#drabble weekend

[withahappyrefrain]

“Stop wiggling around, I’m trying to sleep! Wait… what’s tha… oh!”

Forced proximity with best friend Bob?

A chance to do friends to lovers with Bob? Say no more!

"Remind me to never let Javy book the Air B&B again."

Bob chuckled at your comment, despite agreeing, "Well at least we have an actual bed. Reuben and Mickey have bunk beds."

"So all the single people have to suffer?" You scoffed, continuing to shuffle through your luggage.

The annual lake trip was going well, until the room arrangements were revealed. It wasn't that you minded sharing a room with Bob.

It was the lack of a second bed.

Twenty years ago, when you were both eight, this wouldn't have been a problem. But then puberty, high school, and base camp occurred, which brought to light the crush you had been harboring on your best friend.

"We'll make it work. And if it's that bad, I can take the floor," he offered, always the considerate one. It was one of the many traits you adored about Bob.

"Robert James Floyd, absolutely not!" You scolded, eliciting a chuckle out of him. It was deep and low, just like his voice and you didn't want to admit how it made your knees nearly shake.

"I've slept in barracks before, it's the same thing."

The comment would have gotten a laugh out of you. In fact, you would have even made a remark back, probably about how you've also slept in truck beds and underneath a wide open sky.

But then Bob Floyd took his shirt off.

It wasn't even your first time seeing him shirtless, far from it. But now he had filled out, with muscle and a dusting of hair that trailed down from his chest, past his stomach.

God, was he always this hot? Had to be and somehow you just didn't notice it until later. Perhaps that was the worst part; you fell for him because of who he was. It wasn't as if he had some type of glowup over summer break, like you'd see so often in those stupid teen movies you'd watch to feel better about yourself. No, Bob Floyd was always a beautiful soul, inside and out.

And he wasn't yours. Couldn't be. The risk of him not reciprocating was too high. Plus, your family was friends with his'. That meant Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, hell, even fucking Memorial Day gatherings would be tainted. All thanks to you.

The pressure was too high, the risk was too great.

But you could look, right?

"Sunshine?"

Bob's childhood now turned adult nickname for you broke the spell. Your wide eyes met his oceanic's. His hair, which had gotten darker over the years and now had threads of early greys, was mussed from taking off his shirt, some curls over the front of his forehead, others to the side. White shirt in hand, highlighting how massive they were when clutching the alabaster fabric. Brow's knitted together, combined with his narrow eyes and titled head created a downright adorable look of confusion.

"You,,,," he briefly turned around, to see if there was something on the wall behind him and that's why you wouldn't look at him, "You okay?"

You nodded eagerly, probably too eagerly, "Yeah sorry....I uh spaced out. Probably thinking of ways to get back at Javy."

Bob smiled, despite it never reaching his eyes when he nodded. You had turned around so quickly, unable to make such an observation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," grabbing the top and bottom you could find the quickest in your suitcase. You avoided eye contact with him, too busy feeling shame for getting caught doing something so lewd.

Rushing, you turned the water on in the showers. Focusing on ensuring you grabbed the correct products. Get the water to the perfect temperature and pressure, it exists, it has to exist because if it doesn't then you'll think about the dark body hair that went past the waistband of his jeans.

For about twenty minutes, it worked. You did your skincare routine, brushed your teeth for nearly two minutes, even blow dried your hair. Applied a lip mask, that stupid lash and brow serum the worker at Sephora conned you into buying. Moisturize every inch of your body, even though it was the dead of summer and you would sweat it all off before sunrise. That stupid reusable eye mask that you got because it was on clearance. Have you done the Wordle today, you should do the Wordle. You should do anything other than thinking about sharing a bed with your shirtless best friend.

It worked. Even put on some music, not too loud, just enough to hear and hum along.

It worked. For a while. But then you had used nearly every product in your cosmetics bag and it was time to get dressed.

Fuck.

You could never match a pair of socks, not even if your life depended on it. But tonight, fucking tonight of all nights, you had to grab a whole matching set.

The pale pink lace trimmed cami, paired with joggers. An oversized T-shirt that went further down than the pair of matching satin shorts.

You had brought the set when you were talking to a guy and thought you would be able to move on from the wonder that is Bob Floyd. What a fucking joke.

Maybe you could wear them, run back out to grab something else and run back in to change. No, why would anyone do that? If anything, it'll just make it more obvious that you didn't want to wear it in front of him. But what if you didn't change and Bob thought you had worn essentially casual lingerie on purpose? What if he found that weird? What if-

"You okay in there Sunny?" His voice always calmed you, always able to break you out of whatever self inflicted spiral you were on.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded despite Bob being unable to see you, "Yeah, I'm good. Just developed a more extensive skincare routine."

A short burst of laughter was released on the other side of the door, "You don't need all that. Already pretty."

"Bob Floyd, you are....." Charming. Amazing. Too good to be true. The love of my life,

"....too kind."

"Just telling the truth," his feet audibly stepped away. The butterflies in your chest were still exploding from his words. He made you feel safe, that this was Bob you were talking about. He'd never think you'd do something lewd or negative on purpose. Bob knew your intentions to be good. After all, he was your Bobby.

Just not in the way you want.

Your head cleared long enough to walk out the door, into the well lit bedroom. When he first made eye contact with you, you didn't even falter, simply smiling at him.

But Bob didn't say anything at first. Usually he'd make a teasing but well meaning comment about you taking so long. His thin pink lips parted, yet no words came through.

"Are you okay Bobby?"

The concern in your voice broke the trance. His features soften, his lips quirking into a half smile, "Yeah, I'm good. Just gonna shower and then head to bed."

Tension had left the room. Flopping down onto the bed, you scrolled through social media, watching all the videos and photos the squad had posted today.

"Uh, Sunshine?" You turned and lost your breath. Bob's hair was freshly washed, ends beginning to curl. A white shirt that was barely translucent and grey sweatpants that hung low on his lithe hips.

Bob Floyd had downright slutty hips.

"I don't think the bed is big enough for both of us to lay down."

Your brow crumpled in confusion, "Javy said this was a queen."

"Javy thinks anything that isn't a single is a Queen." Bob explained, not phased at all by this mistake.

Clearly it wasn't the first time. But you were still going to kill Javy Machado tomorrow morning.

"Here, if we both sleep on our sides, it'll be good."

"Like spooning?"

"Uh yeah," a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, "That's one way to think about it."

You supposed it was better than feeling his ass against yours, "Alright, well....come on in, the water's fine."

It took some time to figure out the arrangement. What was one supposed to do with their other hand? The final agreement consisted of your hips flushed against Bob's, his arm slung over your waist.

Zero awkwardness in the air. It felt....natural.

"Night Bobby."

"Night Sunshine."

Things were looking up. There was no way this would change your friendship or threaten to reveal your well kept secret. Sleep was well within your reach.

Then Bob moved. And kept moving. Due to his closeness, you felt every maneuver, no matter how subtle.

"Floyd, do you mind?"

His movements continued, as if he was trying to avoid your body while somehow simultaneously hang onto it.

A loud huff left your lips, "Stop wiggling around, I'm trying to sleep! Wait, what's that...."

Oh.

Your hips were flushed against his, your ass perfectly fitting the space formed by his thigh meeting his hip. Right against his hardened groin.

The sweatpants were thin. He didn't have anything underneath. Thanks to the flimsy fabric of your shorts, you could feel him greatly.

You were in bed with Bob Floyd. Bob Floyd was in bed with you, rocking an erection. You were being held by Bob Floyd, in bed. Bob Floyd had a huge cock, a grower.

Silence filled the room, tension thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Neither one wanting to move, for fear of making it worse.

He let out a shaky breath. He developed a rhythm, almost imitating one sleeping.

You shifted, just enough for your thigh to rise, but subtle enough to play off as nothing.

His breath hitched.

Inch by inch, your hips began to gyrate, rubbing against his clothed cock.

"B-Bobby," you were panting, as if having run a marathon. His fingers sank into your hips, gripping the plush flesh as he flipped you onto your back, towering over you.

You moved to sit on your elbows, to raise yourself up to argue. From years of play fighting, he was fast as lightning, pinning your hands above your head.

Bob slowly lowered himself down until his nose brushed against your, his soft hair brushing your forehead.

"Twelve years." Was all he said, gritting through his teeth, squeezing your hands in hopes it would tethered him to Earth.

All that came out of your mouth was a hum of confusion. In the moonlit light, you searched for his eyes, trying to read them.

"Stuart Hendricks asked you to prom. You had been hoping all month he would ask you. Hell, I even helped him. Told him your favorite musical and which song to sing. I was excited for ya. And then you said yes to him and I wanted to punch him. I never had thought about fighting someone until then. Took me a week to realize why I was so angry."

Oh my God.

"Eight to ten years ago," you confessed. It was Bob's turn to knit his eyebrows together.

"Eight to ten?" He repeated, "Why is there a range?"

"I remember feeling....funny when you came back from boot camp. You had filled out a bit and had on those adorable military issued glasses. But it took me some time to accept what I was feeling," you explained.

How you found those glasses endearing was beyond Bob's understanding. But it didn't agitate him, it was just one of the many things he loved about you.

"That's a lot of time lost," his voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded, "Can we.....can we start making up for it?"

"Yes," he nodded, dropping his head lower, "one hundred percent yes."

His lips were like heaven. He molded his body to yours, chests flushed together, limbs tangled within one another. A hand that spanned the entirety of his neck, his thumb guiding your chin upwards so he could deeper explore your mouth.

"Heard you singing....and it just felt....felt like we were living together," he confessed in between kisses, "felt so right, like that's what it's supposed to be like."

Nodding feverishly, your hands found purchase in his thick hair. Tugging on the sun kissed locks, earning a groan from Bob that made your thighs clench.

"Can....can I touch you?" Always the gentlemen, your Bobby.

"As long as you don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it sunshine," his mouth latched onto your neck, leaving open mouth kisses along the side, teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin. A hand grabbed your leg, hitching it to wrap around his waist.

Bob Floyd was fucking heaven.

[inkdrinkerworld]

ooo and maybe "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." with bob floyd he’s my babygirl <3 (no pressure for either of these ofc x)

Mal I know this was from the last sleepover list but I couldn’t pass up on writing something for Bobby!

Bob has a habit of never being able to sleep in. It's a Navy thing he's sure, needing to be up at 0500 hours every day to start the day with basic fitness training, logging into doing his checks for the day and then going to fly by 0730.

He can't sleep in ever.

It's why he's up now, but this is a much nicer reason to be awake at 0600. You're lying beside him, still asleep, with your face squished into your pillow.

Bob could watch you sleep for the rest of his life- he plans to honestly. But right now, he wants your company, and he wants to see your eyes.

He starts kindly enough with his wake-up protocol. "Darling," he whispers against your cheek, one of his hands falling on your neck and stroking the skin there softly.

"I miss you, wake up so I can see your face." he smears a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, a short path all the way to your ear.

You groan when you feel him press a kiss just under your ear, shifting slightly so your body is closer to him.

"Are you awake, darling?" he whispers, and you hum.

"No," it's all garbled and sleep laden that Bob can't help but lay another kiss on you.

"Oh okay, m'sorry love, but I miss your face." you shift so you're on your back and he can see your face more clearly, but you don't open your eyes.

Bob chuckles at the dramatics of it all- even half asleep you still manage it.

"I wanna see your eyes, darling." it's a little whiny but the man had been gone for a year, so sue him if he wanted a little bit of your attention at 0620 on a Sunday.

"Bobby," you whine, peeling your eyes open to find his baby blues already on you. "I love you, but I'm so tired."

He leans up on his elbow and presses a kiss to your lips. "Just missed your eyes." He cups your face, stroking your cheek as you shut your eyes again.

"Two more hours, Bobby then I'll be fully awake." you roll over, pressing your face into his chest. Bob's hand falls to the back of your head, scratching at the base of your neck as your breathing evens out.

He can wait another two hours; he'll have to because in no time he can hear your soft snores and smiles.

[heavenbarnes]

I want older bf!simon so bad Jesus CHRIST!!!

Cuddling with him and showing him funny tiktoks (having to explain the context of each one in painstaking detail) before he fucks me within an inch of my life

it’s beyond a joke at this point, i actually NEED him 🫶🏼

the end of the day is the best with older bf!simon when you’re both in bed. he’s sat back against the headboard and you’re cuddled into his chest.

his hand is against your back, rubbing gently along your spine. your hand is against his stomach, resting on the bare skin as your scroll through your phone.

tiktok time, simon’s limited exposure to social media.

“so he’s singing in chinese because he doesn’t want to apologise to his girlfriend-“

“is that actually him singing?”

“well no, he’s lip syncing it’s just-“

“so he can’t actually sing in chinese? needs’ta ‘pologise to his-“

“ok next one, si”

it goes on like this, you explaining every single trend and every single meme to this man that views the internet like he was born yesterday.

“so it’s framing it like a competition about being cheated on-“

“terrible competition”

“yeah i know but it’s a joke, and khloe kardashian is there-“

“who’s that? the blue guy?”

“no, my love, thats squidward-“

and in the end you naturally end up on the nighttime side of tiktok and you’re getting one that says something stupid like “ladies try flashing your man when he’s had a long day” or whatever.

suddenly he understands tiktok like he might as well have invented it.

“y’dont do that for me”

your looking up at him under a quirked brow as you shrug, “let me know the next time you have a long day and i will”

you can feel his hand start creeping around under your shirt and you’re trying to hide the smile thats forming on your face as you lock your phone.

“had a long day, sweet’art”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Beetlejuice x AFAB!Reader || Drabble+Smut

Plot: You bet him he couldn't leave you alone (stop harassing you) for even one day, not realising that he would take winning s o seriously, but he's a stubborn old fuck so now its been weeks, and he still wont give in. And well... now you kinda miss him. Ironic, huh?

Warnings: Smut. Reader is DOWN BAD, FED UP AND WANTS THAT PERVERT DICK. A little daddy kink, panty stealing, creampie (WRAP IT BEFORE YA TAP IT. Especially with this guy 😅 We dunno what he has 😅), at points its even kinda f l u f f y?? I tried to connect with different facets of Beetlejuice 😅🤣 XD Unedited.

"Stay fucken still." That raspy voice sounding a hundred shades of pissed o f f creeping directly in your ear, as well as the boner you're sitting on, do absolutely the opposite to what he wants. They do not deescalate anything- in fact, you just feel even more turned on. Jesus christ, who knew it would only take 2 weeks no-contact for you to find him attractive.

But-- b o y, do you see it now.

Yeah he's mucky, but thats part of it?? The harsh mossy stubble and forearm hair (When he rolls up his sleeves), the deep greasy racoon bags around his dark beady eyes, the crazy hair that will not be tamed, everything. You know its kind of fucked up, but you have never wanted someone so bad. And if it weren't for that stupid bet 2 weeks ago-- you would have him! Goddamnit. You and your big mouth.

"Come on BJ," You urge softly, using the tip of your finger to guide his face towards you even as every muscle in his face fights to stay strong and remain stern- and most importantly, avoid looking at you. "Look at me." The ghost with the most hadn't looked at you since he accepted the bet, afraid of seeing you and immediately losing. Immediately being unable to keep his nasty eyes- hands- mouth, off of you.

He's been so strong. So boneheaded-ly strong.

Meanwhile you've been going crazy thinking about him stuffing you with his cock and then keeping your dirty underwear after.

Now sat atop his lap, face-forward, you intend to get him to look at you again and break his resolve. If it is the last thing you do tonight. Or for the week.

"I am lookin' at you." His face barely moves; the words coming out forced and humourless. No tone at all. But you can feel his cock painfully hard stretching the seam on his pants, and your underwear. Probably an embarrassing wet spot, too. "Whadaya mean."

You're so close he can surely feel your warm breath on his face. Giving his nose a cute little brush with your own, you feel his dick twitch in his black and white striped pants and a slow grin worms it way onto your lips. "No you're not... come on. Please, BJ?" With round eyes, you pout a little. "I miss you."

With that, he gives a frustrated and animated groan, and finally looks down from just past your head- to your eyes, causing a delighted smile to slip across your face. "Come on now baby- thats not fair at all. Come on."

You throw your arms around his neck as a familiarly slimy, hot, sex-crazed grin spreads across his grimy mouth. That wild look that apparently you love appearing in his eyes again, looking down at you- all over. Licking over your pretty willing body with just a look. "You didn't give me a choice!!"

"Hey, hey, hey- you bet me, sugar- "

"Hey. You gonna take your chance and fuck me, or not?"

He shrugs. "Well when you're right, you're right." Then he kisses you open-mouthed and all-tongue and just how you imagined he would kiss, and swallows any giggle you were going to give. Along with all your thoughts.

~

Neither of you can bring yourselves to perform any foreplay- even though you want to. Want to enjoy this; grind in his lap a while longer, feel his tongue in your cunt, tease him with your lips warm and tongue damp over the top of his pants- But you're more then wet enough already, the fabric of your underwear sticks to your pussy lips, and his obviously rock-hard boner fights to tear a hole in its confines. You'll have time for all that fun stuff later, anyway.

You barely have time to properly taste each other's tongues for the first time before his greedy fingers are digging under your skirt, underneath your underwear, and slipping easily right into you. Too easily, shit. He gives a filthy groan, getting 3 of his fingers good and drenched in your slick; feeling your pretty cunt squeeze 'em. "Fuck, honey, I think this is the best pussy I ever had."

Breathless, you give a giggle; forehead pressed into his shoulder at just the feeling of his fingers invading you; hips juttering slightly into is hand. "You haven't even had me yet."

"Lets fix that, then, shall we? Now."

Your fingers go down to the button on his pants and eagerly, with deft fingers, undo it. He's not wearing underpants, predictably, so you just have to reach in and carefully finagle his fat cock free. Then you swipe a finger over the insanely leaky tip for fun and watch his head fall back against the wall, listening to the wildly horny, gutteral groan come out of him at the feeling.

He clicks his fingers and your underwear disappears. You see it reappear in his hand a last time, just before he shoves it in his jacket pocket; flashing you a cheesy grin. "Souvenir."

When finally, finally you sink down on his gross cock you both let out sighs of utter satisfaction. 2 weeks was a hell of an edge.

You're almost happy to just sit there with him stretching you open, milking him with your pussy, but when he shifts his hips, just getting more comfortable and laying his hands on your hips, the movement sparks a change of mind. "BJ... " You wrap your legs more securely around him, around the back of the chair he's sat in, and lift your hands to grip the lapels on his jacket. Your eyes meet his very dark, lusty ones. Just watching you; a little scary and a little smug and a little pussy drunk. "... fuck me."

"P l e a s e?"

"Please, daddy."

His eyes roll into the back of his head and dramatically huffs, making you giggle. "Oh fuck, baby, you really know howta murder a guy." With all his strength, he pulls himself back together; straightening up again. "Alright, alright- hold on, daddy's gonna take you on a ride."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even make noise, you blink and you're in another position entirely. Off the chair now, you find yourself pressed against a nearby wall, your legs still wrapped around him and his cock still throbbing inside you.

While you're feeling dizzy from teleporting, Beetlejuice pulls almost all the way out of your messy cunt and thrusts all the way back in- hard. He does it again. Then the pace picks up and he's pounding you into the wall at an inhuman pace that has you hiding your face in his shoulder again and knotting your fingers tight in his greasy hair.

Your orgasm builds up at a record pace, due to all the build up. It would be embarrassing, if he wasn't fighting not to paint your insides already himself. "I gotta- I gotta be honest, sweetie, I- I don't think daddy's gonna last long in this cat. Not this time. The way you're suckin me in- Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck. Pullin' my hair- Damn, shit, Fuck!- " Finally, BJ mashes his groin against yours and holds himself there; cumming hard inside you.

That causes your orgasm, rolling your hips against him and riding it out, making him shudder out a sigh. A vulgar dopey grin flickers across his jawline and black teeth.

... After a few minutes of heavy breathing- you catching your breath, and him just 'livin in it', enjoying the feel of breather meat for a while longer, you finally pull yourself together and raise your head carefully off his chest. "Um... " Suddenly you feel awkward. But not uncomfortable. You give a small, tired smile. "I don't know what to say?"

"... " He ducks down and presses his forehead to yours, and you're fooled for just a moment that this might be a sweet moment. "Uh. How about 'you win the bet, handsome?'."

Quickly you swat him, laughing. "Oh- Never!"

[samaraxmorgan]

It seems like once again you’ve accidentally found a way to annoy the life out of your roommate Sukuna. You’ve been playing your favorite song on repeat, over and over and over again when you’re in the shower, cleaning up around the apartment, he’s even caught you humming it while cooking.

And maybe he wouldn’t be so frustrated with it if he liked the song, but he really truly doesn’t. Too much of a stubborn metal head to even give it a chance. Or at least that’s what you thought.

He swears up and down that he hates that stupid song, but when you come home early from work you can hear something up in his room, his guitar. You always assumed he only had that thing for decoration, shiny dark red and signed in black sharpie by him and his friends hanging up on the wall collecting dust, but it turns out he actually plays.

And what does he play in particular? Your favorite song when he thinks you can’t hear it. Now you just have to decide if you’re gonna have this knowledge be your little secret, or if you’re gonna embarrass him later when you tell him about the time you caught him being a little liar.

Your Roommate Sukuna series masterlist here!!

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!! Divider by @adornedwithlight

[ftmsimonriley]

soap picks up fishing while on mandatory leave, allowed to borrow price's boat to take it out on the coast, never far enough to catch anything more than rockfish and other coastal dwellers, most of which he releases back anyway. he spends his days out there, drinking and letting the hours tick by as he waits for a bite.

one day, the water's calm and he doesn't have a care in the world. a little past tipsy, he's watching some gulls fly past when suddenly the line catches. the speed of the boat doesn't make up for the speed at which the reel rapidly unravels as whatever is at the other end takes off. he's left to scramble for the rod, and it's a fight to reel it back.

about halfway back, the line goes slack.

he's left feeling a little disappointed as he winds it the rest of the way, expecting nothing at the other end. but what he reels up is half of a catshark. obviously something else was trying to catch it, too.

when he looks up from the mangled corpse, he's startled to find something in the water staring back.

a human face, with just eyes out of the water, deep brown with seemingly no pupils, which he chalks up to the trick of the light reflecting off the water. what skin he can see is pale and freckled, and the short hair flattened to the person's head is deepened to a dark brown from how wet it is.

he knows mers exist. he never thought he'd meet one, much less almost accidentally catch it.

"this yers?" he calls out, undeterred by the lack of a response. only quiet staring, the mer never letting the waves push it closer to his boat. he's quick to pull the catshark off his hook, less careful than he'd be with a live one. with an underhand toss, it hits the water with a quiet splash before sinking.

the mer is diving after it in a split second, and soap assumes that's all he'll see of it.

he stays out for a bit longer after that, intent on catching something that's not already half eaten. but the mer seems to have scared off all the fish, and he's considering accepting that today wouldn't be his day before something heavy is landing on his deck.

there, is a whole northern pike, freshly killed. when he looks over the side of the boat, there in the water is those same two brown eyes.

"dinners on you, is it?" he's a bit in shock, not only with meeting a mer but having it seemingly hunt for him. but unless its somehow messed with the pike before throwing it on board, soap isn't going to question his intentions beyond interpreting this as some form of gratitude for giving him the rest of the catshark.

and after that, he sees the mer every day he's out on the water.

always keeping his distance, always just his eyes above the surface. he starts to call him ghost, what with his ability to disappear and reappear so easily, and his eerie silence. ("like a wee ghost swimming around my boat.")

he suspects ghost is also, intentionally or not, scaring away all the fish. but at this point, he's casting as an excuse. why fish when he has a mer to talk to (or to be apt, talk at, as ghost never speaks) all day?

[castieltrash1]

Can I request Jon Snow x Lady!Reader. Arranged marriage that becomes real love?

this is so sweet ty for the req :')

jon snow x afab!reader; arranged marriage, slow burn, vague mentions of sex, mutual pining-ish i think

when you’re finally brought to the godswood, gaze averted and flecks of snow glinting between strands of hair, jon finds himself relieved. he’d known his duties from a young age so when the time to wed arrived -- a wife already chosen on his behalf -- he didn’t fight it. he tried not to imagine your appearance, but it proved difficult, and many late nights at winterfell were spent concocting an image of you in his head. not nearly as beautiful or rich as robb’s future wife, surely, but you’d be worthy of a stark bastard at least… right?

it’s odd. you’re different, but somehow more beautiful. jon can’t really explain it and he doesn’t try, not wanting to offend you. the first night is painfully awkward regardless, and he’s relieved when you both agree to take it slow for now. everything happens eventually, of course, but your patience pays off. jon considers himself lucky -- he could’ve been stuck with anyone for the rest of his life, but he had you; you, with your kind words and pretty face, practically handed to him on a silver platter. he kept waiting for you to act monstrous, assuming your beauty had to be compounded by something, anything, but it’s not. your marriage isn’t perfect, but jon enjoys figuring things out with you by his side. he likes being a united front with someone. he likes the warmth you leave on the other half of the bed, sheets smelling like the oil from your baths. he enjoys keeping you happy, noticeably fulfilled when he’s seen as a good husband and dutiful partner.

the more you go through together, the deeper jon’s feelings grow. he knows it’s happening, despite his initial attempts to ignore it. you have a lifetime together ahead of you - there’s no need for him to rush things. but the affection gnaws at him, and he can’t deny himself any longer. he loves you. by the old gods and the new, he really, truly, loves you. he hadn’t expected it, thinking any romantic dedication to you would take years to build -- if it ever even came to fruition -- but now it’s here and he almost isn’t sure what to do.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue all day. he’d nearly said it in bed the night before, limbs tangled in sheets as he stared down at you, but the words were caught in his throat. now, every time he speaks to you, the declaration begs for release, desperate for you to know the depth of his feelings. three more opportunities arise before midday, but he lasts until after dinner, when he finds you overlooking the courtyard below and feels his heart skip a beat. you turn to face him and, somehow, his gentle expression tells you everything.

“i love you.”

+ after he says it for the first time, it takes him a while to work up the courage again, even if you happily return the sentiment. it felt like a reward and he doesn’t want to spoil it. the words aren’t careless to him and he wants them to mean something, not be taken for granted. soon enough, you’ll hear it five times a day, gruffly murmured in every free moment alone. and, despite its newfound frequency, it only seems to be more genuine each time.

game of thrones weekend (reqs open!)

[withahappyrefrain]

mmm i’m thinking “When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?” with our beloved bobby. he’s very serious about face sitting, y’know 😌

He does!!!! Especially older BF! Bob ☺️☺️☺️ slight daddy kink at the end!

"You want me to what?" Surely, he couldn't have said what you thought he said.

Just moments ago, your limbs were tangled with your boyfriend's, hips jerking against one another. Bob's request made you stop in your tracks.

"I think you heard me darlin'," there was a twinkle in his eyes. Dare you say it, it looked almost mischievous. His normally bright blue eyes had darkened.

"Bob, if I sit on you, I'll cr-"

"When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?" The sternness of his deep voice made your thighs clench. Bob extended his arms out, motioning you to grab his hands.

With shaking legs, you began to move up Bob's body.

"No one's ever asked you to do this, have they?" You shook your head and Bob could feel his cock twitch. Why every partner of yours has treated you like shit was beyond him.

But he was delighted that he would be the first (and hopefully last) person to show you this way of pleasure.

"That's it, atta girl," He encourages as your core gets closer to his face.

His obscenely large hands grip your thighs, kneading the soft flesh, "Fuckin' love these thighs."

"Really?" It was a genuine question. You were used to people focusing on your tits and ass.

"'Course I do. So fucking soft but I know they could crush me if you tried," He places soft kisses up your thighs, gentle bites leaving you gasping, gripping the bedframe for some stability.

"Then there's this sweet lil' pussy," long fingers skim your soaked folds, eliciting a whimper. You didn't question him this time; when it came to your cunt, Bob would worship. He made that known early on.

He gets up on his elbows, placing a kiss dangerously close to your clit, "Fuck, she's already so wet for me. You excited sweet girl?"

You nodded, trying to muster up all the available strength you had so as to not collapse from his words, "Y-yes sir."

The title earns a low growl from Bob, your thighs clenching at the sound. He could probably see it but you weren't concerned. Despite being in such a vulnerable position, you felt mostly at ease.

Except for the fact you had no idea what you were doing.

As if Bob could sense it, he placed his hands on your thighs, "Alright, y'gonna lower yourself slowly, okay sweet girl?"

You nodded, following his instructions.

Bob usually was patient, it was one of the many qualities that helped him become an Admiral. But the sight of your soaked core, just dying to be touched, made him lose all sense of the trait.

His mouth eagerly latched onto your cunt, tongue exploring every inch of you. A loud moan vibrated off the walls of his bedroom. Your fingers gripped the wooden bed frame tightly as Bob's tongue lapped up your arousal.

His hands moved to your ass, gripping the ample flesh. Bob would be the first to admit he was addicted to your taste, to you. If Bob could spend the rest of his life pleasing you, he'd die a happy man.

You found your hips rocking back and forth. Immediately, you stilled them. After all, that would be too much, right?

"Don't stop," Bob murmurs, his voice slightly muffled, "I gotcha baby."

The pet name made you weak both in the knees and the heart. How could one man be simultaneously so hot but also so fucking sweet?

Beginning the motions again, one hand moves down to grip Bob's sun kissed locks. He hums in approval, vibrating against your core. His tongue alternated from exploring your entrance to sucking your throbbing clit. As he continued his ministrations, you found yourself unable to keep your voice level down, the room echoing with your moans.

Perks of owning a house, don't have to worry about noise complaints.

Every time his buttoned nose brushed against your clit, it sent you closer and closer to the edge. You tried to slow your hips, but thanks to his grip on your ass, Bob was able to move with you ease.

"Bob-Bobby, I'm close," your voice was desperate, almost pathetic. You hardly recognized it.

And yet, you felt no shame. Gone were the days of being overly self conscious during sex. You had Bob now, who made you feel safe.

Still, it was a shock when he continued his ministrations, rather than lift you off. Your hips now had a mind of their own, rocking against Bob's face in an attempt to chase the high that was just within reach.

When you looked down, the sight below you took your breath away.

Blue eyes half closed in pleasure, hands kneading your soft thighs, sandy brown hair disheveled, some strands having fallen over his forehead. His mouth greedily devouring you.

He looked beautiful. He looked like he was getting just as much pleasure out of this as you, maybe even more.

Your head lolled backwards as white hot pleasure coursed through your body. Your hands gripped his hair, hips rocking erratically.

His name echoed off the walls, his moans mixing with yours.

"Fuck! D-daddy!" The nickname slipped out. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about ever since you and Bob started dating. It was just the concept of bringing it up that you were still figuring out.

A downright feral growl escaped Bob's lips. The next thing you knew, you were lying on your back, Bob's hard cock teasing your soaked entrance.

"Say it," he growled, "Say it again."

"Daddy?" Bob sharply inhaled through his nose, his cock swiftly entering and filling you completely.

"Daddy!"

Bob panted in your ear, his hips driving into yours at a feral pace.

Now that he had you, he was never letting you go.

[inkdrinkerworld]

 “are you asleep?” “...no.” with bucky again because I can’t get enough of him!! p.s luv u and very excited about ur sleepover hehe

Ahh Mal this was one so domestic!!!!

Bucky doesn’t make it a habit of coming home late, it’s just that these last few weeks of being congressman have been taking it out of him.

It’s dark when he gets into your home, the only light on is your kitchen light and he can see a plate of food covered on the table.

He smiles when he sees it. The plate is still a little warm when he touches it. Bucky eats fast, wanting to catch you before you fall asleep if he can.

By the time he makes it to your bedroom, he’s already down to his boxers. He slips behind you quietly.

You hum when you feel him, leaning into his body a little and Bucky smiles.

“Are you asleep, doll?” His lips press into your shoulder, nose in the junction where your neck and shoulder meet.

It takes a minute for your answer to come, and when it does it’s heavily coated in sleep and gravel, “No,” Bucky chuckles, pulling you closer to him. “How was the meeting thing?”

You feel him shake your head, but it’s like your ears are plugged because his words take a moment to register. “A load of crap. Waste of my evening.”

“Least you’re home now.” Bucky would tell you in the morning that you barely mumbled in English, but all he does is kiss your back and link your fingers together.

“Go back to sleep, doll.” Neither of you are awake for much after that.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie loved flying. When the sun was out and he could watch the cars and houses get smaller while they reached altitude. When everything felt a bit lighter and his stress was under the clouds.

He did not love flying when the weather was bad.

In fact, he’d joked with the flight attendant that maybe they should delay the flight until the wind and dark clouds passed, but she just laughed and said the pilots were used to it.

Good for them. Eddie wasn’t.

He always sat in the window seat in first class, usually had some old businessman on his way to close a very important deal next to him. That wasn’t an option for this last minute flight though, so he was in the last row of the plane, leg bouncing nervously as people continued to board.

“As a courtesy to those around you, please stow your personal items under the seat in front of you as soon as you are in your seat. This allows a faster boarding process for all of us. Thank you!”

The announcement was a reminder that Eddie was flying without his usual carry-on items. His tour manager had packed him a checked bag and sent him on his way.

So he had his phone and his wallet, and eyes looking out the window next to him watching rain start to hit the tarmac below.

“Excuse me, I think that’s my seat,” a man’s voice said from the aisle.

Eddie looked over and saw a long line of men roughly his age in matching track suits, backpacks over their shoulders, and the Notre Dame logo on their jackets.

They were all tall. Well, all except the guy talking to him now. He was pretty average size.

“Uh. I don’t think so man. I’m 36F,” Eddie answered as kindly as his nerves would allow.

The guy checked his phone, brows creasing together.

“I’m 36F.”

No fucking way was Eddie giving up his window seat.

“Is there a problem?” A flight attendant asked from behind them.

“We’re both supposed to be in 36F?” The guy held his phone towards the attendant.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?” The attendant asked Eddie.

Eddie pulled his own phone out, holding out the mobile boarding pass for her to see it.

“Sorry sir, it looks like you should be in 36E.”

Oh no.

Oh god no.

A middle seat?

There was no fucking way.

“I’m sorry, would it be at all possible for me to be in a window seat?” Eddie didn’t want to cause problems, but his chest was starting to clench and his breaths were coming in short pants.

“Unfortunately, this is a sold out flight. We wouldn’t have any available for you.”

He could feel eyes on him, quite a few of them, but none as obvious as the guy who actually belonged in 36F.

“We can just switch, man. No big deal.”

Eddie sighed with relief.

“Thank you, yeah. That’d be great.”

The attendant nodded and gestured for the guy to sit down.

Someone behind him sat on his other side and they immediately started talking as if nothing had happened.

See? Eddie had actually done them a favor! Now he could talk to his teammate for whatever sport he played and Eddie could watch their impending demise through the window.

The plane was rocking back and forth from the force of the wind blowing outside and the sky continued to grow darker despite the early afternoon hour. Eddie was considering sending a goodbye text to his band when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes widened as he turned to look at the guy next to him.

“Do you normally get nervous when you fly? Or is this your first time?” He continued. “Sometimes it helps to just close your eyes during takeoff.”

It was kind of him to try this, truly, but Eddie knew kindness wouldn’t save them if lightning hit them.

“I’m just not a fan of storms.”

The guy was watching him while his teammate on the other side of him talked to the guys across the aisle. Eddie was surrounded by this entire team. The irony was not lost on him that he spent so much of his youth expressing disdain for sports ball and might die among a group of sports ball players.

“Steve.” The guy nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s instead of offering his hand, an odd thing to do but the contact was grounding.

“Eddie.”

“You wanna hold my hand?”

Did they already die during takeoff? Did Eddie somehow end up in heaven?

This very attractive man, who definitely didn’t even know who Eddie was, was offering comfort in these trying times. Offering to hold his hand!

“Uh.”

Steve smiled. “It’s okay if not, but I figured it might help you focus on something else.”

“Sure.”

Steve held his hand out, palm up, and Eddie laced their fingers together.

“So, Eddie. Tell me where you’re off to.”

Eddie breathed in, breathed out. “My Uncle. He’s getting his appendix out so I’m trying to get there before he wakes up.”

“Oh. I had mine out when I was 10! Is he okay?” Steve seemed genuinely concerned and Eddie felt his stomach swoop.

“Yeah! Yeah, they caught it before it ruptured. But because of his age, they said his recovery might be a little rough so I’m gonna stay with him for a week to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. He’s a stubborn old man who’d probably be pulling weeds from his garden within hours if I wasn’t going so.” Eddie looked back out the window. Fingers reached under his chin, turning him away from the window.

“Eyes on me.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie nodded and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Good.”

Fuck.

“So, you’re close with your uncle?” Steve asked, as if he hadn’t just turned Eddie’s entire world upside down.

“Mhm. He basically raised me. More like a dad,” Eddie whispered out.

The pilot was making an announcement, but you couldn’t pay Eddie to tell you what it was for. He barely even noticed that they were backing away from the boarding zone.

“Do you visit him often?”

“As often as I can. My job keeps me busy,” Eddie shrugged, not really wanting to give it away, didn’t wanna give Steve a reason to look at him differently.

Eddie was gonna soak up this attention as long as he could.

It was actually helping distract him.

“I get that. I mean, I play basketball for Notre Dame and it basically is a full time job. We travel so much, most of my classes are online. I hardly ever get back home to visit my family,” Steve admitted with a sad smile. “Luckily, they come see me at my home games when they can. Does your uncle get to visit you sometimes?”

Just as Eddie went to answer, he caught lightning out of the corner of his eye and his entire body tensed.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was firm, drawing his attention away from the window quickly. “Keep your eyes on me. We’re fine. Just you and me talking right now.”

They were nearly at the runway for takeoff and it was getting harder to focus on Steve’s words, the warmth of his hand in his, the fact that if it were truly dangerous, they wouldn’t even be cleared for takeoff.

As the plane sped up, Eddie whimpered.

He’d be embarrassed later if he survived.

Steve’s hand pulled from his and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him against his side while his other hand cupped the back of his head and kept his face against his chest.

“Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

And really, if the plane went down in flames, no one could save them. But hearing it did help, especially with arms holding him so tightly, he almost didn’t even remember he was on a plane.

But not quite.

The wind was strong enough to make the takeoff rough, shaking the plane more than usual as it left the ground.

Eddie’s hand gripped Steve’s shirt so tight, he would probably cause a tear if his nails weren’t so dull.

He stayed like that while they continued to climb above the clouds, the air pockets making the flight a bit more turbulent than Eddie was okay with.

He felt the vibrations of Steve talking, but didn’t hear him, didn’t even know if he was talking to him or the guy next to him who probably thought Eddie was an idiot.

The pilot made an announcement he didn’t hear, but he figured if he was gonna die, he could die against the chest of a nice, hot guy.

“Worst of it’s almost done, babe,” Steve said, lips against the top of Eddie’s head.

Gareth would never stop teasing him about this if he ever found out.

Being consoled by a sports ball guy during a flight he’s taken at least 30 times in the last two years.

New low? Maybe new high if he managed to get his number.

Steve’s fingers played with his hair, and he slowly felt his body relax.

His last thought before drifting asleep was how nice it was to be held like this.

***

“I think he’s probably a cookie guy.”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open to Steve’s voice quietly rumbling in his ear.

He’d been adjusted at some point so his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, one hand against his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he fell asleep on a flight. Maybe the last time they flew to London from LA right after a show?

And those had been perfect flying conditions.

He lifted his head as he rubbed at his eyes and tried not to let the butterflies take over when Steve’s hand squeezed his hip.

“Hey sleepyhead. You want cookies or pretzels?”

“Cookies always. Please.” Eddie yawned.

As he took the package of Biscoff cookies, he noticed how smooth the flight was and the sun shining through the window.

Steve’s arm stayed around him.

The entire flight.

Even after he’d gotten up to use the restroom.

Even when there was no real reason to offer him comfort anymore.

Even when they landed on the runway in Indianapolis and the seatbelt light turned off.

Even while they talked to each other the entire flight, sharing the smallest details about themselves as if it was a first date.

“Would it be okay if I get your number? I’d like to check on your uncle later if that’s okay,” Steve asked, suddenly seeming more nervous than he had the entire flight.

I’m “Yes! Yeah, please,” he quickly typed it into Steve’s phone, putting his name as Eddie M 🛫. “Uh, thanks for, ya know, helping. Kind of embarrassing.”

“No reason to be embarrassed. It was scary.”

“Yeah. I just figured I fly so much, I should be used to it.”

“You never told me what your job was,” Steve nudged him as he pocketed his phone.

“I didn’t.” Eddie almost didn’t wanna ruin this. But he’d figure it out or find out and then it’d be worse. “I’m the lead singer for Corroded Coffin.”

“Is that…a famous band?”

The guy on the other side of Steve smacked his shoulder. “Dude, one of their songs is on our locker room hype playlist. Dustin’s obsessed.”

“Shut up, Lucas. You know I have my own playlist!” Steve turned back to Eddie and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. So you’re like famous.”

“You could say that,” Eddie hated saying it though, at least in these situations. “You really didn’t know?”

“Nah. I’m more of a pop and 80s kinda guy.”

“Maybe you could send me a playlist? Ya know, when you check on my uncle later,” Eddie suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got a two and a half hour bus ride back to campus to work on one.” Steve smirked. “You gonna be alright now?”

“Yeah. Thanks again. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime. Anything you need.”

And Eddie was pretty sure he meant it.

[nikkento-writes]

You take a break from fucking in the bedroom to grab a glass a water in the kitchen, and as you’re gulping it down, Nanami is too impatient and sits his ass right below you, spreading your legs to eat you out in the kitchen until you come, then he surfaces to fuck you doggy on the counter

[recareels]

Have you see March's outfit she is soo cute!! Would love to wear something dainty and cute for the ever polite and composed DAN HENG and watch him lose his mind

i have!!!!! and i agree!!! she’s so so so adorable and i absolutely adore the idea of wearing something so cute that just toes the line between innocent and provocative and teasing mr dan heng with it hehe (*ﾉωﾉ)

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, reader is a brat and a tease words: 590

he can’t take his fucking eyes off of you. no matter how hard he tries to keep his stare and attention from straying, it seems his gaze is automatically and uncontrollably drawn to your form. it’s an instinctual reaction, almost—a cliche moth to a bright flame, allured into your heat, enticed by your shimmer, desperate to bathe himself in you.

you have single-handedly and unknowingly corroded his self-discipline, worn it down right to the precious core and consumed the shreds. and the longer you linger, the worse it gets. because the longer you linger, the more he wants you. 

dan heng swears you must be doing it on purpose. there’s no way you’re bending over like that, arching your back into a perfectly smooth curve and causing the hem of your sweet little skirt to ride up just enough to tease the edges of your panties—lace-trimmed silk, blush pink, clinging delicately to the supple flesh of your ass—without consciously meaning to. 

but you are seemingly oblivious, flitting around the express without a single glance or acknowledgement his way. it’s almost as if you don’t care at all—don’t care that you’re torturing him, don’t care that you’ve got his cock embarrassingly yearning against his trousers with such simple motions yielding fleeting glimpses beneath flowing fabric, don’t care that you’ve devoured his concentration, wadded it up between your molars like that sweet pink bubblegum you favour so much and spit it right back out at him, warped and sticky and glazed with your spit. but he knows better, because he knows you.

his patience has been snuffed out to smouldering embers now, but he’s able to keep those last few flares kindling, glowing hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach until he is finally alone with you, secluded in the express’s tiny kitchen, the proximity of your presence a douse of kerosene. 

then that flame is bursting, raging, licking at his ribs and up his throat until it’s scathing his tongue and melting his teeth, spilling past his lips in a snarl. 

a sharp flash of ink and azure, he’s got you trapped between the counter and his body in a mere instant, granite edge digging into the base of your spine. 

the sudden action, full of uncharacteristic violence and vigour, punches a gasp from your throat, gaze gaping with shock as it flies across his contorted face, his features scrunched beneath the weight of his fury. 

“you think i don’t know what you’re doing?” he spits, stare searching your own with fervour, nostrils flaring with heaving breaths. 

the surprise in your eyes dissipates, devoured by the mischief lurking beneath—the mischief he knew was there all along, festering, barely hidden by the guise of ignorance. 

something sinister smears across your face, curling your lips into an arrogant little smirk, your irises gone dark, shaded by thick lashes, glittering with the lure of a challenge. 

“just wanted to see if you’d do anything about it.” 

a growl rumbles in his chest, his ribs rattling against yours, teeth bared like a primal animal. his hips shove forward in accentuation and you can feel his cock, hot and hard and throbbing with desire, complementing the cold tremor threaded throughout his tone. 

oh, he’s about to do something about it, right now. 

[sequinsandfins]

Max watches as Daniel slowly and haphazardly folds his clothes and throws them into his suitcase.

“Are you sure you cannot stay?”

Daniel laughs, more amused than the bitter reaction of late. “You just want me to stay because of this sweet bod,” he waves his hands over himself and Max can’t help but let his eyes follow before rolling them.

“Yes, Daniel, you know of course, how I am always missing you.”

Max tries to make it a joke, but he has to swallow back the sad truth, a poor attempt at hiding his feelings as he averts his eyes.

Luckily for him, Daniel appears to be focused on packing up his things, and soon it will be like he was never even in this room.

Daniel sighs and Max’s gaze is drawn back to him. “I wish I could, but…” Daniel trails off and Max doesn’t need him to finish the sentence. He knows.

“At least do not leave it so long next time.” Max stands up from where he’d be lounging on the bed.

He has to leave. He can’t stay here and watch Daniel leave him behind again. Leaving him here to deal with this circus.

“Yeah, I won’t. You know you’re never getting rid of me right?” Daniel says casually, as if he hasn’t just carved out more space in the Daniel shaped hole in Max’s heart.

Max nods quickly before giving Daniel a hug which lasts only marginally longer than platonically normal, “Yes Daniel, I of course know this. You are stuck with me for life,” he mumbles into Daniel’s neck, and then pulls himself away before he does something stupid like kissing him.

One day Daniel will decide to stay with him, Max will wait. He knows that he and Daniel are inevitable. But he hopes Daniel will work it out soon, before Max’s patience runs thin and he will have to show Daniel, with his lips, and his body,

Max doesn’t have to wait long.

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (some fluff for my distressed baddies xoxo)

“you’ve got a little something there,” you giggle. 

light like the breeze, your fingers brush the fallen leaf from ajax’s hair.

it drops to the ground, joining the growing piles of auburn and brown that rest upon the sidewalks, rising with each breath of wind.

“careful there. you know i wouldn’t let anyone else touch my hair, you better not mess it up,” he grins, holding your wrist in his palm. it keeps you close.

“oh, i wouldn’t dream of it.”

all too easily, your arm slips from his grasp and reaches towards your ankles. with a swift motion, leaves crumple in your fist as you lift them up, up, up, tossing them into the air above.

autumn’s gravity pulls them back down, crowning both of you with their remnants of orange and red.

“you little-”

before he finishes, he’s shaking his head, flashes of ginger dancing across the fall sky. back down, down, down the leaves fall, returning home.

glimmering blue eyes sparkle as he turns to you, laughing.

“you got a little something right there.” slender fingers pluck the remaining leaves from your hair, letting them tumble with your giggles in the wind.

when he smiles at you, it’s warmer than the crisp air turning his cheeks pink.

“you better not mess up my hair,” and your grin is soft and welcome, all cinnamon and spices.

you hold his wrist, freckled skin on skin. fingers intertwine, until you’re breathing the same brisk air. you keep him close.

a/n: needed something to make me smile so here’s two losers in love or whatever :)

[holidayinhell]

Dear Caretaker,

If you’re reading this… I’m probably gone forever. I’m sorry.

I don’t know if this will even reach you. Maybe he’ll burn it. But I had to try and put something down. 

I don’t really know what to say (sorry this pen really sucks)

Thank you for saving me. You did it twice now. That time on the boat, and now this time too. I couldn’t have survived this long if I wasn’t thinking about you. Your face, your kindness, your compassion and warmth... It’s the only thing that’s gotten me through the past few weeks.

I wish I could see you one more time. You might be proud of me. I’m not scared like I used to be.

But I hope you’ve found something better. Someone better. Someone who’s not like me.

(flip page ->)

If any part of you still loves me, or cares about me or is even just wondering-- I thought of you at the very end. And that reminded me how beautiful life can be.

Maybe you can think of me sometime too?

I want you to know I loved you. I always have and always will. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.

All my love,

Whumpee

[petrichorium]

“finally warming up?”

“mmm. a little.”

“only a little?”

“yeah. you should keep holding me, just to make sure.”

“hah! only if i have to.”

absolutely jaw-dropping commission of me and Tetsuro I got back in I think April??? by @/tsuumei who genuinely blew me away when I got this lil experimental work 🫶🏻