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I want to be the one to feed her until she makes this face.

“poor thing, you’re just too big, aren’t you?”

“sweet pet, getting so fat, you can’t even dress yourself anymore, let me help you.”

“aww, did puppy eat so much that she can’t walk anymore?”

“look at you, so unhealthy and out-of-shape that you’re out of breath just from waddling a few steps”

Don't get me wrong, being pressed into their armpit after a long workout makes me absolutely feral with desire for them.

But it also calms me down if I'm feeling stressed, it slows my thoughts when my mind is racing. They smell like home, like love, like belonging.

For me having a scent kink is about experiencing the people I love in every way I can.

Hard manual labour. Coming home in her stained and torn tank top, reeking of sweat, metal and oil. Her socks fling across the room for me to bury my face in while she gets ready.

After what feels like an eternity of heady musk and sweat clouding my brain I get yanked up by my hair, eyes glassy as she presents her armpit to me and shoves me in, the stray oil and grease smearing on my face. But I don't care, it's too late to care. My entire world is in front of me right now, nothing else matters, nothing exists outside of this smell, this taste.

And at the end of the night. When we're worn out and we stink of each other. She'd lay her head on my chest, and I'd run my fingers across her greasy hair. My heartbeat a song to soothe her worries. The silence broken by three simple words as we drift off.