#i just love Them

[prythiansfavoritefox]

[ Soothe ] for Elucien 🤍

Elain slumped onto her bed, exhausted. It had been a hard day's work of gardening. Her muscles were completely sore. With little else to do in the Night Court, gardening had practically become her daily job. Not like they'd allow her to do anything else. Her request to scry in place of her sister had been denied. They'd rather an emotionally unstable Nesta try than her. It showed what little they thought of her. Bleh.

Elain rubbed her eyes. She been planning on going straight to bed, but how was she going to sleep with all of these sore muscles? So, she made an impulsive decision.

She was exhausted, but she got out of bed and went towards the wraiths' rooms. She knocked on Nuala's door, and within a few moments, her and Cerridwen had appeared beside her like apparitions.

Other people might find them creepy, but they didn't bother Elain very much. She was a literal Seer; she was the weirdo to most people. "Take me to Lucien's house," she said quietly. The wraiths tilted their heads curiously at her. Elain was no fool; she knew the wraiths had been set on her to spy on her, but at least she could befriend them and somewhat gain the advantage. Perhaps in time, their loyalty would be to her and not Rhysand. That would be hilarious. "Are you going to interrogate me, or are you going to do as I say?" Elain asked, a little bite in her voice this time. At her sharp tone, the wraiths linked their arms with hers and the three of them disappeared into the shadows. It wasn't quite like winnowing; no, it was far more uncomfortable. Like melting into the shadows before coming to be again.

"Don't wait up for me," Elain called back at the wraiths, watching them disappear. She walked towards the door to Lucien's house. The whorls of wood on the front were elegant, and Elain could not help but admire the beauty that surrounded everything that had to do with this man. You would never catch him lacking in style.

It was so goddamn attractive.

Before she could knock on the door, Lucien opened it for her. "Elain," he murmured, and Elain squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to control her visceral reaction to the low timbre of his voice. "Lucien," she got out. God, her voice was so breathy; she was doing a terrible job at controlling her instincts. He moved aside so that she could walk in.

"Why are you here." Lucien's voice was careful, restrained. Elain didn't fail to notice his hands flexing back and forth, like he was resisting the urge to grab her and do unspeakable things to her.

Elain blushed. She bit her lip, and Lucien's eyes focused on it. "Couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to sleep walk and somehow wound up here?" he drawled sarcastically.

Elain's spine straightened at his tone. "No, I decided to come here."

"Why? You had no problem avoiding me like the plague for the past several months." He stalked away, and Elain stormed after him. "I just thought-"

"You thought wrong, Elain," Lucien replied.

Elain snorted. "Feyre was right. You are an asshole."

Lucien whipped his head around to her, and Elain stumbled back a step at the expression on his face. His eyes glowed a brilliant deep amber as fire entered his body. The room heated up more with every second. His hands were trembling, fists clenched so hard the skin was paling around his knuckles. "Did Feyre ever tell you what I did for her?" he whispered.

Elain blinked. "N-no I don't think so."

Lucien laughed mirthlessly. "Figures. She always had a bit of a victim complex. Impossible for her to admit she's wrong in any scenario." He took a step towards Elain, who took another step back. "Did you expect me to rejoice at the half-starved animal who had murdered my friend taking his place? Even if it was for the sake of breaking the curse? How would you have felt, if I had killed Feyre and I'd replaced her in your house? Not so nice, hmm?"

Elain opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was hard to think of words when Lucien focused all of his relentless attention on her. She tried again. "No. Not nice." Such a lame response, but she had nothing else to say. Lucien snorted. "Either way, I warmed up to her in spite of everything. She seemed alright...for a feral human, at least. And Tamlin loved her, so when she showed up Under the Mountain, I swore an oath to protect her for him."

Elain shook her head. Feyre had never told her any of this. Lucien continued. "But then, Amarantha dragged me in front of Rhysand and threatened to have me killed. Feyre offered up her name in exchange for my life. Despite me nearly getting her killed a couple of times before that. True, I saved her a lot more, but..." Elain rolled her eyes at his addition, and Lucien took another step forward, "from that point onward, I wasn't just protecting her for Tamlin or Prythian. I was doing it for her."

Elain took another step back. Lucien smirked at her retreat, continuing his story. "She was forced to face this gigantic creature called the Middengard Wyrm. I called out the direction it was coming from, thus saving her life and nearly damning my own. Amarantha ultimately spared my life on the condition that Tamlin whip me instead. Twenty times."

Elain gasped as Lucien began unbuttoning his shirt. "What are you doing?" Elain asked breathlessly, unable to stop watching as Lucien slid his shirt off, turning his back to Elain. There were long, jagged scars going all across Lucien's back. Elain stepped forward to look at them more closely when Lucien shrugged his shirt back on. "Am I still the asshole, Elain?" he asked darkly, then he walked away. Elain nearly screamed in frustration. The urge to touch him, beg him to stay, was uncontrollable. But her legs were screaming again, and she sighed as she settled on the plush carpet in Lucien's living room. Her muscles were burning with lactic acid.

"Elain?" Lucien was by her side in an instant, hand on her shoulder. "Are you ok?" His tone was a far cry from what it had been a few moments ago, purely gentleness and concern in it. He cursed under his breath. "I'm so sorry, Elain, I had no idea-"

Elain laid her hand over his. "It's nothing life-threatening, Lucien," she assured him. "My muscles are just really sore."

Lucien blushed. "Well...I could, you know...?"

"Could what?" Elain asked.

Lucien muttered, "Icouldmassageyouifthatsnottooinappropriate."

"What's that?" Elain yelled, pretending not to understand.

"Oh, I know you heard me, lady," Lucien replied, a bit of a flirtatious note in his voice now. Elain smirked. "You may massage me." She sat up, offering her back to him. He placed his warm hands on her shoulders and began to rub them in circles.

Holy Mother, he was good at this; Elain didn't know how she was going to get through this, especially when his hands moved down her arms, and he turned her around, taking one of her legs in his big palms. "May I?" he asked softly.

Elain barely managed to whisper, "Yes." His hands began working their magic on her upper legs, and she bit back her moan. She really shouldn't be as insanely turned on by this as she was. It was only made worse by the fact that Lucien's body was completely tense, his scent revealing that he was having just as much difficulty maintaining control as she was. When his thumbs dug into her inner thighs, she couldn't control her gasp.

Lucien immediately pulled away. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his cheeks scarlet. "I'll take my leave, my lady." He jumped up, hastily bowing, before he began to walk away. Bastard! He dare work her up this much and then just leave???? Hell no. Elain stomped up to him, shouting, "Lucien! You come back here this instant!" Lucien turned back to her, his russet eye wide, his metal one whirring like crazy. How was he just so effortlessly handsome? It drove Elain mad. So, she did the logical thing.

She stood on her tip-toes, grabbed Lucien by the collar, and slammed her lips to his.

[colibriskitea]

Roomies I think, or just girlies camping out at agent 3’s place

[a-bloom-to-remember]

Thinking about how in sophomore year Ayda and Fig were each wondering if the other loved them for themselves and all the while there were fossils at Mordred Manor and a scroll kept by an order of knights for 1500 years just for Ayda to tell Fig HOW MUCH she loved her.

[s0ftpining]

sleepover 💅🏻

[deedala]

Kate Siegel and Rahul Kohli in The Fall of the House of Usher

[beaulesbian]

MILES MORALES & HOBIE BROWN in SPIDERMAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE (2023)

"Listen to me, bruv. Whole point of being Spider-Man is your independence. Being your own boss. You don't need all this."

[somewillwin]

Idk how this came to be but…. There it is ✨

Kofi

[coachbeards]

#married.

bonus:

[its-steddie-time]

Steve runs track & Eddie thinks that's pretty fucking hot and cool. 

It’s not that Eddie doesn’t understand the appeal of sports. He knows what it’s like to play a game and do everything you can to win. That feeling is no stranger to a seasoned player of DnD.

It’s just that the majority of the guys who play sports also happen to be the biggest douchebags around. After years of always being picked last and forcing himself into ill-fitting gym clothes, he’s just done with it all. Well, sort of.

Eddie has a crush.

It’s not even really a crush as much as it is a fascination with one Steve Harrington. Steve is just such a bitchy motherfucker. He’s got a mouth on him—both in the way he talks and also just his mouth like fuck—those full pink lips.

Steve Harrington likes sports. He’s good at them and he always has been. But he’s also a good “sportsman” or whatever. He’s kinda graceful. It drives Eddie up the goddamn wall. Steve graduated last year but he still uses the field to run. He was a big track star at Hawkins High so he just does what he wants.

Eddie’s in his senior year. Well, it’s been his senior year the last few years but who’s counting? He’s under the bleachers next to the field, smoking his second cigarette. He inhales slowly, feels the smoke hit the back of his throat. He should probably kick this shit before he fucks his lungs but he’s never been good at staying away from things that are bad for him.

Case in point: Steve fucking Harrington.

Steve is on the field getting ready to run and Eddie can see him from his hiding spot. Steve is stretching. He’s got on these tiny shorts and they make his ass look insane. Steve has these gorgeous hairy legs and from what Eddie’s seen—not in a weird way ok just glimpses in the locker room—he’s got hair all over his body.  It adds a whole new meaning to Steve “The Hair” Harrington.

He also has freckles and moles scattered across his skin. Eddie wants to kiss each one of them. He wants to lick the sweat from Steve’s skin. He—should probably stop before he needs to rub one out.

He finishes his cigarette and then two more as he watches Steve for the next hour. Steve runs like he was made for it. Eddie is definitely packing a semi now and that’s just fucking splendid. He waits until Steve leaves the field before slinking out from under the bleachers like a cat. He needs water. He heads inside, pausing at the fountain outside the locker room.

He looks around before tying his hair up in a messy bun. He doesn’t usually wear his hair that way out of the house but he doesn’t want to get any of his hair wet. He drinks, the cool water soothing the residual burn in his throat. He has his eyes closed, so he nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears someone say, “Damn Munson, save some for the rest of us.”

His eyes fly open and he straightens up, wiping his mouth. It’s Steve. Of course it’s Steve.

Eddie makes a noise that sounds somewhere between a cough and a nervous laugh. Steve is looking at him with a small smile on his face. “Nice hair.” Eddie nearly dies right then and there.

He can feel the blush in his cheeks as he reaches to take his hair out of the bun—but Steve rushes out, “No no I’m uh, I’m serious. It’s nice. I’ve never seen it like that before.”

Now Steve is the one blushing. Eddie stops fiddling with the hair tie and lets his arms fall at his sides again. Steve has moved closer in his urgency to get Eddie to leave his hair alone. God, he’s so fucking cute. He’s still sweaty from all the running and his hair is all messed up. Eddie wishes he was the one responsible for making a mess of Steve Harrington. What a pretty mess.

He realizes he’s been just staring at Steve without speaking so he just starts babbling, “I saw you running out there. You’re like, really good at that man. I mean I guess you’re kinda good at all sports aren’t you? I hate to admit it, like it pains me Harrington but it’s actually pretty badass. I’m lucky if I win a game of tag, you know. But you, you’re like a gazelle.”

YOU’RE LIKE A GAZELLE?! Jesus fuck. Of all the things to say. 

But Steve is just smiling at him like it’s the best thing he’s heard all day. He laughs, a beautiful sound. “Wow, now that is some high praise coming from you.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “From me?”

Steve nods and continues, “Yeah, you and your club were always the real badasses around here. Sometimes I wish I could just not give a fuck. Just do what you do.” 

Eddie scoffs at that, rubbing a hand over his face.

“We only act like we don’t give a fuck because it’s better than walking around afraid. Better a freak than a washed-up jock like you and your friends.”

Eddie hears himself as he says those words and wants to smack himself. Hard.

They were having a nice conversation and now he’s just being a dick. To make matters worse, Steve is standing there, the smile gone from his face. He looks like a kicked puppy. He speaks in a quiet voice, “Shit, yeah man I’m sorry. I know we were shitbags to you guys. I’m really trying not to be like that anymore. I’m always gonna carry that with me, but I know I can be better. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated my guts.”

Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he steps even closer to Steve. He makes eye contact which is usually hard for him, and says steadily, “Listen, Steve. I don’t hate you. I just don’t get you sometimes. You used to hang out with that bogus asshole Tommy H and yeah—you were kind of a dingus but you were never the same as him. You’re—you’re—” he falters, afraid of what he might say. 

Steve has a strange expression on his face. He just meets Eddie’s gaze and whispers, “Tell me what I am. Please, I want to know. What am I to you, Eddie?”

It’s the first time Steve has ever said his first name. It’s like the energy around them has shifted. He’s practically nose to nose with Steve and he’s so fucking turned on. He knows without fully understanding why, that Steve is too. Steve is kind of swaying closer to him, and it’s like a dream. Surely he’s going to wake up any second. He always wakes up before he gets to kiss the boy in his dreams. But Eddie has a question to answer. He leans forward ever so slightly until their noses are touching.

He hears Steve’s breath hitch. Steve makes him feel brave so he murmurs, “I think you’re amazing Steve. Always have. I liked King Steve and I like you now. I—”

The invisible force between them snaps, and Steve closes the remaining distance.

Steve’s lips are soft and insistent, and he’s holding Eddie’s face and Eddie sighs, letting his mouth fall open. Steve licks carefully into his mouth with clearly practiced skill. Eddie has kissed a few people before but never like this.

Steve’s hands leave his face and then—oh fuck— he’s lifting Eddie up off the ground. Steve’s hands grip his thighs and Eddie wraps his legs around him. He presses Eddie up against the wall, never breaking the kiss. Eddie threads his hands through Steve’s wild hair and pulls him even closer. The kiss is wet and a bit more frantic now but Eddie doesn’t care. It’s the best kiss he’s ever had. They’re both incredibly hard and Eddie can feel it as they move together.

Steve’s hands are on his ass now, pulling Eddie closer as he rocks his hips up against him. They break the kiss, panting hard and Eddie rests his forehead against Steve’s. Eddie can’t help the little “ah-ah-ahs” that escape him with each thrust.

Eddie is gonna cum in his pants. They both are.

Before he can overthink it, Steve’s mouth is back on his.

He feels the heat pool in his stomach and whines out, “Oh fuck, Stevie I’m gonna—” his orgasm hitting in waves. He feels Steve shake apart, his hips stuttering and his fingers digging into Eddie’s ass.

Hard enough to bruise. Eddie hopes it does.

Steve slowly sets Eddie down and they cling to each other. Eddie is wrapped up in Steve’s arms, his head tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve strokes his hair and he’s whispering, “You did so good, Ed. So good. Fucking perfect.”

It’s strangely poetic, Eddie thinks deliriously. It’s the start and end of something. The breaking and the binding. The two of them. Steve and Eddie. The king and the freak—holding each other in the hallway of Hawkins High.

I'd love to start a tag list for anyone interested! please leave a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added <3

[formulaaone]

anyway here’s Oscar feeding Logan marshmallows from that one Prema video

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

Some post canon bois cuz zuko is the sweetest firelord and sokka is the best ambassador (and boyfriend)

[shadowhandss60]

I’m going to climb him like a tree

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AC: Book_s150

[astrowarr]

are we really surprised, though, that scar obeyed grian's order?

of course scar gave his heart to grian; as if it ever belonged to anyone else. because that's how the two of them work: scar goes in looking to take, but somehow, inevitably, impossibly, he always leaves with his heart torn out and his hands empty, removed of the cards he keeps up his sleeve.

grian strips scar down to his barest, most vulnerable form. the most haunting part of it all is that scar, in his endless devotion, is always happy to do it. scar gives grian his heart, again and again, because was it ever really even his?

[snuffysbox]

some sneaky closeups from a bigger, smuttier thing 😌 (full drawing over on my alt twitter, @snuffymcsmut)

[hafwen]

[sunglassesmish]

okay