretty, pretty,” he slurs, voice lower than it was just a few minutes ago. “Such a pretty kitty, all for me, yeah? Just for me.”

There’s a loud clink sound, and Johnny’s head jerks away from yours as he chokes.

“Not yours,” Gaz reminds as Ghost keeps Johnny from pressing back to you fully. “Just cause I let you fuck her doesn’t mean she belongs to you, puppy.”

You can just barely see Johnny’s scowl out of the corner of your eyes, your vision slightly blurred from tears as you wait impatiently for what you know comes next.

“Fuck, fine, Christ,” Johnny grumbles, and a moment later he’s back on you fully, tracing the muzzle over your shoulders. You know that if it weren’t there, you’d already have bruises slowly taking shape all over the column of your neck, and say a silent thank you to Ghost for sparing you the soreness. 

Johnny ruts against you steadily for as long as you know he can handle, his thick cock hot against you. You writhe as best you can beneath him, but you’ve got almost no room to move with your arms bound as they are and Johnny’s weight holding you down.

“Can I fuck her, then?” He says, voice rough as the head of his cock brushes your clit. “C’mon, let me make her a mess, yeah? Shit, Gaz, she fuckin’ needs me, lemme fuck her, please–”

Gaz’s laugh is warm but Ghost’s is mean, and even you can’t help but melt a bit at the sound, trying to sink into the carpet.

“You should be askin’ me, mutt,” Simon says, yanking again on the leash so that Johnny’s head is tugged away from yours. “Gaz already gave you the girl, ‘s me you ask if you want to use that little prick.”

“Ghost, Ghost, c’mon, sir,” Johnny pants, and you can’t help but arch and press your hips back against him, just as desperate as he is. “I’ve been good, ye said so – I’ll fuck her good, promise, give ye a good show an’ everythin’, just let me- fuck, need to fuck her, cannae breathe, Si, just lemme–”

“Fine, fine,” Ghost finally says, tugging his cock from his pants as he lets the leash fall limp in his grasp and gives Johnny near freedom. “Pathetic thing, aren’t you?”

Anything else either Simon or Kyle says is lost to you, your ears ringing when you go from painfully empty to amazingly full, your cunt spread wide around Johnny in one breath.

He growls when he can’t bury himself to the hilt in one thrust, your walls clenching tight around him and desperately trying to accommodate his length. Kyle had just barely prepped you – just enough so you wouldn’t be seriously hurt, not enough to make this easy – and you can feel the lack of it now, hole stinging.

Your breath is stolen when, what feels like just a moment later, Johnny jerks back then sinks himself fully inside of you, balls resting against your clit. You’re glad the muzzle is breathable, because your lungs are spasming as your entire system is rocked, desperately trying to accommodate the sudden rush of pleasure, then need.

You can’t help the way tears stream down your cheeks as Johnny starts to truly fuck you, completely disregarding any need you might have to adjust to the stretch of his cock inside of you, immediately bullying himself into you again and again. The rush you get from going from almost no sensation to this is one you adore, and you try your best to fuck back on Johnny with what little leverage you have.

Your nails scratch desperately at the carpet, wide eyes locked onto Gaz as you’re relentlessly fucked, again and again. He’s fished his own cock out of his pants, sitting up straight and leaning towards you as he jacks himself with quick, smooth tugs. You nearly go cross-eyed trying to focus on his length, face bouncing against your tied arms and blurring your vision even further.

“Damn,” you hear Ghost grunt, voice so low you can barely hear it. “Look’it that, Garrick.”

“I see,” your boyfriend purrs, and you melt all the more at the sound of his voice, Johnny’s pace finally shifting onto the right side of too much, the burn in your hole shifting from pain to pleasure. “Your boy is wreckin’ her good, sir.”

“‘S what he’s trained for,” Ghost says, and Johnny moans. You can feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, and your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

Johnny doesn’t talk much as he fucks you this time, but he never does once he actually gets inside of you – he gets drunk on your cunt, always has, gets drooly and melty over you, thinking of nothing but his own pleasure. Lucky for you, the way your cunt spasms around him as you come is usually the fastest way for him to trigger his own orgasm. 

That’s what you know he’s chasing now, as he bullies his cockhead against your g-spot again and again, one hand pressing on your shoulder to keep you held in a steep arch, his precision impressive considering he’s far past words and has been reduced to nothing but growls and moans. 

Your moans escalate to squeals as you squirm against the floor, the lace of your bra rubbing perfectly against your nipples and your fingers twisting into the fibers of the carpet. You can feel the lines pressed into your back from where Johnny’s shoved his face against you, trying to get his mouth as close to your skin as possible. Instead of hickies you get spit, drool smeared all across your shoulder blades and neck. 

You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips when it finally hits you, your orgasm shuddering through every limb as you convulse on the floor. Your cunt squeezes Johnny tightly, making him feel even larger inside of you as you scream through the gag. 

Your vision whites out as Johnny fucks you even harder, free arm wrapping around your neck and hauling you as close to him as possible. He has to work to fuck in and out of you now, your body doing it's best to keep him still.

His muzzle presses into your cheek as he holds his face next to yours, both of you sweaty and hot as he uses you for his pleasure, clawing closer and closer to a peak you’re already floating blissfully on. His bicep flexed around your neck and your eyes roll back in your head at the display of strength, mindless with pleasure.

Your collar tingles delightfully as you’re jerked against Johnny with every thrust, melting into the music of Johnny’s moans and Kyle and Simon’s hands against their own cocks - Ghost is silent but you can hear Kyle moaning, always vocal when he's close.

You’re still blinking the stars from your eyes when you feel Johnny’s cum spurt inside of you, cock jerking as the man himself melting into a puddle over your lax body and humps you slowly.

Your eyes are half-lidded as he rides his own orgasm, sweat-slick and sticky as you float in the after of getting fucked rough and raw, a cock still plugging you for your hole to milk.

You can feel Johnny panting against your neck as he slowly comes down himself, running his paws over your sides once he lets his arm fall away from your neck. You’re pressed flat to the rug, his weight almost suffocating when he isn’t bothering to hold himself up. 

You manage to open your eyes just in time to see Kyle come, the edges of your vision still blurred as he paints his own palm white. You’re yourself enough to whine, always sad to see his come go to waste when you could taste it or feel it painting your insides. Kyle’s smiling even as he shudders through his orgasm, like he knows just what you’re thinking and how badly you wish you could crawl to him and make it a reality.

But you’re firmly pinned beneath Johnny, even when he lifts his hips just enough to let his cock slip from you before dropping his weight again so you’re pressed entirely against one another. 

Simon is the last to come, though he does so silently and you miss the exact moment he finally finishes – you only know because Johnny moans against you, hips rocking like he’s the one getting off, not another man nearly six feet away. Your eyes are already heavy by then, and you don’t bother looking over to see Ghost finish himself off, he’s never been the one you’re here for.

It’s several long moments before anything changes, and by then you’re nearly half-asleep. You’re distantly aware of Johnny either pulling away or being pulled away, even more aware of the unpleasant chill to your skin when your sweat and spit soaked back is left naked. You hear Gaz coo and feel his arms wrapping around you, leaving the soft rug slowly and behind lifted into his arms.

You purr softly, arms folded up to rest your hands beneath your chin, curling as far into Kyle’s arms as you can.

“Hush, kitty,” he whispers, settling back onto the couch with you on his lap. You press your face into the underside of his jaw, collar softly jingling. “You did so well for us, put on such a pretty show.”

“I was half of it,” you hear Johnny slur, his voice muffled, always the fastest to recover and get himself ready for round two.

“Hush,” Ghost scolds, and for once, Johnny obeys.

Gaz laughs softly, and you smile beneath the muzzle as you relax fully into his arms, warm and content as he holds you.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

your movie charles art gives me cuteness aggression

obsessed with getting these asks back to back and yet they both hold some truth i think ...... thank you very much everyone ....

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

New dad Astarion who is about to see his newborn child for the first time.

Of course, he expects his child to be the personification of serene beauty and divine grace. Them to have their father’s silken silvern locks, his immaculately chiselled features—the artwork perfected by Tav’s wonderful watercolour eyes…

And then he actually sees the child and—well—everybody assures him that, yes, Astarion, all babies look like that barely a half hour after birth…

He kind of has to take that at face value because he hasn’t seen an awful lot of newborns in his lifetime.

But it would’ve been nice if someone had told him that newborns happen to look like shrivelled potatoes, because he’s really, really trying to not let his bewilderment show. 

Astarion swallows. 

Tav’s beautiful eyes are watching him, waiting for a reaction—an enthusiastic one, no less. 

Maybe Tav will believe that he’s overcome with emotions at seeing his firstborn child? 

“Oh my, darling, I’m…speechless,” is all he can choke out, though, being rather proud that it’s at least not a lie. 

To his luck, Tav only nods dreamily, her full attention back on the odd little bundle in her arms.

“Isn’t she perfect?”

Yes, perfectly hideous. 

Astarion only hums in a way of reply.

That—his daughter, he supposes—is with no doubt one of the ugliest things he’s ever seen, but he has a feeling that his honesty wouldn’t be appreciated after Tav laboured for hours to give birth to this…potato-baby.

“Come, hold her, Astarion,” Tav says, then, bidding him to sit next to her on the bed.

The mattress shifts under Astarion’s weight and he obediently holds his arms out so that Tav can gently place the sleeping child against his chest.

Now that Astarion can take a better look, he can confirm that his daughter’s hair is of an indefinable colour and that her features are neither his nor Tav’s, plain as can be. Surely it won’t stay like that?

He and Tav are so ridiculously beautiful, their child can only be drop-dead gorgeous, right?

Astarion’s stomach drops indeed when, suddenly, something occurs to him. 

Oh dear, what if it’s his fault? He has no recollection of his family whatsoever; it’s very much possible that he and his immaculate looks are the exception in his lineage, and that he’s passed on only those mysterious less-than-perfect genes…Tav, as per usual, can’t be the issue!

Astarion is still catastrophizing when the bundle in his arms begins to stir.

All of a sudden, gold-speckled pale green eyes are looking up at him as if to ask what the fuck this weirdo’s problem might be. 

“Oh,” the weirdo in question exclaims at once. “Darling, look, she has your eyes!”

Tav, hugging him from behind, rests her chin on his shoulder, so she can watch as Astarion’s finger tenderly strokes their baby’s chubby cheek.

Their daughter also has, as it turns out, ten fingers and toes, a cute little nose and a hungry mouth—everything that’s supposed to be there is there, and it seems to be working fine, too—which is a huge relief. 

And aren’t those the tiniest pointy ears Astarion has ever seen? Let alone the unexpectedly strong fingers grasping at his!

Astarion, worries forgotten in a heartbeat, can’t help but smile at the baby in his arms. 

She is perfect, after all. 

Tav, face hidden in the crook of his neck, begins to tremble against his back. 

For a second, Astarion thinks she’s crying but then her laughter fills the chamber. It takes her a good moment to articulate whatever it is she finds so very funny.

“She'll grow out of it, you know?” Tav giggles in between her fits of laughter. 

Astarion stiffens. “Of what?”

“The turnip look. That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole time, haven't you?”

“I was leaning more towards potatoes—but yes, I might’ve been a little worried about that,” Astarion admits sheepishly, although a grin is already tugging at his lips.  

Regaining her composure, Tav reaches over Astarion’s shoulder, her hand joining his as they get to know their child.

“Give it a couple of days and she will look like your proper little elf—beautiful just like her father.”

A content sigh leaves Astarion’s lips, right before he presses them against Tav’s temple.

“That’s the second best news I’ve heard today, my heart, truly.”

[pharawee]

"His face was covered, but I know it was a man. Tall and wearing black clothes."

—SPARE ME YOUR MERCY · การุณยฆาต · Episode 01

[vaguely-concerned]

obsessed with the fact that if you choose the last purple option in lucanis' romance chat before going off to tearstone island ("they MOVED the MOON!!!" still in the running for the best delivery in the whole game btw it's so ineffably hilarious to me), it's rook who flinches away just a little bit (if still warmly <3) and tries to change the topic and lucanis who's steady even though he's clearly still so afraid. 'don't tempt fate'/'*the softest fucking voice you've ever heard in your entire life* I don't intend to'. pain and suffering

lucanis looking at rook and helplessly, with a wonder that verges on despair, saying 'what would I do without you?' is soooo. especially at that point in the relationship and with what's about to happen. and for whatever reason rook can't quite stay with the fact that they do mean that much to someone, that they are so reverently and so groundingly 'I want to know what your favourite food is so I can make it for you any time you want it' everyday loved, it's too much and they have to deflect from it or the fear of losing it. can say some very interesting things about them, too.

(there is also a Pattern in that in my estimation lucanis frequently responds better to inviting humour than to earnest shows of concern -- it seems to help him be more engaged/online to be offered that more neutral space to meet you in and uh 'build' the conversation around something funny together than to be confronted with compassion head-on because that clearly mostly deer-in-the-headlights him, as we also see with some of the early flirt options haha. contrast this especially with bellara, who repeatedly gets genuinely upset if you try to make light of some pressing and painful situation she's dealing with (girl I'm so sorry I'm so jestercore and I canot change this but I'll try :'( for you). I think the times lucanis reacts negatively to the purple options are much more about you siding with other (frequently more charismatic lol) people against him or throwing him under the bus interpersonally -- like seeming to go along with illario's charm offensives, or telling teia lucanis didn't want to come help out with caterina's funeral and he'd just sit alone and brood about it if you didn't force him (???!!! hello??? unprovoked and deeply unkind out of left field???? this option is so fucking MEAN and for what fhdaskjfa you're telling me there's no way for rook to be a bit of a dick in this game?)

when it's one on one conversation he consistently seems to find it quite comforting, though... which makes a lot of sense because in many ways it's how he interacts with illario, just shorn of the resentments and hidden daggers and things they Do Not Talk About but really should beneath the levity that makes it sharp. it's gone ugly between them, but I think the affectionate instinct beneath is real and goes back a long way before all of that festered -- it's a form of play he does with people he loves. and uh. not really caterina huh. notably.)

[noorhelming]

#KlamaricCrumbs PT II

PONEDJELJAK, 10:12

[buddie-buddie]

Buck wakes with a strangled gasp, visions of the scenes he’d just seen in his fitful sleep still vivid and chilling as they flash behind his tear-filled eyes. 

His breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps as he blinks his way into consciousness and tries to shake off the nightmare that still has its claws sunk deep into his racing heart.

“Shh.” There’s a warm, familiar voice in his ear, thick and heavy with sleep. Everything settles. Buck’s breath comes a little easier, the rapid rise and fall of his chest evening out as he registers the warm, grounding weight of Tommy’s arms around him.  

When he was a kid, his nightmares looked a little different. Instead of 100-foot waves and snipers in broad daylight, he used to see monsters and ghosts. When he was older, he had a recurring nightmare of a man who looked a lot like Doug dragging his sister away kicking and screaming. He used to slip out of his bed and shuffle down the carpeted hallway to Maddie’s room, where she’d wake up to the creak of the door and the triangle of light bleeding into the dark room and say, “Evan? What is it?” 

He’d sit on the side of her bed and she’d take his hand in hers and ask him what he wanted to dream of instead. He’d say riding our bikes or the ice cream truck or building sand castles at the beach and Maddie would fold his still-shaky fingers down to lock the good dream in and she’d ruffle his hair and send him back to bed feeling lighter and safer and loved. 

It’s different now, but somehow still the same. 

He still drifts back to sleep feeling calm and safe and grounded. Only instead of Maddie tucking good dreams into the palm of his clammy hand, he has Tommy pressing kisses into his hair and whispering promises against the shell of his ear. It’s different, but it’s good. 

It’s so fucking good.

It’s good even now, as Buck’s breath catches on a shaky inhale, a tiny whimper slipping past his lips.

Even if he tried, he couldn’t find the words to explain the sick and twisted things he just saw in his dreams, nor could he get them out past the lump in his throat. But he doesn’t try and Tommy doesn't expect him to, doesn’t ask him to relive the worst moments of his life for the second time in one night. Buck’s already made the introductions between Tommy and the ghosts still so intent on haunting him.

Tommy knows that on the nights they come back around, Buck would rather be held. He would rather be reminded that he’s here and he’s alive and that it all didn’t end on the pier that day, beneath the ladder truck that night. That his heart started to beat again in the eighteenth second of the third minute, that he came back. And that he’s not alone. 

Tommy shushes him again, warm and reassuring. “S’okay, baby.” 

His arms tighten around Buck’s waist, pulling him back against his chest with a sleepy, contented hum. He mumbles something into the side of Buck’s neck that Buck can’t quite make out, yet understands perfectly when followed by the gentle, almost reverent press of Tommy’s lips to the side of his jaw. 

Hot tears prick at the backs of Buck’s eyes, and he’s not sure if they’re a product of the nightmare or the fact that, even in his sleep, Tommy shows up for him. 

Tommy always shows up for him. Physically, sure– Buck will never forget the sight of him all but tearing through the hospital doors, sooty and sweaty and smiling, despite the bone-deep ache that comes from sixteen hours on the scene of a fire. But emotionally, too. 

He’s levity when Buck needs it and sincerity when he doesn’t. He’s generous with his affection and even more so with his praise. He’s a steady, grounding force, an anchor in the sand when Buck starts to feel unmoored, when the waves get too high and it all gets to be just a bit too much. He’s patient and charming and kind and he’s such a nerd. And he’s aware and attentive in ways that still make Buck’s heart swell and his chest ache. 

It’s like he has a sixth sense, how he’s so tuned into Buck, how he always seems to know what it is Buck wants, what it is Buck needs. He knows just what to say, just what to do. Even now, half asleep. Tommy shows up for him. Always. In all ways. And Buck could cry about it. 

No, scratch that. 

Buck will cry about it. He tries blinking the tears back, but it’s no use. They’re heavy and hot as they roll down his cheeks. Tommy’s voice is still deep and gravelly, thick with sleep as he holds Buck close and murmurs, “I got you.”

He hasn’t said it yet, but Buck knows. He knows. He feels it deep in the marrow of his bones and in the warmest corners of his soul. He hasn’t said it yet, but he will. 

Buck can hear it in the silence that settles over them just before they drift off to sleep, tangled up in each other’s arms. He can feel it in the moments between slow, steady heartbeats as they move around Tommy’s tiny kitchen, cooking breakfast and swapping coffee-laced kisses and stories from their shifts. He can see it in the warmth of Tommy’s smile and the fondness in his eyes any time he walks into a room. He can feel it in the reverence with which Tommy touches him, the way he says his name like a prayer and a promise all at once. 

Which is why, just as much as he knows that he loves Tommy, Buck knows that when he does say it, Tommy will say it back. 

also on ao3

[deliriousreverie]

Oh to have hatred for your enemy so great and yet you couldn't help but feel empathy so deeply for him... (had to sketch this out or brainrot parasite will end me, I'll clean this up later idk)

Another Solas x Rook post, I think the pairing works if Solavellan isn't part of the world state (I don't think romanced Solas will love anyone like he loves Lav, but my worldstate doesn't have solavellan so)

[the-raindeer-king]

You're well aware that your status as the only woman amongst the 141 gets you lots of stares. Plenty of people jeering with jealousy over one thing or another. You've learned to live with it. You've got bigger things to worry about.

But this was definitely a first.

You had been working on some documents, putting together some last minute intel, when your concentration was broken by giggling. Two of the recruits, whose names currently evade your mind, approach where you're sitting, giggling amongst themselves.

“Sargent, we were wondering if you could help us,” one of them, blonde, pipes up.

The other, brunette, giggles again, her cheeks flushed pink. “It's just a quick question, ma'am.”

You stare blankly at them. Don't they have better shit to do than bother you? You let out a loud sigh, annoyed. You certainly have better shit to do than entertain them. But you offer them a tight lipped smile anyway, and reply, “Sure, ask away.”

“How do you get any work done with Sargent MacTavish and Lieutenant Riley around?”

Another blank stare. How do you get work done around Ghost and Soap? You raise an eyebrow, waiting for them to elaborate.

“I mean, MacTavish is so charming -”

“And funny!”

“- and he's so handsome. And the Lieutenant is so mysterious under that mask. And his voice is so…” she trails off, her cheeks darker than before.

All you can think of is this morning, at breakfast, when Ghost forgot to take his mask off and tried to drink his tea, nearly waterboarding himself. And how, in response, Johnny laughed so hard he shot milk from his nose. So, at the moment, charming and mysterious are not words you would use to describe them.

Charming is a word strictly used to describe another member of your team. One with pretty brown eyes that shine like amber in the sunlight. One with a honeyed voice that makes you a little weak in the knees. One that these Privates are not asking about.

You blink, breaking yourself out of your thoughts. There must be a look on your face, because the rookies giggle like they've caught you red handed.

“You'll learn that all men are dogs,” you reply sternly. “No amount of pretty words is worth dying for.”

Hypocrite, you think. You'd throw yourself in the line of fire, if it meant hearing Gaz laugh. You'd dragged yourself out of the pits of hell, just for a chance to see him smile once more. Just to hear him call your name, always so fond when he does.

“Oh my god!” One of the girls squeals. “You've got a crush!”

“Is it MacTavish? Because he's so dreamy!” The other giggles.

Just your luck. These recruits think you've got a crush on the wrong guy, and knowing rookies, the rumor will be halfway through the base before dinner.

“Don't you ladies have better shit to do than bother my Sargent?” Ghost's voice cuts through their incessant questions.

Both girls squeak out a “Yes, Lieutenant,” before they're scrambling away. But you know the damage is done. Everyone's going to think you have a crush on Soap, of all people.

You glance up at Ghost, who's still watching the recruits run off. “So… how much of that did you hear?”

He snorts, something like amusement in his voice as he replies. “Enough, but I know you don't like Johnny. Have'ta be stupid not to see the way you look at Gaz.”

You feel your face immediately heat up. “Hey! It's not that obvious!” You argue, playfully punching Ghost's shoulder.

His eyes crinkle at the sides, your sign that he's smiling under the mask. His shoulders shake with silent laughter. “S’ that what you tell yourself? We've all seen the way you soften up around ‘im.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, knowing damn well there's no point arguing with him. But it's the next thing Ghost says, that makes your eyes widen and your jaw drop.

“He just needs to man up and ask you out. Tired o’ watching you two pine like school kids.”

[aro-in-danyl]

DP X DC Prompt

Damian, who’s never seen danny before this moment: we’re twins.

Danny, choosing chaos: triplets, actually. I have an identical sister. 

Damian: what.

Bruce, listening in from a roof: Talia hid THREE children from me?!

Talia, on a different roof: Father stole one of my children?! >:(

OR ALTERNATIVELY

Danny: Quadruplets actually. You owe so much child support

Bruce: what-

Dani & Dan: pay up bitch

[ohbo-ohno]

Okay but *gulp* soap with his dick slipping out and accidentally pressing into the wrong hole. Doesn’t stop him from continuing tho

listen LISTEN listen - yeah!! soap is 100% the kind of asshole to do this!!

1.7k soap x f!reader "wrong hole" drabble 🫶 (cw: pwp smut, noncon anal sex between partners (also unrealistic anal sex), pussy drunk johnny)

You arch further into Johnny, slick skin sliding along slick skin as your mouth drops open on a moan.

“Jo-Johnny,” you pant, gripping tightly to his broad shoulders. “Feels ssooo- so good.”

“Yeah?” He grunts from above you, mohawk messy and dripping sweat. “Bet it- bet it feels big, huh?”

You whine, pushing your hips closer to him as he slams home inside of you. “So big,” you agree, your mind draining from you slowly as he pulls nearly the entire way out on every thrust, leaving you almost empty before filling you to the brim. “God, you’re so good, Johnny.”

“Fuck, yes,” he pants, arms wrapping around your back and squeezing you tight to him. Your hips are pushed a little further up, a little closer to him. You wrap both your legs around his waist, hold him as tight as he does you. He only manages to keep up his rhythm through pure strength, easily able to overpower your grip.

“So good,” he mimics, eyes squeezed shut. You can’t look away from him - the sweat dripping down the side of his tanned face, the wrinkles and scars decorating his skin, the way he looks like he’s either in agony or euphoria. “Feel so perfect, so tight. Fuck, missed you so much, lass, missed your perfect cunt.”

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head when he hits the perfect spot inside of you, body limp in his arms. You feel almost like a doll, like a toy for him to fuck, but he’s so good at it that you can’t even begin to care.

The both of you devolve into moans, occasionally trying to speak and choking on your words. You might feel embarrassed of what a mess Johnny’s made of you, if he weren’t in the same condition.

He pulls out completely on several thrusts in a row, both of you gasping at the sensation - you, because it’s a shock to go from nothing to everything completely and him, because every thrust inside of you when he’s pulled all the way out feels like the first. You dig your nails into his muscles, pushing your chest against his for all the physical contact you can manage.

It happens too quickly for you to even really notice. One second Johnny is rearranging your guts, giving you the best dick of your life, and the next you feel like you’re being torn in two.

You nearly scream, eyes flying open and nails dragging down his back, peeling skin off. Johnny’s loud groan drowns you out almost entirely, and he doesn’t seem to notice what he’s done.

You notice. Your unstretched ass feels like it’s on fire, and after your first sound of shock you can’t get enough breath in to try and say it hurts. 

Johnny can’t thrust the whole way in, like he had in your pussy. Your body gives him too much resistance, which is what finally makes him realize.

You’re nearly blinded by the tears filling your eyes when he finally blinks open, staring down at you.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and you can feel his heart racing against your chest. “Did I-? Am I in your-?”

“Pull out,” you gasp, tapping at his back desperately. “Oh my god, Johnny, pull out, I can’t- fuck, you’re too big.”

That’s the wrong thing to say - instead of pulling out, he groans, dropping his forehead to yours and letting his eyes fall shut again. You let out a long, high whine when his hips push forward, slowly spearing you further and further on his cock.

You’re made mute by the pain, left only with your nails as defense as you try and tear his back to shreds. You should know better, though - Johnny’s a masochist, and pain you inflict only drives him more insane.

“God, you’re fuckin’ stranglin’ me,” he pants, pulling out just enough to force himself a few inches deeper. “Thought your cunt was tight, but it’s nothin’ compared to this.”

“Johnny- please.”

“So fucking warm.” He looks nearly delirious above you, pupils blown so wide you can barely see his iris even as close as you are. “Tight.”

“Johnny,” you whine, even as the slide becomes a little bit easier from all the slick dripping from your cunt. “Hurts, please, you gotta… gotta stop.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between soothing and a snarl, a low sound that makes you instinctually arch further towards him and then yelp when that gives him more leverage.

“You’re fine,” he comforts - well, the words should be a comfort but his tone is almost dismissive. “You’re wet, I can feel it.”

“Not enough,” you cry, half choking on a sob when you feel him finally bottom out inside of you. “Ok, ok, please pull- pull out, Johnny.”

“But you feel so good,” he purrs, butting his nose against your temple. “Fuckin’ hot little ass, huh lass? You’re squeezin’ me so good, you sure you want me to pull out?”

“Yes!”

You feel the sharp smile pressed against your temple and hiccup a sob, shifting your legs so that instead of wrapping around him you’re trying to push him away. But he’s too strong for you to make him move, and he only shoves himself even further inside of you by leaning his weight forward.

“I think you’re lying,” he almost sings, grinding his hips deep inside of you. He shifts briefly, holding himself above you on one arm and sneaking the other between your bodies and down to your pussy.

You cry out when his fingers work quickly at your clit, tight fast circle that have you shaking and moaning. It’s almost enough to drown out the pain of having your back hole stretched so ruthlessly - almost.

“Here,” he says, dipping his hand down a little further to almost scoop the slick dripping from you, smearing it around your plugged hole like he’s trying to make up for the lack of lube in the first place. He pulls out about halfway, thrusting back in and moaning when you cry out. “Th-there, how’s that feel?”

“Still hurts,” you manage to get out through your sobs, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Johnny’s panting like a dog above you as he starts to fuck you again, his pace sharper and uncaring about your sensitivity. You can’t help but clench down, your inner muscles squeezing tight in an attempt to push him out that only drags him further in. 

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it - as he moans repeatedly into your ear - while he fucks you. The pain eases after a bit, your own wetness making the path at least slightly easier, but the sharp sting never fully dissipates. Your tears don’t dry up, and you’re nowhere close to the orgasm that had been building before.

Johnny’s your complete opposite - he’s lost in his own pleasure, and your desperate scratches down his back only make things better for him. If you’d thought he was euphoric before, he looks like he’s found Nirvana now. You’re not sure if he’s so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he can’t hear your pain, or if your pain is what’s driving him more and more insane with pleasure.

For your own sake, you pray it’s the first.

He doesn’t last long - thank God - and only a few minutes later his thrusts get choppier and choppier, jerking in and out of you without any rhythm at all.

“Gonna make me come, bonnie, fuck.”

You can only stare wide-eyed at the ceiling as Johnny buries his face in the crook of your neck and comes deep inside of your ass, the hot spurt of his come a distant sensation with the stretch of his cock still at the front of your mind.

“Alright, alright, pull… pull out now, Johnny, please,” you beg again, too shell-shocked to even flinch at the embarrassing crack in your voice.

He obeys wordlessly, pulling his limp cock out slowly enough to make you whine when he finally leaves you empty.

“Hush, hush,” he quiets you, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone and brushing over your spread hole with his fingers. You jolt and whine, turning to press your face into his sweat-soaked mohawk. “You’re alright, didn’t even tear.”

“You-you sure?” You sniffle.

He chuckles a little, the sound vibrating through your chests. “Yeah, you’re alright, lass. Didn’t think I would really hurt you, did’ya?”

You can only whine.

His fingers dip inside your back hole just long enough to drag out some of his come, moving up to shove it inside of your pussy.

“There ya go,” he soothes, repeating the process again and again. “Still got a nice load in your guts, you're alright." His fingers lift to your clit, rubbing in perfect circles to make you arch and gasp, squirming for more pleasure despite the growing ache in your other hole.

He brings you to a slow orgasm, one that has the last of your tears dripping down your cheeks and clinging to his shoulders like a life raft. Your breaths are uneven, heartbeat quick in your chest, and you feel fuzzy around the edges.

Unlike usual, Johnny stops at one orgasm. You almost expect him to keep going like he always does, never satisfied with less than three for you and two for him, but he pulls his hand away after your first pained whines start again.

He doesn’t get off of you, letting his weight push you deeper and deeper into the couch cushions. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close to you and breathing in his musk. It takes a while to get your breathing even again, though Johnny’s levels out in moments.

You only let your eyes close once his snores start up, loud in your ear. The rumbling of his chest is a comfort, and you float into sleep with Johnny’s sweaty body pressed firmly against every part of yours, and the ache in your ass only growing more noticeable with every breath.

[mellosghosts]

(wip) who are they !!!!