#saps writing

[weepingwillows-sweethibiscustea]

Yoo I’m Sap.

I’m autistic, genderfluid, and perpetually confused. Any pronouns are fine (including neos!) and so is just completely avoiding them and only using my name :]

& lil after thought but important note, if you need a trigger tag in any post just lemme know & I will happily add it! If you need me to add spoiler tags I can also happily do that, even if the source materials been out for a minute.

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Tone indicators are appreciated :)

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My tags explained -

“Sapy asks” Any asks I answer

“Saps writing” My writing posts (I also use “writing concept” for writing concepts I have)

“Sap thoughts” Just my random thoughts & posts

“Reblog” Reblogs I interact with/add to, not just things I reblog

“Sugar rush” Doomscrolling is a bitch. Posts that make me happy go here :) (made when I was having a breakdown, not used very much lmao)

“Covered in tree sap” Favorite posts/posts I wanna come back to :)

“ni pluvivos” Name kind of made up on the spot . Just reassurances & stuff.

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

unstoppable force (desire to write) vs immovable object (tired)

[morgana-ren]

i love angst, and i love your writing, but please, PLEASE, i beg you, could you write some hope of tav ever returning now that the imbecile, has realised the error of his ways 🥺😭 (either way, thank you so much, for all your astarion writtings, it has made me feel things, the angst is real and my masochistic heart loves it🥲)

First part of the story HERE

Common complaint I got on that one! So I fixed it just for y'all. This ending is much less sad and much more sappy, so here is the comfort you need after all that angst!

"Darling, will you smile for me? Just once more. Please--"

He feels her cheeks in his palms, the soft skin against his battle-hardened callouses. Desperation cradles his unbeating heart, and for a moment, the emotion is far too much. A searing flame after centuries of frost. A bonfire in a blizzard. It hurts-- it burns--

"My love, I just need you to--"

"Anything my lord, anything at all for you. Simply command me and I will do anything you ask."

"No, I can't-- I-- I won't do it. I won't. I won't!"

"My lord?"

Her head cocks, turning slowly to look upon him, but her eyes-- they are empty; beetle-black and hollow. Her smile is uncanny as a painted doll, her movements disjointed and inhuman. Her teeth are stained crimson with blood, dripping, dripping, ever dripping down, never swallowed, only pooling.

She is light as a feather as she slips away from him, her skin marbling into a sickly gray before ash spreads across her body as a disease, smearing her form into nothingness. Only her face is left untouched, pretty as porcelain, unflinching and unfalling save a small crack that splinters down from her forehead down to her eyes, revealing inky black abyss beneath.

"My lord-- Oh, my tender, vicious lord. I can feel your anguish-- your hunger. Devour me to be whole once more--"

Her blood smells of rot and she--

She is too far gone to save. Too far gone to ever be saved.

"I won't!"

Whirlwind. Pain. Confusion and dread and seeping anguish. A maelstrom of rage and all-consuming despair swelling from within his soul—

—his soul?

The world around him falls away, a wicked tornado thrashing him about, his mind howling in the eternal winds--

And suddenly he is in a chair.

Not a throne. A chair— and a rather uncomfortable one at that.

"What in the hells—"

His vision spins, nausea curling his gut into a wicked tide of sickness barely restrained by his teeth. He tastes stale blood crawling up his throat, threatening to overturn onto the faded rug beneath him.

"Did you see what you wished for, little spawn?"

The voice takes him by surprise. It is not hers, but another, less familiar voice. The wailing animal in his head retreats to a dull roar as his memory creeps back. A brightly colored tent assaults his vision, piecemeal rugs and odd, foreign trinkets abound on makeshift shelves, and before him sits a strange old woman, hood pulled heavy over her straggling gray hair.

"I-- What was that?"

He sees her cracked, aging lips upturn, gnarled hands placed protectively over a strange orb on the table touching his knees. "I have shown you your future, vampling. Was it to your liking?" Panic rises within his stomach again, and though he does not breathe, he clutches his chest. The smell of incense clogs his nostrils and again, the wave of sick threatens to spill forth. Wretched taste of metallic, aged blood sits heavy on his tongue, all sensation too much-- all of it too much.

"No-- No, that cannot be it!"

"This is your path, Pale Elf. The road you walk. The power you seek is well within your grasp, but as I told you before, it will cost you everything."

He vehemently shakes his head, denying it. Denying it before her and all the Gods.

"You told me upon entry that no price was too great for your reward. Do you still agree with this sentiment?"

"No! Not-- not her. Not her. Not that! I couldn't--"

"You can and you shall, sure as the moon follows the sun. You will have everything you ever wanted, but cost of this ritual is plain before you. You cared not for the many souls left to your mercy that are crushed beneath your tyrannical fist in your ascension, but what of the sole one that resides in your heart?"

Her. The light of his life. The air he breathes. The sun on his frigid flesh, the warmth that melts his icy heart.

"No," He hisses, trying to stand, but ultimately unable to muster the strength. "I won't! There-- There must be another way. Show me!"

"There is no other way," She says, solemnly. "It is inevitable."

He swallows down the information like a boulder lodged in his gullet. Her words echo endlessly in his mind, bouncing off the walls and lodging shards of ice directly in his soul.

"What if I-- What if I don't ascend? Tell me, what if I don't?"

She smiles again, teeth flashing through her thin lips. "That is another path, little elf." "I need to know. I-- I need certainty. I won't do this to her, but I--" He pauses, grappling with everything in his mind, desperately flitting about to absorb it all. "If I am going to forgo this, I need to be certain. I need to know that I can protect her, that she will be safe--"

But the woman simply shakes her head.

"Everyone must choose. For some, the path is dark, but for you, you see more than most will ever have the comfort of knowing. I can offer you nothing more. Should you initiate the Rite, you know this will come to pass. I can tell you nothing more if you choose to not. The future is yet unwritten, and the quill resides in your hands." "Then why can I not have both!" He slams a fist on the table, clawing at the soft wood. For the first time in ages, tears prick at his pale lashes and frustration wells a knot in his throat. "Why--" "Because one path is wholly your own, while the other is a tangled web, such is the nature of deals with the Hells. You will get everything you ever wanted and lose everything that made it worth having."

His head slumps, defeated and miserable. Silvery tears slide down the curves of his cheeks, even as he attempts to bite them back. He thought he would find comfort in knowing the future, but all it has given him is utter horror.

"Despair not," She continues. "Yes, you will wither under the sun, an eternally cursed dweller of the night, but all is not lost, is it? The one you love, will she stray from your side?" "I wanted her to have better than that," He sniffles, needling his lip with a fang. "I cannot brave the sun, but her-- She deserves better than that-- better than me."

"And what of what she feels?"

His brows furrow, and he peers up at the woman from tear-beaded lashes.

"You are a night walker; it is in your nature to be selfish. But love is not selfish, little vampling. You must fight your nature, your inherent self-loathing, or your love will always find the fire. What of what she desires?"

"She loves me," He says with absolute certainty. "And I--" "Do you love her?"

"Yes," He hisses, almost insulted that she would ask. "More than anything. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Then the rest matters naught. If you love her, you will allow her the agency to choose-- something you deny her as an ascendent. You must grow past your own follies. To love is to be vulnerable, and you must allow both yourself and her this freedom."

They are hard words to swallow, and yet, he feels the truth resound in them. She would not leave his side, even as he tried to force her to understand. Even as an instrument of his manipulation and schemes came to light, she stood steadfast with him, hand entwined in his, ready to face the fire together.

"I-- I need to know she will be safe."

Again, the woman shakes her head. "You cannot. You must fight fate if you wish to overturn it. You face dire odds, though throwing the dice in your favor now will doom you later should this outcome be the confirmation of your fears."

He sighs, face crinkling as he sniffs once more, summoning the willpower to swallow down the agony of his choice. He finds the strength in his legs to push himself upward from the chair, weak and shaking as a newborn fawn as he does so. "I will do whatever I need to. Anything."

"Then you may yet see this through."

He can hear the fanfare of the circus outside, the bawdy bards strumming away on their lutes and banging on drums, the elated screams of the children and their parents. Facing the light now seems impossible, but he must find his way home to her-- he has to be with her now now now--

"The coin first, boy."

He snaps out of his delirium only long enough to fish his hands into one of his pockets, bringing out a coin. Aged and neglected, the sinister engraving of a skull peers up at him from his palm, ruby eyes gleaming in the light as he tosses it into the woman's knobbily-jointed hands.

"Best of luck to you, night-child," She tucks it away. "We may yet meet again." "No offense, but I hope not."

"Me too, Little Star."

He pays little mind to the bustling streets and bursting taverns of Baldur's Gate, his feet carrying him back to camp as swiftly as his body will allow. It takes him until sundown even as he damn near jobs, ripping through the tree line and into the ruins with the intensity of a man starved.

"Astarion!" Karlach greets him, trying to wave him over. "I've got a bet with Gale about--" "Where is she?" Astarion immediately cuts her off, looking around frantically.

"Who?" Karlach raises a brow.

"Who else?" Wyll crosses his arms, looking intrigued at Astarion's intensity.

"Oh! In her tent, I think. Why? Gotcha a special something' in town for her, eh?" Karlach tries to rib at him, but he pushes past her without a second glance.

"Bet it's a fancy new dress he needs to tear off of her immediately," Karlach rolls her eyes before returning to her business.

He bursts into her tent to find her hunched over a book, tongue poking from between her teeth, as she scans over the page. This only lasts a few seconds before he scrambles onto the bed, squeezing her as tightly as he can manage, burying his nose into her hair, tears brimming in his eyes once more.

"Woah, hey!" She laughs, carefully setting her book aside, trying to discern what in the hells he is mumbling endlessly into her neck.

Need you-- need you-- love you-- can't lose you-- don't ever--

She hushes him, realizing something has gone terribly, terribly wrong, kissing his head and tugging him close. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She tries to cup his cheeks and bring his face up but he adamantly refuses, hard-swallowing the urge to bawl into her shoulder with every ounce of willpower he has. All he can manage is to cling to her, half sobbing, visions of that terrible future swimming in his head. He cannot let it come to pass, he will not--

And she holds him, cradling him in her arms, hushing him gently. Her face creases with worry, running her hands through his silvery hair as he pulls him into her lap.

"Little Star, what's wrong? You seem so upset. What can I do to make you happy, my love?"

"Is it done?" Ulma leans down as she enters the tent, carefully dodging the intricate tassels of the blanket strewn over the entryway.

"It is," The strange old woman replies, still rubbing the coin with her worn thumb.

"And?"

"I showed him nothing but truth," She says quietly. "I did not manipulate his vision. Only channeled it."

"That tells me nothing. I need to know if our children are safe."

"I cannot tell you this, Ulma. You know of the ways of our tribe; our relationship with these magics." Ulma's lips purse, her exasperation evident in her humorless expression. "I need to know--"

"His reaction was genuine. That was not my doing. He knows the price of power. I cannot tell you if he will pay it regardless," The old woman's head lifts, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But I can tell you what I think."

"And what do you think?"

"I have seen his soul-- the heart of it. I believe you will see our children yet. He will spare our heart to spare his own in kind. It beats in that woman," Her eyes twinkle in the low candlelight, a genuine smile widening across her cheeks. "I believe he can find redemption yet."

[2aceofspades]

TW: Blood/Injury, Implied Death

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With you

Lil one-shot I guess...??

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After the dust cleared, it was dead silent. The air was thick with moisture from the dark clouds looming above them all. Someone, probably Raphael, yelled out something Two didn't quite process, his ears still ringing as his vision slowly cleared.

A faint blue glow flickered in the near distance, not too far from where Two was slumped on the ground. More muffled shouts rang out as Two attempted to collect himself, staggering to his feet and trudging over to the source of-

No.

Just the image alone was enough to bring Two collapsing back to his knees. Stupid, he thought.

"H-hey..." One's weak voice just barely got through to Two, snapping him right out of his thoughts.

He stared down at the dimming blue glow, watching it flicker and fade in and out. How the hell are you still here, breathing?

His thoughts became flooded in his head, even more so as he felt his arms cradle his brother's near-lifeless body.

"Did we win?"

Two felt his jaw clench at One's question, feeling frighteningly close to grinding his teeth until they were flat.

Did we win?

The question echoed in Two’s head, as if that would better help him process this moment. In any other instance, he would have deflected and scoffed at such an empty, meaningless question. Did it matter? he thought as he titled his head up, looking around briefly at the wasteland that surrounded them. It was over, that much was apparent.

"Yes,” he huffed, looking down at his brother in his arms as he continued, “Now, shut it and save your strength. Your heart-"

"I know," One croaked out in between a few sputtering breaths, interrupting Two in more ways than one. Two tried to ignore the cast-off of blood coming from his brother's mouth, despising the sickening feeling settling in his stomach as it hit his chin. One smiled weakly up at his brother, his eyes dull and unfocused.

How dare you, Two thought to himself.

His eyes flickered from One's exposed heart, bleeding out and hardly beating, and back to his brother’s face. His brother looked beaten, bloody...broken. It wasn't a look he saw from him often, if at all. It was that damn smile that he watched waver as One's heart beat softer and softer. What cruel irony, Two couldn't help but think, a metaphorical expression brought to life by his stupid, thoughtless, idiotic brother.

Two could still fix this. Even as he held his brother tighter against his own plastron and felt his shirt get soaked by the horrid mix of blood and empyrean; he thought to himself how he'd be the one to fix this.

There was no other choice left.

“Good…” One let out the softest of chuckles, “…we…we can s-start over.”

Something in Two’s own chest faltered, even just briefly. It was enough to shut out the feeling of One’s pathetic coughs and wheezes against him. He watched how One's eyes dulled further, his gaze wandering away from Two's face.

Starting over? That wasn’t ever an option, not one that Two had ever weighed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if that was even an option now. After everything he had done, everything he sacrificed, worked for…his brother still wanted to burn it, bury everything down and out of Two’s reach. One wanted this win, he wanted the impossible.

“Impossible…” Two muttered under his breath.

He heard yet another faint chuckle. And then the dense silence that followed.

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~bonus doodles~

(':

[hungharrington]

steve the kinda guy to try reverse cowgirl and get sad bc he can’t see ur face and make you switch to regular cowgirl bc hes cringey and missed u

i definitely don’t have this as an unfinished draft or anythin..

HEHEHE HE WOULD feel free to yoink from this babey! 18+ minors get off my lawn

Hands perched on his hairy thighs, your breath comes in sharp pants, working yourself up and down, fast as Steve will allow. Pleasure thrums low in your tummy. It’s warm in your bedroom, even with the window cracked a sliver. Lewd sounds squelch with every movement.

You’re don’t often try new positions like this but right now you feel hot. Even if it makes your thighs ache, you’re sure this must be one of Steve’s favourite ever vie—

“Wait,” Steve grunts from behind you. He’s propped up on some pillows, his big hands grabbing the flesh on your ass, controlling the pace. He holds your waist still. “Wait, wait, baby, hold on.” He murmurs.

You huff and peer over your shoulder. It’s cruel of him to make you stop, especially when you can feel how warm he is, his cock throbbing deep inside you. But when you look over his expression, he’s got this wrinkle in between his brows.

“What?” You say, suddenly worried. “What’s up?”

Steve sighs, his hand smoothing up and down your ass. “I can’t see your face like this,” He mumbles.

You guffaw a bit, entirely endeared by how serious he is. You shuffle forward and shift off him, awkwardly clambering off his lap— just to crowd into his face, pressing little kisses all over.

“Y’such a sap, you know that?” You say, voice all giddy. “You want me to turn around?”

Steve glows and blushes beneath the sudden attention, returning your kisses with a fervent affection. “Yes,” he gasps against your lips. “Yes, please.”

You smile and swing a leg over his lap again, straddling his thighs. You can’t stop kissing him though, hands cradling his jaw so gently, a bit overwhelmed with love.

“Such a sap.” You say again, grinning all the while.

“You love it.” Steve snarks back, eyes light and gorgeous smile gracing his face. He swallows your groan as you sink back onto him with a kiss.

[stevebabey]

love as sweet as honey (and lover, i’m hungry)

a/n: u can read me for literal filth in this piece, i won’t even lie to u lmao. it’s disgustingly full of praise and petnames and steve’s biggest turn on is being told he’s loved <3 big ups to em (@familyvideostevie) for literally being the reason this got written at all & if u haven’t guessed by now, practically ever single idea i have is consulted by kenny <3 (@hawkinsindiana) also thank u steve stans for being my cheerleaders love u guys sm (@spideystevie​ @harringtonbf) & sanne too (@sanguineterrain​) bcos talking w you helped sm <3

word count: 6.9k hehe summary: One Sunday, filled with too many kisses to count and a sureness in your heart that you are entirely in love with Steve Harrington. You tell him him for the first time in a flurry of love and lust, tangled in his sheets. [established relationship + smut, praise, petnames, + first i love you + fem!reader] MINORS DNI this piece contains nsfw content and is intended for 18+ readers. 

It was often a question on your mind: How does one know when they’re in love?

For you, it was as easy as a Sunday. 

When you wake on this Sunday morning, it’s in Steve’s arms. You’re in his bed, intertwined beneath the sheets and warmed by more than just the sun that peeks through the gap in his curtains. The room glows golden. His warmth creeps under your skin and his love finds you even when he sleeps, still snoozing against the pillow when you drift into consciousness.

He’s beautiful. Soft brown curls that crumple against the pillow, long lashes that you know even the girls at Hawkins High were envious of, faint barely visible freckles that hide under his tan. He’s beautiful and he’s yours. It makes you giddy to even think that. 

You wake him with a kiss. It’s gentle, soft lips against the dozen tiny white scars on his cheek. Steve hums, a low sound in his throat, and even that makes you smile.

“Steveeee,” you whisper, cheek pushing against the pillow as you grin, unable to stop yourself. Grins come so damn easy with him.

Steve makes another noise, high and sweet, and snuggles closer to the pillow. You shuffle closer and dot another kiss on his face, this one on his nose. It scrunches up at the contact and finally, he drags his eyes open. You can read nothing by adoration in them.

“Mm,” he hums again, then speaks in that delicious raspy morning voice that drives you crazy. You wonder if he knows just how much it affects you. “Good morning to you too.”

His arms tighten around you, inching you closer until you’re pressed against him. He uses the closeness to bury his face against yours, nosing along your neck and placing sweet pecks paired with content sighs. You’re bundled together, lovers in the morning sun.

It’s cut short far too soon. Steve gets whisked away to his Sunday shift at Family Video and leaving you pouting, with a kiss in the doorway. He looks soft, with his hair still messed up from bed and a handsome grin adorning his face.

You smooth down the collar of his shirt, a nice navy long sleeve, and let your hands linger. You almost consider telling him to skip work and follow you back up the stairs, eager to jump his bones then and there. The side-effect of getting to see him in the morning, voice low and eyes lovely. You give yourself a quiet pat on the back for your self-restraint when you hold the thought, at least til later.

“Wish I could spend all day with you,” Steve says wistfully, planting a quick kiss into your hair. He’s stalling leaving, knowing he’ll be late if he dawdles much longer; Steve never can bring himself to leave on time when you’re here. Not when you kiss him in the doorway like it’s a promise you’ll be there when he gets home.

You smile cheekily. “Well, someone’s gotta be the breadwinner of the family. That’s the whole reason I’m with you, no?”

You tease, raising your brows with a smirk and Steve snorts, hands tugging you closer.

It’s a reference to some absurdly jealous girl who’d been head over heels for Steve since first glance in the Hawkins High’s Halls. As a result, his relationship with you had been viewed merely as an obstacle to getting with the love of her life. She’d gone to his work one day to try her luck and leaned over the counter on one of his shifts, shirt unbuttoned to reveal her cleavage. Then she expressed her heartfelt concern with a coy whisper.

“Steve, I hate that I’m the one who has to break it to you,” She’d said, voice all sweet and breathy as she cast a look at you across the store where you’d been joking with Robin. Steve’s brows had scrunched in confusion, following her gaze, unsure where she was going with this.

“But I’ve heard... just through the grapevine, that she’s totally with you for the money.” She had shaken her head, like she was ashamed of you, and plastered on her most sympathetic look, doe-eyed and entirely insincere. Laid a hand on his arm with a pout. “I’m so sorry you had to find out from me.”

Steve had barely been able to cover his laugh with a cough, ducking his head to hide his grin. Is that so? He wanted to ask, just to see how far she’d take the lie — Steve knew for a fact what she said wasn’t true.

Because you’d been there the day Steve’s father had cut him off for good, with a slap on the wrist and a few too many mean words aimed in spots he knew would hurt. But you’d been there. You’d kissed him softly, said so what? so earnestly he knew you meant it, and then pulled up the newspaper to help him begin searching for jobs without missing a beat.

“Mmhm,” In the present, Steve chuckles, his hand stroking down your arm as he continues the joke. “Total gold-digger you are. Everyone knows it.”

And then he’d left with you another kiss and a promise he’d be by your house just after six, when he finished his shift, to take you out to the movies. You busy yourself in his absence and try not to count the hours. Per his word, Steve swings by just after six, greets you with a kiss, and the two of you cozy up in the back of the theater for a film.

From there, the tension builds, hanging around you like a soft-scented perfume that you can’t shake and only fuelled by Steve’s lingering touches — ones that let you know he’s more than on the same brainwave as you. A finger drawing a line up along your thigh, a kiss too hot on your neck, his hands getting too adventurous for public.

So, when you tumble through his front door together and it quietly snicks shut behind you, there’s a quiet moment where Steve turns back to you, brows raised. Tension stains the air between you.

He’s so fucking handsome, you think. You want to kiss him stupid.

His cheeky smile grows slowly as if he knows exactly what is on your mind.

His hand moves to cradle your jaw, his lips pressing against yours hotly and without meaning to you back up and let him press you against the door. Steve groans softly into the kiss, his other hand coming up to grasp at your side, grip just a bit too tight. It gives away how wound up he really is. You crave the feeling it gives you.

It’s a flurry, his lips kissing, kissing, kissing, til you’re breathless and his hand is higher, thumb tracing higher on your ribcage, skimming but never quite where you want him. Your stomach hums, excitement dancing and stirring up til you’re sure the taste of his lips is your favourite in the world.

After a minute of fervent kissing, Steve finally breaks away with a pant, but his lips don’t stop. They trail down, a soft kiss on your cheek and then one your jaw, your neck. Your head tips back instinctively, giving him easier access. He hums appreciatively.

“Y’so fuckin’ pretty,” He breathes against your skin, quiet enough you wonder if you were meant to hear it. He dives back in, nips at your skin, and you feel his lips pull into a devilish grin when you keen at the lovebite, a soft noise passing your lips. Fuck, he’s always so good at this.

There will be a hickey there tomorrow, no doubt about it. But when his lips reattach and he gives a gentle suck on the skin of your neck, followed by the soothing sensation of his tongue, you really can’t bring yourself to care. Want builds in your stomach.

Your hands struggle to pick a place to fixate on, flitting from his chest to up around his neck. You decide on the latter and wind your fingers in his hair. When he scrapes his teeth against your neck, a little mean, you retaliate with a tug on his hair.

A groan warbles out his throat, a delicious noise that makes your stomach a little warmer, thighs clenching a bit.

With his pause, you seize your chance and tug his head back again gently and Steve lets it fall back, exposing the column of his throat to you. You dip in, dragging your lips against it, and grin when Steve lets another groan tumble out, the vibrations reverberating into you where you lips touch his skin.

You pause, just to tease him. Don’t make a move. Your breath fans out across his neck and Steve tenses, a vein standing out in his neck, his patience waning within seconds.

“Don’t tease,” He warns, voice raspy, but he already sounds a bit wrecked.

Then his hands reignite, as if he’s just remembered them, and the one cupping your jaw moves downward, fleeting touches against your boob that have you gasping against his skin. He kneads the flesh and pinches your nipple, his other hand gripping your hip tight.

Your lips find his throat again, a soft kiss that turns hard and hot. You kiss up along the skin, pull his hair a little, and find that sweet spot under his ear that you know he loves.

Steve lets out another groan, his hand dropping so he can grip your hips on either side and he presses himself against you. His knee navigates between your thighs, an enticing pressure that makes you quiver for a moment — you suck harder on his neck in retaliation.

His groan turns into a borderline whine as he inhales a sharp breath. Against your thigh, his hardness presses into you, giving away just how riled up you’ve got him.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, between a pant. “Y’gonna kill me.“

His fingers pulse tighter against your hips for a moment. He drops his head forward, his forehead touching yours. “Let me take you upstairs, yeah?”

You force yourself to drag yourself away from his kiss-bitten neck, a grin curling at your lips.

“Jeez, at least buy a girl dinner first.” You jest, just to make him laugh. Like he hadn’t bought you dinner and paid for the movie tickets as well, because he loves to spoil you.

He does laugh, with a huff and a poorly concealed smile. His hands slide from your hips, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

Like you can sense it right before he says it, some stupidly cheesy line, one of your hands shoots out to cover his mouth.

“Whatever you’re thinking of saying,” You say, voice doused in amusement. “Don’t.”

Steve’s eyes dance in delight and before you predict it, the wetness of his tongue splays against your palm and you squeal, winding it back.

“Save that for later.” You tease, scrunching your nose as you exaggeratedly wipe your hand against his shirt. Steve doesn’t seem to care, his feet beginning to backtrack, and bundled in his arms, you go with him.

“I hope you mean now.” He murmurs playfully, voice dipping a bit lower, just to turn you on, and it sends a delightful shiver down your spine. You speed up your footsteps, the itch to get him between the sheets increasing.

He spins, releasing his grip but still grasping one of your hands in his. Your footsteps thunder up the stairs behind Steve, a giggle of anticipation slipping out and nipping at your heels that pushes you both faster. Steve nudges the door open hastily, and in a flurry, your back meets his sheets.

The warmth of his body is a weight you’ll always welcome, especially when Steve’s lips trail back along your throat. His teeth sink in, his mouth hot and wet, kisses that draw a thread of breathy noises from you. His hips cant into yours, a slow roll that has your thighs falling further apart automatically, the beginning of a whimper forming.

His hands tangle with the edge of your shirt, fingertips skirting under. They’re hot, burning against your skin.

He halts his kissing for just a moment, to pull back and pant, “Can I?”

You’re nodding before he can even get the question out. He tugs it up, the fabric sliding up and the smoothness of the motion leaves you a bit breathless. Steve stares down at you, eyes a mixture of affection and a hunger for more.

“You,” his large hands splay against your bare stomach, one moving up and sketching a line of heat where his fingertips linger. He leans close, lips scratching a kiss into your collarbone. Whispers his sweetness into your skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful. M’so lucky. How’d I get you all to myself, hm?”

The question makes your body hum, like a live wire, your knees tightening around his hips. Your hands clamber up around his neck and you tug his head up, claiming his lips with your own. You grind your hips back up against Steve, pleasure licking up your spine at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against you.

“Please,” you tease, words a bit breathy. “Everyone knows I’m with you for the money.”

Steve faux gasps, a laugh slipping through his facade at the inside joke you both share. He pulls back a bit, a pout on his pink lips, sheened with spit. He’s sitting up now, hair already a bit ruffled, handsome face housing a grin you love so dearly.

“Is that so?” He asks, brows raised.

You nod, a giggle tittering out before you stop it. Steve can’t help his smile, a quiet joy quelled beneath his lust over the fact you’re both so comfortable with each other. Laughing in bed, jokes in between the moans — Steve feels his stomach pool hotter, his love for you somehow still ever-growing.

“Take it back.” He demands, dropping down closer — his hands plant on either side of your head.

You squirm against the bed, trying to grind up against him again but it’s futile, he’s pulled back too far. Steve grins deviously. You arch your chest out and give Steve your best bedroom eyes, lids low and eyes dark.

“Take this off first,” You counter, hands tugging on the ends of his own shirt. Steve doesn’t need to be told twice.

It’s nearly as smooth as the removal of your shirt had been, his toned arms twisting to yank the fabric up — until it gets caught on his head. Steve makes a surprised noise and decides to tug it harder, his arms caught above his head, face hidden in the fabric. You laugh without meaning to.

Steve tugs again, managing to free himself but not before he topples sideways and disappears in the mass of his duvet with an oof!

You laugh loudly, covering it behind your hands, and roll in his direction, amusement dancing along your features. Steve’s head pops up, hair properly mussed now, and he grins. His hand clutches the meddlesome shirt and he flings it behind him mindlessly. It lands on his bedside table, hanging off the lamp.

“Where were we?” He asks, with a wiggle of his brows.

You shift up and swing your leg across his lap, seating yourself atop him and the shape of him makes you hiss pleasantly. Hands creeping up his bare chest, teasingly slow, you smile and it borders a smirk. “I was… taking it… back?”

Your voice is coy, tone doused in suggestiveness as your nails dig in and rake back down his chest. Beneath them, you can feel the rumble of his groan and he wastes no time in getting his hands back on you. His fingers find the waistband of your pants, dipping in and you suck in a breath instinctively.

He doesn’t even get to ask before you’re nodding, already anticipating his question. Steve smiles, guides you down and peppers kisses along your neck with a half-hearted hum— all the while, his other hand works open the button of your jeans.

“Steve,” you say breathily. You don’t know what you’re asking for, why you’re saying his name, just that it’s right.

“Y’good?” He asks, hands not stilling but not delving any further into the confines of your pants. When you nod, fervent and a bit too enthusiastic, his tone turns a bit heavier. “You gonna be good f’me, yeah?”

The whine that comes out of you in response takes you by surprise, body reacting with a filthy grind down against him. Steve doesn’t even get a chance to look smug, pleasure shuttering across his face as he tilts his head back.

“Fuck,” he says, hands tight on your hips. He guides them, pulling you harder down against himself and bucking up. He presses into you at the exact angle to have you keening, a happy sigh tumbling out your throat. “Fuck.” He huffs against, voice strained.

“Please do just that.” You say, a bit cheeky, grinding down harder just to make him moan properly — his head buries further in the pillow, eyes clenched closed for just a moment and the sound he makes travels right to your cunt.

Steve grapples to control himself, his chest beginning to heave. He manages to respond, voice still smooth in that way you’ve learned is his specific Harrington Charm.

“As you wish, honey.”

And god, if that doesn’t do something to you.

You can’t deny how much it turns you on when Steve manhandles you, a swift turn of your bodies where you find yourself back on your back with Steve hovering above you. His hands toy with the edge of your jeans, shimmying them down and discarding them somewhere behind you both.

You pant a bit, stomach stirring at how Steve gazes at you — the way his fists clench slightly give away his utter desire for you.

“You’re entirely overdressed.” you rasp, aiming for seductive but accidentally landing closer to whiny.

A glow raises in your cheeks, face hot, but Steve seems to revel in your words, his hands making hasty work of his belt. Unwittingly, your mouth waters a bit.

He sheds the extra layer in a moment, leaving him in just his boxers. You take a moment to recognise them, the Batman logo printed all across them. He clearly hasn’t meant for you to see them. For the second time tonight, you laugh before you can suppress it.

“Hey,” Steve jabs a finger at you, cheeks a bit pinker than they were a second ago. “It’s laundry day, okay?”

It’s a bit meek, said too feebly for you to actually believe. You raise your brows and wait for him to crack. It takes only another moment.

“Oh my god, fine,” he sighs dramatically, scrubbing his hands down his face. He drops them and then away at his sides, his face still warm. “I didn’t want to assume I’d get to fuck you tonight. They were at the top of the drawer, alright?”

Your heart does a little kick at that. Your wonderful, hot, never-presumptuous boyfriend that you fucking adore — it never manages to not astound you with the new way he turns you on.

“Then clearly,” you begin, wiggling closer. Your legs move up, circling around his hips and you cross your ankles at his tailbone — and urge him closer, feeling your own wetness stain against the final layer on your cunt.

Steve’s cock fits snugly between your folds and he gives a delicious grind, brows scrunching at the sensation. You fight to keep your voice steady as you continue, “You don’t know me that well.”

Steve huffs, some half growl escaping his lips. He sneaks his fingers under the band of your panties on either side of your hips and begins to pull down. They slide down your thighs, tantalizingly slow, and you’re unable to do anything but watch him. Steve’s gaze turns heavier and he licks his lips, teeth sinking in to hold back another noise of approval.

Then unexpectedly, the next words out of his mouth come out in a poor french accent. “Mon dieu,” Steve mutters, already smiling because he knows you’ll laugh at this.

You do, a startled laugh— especially when Steve wrangles your panties off your ankles and repeats his earlier motions of the night, sending them flying behind him carelessly.

“Steve, what are you—“

“Mademoiselle,” He interrupts, voice huskier than normal, completely on purpose.

“Oh my god,” you say in exasperation, yet the love leaks into the work, obvious and undeniable. Steve grins, thankfully dropping the voice and instead working his hands back up your body. They crawl beneath your torso, fingers searching, and make quick work of your bra. It comes away with his hands, straps scraping against your arms.

“Oh, sweetheart.” he sighs contently. Like they’ve got a mind of their own, his rough hands meet the soft skin of your boobs, kneading and thumbing at your nipples. Beneath his touch, they harden and pleasure thrums hot in your core when he twists them lightly, a gasp pushing your lips.

“Steve,” you whine hotly, pushing up against him.

“What d’ya need, honey?” He murmurs, dipping closer and restarting his kisses against your neck. He suckles gently, the barest hint of his teeth, lips soft and tongue hot.

“Y’gonna tell me what you need?” He hums, but even as he asks, one of his hands creeps downwards, landing on your thigh. He inches it closer, his thumb rubbing against the soft inside of your thigh.

The pillow rubs against your cheek as you nod fervently, turning to press your face into the pillow. Even after all this time with Steve, there’s no quelling the nerves in your stomach. But even with your enthusiastic nods, you know Steve needs your words.

“You.” The word is a bit whimpery. “Please, Stevie, s’you I need. You— your-” you cut yourself off, shyness creeping in and stealing your words.

Steve senses it, a quiet chuckle against your neck, and his fingers draw higher, til they ghost across your cunt. “Mm? Sweet girl gonna tell me when she wants?”

His words both make your face warm and your stomach flutter— he loves to goad your shyness, drinks in the reactions when you give he pushes it.

“Don’t make me say it, please.” You plead softly, resisting the urge to burrow further into the pillow.

Steve had told you early on when you’d started sleeping together in your relationship that he wanted nothing less than for you to hide away from him. I wanna see your face, okay? Wanna see everything from you. And hear all those pretty sounds you make, yeah?

A sound like the one you make now when he doesn’t make you wait, a pad of his thumb tracing down the folds of your cunt. His fingers dip in, soft touches that draw out a gasp as he trails them back up, beginning gentle circles against your clit. A fire in your belly that’s never quite extinguished burns a bit hotter. Your legs spread open further.

“Oh, honey,” he coos, devouring every reaction you give. “You’re doing so good. All worked already?”

His thumb rubs a bit rougher, circles faster, and his fingers stroke back down to your entrance. A moan punctuates the air, dragged out of your chest as one of his fingers slips inside, a stretch that has your back arching up.

“Please…” You sigh, words lost to your breathy moans as the finger pumps in and out, far too in tune with the circles on your clit for you to think straight. “So good, baby, you’re so good at this, fuck—“

Steve’s mouth moves south, his lips curling around your nipple and adding to the stream of stimulation. It’s overwhelming, the heat of his mouth and the curl of his fingers in your cunt— you can hear how turned on you are, your slick gushing against Steve’s fingers, and it only fuels the fire under your skin. You’re unbearably warm.

“That’s it,” The soft praise falls from Steve’s mouth, pausing his licking and sucking. “Good girl. So fucking wet for me, huh?”

The words inspire a lick of heat along your spine, the coil in your stomach tightening even more. Your breath staggers and you whine in response to his words. Shit, at this rate you could very well come undone before you even get him out of those stupid Batman boxers.

You wonder if this is Steve’s plan; it sure isn’t yours. You want him now.

“Anyone ever tell you,” you huff, a bit breathless. It takes effort to formulate sentences, the words coming out a bit whimpery. “What a motor-mouth you have in bed?”

Steve’s kisses work up to your collarbone, before drops one swollen kiss on your lips and smirks from above you, “In more ways than one.”

Something about the cockiness in his voice only adds to the anticipation building beneath your skin, your head lolling against the pillow as sweet noises escape your mouth.

Steve watches, eyes fixed on where his fingers sink lazily into you, curling in a way that makes your breath hitch loudly — it only serves to add to the growing heat in his stomach, blood rushing to his cock, which twitches at the sight. He groans to himself, head delirious with his desire.

His name is the only word you can seem to remember and as Steve’s fingers pump faster, precise curls, it leaves your mouth in a flurry that is all too telling about how close you are. He nearly feels bad to take it from you, nearly.

A disappointed whine draws out at the sudden removal of his fingers and Steve chuckles, a confident drawl in his voice. Your brows scrunch together in frustration, hips up twitching ever-so-slightly, searching for the lost stimulation even as your building pleasure tapers off. Asshole, you think, not meaning it even a little bit. You pant lightly.

Steve doesn’t waste a second, using his freed hands to begin to dig in his bedside table for a condom.

“Why are you laughing?” You grumble with a pout, chest still heaving. As his search proves fruitful, proven by a little aha! and the glisten of the condom wrapper, your hands reach up to cup his face and tug him back to you greedily. His hands stumble and plant on either side of you, letting you pull him in for a searing kiss. Steve hums into it with a grin.

“You’re like some sort of supervillain,” You mumble against his lips, a smile already curling at your mouth.“Laughing at my misery.”

Steve breaks the kiss, dropping his voice an octave to rumble out a spooky “Mwahaha,” that tickles laughter out of you in seconds. You thwack him lightly on the arm just so you can kiss away the pout he makes - because you know him that well.

The kiss is sweet and saturated with adoration, kisses that break off just to steal another. I love him, you think. I love him so completely. The wonderful thought melts and curls up in your mind, like a cat purring beside a fire, like it had always been there and you had only just noticed it.

It only feeds the anticipation that thrums through your body, your prior disappointment already long forgotten at the sight in front of you, at the delirious thought still spinning in your mind.

All the while, Steve’s hands shed off his boxers and make quick work of the condom. When he’s situated, his slender fingers curve around his leaking cock and give a light tug to relieve the building tension, eyes fluttering for a moment.

His other rests on your thigh, soothing subconscious touches; Steve never could keep his hands off you for long. His eyes trail up, committing each detail of you to memory.

Seeing you like this, Steve swears it never gets old; he could find sunsets in the curves of your skin and melodies in every moan. It’s vulnerable, exposing yourself to him and trusting him, all the same, to take care of you. And fuck, if he doesn’t love taking care of you.

But tonight, you have a particular moonstruck look on your face. Enough to make him pause, thumb skimming atop your thigh. “What?” He asks, with a hint of a chuckle.

Your cheeks grow a bit warmer and you fight the urge to hide your face in the pillow. Holding his gaze, his amber eyes which only hold endless patience and love, it’s not even a choice to tell him. The words bubble up inside, golden and sweet like you’d just taken a swig of pure ambrosia, and they spill out of you.

“S’just,” you begin, teeth scraping across your bottom lip. “I love you, Steve.”

Steve seems to freeze, his thumb halting its motions on your skin but there’s not even a moment for panic to trickle in — not when he flushes, cheeks rosy, and a pure expression of elation overtakes his features.

“You do?”

It’s nearly a whisper, uttered like he’d worried you’d take it back the moment he believed it. You’re already nodding by the time your words catch up with you, nervousness making them fall out without thought. “A lot. I love you a lot. So much. So many.”

A wet-sounding laugh splutters out of him as Steve’s face splits into a beam and he’s on you in an instant. He’s hovering above you, held up by his arms, but his face crowds in close — kiss after kiss finds its way onto your skin.

“So many, huh?” He teases before his voice drops to a murmur, words thick with emotion, and another weak wet laugh comes out. “I love you so many as well.”

You groan at his mocking and tuck your face in the crook of his neck, hiding away your giddy grin.

“Don’t be mean,” you whine but still revel in Steve’s unstoppable shower of kisses, warm and wet, one after another. “I got nervous.” 

His lips work along your neck until you’re forced to tilt your head out of your hiding place and he captures your lips with his without hesitation. It feels like home, the curve of his mouth that you could recognise in the dark you’ve kissed it enough.

“Nervous?” He asks against your lips, the question halfway between disbelief and happiness. His eyes search yours desperately, pools of affection shining in the chocolate colour of them, giving away his complete elation. “My girl.”

Another kiss, molten hot affection that melts into your skin, from Steve. Your arms tangle over his shoulders, bring him closer, til his chest scratches against yours and you’re pulling him closer, closer, you can’t get him close enough. The craving in your stomach twists up, a reminder of what your love declaration had interrupted. 

You wiggle your hips slightly, knees bending so you can slide your legs up and encircle his waist, hot skin against hot skin. You kiss him once more and nudge your nose against his gently, to halt his kisses.

“Yeah, yeah,” you tease, all too fond. “You love me, I love you. Y’still gonna fuck me, hm?” 

Steve grins, “Ouch, way to make a guy think you said all that just for the sex.”

He raises a hand to cover his wounded heart for a moment, but it settles on your thigh, pushing it back an inch. His other hand curls back around his heavy cock, lining it up with your pulsing cunt that quivers in anticipation - Steve groans a bit at the heat he can already feel.

“I already told you,” you grin at the inside joke, words all breathy. Your thighs tighten around his waist impatiently. “It’s all for the money, baby.”

Steve scoffs with a smile that melts away as he steals another kiss. His hips shift forward, burying himself in you slowly with a moan that sends shivers down your spine, fingers clutching your hips tighter. A high keening noise pushes out of you as Steve rolls his hips gently, a slow fuck into your wet cunt.

“Shit,” he curses, movements still gentle as he pulls back and sinks into you, a tortuously slow pace that has your hips moving back against him. “Honey, fuck, y’so wet, so soft.”

“Stevie,” You whimper, hands grappling for a better grip on his broad shoulders. Like he can tell what you’re asking for instantly, one of his hands travels from your hip and clasps atop yours. He tugs it off and presses it against the sheets beside your head, his large fingers moving to link with yours instinctively.

You clutch at his hand, squeezing your intertwined hands tighter as Steve begins to build his pace, your moans egging him on. His face drops lower, warm breaths fanning over your face as his other hand tugs your hips back on his cock strongly. He strokes in, giving and giving to your mounting pleasure. Your skin burns warm; your chest arches up and the nails of your free hand sink into his back. 

“So good for me, yeah?” He grunts, but it gives way to a groan as you clench around him. “My girl, my sweet girl, you feel fucking so good on my cock.”

God, him and his fucking motor-mouth. Your breath is heavy, cunt blazing warmth, and the coil in your stomach begins to burn again.

“Steve,” you mewl like it’s a praise.

“I know, I know,” He murmurs. His hand squeezes yours as he gives a particularly deep thrust, the head of his cock finding the spot inside you that makes you squirm. Makes the blood in your veins turns to pure confetti; a long moan drags out your lips and you bury it in his skin.

“Feels so good,” you cry softly, fingers flexing against his. Your hips are moving without thought, meeting his thrusts and Steve moans brokenly when your cunt flutters around him. “Y’feel so good, baby.” You praise him with a whimper.

Steve‘s arms keeping him up stutter a bit at your words, more of his weight pressing against you and you welcome it, legs tightening their grip.

“Y’so. Fucking. Good.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, fucking you harder and beginning to lose his rhythm as he chases his pleasure. “So pretty, my girl, hm? Could fuck this pretty pussy all day. Fuck, I— nothing feels as good as you, sweetheart, I swear, nothin’.”

Through your pleasurable haze, you manage to scrounge up a halfhearted joke, a soft smile peeking through on your face. “What’d I say? Such a motor-mouth.” The final word is swallowed up by your gasp.

Steve grins, not slowing his motions in the slightest. He looks fucking beautiful like this; his hair disheveled and wild, cheeks rosy, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. 

“You love it,” He bites back gleefully — he dips his head to scrape a kiss along your neck, up your jaw. You whine as he rolls his hips into you expertly, each thrust managing to steal your breath and make your stomach grow hotter. The beginnings of your orgasm trickle in.

“I do,” you agree, fond and voice sticky with bliss. “I love you.”

Steve’s cock twitches inside you, paired with a soft moan that Steve buries into your neck. His thrusts speed up, chasing desperately as he whines, the noise pathetic and whimpery, and he clutches your hand tighter.

“Fuck, I love you too.” He says, a sloppy kiss granted on your neck, then he laughs weakly. “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I am,” you gasp, head nodding and eyes scrunching closed as the buzz of heat swells inside you, thighs twitching and clenching around him tighter. “I am, baby, please.”

“C’mon honey,” he urges with a pant, voice strained and face wrecked, contorted in his pleasure. His free hand shifts up, pushing back your hair so he can see your face and his nose nuzzles against yours. “I know you can do it. Y’gonna cum for me? Be a good girl and cum on my cock, yeah?”

His voice turns cooing like he knows exactly what it’ll do to you to hear him beg. “C’mon, be good for me. Cum for me, honey, please,”

You tense up as his words hook into the coil in your stomach and tug, unraveling it and you with a soft cry. Legs gripping him tighter, you arch and writhe as the ache in your cunt pulses so deliciously, pleasure flooding every nerve — Steve fucks into the tightness, low whines in this throat as he chases his own orgasm.

“Say it,” he rasps, hips snapping fast and milking every second of your bliss, dragging it out as you clench around him. “Please, honey, wanna hear it.”

He says it so low, you nearly don’t hear it but you know exactly what he means. Your fingers clutch at his tighter, your intertwined hands keeping you connected and you nod, breathless, and tell him exactly what he wants to hear.

“I love you, Steve. Love you, ah, love you so much. Want you to cum for me, please,”

He falls apart, breath stuttering as he releases a desperate moan which dissolves into a kiss, soft lips scraping yours. His hips move a bit slower, jerky motions, as he clenches your hand tightly and whispers all his ardent love onto you, a dozen i love you’s between a thousand kisses.

His forehead presses against your forehead and you revel in the final zings of pleasure that rush up your spine as he slows his thrusts.

Your free hand drifts off his shoulder, soothing through his hair as all motion slows to a stop, Steve’s breath warming your shoulder. He drops his weight a bit, energy spent, and squishes against you and you make a noise somewhere between a squeal and a laugh.

“Y’good?” You ask, fingers still stroking through his hair. Wordlessly, Steve nods, chest still heaving but you can spot the gorgeous grin that graces his face, eyes closed.

Basking in the warmth of your love, you stay interwoven together. You’re warm but not just from the hot press of his body against yours; no, you gleam from the inside, pure glittering light because you love him.

You break the moment, the glow hazing out to tiredness and you free your hand from his hair to pat his shoulder softly.

“Okay, gross, you’re sweaty, get off me.”

Steve laughs, even as he peels himself off you, biceps tensing as he props himself up. “Yeah, ‘cos I just rocked your world.”

A laugh bursts out of you, though you don’t deny his words. Steve eases himself out of you gently and the stimulation makes you gasp lightly, lashes fluttering. You slump into the bed, feeling slightly melted as Steve deals with the condom and you’re fairly convinced you could just drift off in a moment. Steve doesn’t let you.

A poke on your arm. Your eyes peek open, seeing your boyfriend back in his silly little Batman boxers and a smile pulls on your lips. “Go pee.” He says.

You groan, eyes sliding shut again and he pokes you again, a jab at your shoulder.

“Go pee,” He insists, shuffling off the bed to stand up. When you make no motion to move, his hands hook around your knees and he tugs. You slide forward with a yelp and Steve grins when you frown but relent, getting to your feet. Your legs wobble for just a moment, a tad unsteady, and it only feeds Steve’s shit-eating grin.

“Shut up,” you warn, without any real heat. Steve raises his hands, not saying a word, though his chuffed expression says enough. He holds out one of his shirts — old and softened, it’s one of his old swim-team ones — and you slip into it easily. The trip to the bathroom is quick, already eager to be bundled back up in his arms and you nearly skip back to his room.

He’s in bed when you push the door open, covers pulled back, and waiting for you to join him. The slight smile on his face blooms into a grin that he pairs with grabby hands in your direction. You don’t deny him for even a moment, feet dancing across the carpet to clamber in beside him.

His arms, strong and sure, pull you against his chest and you hum contently with a smile, settling against him comfortably. Steve tugs up the duvet to cover you both. Cheek against his chest, you can hear the thump of his heartbeat easily and it eases some part of your soul, like a finger soothing down invisible hackles that raise whenever you’re apart from him.

“Can you say it again?”

He mumbles the question against your hairline where his lips rest and it turns your heart inside out, both pained and pleased that he wants to hear it as much as you want to say it.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.” You say without faltering, nuzzling closer to him. You drop one kiss on his chest, above his heart, and grin. “You totally rock my world.”

Where you expect some dramatized groan, Steve only laughs, the sound light and easy. His arms tighten around you, his lips gifting another sweet kiss atop your head. “Yeah, you too, sweet girl.”

And it makes you love him all the more.

(dis is my first smut soOOoOOoo pls do indeed come tell me how i did)

[uncanny-tranny]

Shoutout to those whose burnout never felt like a controlled bush fire, but felt as a forest fire consuming everything in its path. To those whose burnout didn't blossom into new life on the forest floors, but whose burnout has only left charred bark and silence in its wake. There's nothing wrong with you. Burnout can feel like a wound sometimes, a secret you keep to yourself out of shame. Your forest is not ruined. The fire wasn't your fault. If something will start to blossom in that forest, it will take time. It will be small. But it will be life.

[void-dude]

I have to single handedly thank you for reminding me of Tad's existence I adore your take on him and I think I'm going to suck up every drop of content of him and Stan with a silly staw

Not to be a helpless sap but the amount of positive feedback and engagement has genuinely made me incredibly happy and sometimes even distressed (in a good way!) I can't thank each and every single one of you enough for the support and simple engagement you've given me! I don't have the words in my broken vocabulary to properly convey the happiness I feel whenever I see people enjoy my silly art and create their own things because of it. This is the first time I've gotten fanart and asks about stuff I make and honestly it's such a motivator! Thank you! Thank you all so so much for sticking around for a while! I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I enjoy making it!

[thefoxtherapist]

Thinkin thinkin thinkin....

Reader who always wears a mask and people usually assume it's just so they could look edgy but in reality it's to cover up their face that is distorted from scars and on a random day character witnesses them without mask

Wuwa characters reacting~ (man I just don't really know who to name but maybe maybe include mortefi and scar *blinks cutely*)

No.. This isn't for self indulging because I made a wuwa character with a crow peak mask, no, not at all /liar

Anyways I know this might be more on the.. Darker side? I suppose and i tbh didn't know if you would be cool with it or nah.

I feel really chatty today forgive this yapper Anon, Have a lovely time zone🫡

Actually.... What is your favorite animal? Mine are crows :]

Hello thank you for the request! I never mind rambling don't worry! Haha I love the wuwa character inspired asks don't worry, my friend sent me one for Aalto based off of MY wuwa oc so (,: <3 handshaking.

CROWS MAKE SENSE! Mine are foxes<3 Specifically silver foxes or arctic foxes. But I love all foxes. My beloved creatures.

I hope you don't mind that I did headcanons!

Scar is almost insulted you didn’t tell him? The disgust in his mind is entirely based off of the “my fellow black lamb is even more similar to me and HID IT?!” thought.  He confronts you about it. If you have your mask in hand, he grabs your wrist before you can put it back on. “Hello, beautiful.” while staring deeply at your face. “Shameful of you to hide such beauty from me.” Scar, you're so weird. Surprisingly sweet though..

Scar doesn’t really give you time to react before his lips start pressing against the outlines of the scars. If there are no outlines, he just starts smooching from your cheek across your face, your nose, your jaw, your chin, your forehead, before finally. He kisses your lips.

“You should really grace me with this sight more often~” Thanks Scar.

Anyways any time you two are alone in private he will POUT for you to take the mask off so he can kiss you and stare at you. Scar will compliment you a BUNCH. Anything to make you blush or smile.

He will also encourage you to touch his facial scars. And yes, he rubs his scarred cheek against your face. Like a cat. Congrats on the cat.

Mortefi literally doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even notice, he is mid sentence, hence why he caught you in such a situation. And he will NOT stop his sentence. Once he’s done rambling you’ve probably already got your mask back on. And he’ll stop you from responding by raising an eyebrow and “Why did you put it back on?”

“I’m more comfortable this way.” and that’s it, end of conversation. Mortefi respects you more than he feels the need to be curious about their origins. And he’s right back to talking about whatever it was he wanted to bounce off of you.

If you begin to take your mask off around him more often in private, he will notice, but he won’t comment on it. Mortefi isn’t a big show of affection guy, but he’ll encourage this by kissing your cheek whenever he’s on his way out or his way in.

Mortefi doesn’t see the need for verbal reassurances. He’s a bit of a stiff lover anyway. But he tries his best to show you support and affection. Its clearly a sensitive spot, and while he doesn’t really get it, especially as a Resonator with physical changes caused by his awakening and overclocking, he knows he doesn’t /need/ to understand to be supportive.

Aalto is soooo curious, unlike Mortefi, he STOPS MID SENTENCE. And stares. Then realises he shouldn’t stare and turns around. “Sorry, babe! Didn’t expect you to be changing.” You weren’t, he just does not know how to phrase it. He’s definitely the ONLY one on /this/ list who actually thought it was for edgy purposes :sob: loser

Once he has a sign you have it back on, he WHIRLS AROUND. “As cool as the mask is, you should show off a pretty face like yours more often!” he wants to ask SO BAD. But Aalto knows he shouldn’t. And he’s a respectful guy! Sometimes.

Resumes what he was saying but he’ll be thinking about this allllllll night forever and always. 

The next time you have your mask off around him, knowing he’s supportive of your skin, he feels GLEEFULLLL. Aalto is so happy. Aalto “You shouldn’t make ties with other people” Black Shores realises from this ordeal that he is in DEEP. SO SO deep. 

That isn’t his problem though, he’s busy trailing his fingers over your jaw, neck, collarbones as he spoons you from behind. His aero abilities always leave a nice sensation against the scar tissue. Especially a fan of your jaw if there are any there in particular. Aalto is a jaw kisser through and through.

[wordsinhaled]

have some dreamling fluff, inspired by this fanart by @dingusdemeanour ! <3

-

"Oh,” Hob says, as he unlocks his flat and steps aside to let Dream in. Inside, it still smells faintly of Hob’s morning coffee despite the hours that have passed. Hob’s living room glows with mid-afternoon sunlight. "I almost forgot! I got you something."

There was no need for that, Dream almost says, but he casts a sideways glance at Hob, and Hob seems so plainly excited that he does not have the heart to dash his dream. For he knows, after all, that the act of gifting is a type of dreaming, of imagining another's future happiness.

Instead Dream says, simply, "Thank you, Hob."

"Don’t thank me yet. What if you hate it?" Hob says, though his eyes crinkle at the corners the way they do when Dream has pleased him. He is easy to please, Dream finds. Easy to talk to, as well, and easy to bring to mirth. Easy to— "Hang this up for me, love?"

Dream takes the messenger bag Hob proffers him. He holds it to his chest for a moment, rubs his fingertips over the leather strap where it is still body-warm from having been slung over Hob shoulder.

Love.

Hob is easy to love. Dream finishes the thought as he ponders how he became privy to the many tiny, quotidian secrets of Hob’s long life. When had he first learned that the nearest hook to the door is for Hob’s house keys, and the second is for his work bag? Dream deposits it there in its customary place gingerly, thinking, This knowledge, too, is its own gift.

“So,” Hob says, “don’t laugh, yeah? Or—laugh if you like, I suppose. I saw them and thought of you.” And he thrusts a small bundle into Dream’s hands.

Dream raises an eyebrow. “Socks?” It has never occurred to him that Hob might associate him with such a thing.

“Fuzzy socks,” Hob says helpfully.

The socks are, indeed, fuzzy. They are also embroidered all over with many tiny faces of cats, and made of a terribly soft material that Dream has the sudden, inexplicable urge to press to his cheek—so he does, though he is almost never a being of impulses. He can sense the dream Hob had formed in his mind when he purchased the socks, can see what Hob had pictured: how the socks would keep Dream not just warm, but cozy; how the bit of pink peeking over the tops of Dream’s boots would be a tiny reminder that Dream is—

That Dream is loved.

“I shall wear them, when I come to visit you in the waking world,” Dream says, and Hob’s answering grin is positively blinding.

[snailpaste]

SANJI! NSFW ALPHABET

LETTERS: K, Q, V, Y

PAIRING: Sanji x MALE! AMAB! READER, TOP READER/BOTTOM SANJI

MINORS DNI!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise: Both giving and receiving, Sanji is a total sucker for praise

Sanji’s his favourite part of sex is the intimacy of it, and that means being able to worship his partner and vice versa. He overflows with loving praise and sweet words both in and out of the bedroom, but during sex it has a certain vulnerability to it as he lavishes you in affection using his lips, tongue, skilful fingers, and words

He’ll stroke your hair and cup your face while you give him head, whispering breathy praise about how good you’re making him feel, how perfect you look with your lips wrapped around his cock, how he’s gonna cum down your pretty throat so be a good boy and swallow it all for him

When you praise him he’s going to melt, gazing up at you with his lip caught between his teeth while a pink flush covers his cheeks. He finds it hard to accept praise to begin with, sometimes crying into your neck, othertimes cumming on the spot with a soft gasp and his hips twitching cutely. 

Pet names he loves: Good boy, darling, my love, sweetheart, baby

Creampies: Sanji loves cum. He loves to come inside you, pulling out slightly to coat your hole in his release and watching it dribble out of you. And watching it drip down your thighs and over the marks he’s made there? It’s more than enough to get him rock hard again, teasing you gently before pushing back inside deep, hitting all your more sensitive spots before you’re seeing stars.

When he’s bottoming he wants you to finish inside him. Spread his pretty legs and push them back to his shoulders, making sure you come deep in him. He wants you to press your fingers into him when you’re done, making sure none of it spills out, or maybe using it to finger him to another orgasm.

Sometimes he’ll use a buttplug after your romp in the morning, making sure he’s ready for you at night.

Oral: The man is a GOD at giving head. The first time he went down on you, he had you cumming in under 4 minutes. It’s become one of his favourite things to do, especially with the way you pant his name and tug at his hair. He isn’t all that good at deepthroating, but he doesn’t need to with how fucking skilled that tongue is. He’s fine with face fucking if you want to, but is far more open to it when he’s feeling particularly subby. 

69. He loves it, is a bit miffed he can’t see your face, but adores the feeling of your thick length twitching on his tongue or the way you groan into his own sex. He only wants this for prep, mind you, so once you’re/he’s stretched out enough, he’s up on his heels, kissing you, and slipping inside/guiding you to his entrance with a sly grin

Loves receiving too. Eat him out/suck him off through his underwear just to tease him, and make sure you hold his hips firm to the bed to stop him from bucking. When receiving he’s soft, constantly looking at you in awe. Generally prefers the fingers/mouth combo, even if he isn’t the one bottoming, and becomes a subby mess whenever you rim him.

Other Kinks Include: Aftercare, Somnophilia, Lingerie, Blindfolds, High Heels??, Cockwarming, subspace (on himself, sometimes he just really needs to let go)

more under cut! ->

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sanji likes to take his time with his partner, riling them up throughout the day, picking them apart bit by bit until they’re both falling apart and then slowly making love.

With that being said, if you’re the one to initiate he’s down for a quickie as long as it’s not some place you’ll get caught- but not the kitchen because that place is sacred to him (you will definitely end up fucking in the kitchen). Because you’re on a ship and don’t have the most tactful crew sometimes quickies are all you have time for but he makes up for it by bringing you to the edge with his fingers and mouth as many times as you need before finally fucking you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

While not loud, he certainly doesn’t hold back his noises.

Sanji moans into you- your neck, chest, ear or mouth in between hot open-mouthed kisses. He pants and swears under his breath, but the closer he gets to orgasm the louder and whinier he becomes. He gasps out your name if you tease his sensitive nipples or clench/thrust particularly hard. Most of the noise he makes is praise as his fingers run through your hair and presses his forehead against yours- doing that to him, especially in the beginning of your relationship, and he just might start tearing up.

When subbing/bottoming, he lets out sweet whimpers and soft moans with every thrust and every soft kiss pressed to his neck. Once he’s come on your cock he gets loud, panting and gasping from overstimulation and moaning your name with his head shoved into the sheets. If he’s come hands free, he will scream your name after trembling and shaking through his orgasm- shove your fingers in his mouth and tell him to suck lest you attract any unwanted attention.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sanji’s sex drive is above average, but it isn’t crazy high. Sometimes he has too much going on in his head and onboard to consider sex

He’s honestly content just to be in your company, and doesn’t need sex all that often- as long as he has you, he’s happy. Now, that being said, his sex drive is above average (when he isn’t being stressed out) and you can generally expect him to be down to do the dirty whenever you want. He gets bouts of massive horniness where he’ll wake you up with his head between your legs, moaning as he bobs sloppily up and down your length, coating it in saliva until it’s just wet enough to slip into his tight heat and start riding you.

[crybaby-bkg]

Kirishima who likes that cheesy, shitty porn that makes you and Bakugou cringe, but you two can't help but indulge the big guy when he wants to role-play.

bakugou has been a swimmer since he was an infant, but pretends to drown in you guys' pool so Kiri can jump in and save him as the life guard on duty. gives bakugou mouth to mouth which always seems to devolve into tongue kissing and a cough from you to at least get back on script. it somehow ends up with you thanking the life guard for saving your boyfriend by offering up your mouth to him while he continues to tongue down Bakugou. its a little stupid, but everyone always gets off.

or, his other favorite one, where he's coming in for a massage and you and bakugou are both the masseuses. Bakugou works his back muscles and you flip him over to do his front. you always somehow end up bouncing on Kiri's cock while Bakugou fucks his mouth. you don't mind that one as much, because Kiri's chest oiled up always look so delectable, and the sounds he emits low in his throat when you play with his nipples is always worth the ache in your thighs the next morning.

you've done hero-villain-civilian role-play before too, where you're the helpless victim fallen prey to a mysterious blood riot and trying to be saved by dynamight. that one, despite how much you both complain about it all, seems to elicit the eagerest responses from all of you. its something about playing helpless while being taken from behind that does you in. especially when you're bent over in Bakugou's lap while he's tied down to a chair, unable to save you, his sweet little civilian. eye to eye with him, his mouth gagged, while Kiri fucks you so mercilessly that your drool hits Bakugou's chin and his evil laughs makes both of you close to orgasming.

now that one makes the role-play seem just a bit less cringy. but only when its you guys doing it, not the fake shit Kiri watches. if wants cheesy porn, then you two are willing to help him play it all out in real life.

[nburkhardt]

After their first ever official album release, after getting a permanent address, Eddie flys out to Hawkins and just kidnaps Steve.

The only ones that know of the plan is his best friends and Robin.

Steve’s only confused for a moment before realizing what’s happening, he laughs and packs his things. Packs his life away in two suitcases and one duffle bag. He leaves a note behind for his parents, slips the house key in the mail slot and says one last silent goodbye to a house that felt too cold.

There’s goodbyes, promises of letters and calls and tears. They leave Hawkins and once they’re safely in the air, they’re giddy with excitement of their future.

They share a tiny apartment with Jeff in California, eat cold pizza for breakfast and help get Steve a job that allows him to travel with them during their first tour.

Eddie gets to live his dream and gets to live it out with Steve by his side.

This is technically a continuation of another little fic I posted based off Taylor Swift’s song Come Back Be Here.

Sorry it’s so short, my brain can’t come up with dialogue only descriptions. My bad.

Also ALSO! Just know that eventually Steve becomes an emt and they make a permanent home together. Robin ends up with them don’t worry 🥰

Permanent tag list under the cut

@spectrum-spectre @sunnythevampireslayer @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @strangersteddierthings

[mxmarsbars]

my piece for the fifth edition of the @trafficzine :D

check it out here!! it would mean a lot <3

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Could I request Accidental Confessions Part Two where Femcis Reader got the antidote for Rolan and both of them just sat down & talked properly to each other after he's no longer under influence of the love potion? With apologies & a happy ending!

I had already planned to write a second part but im using your ask as a vessel to post it ╰(￣ω￣)

~~~~~~ Read the first part here!

Accidental Confessions (Part 2)

Rolan/femcis!Reader

~~~~~~~

You stand in front of the portal, close enough that the swirling magical energy draws strands of your hair forward.

You desperately want to step forward. You desperately want to run away. You have no idea which one is the best choice.

It's been two days since the incident. You haven't seen Rolan since then, and he's all that's been on your mind. You keep replaying the last moment with him, pulled together but still deissheveled as you handed the vial of antidote to him. The way he sat on the stairs, hands shaking, head hanging, eyes never raising to meet yours. And the terse words he spoke as he snatched the bottle from you.

"Thanks. Now leave."

The words weren't angry or sorrowful or pained. They were cold, closed off. You had no choice but to obey.

Rolan knew. That was the only explanation. Everything that happened, everything you allowed to happen, that you encouraged to happen...Rolan knew that you had taken advantage of the situation, and now he hates you. As he should.

Gods, what's wrong with you?

You take in a deep, sobering breath and step into the portal. Your vision goes dark for a brief moment before melting away into the familiar scenery of Ramazith's tower. Your eyes immediately land on Rolan, his back towards a shelf but already turning as you step from the pull of the portal. Golden eyes land on you, curious at first but hardening as he realizes who his visitor is.

"I've been expecting you." Rolan blindly shelves the book he had been thumbing through and descends the stairs, straightening his robe before folding his hands behind his back pertly. "It's best we get this over with."

Having him come toward you makes you want to dive back through the portal but you stay your ground, even if your knees shake. You cast your eyes to the floor, fighting the urge to bunch your hands in your dress as the tips of his shoes come into the field of your vision before stopping.

"Go ahead. Say your piece," He says after a moment of silence, voice curt.

The lump in your throat is so large that you're not sure anything will come out when you open your mouth, but it does, even if your words are small and wavering.

"I'm... resigning from my position."

You can hear Rolan exhale softly but with your eyes on the ground, you can't quite decipher why. "Alright. I'll have your final pay ready by the end of the day."

A dark, greedy part of you recoils at that. Even after everything, there was still a delusional hope that he'd push back-- that he'd protest you leaving.

There's another small stretch of silence, and you watch Rolan's feet shift.

"Well, there's obviously more you need to say, so say it already."

There is more you need to say, but you're fighting for your life to keep tears from blurring your eyes and choking your throat. You've rehearsed this in your mind hundreds of times, thought of the best words to show your sincerity, pictured every sort of scenario...and everything is lined up perfectly. It's the absolute ideal set-up for you to apologize. But the enormity of your remorse is swallowing you, and the only thing you can think is 'don't cry, don't cry, don't cry'.

Rolan's feet shift again. You can't stand here forever, and you know it. So you take in a deep breath and manage out two pitiful words.

"I'm...sorry."

Despite your best efforts, your vision instantly swims and hot tears trail down your cheeks. Damnit.

"Wh-" Rolan sputters, goes silent, then starts again. "You're sorry?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, throat tight and voice high and wavering, "I didn't stop you...I could have stopped you, but I didn't." The tears are coming full force now, a hot tirade that makes your eyes feel puffy and swollen. "I'm s-sorry, Rolan." Your words are hiccuping, toeing the line of full sobbing, "I d-don't expect you to forgive me, just p-please--" As much as it hurts, you finally raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "Please d-don't hate me..."

Looking at him face-to-face makes you want to crumple to the floor and bawl. It looks as if he hasn't slept since the last time you saw him-- dark circles crescent under his eyes, his clothes are wrinkled, and his hair is loosely and hapharzardly pulled back. But more than that, he looks dumbfounded, like he's completely shocked that you're standing in front of him crying. It makes you feel even more pathetic, which only makes the tears continue.

"I don't--" Rolan reaches his hands out to you, thinks better of it, then retracts them to his chest, "I'd never hate you."

The earnestness in which he says it should make you feel better, but it does the opposite. By all rights, he should hate you-- who are you to stand here before him, blubbering and grovelling, when you're the one who took advantage of him? Resigning from your post was supposed to be a small penance from you to Rolan, but instead, he's comforting you. You're disgusted with yourself.

Your despair must be written on your face, because Rolan takes a step forward, his voice trembling around the edges as he speaks.

"Y-you know, I had assumed... that you were here to yell at me. To tell me what a horrible man I am." Rolan lets out a short, nervous laugh, "I was fully prepared to take a punch or two."

He thought that you were mad at him? The thought is so absurd that you find your tears stopping as you stare at him, surely mirroring his dumbfounded expression from earlier.

"You'd have every right to, you know." Rolan continues, his jaw tightening as he straightens his arms by his sides, "To think I'm terrible. To hate me, even. Because what I did to you..."

"It wasn't your fault," You cut him off with a croak, wiping at your eyes with your sleeves, "You weren't yourself. But me, th-there was nothing controlling me...It was my responsibility, b-but I--"

"Stop." Rolan's voice raises, anger lighting his eyes, "Stop trying to take the blame for this. You are not the one at fault here!" He stares hard at you for a few moments before his shoulders slump and the tension in his face melts away, leaving him looking tired and small. Vulnerable, even. And his voice falls too, nothing more than a whisper. "There were times of clarity...times where I could have fought against it. If I had tried harder, I could have stopped a dozen times over. But there was a part of me, a part not influenced by the potion, that didn't want to fight it." A thread of anger edges it's way back to his words, but now you understand that it's edge isn't pointed at you. "So yes, it is my fault. I'm a terrible...horrible man."

You don't know what the right thing to do is-- in such an unprecedented situation, you're not sure if there even is a 'right thing'. But seeing Rolan standing before you, askew in both looks and mind, there's only one thing you can fathom doing, damned if it's wrong or right.

Rolan stiffens as you rush forward and throw your arms around him. Your heart hammers fast and loud in your ears and you feel breathless at your own bold action that seemed to come out of nowhere, but there's no way in the nine hells that you're going to let go.

"You're not horrible," You say against his chest, voice tight and runny as your tears begin anew, "N-not in the slightest. So don't s-say such things."

Rolan's body trembles in your embrace and you worry that he might try to push you away. After a few long seconds, though, he wraps his arms around you and returns the hug.

"I'm sorry," Rolan squeezes you tight as he says it, and you wonder if it has to do with how watery his voice sounds, "For putting you through that...f-for hurting you."

The vulnerability of it all makes is terrifying, but it's also liberating. A moment of pain and sorrow shared between the two of you--it's a feeling more intimate than sex.

"I wanted it." The confession falls from your lips without a thought, and you know that you've crossed a boundary that you'll never be able to return from, for better or worse. "I wanted to hear those things from you. To have you touch me...I wanted all of it."

Rolan lets out a choked noise above you and you feel his chest hitch. "D-don't lie to me."

"I'm not." You hold him tighter, as if trying to still your trembling muscles. "Having you need me in such a way, even if it was fake...I was happy."

You can feel every inch of the shiver that runs through Rolan's body. His chin touches the side of your forehead in something close to a cuddle as the hands on your back slide down, nearly cradling your hips.

"If you're being honest...I'd like to say something." You can hear Rolan swallow thickly before continuing, voice hushed and hesitant, "But please, you musn't think any less of me."

You try to pull away, wanting to see his face as he speaks, but the fingers on your waist dig in, as if begging you to stay in place. Curious, nervous, you comply.

"I'd never think less of you."

Rolan heaves in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the warmth of it tickling the top of your ear. "I..." He starts his sentence, stops, then starts again. "The potion. I took it."

"Took it?" You were determined to stay silent and let him say his piece, but your confusion gets the better of you.

"I drank it." You feel Rolan's body tense as he inhales sharply again, letting the rest of his words fall out on his exhale, "I knew you'd be coming, and I wanted to-- it was only a small sip, I thought it would give me a push, just enough to be honest, confident--to say the things I was too cowardly to say. But it was potent, far more potent than I had realized--"

You can't think, can't breathe. A blanket of surrealness falls over you, making everything around you feel padded and dreamlike. Because this must be a dream, right? Your tired mind has supplied this sweet little scenario for you, has tailored it to your wildest imagination.

But the shaking man in your arms isn't a dream, as much as it seems. The hurried, scared breaths puffing against your hair are real, as are the hands, anxiously holding you tight. If those things are real, then the words Rolan has said...the confession he has laid at your feet must be real as well.

The courage it took for him to admit to such a thing seems to seep into you, and you find yourself pulling your head back, forcing him to finally confront you. His eyes are glassy and drying tear streaks shine against the hollows of his cheeks. He looks devastated, terrified-- and more beautiful than you've ever seen him.

This is Rolan. Not your crush. Not the wizard. Not the older brother. Not the owner of Ramazith's Tower. This is him, stripped bare, beyond titles and prestige and pomp. This is Rolan, raw and true and baring himself to you.

You kiss him. It's a stark contrast to the kiss shared just days before-- it's clumsy, nervous, hesitant. But that's what makes it so grand. The insecurities that Rolan had tried to hide behind a potion are all there, beneath your lips, your fingers. Every brush and breath sings of honesty, of a flourishing love that threatens to build into something momentous-- of the terror such a thing could bring. The enormity of the unknown.

But as Rolan's hands relax on your hips, as his lips part and soften on your own, you know that he's offering you a chance to explore that unknown together.

And you couldn't be happier.

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Carry On Countdown, Day 1: Creature

(Quotes from "Wayward Son" and "Any Way the Wind Blows" by @rainbowrowell)

My first ever @carryon-countdown! I immediately saw this image in my mind when I read the prompt for day 1.