#steamy maybe..

[tsukk1]

[shouyuus]

it's vi's birthday soooo what about a modern vi birthday sex request —

sry i LITERALLY had to look this up I HAD NO IDEA it was her bday today?!?!?!?

18+, mdni, switch/sub!vi bc she deserves to be pampered on her bday

bday!sex w/ vi in which she wakes up to the feeling of you between her legs in the morning, a soft, hoarse groan working out of her throat even as she glances down at you, her eyes still half-lidded from sleep, heat pooling in her stomach even as her fingers fist in your hair, her legs clamping involuntarily around your cheeks as you lap lazily at her sopping cunt, moaning when she hisses, head tossing back into the pillow --

"h-holy shit princess -- what's -- what's the occasion?" she asks, already breathless, and she's still not entirely sure if she's actually just dreaming or if you're really doing this, but the way you inch your fingers between your lips and her cunt just to tease at her clit makes her hips jerk up so violently, she's sure she would've woken up by now if this were a dream.

bday!sex w/ vi where you finger her slow, pressing in one finger, teasing her till she's whimpering, tugging at your hair, her other hand fisting in the sheets even as she tries to keep still, you pressing little kisses along her inner thighs, murmuring sweet nothings --

"so pretty like this vi... but honestly, who forgets their own birthday, hm?"

dragging your finger slowly along her walls, feeling her clench around at your words.

"f-fuck -- hah... ah -- p-please-- shit, shit, shit -- m-my birthday? oh fuck -- ngh --"

"yeah, y'know..." you pull your finger back till you're teasing just at her entrance, and her whole body arches up to chase the feeling, her muscles pulling taut, the shape of her making your mouth water as you lean back down to lick at her clit, "the thing that happens once a year? generally... people like to celebrate with like... cake and various levels of debauchery?"

bday!sex w/ vi where she can't quite make out a full sentence bc she's so lost in the way you're eating her out, alternating between slow and fast, sucking on her clit just the way she likes before fucking your fingers into her, curling them up into her g-spot till her legs are shaking, till she's basically fucking your mouth the way her hips ruck up against you --

"fuck fuck -- princess, 'm so fuckin' close --"

"yeah?" you grin, cheeky even as you pillow your face against her thigh, pushing a third finger into her just to watch her mouth fall open around a silent moan. you reach up to tweak at one of her tits, pulling yourself up the length of her body. her eyes, when she finally opens them to meet yours, are dark and glazed out, her expression taut with pleasure.

"gonna cum for me, violet?" you whisper against her lips, even as she whines, keening high in the back of her throat as you rut your fingers hard and fast into her, your thumb running tight circles around her clit.

"yes, yes, yes, yes --" she chants, tugging you down to muffle her words with a sloppy kiss, moaning as she presses her tongue into your mouth, the movements uncoordinated, her body arching into you as she cums, hard and long.

bday!sex w/ vi in which you gently fuck her through her first climax, sitting back to admire your handiwork as she pants, eyes fluttering shut as the aftershocks of the orgasm works its way through her body, and finally, when she's coherent enough to glance at you, she flashes you a lopsided grin.

"well shit, cupcake... that's one hell of a way to wake up."

you giggle, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

she tugs you down for one that's decidedly less chaste before tugging you over her hips, her hands settling on your thighs as she looks up at you with hooded eyes.

"happy birthday to me, i guess," she says, grinning, wide and unabashed.

you laugh, nodding, rocking your hips down so that your own slicked folds slide against hers. you gasp, electricity sparking through you at the contact.

"y-yeah -- happy birthday, vi -- oh --"

vi hisses even as she plants her feet on the bed and rolls her hips up into yours, eyes caught on the way your mouth falls open.

"t-that was a nice wakeup call but... now i think i wanna have some breakfast in bed -- hm?" she reaches up to tweak at one of your nipples, reveling in the way it makes your whole body go soft.

you bite your lips, letting her rock you slowly over her, letting out tiny moans and whimpers as your clits catch over and over, the friction coiling the all too familiar heat inside you as you let her fuck you slow.

"whatever --" you brace your hands against her chest, "whatever you want --"

"yeah? you promise, princess?"

you let out a tiny yelp as she presses you down hard and a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine at the delicious, mind-numbing slide of her cunt against yours.

"p-promise! w-whatever the birthday girl wants -- ah -- hah... "

vi leans up, coiling her fingers into your hair as she watches you work yourself into a light frenzy over her, her own breaths coming in short staccato pants.

"mm... i do like the sound of that."

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

This scene alone has fueled so much headcanon and smut ideas for these two it's not even funny

The happy look and little sigh/moan as she kisses him. The desperation in his body language and sad look on his face when her lips leave his. How he pulls her back to him with such intensity. The quiet sounds of nature around them ;w; Soft, gentle, happy sex with smiles and kisses abound. Thats Esme and Astarion <3

[fafodill]

I know this never actually happened in canon, but if Molly were to kidnap persuade Severus to stay and eat after an order meeting, how would that go down? How would Molly attempt to mother-hen a heavily resistant Sev? (His little belly needs filling 🥺).

Canon!Molly would absolutely struggle with Severus. She's a real mother-hen, can be quite overbearing and is very vocal with her affection. She's also very tactile.

All the things Severus would dislike.

So we have to imagine here a Molly who's very stubborn (which she is but not as much towards people she dislikes) AND capable of adapting her actions and attitude towards one person. This kinda makes her out of character but let's accept it for the sake of the scenario:

First of all, Severus would never stay unless he was forced to. Molly wouldn't be able to convince him. It would be because Dumbledore ordered him to OR if he was wounded/bed-ridden and had no choice. I like the wounded scenario but for simplicity let's imagine Dumbledore ordered him to eat with them from now on.

He'd put on a sour face all the while. He'd be unpleasant enough just to ensure this wouldn't happen again and she/they just leave him alone or ask him to piss off. He'd hate being treated like a project by Molly and being under scrutiny.

He doesn't like these people and don't want to spend time with them (because he's a bit of a cunt) but also because being mothered would actually tickle his mommy issues.

Because come on, having a loving mother? Who provides? Who takes care of him? Oof... Eileen couldn't.

But despite his sour face, Molly would persist. What might happen?

One good thing about her is that she had 7 children, so she knows how to deal with pouting faces. Severus is nothing new to her (tho she's a tad appalled to see a grown man like him acting like he's 12).

At first she'd be pissed at how much he's bickering with Sirius. Then after a while she'd accept that 1) they both can't help it and 2) despite the chaos it's actually doing them some good because at least they're talking and expressing other emotions than depression (and they channel their anger at each other). It would still get tiring and she'd do her best to not let them in the same room for too long.

She wouldn't try to chat with him too much either (I mean she will, quite a few times) because he's not a talker and if you force it out of him you'll just get insulted.

I think that with time she'd ask him to help in the kitchen (to prep the meals of for some finishing touches). Or ask him to make the coffee or after-dinner tea. Keep him busy every time he looks like he's about to snap at someone or leave.

It's Severus, you have to take your time with him. Gently force him into a new routine.

About the food, she'd try to ask him what he likes and if she can cook something for him (because she likes to please people) and he'd always say no. She'd even ask about his childhood meals and get such an icy answer that she would instantly drop it. But she's stubborn so maybe with time she'd just stop asking and just... look, because she's also experienced with sulking and private children. So she'd look at his expression while he eats, if he gets a second serving, if he looks a bit interested in a second slice of pie (he won't say it but he will look at it) and take the opportunity to just give it to him.

With time she'd figure out what he likes and if he's about to leave she'd pack him some food and just shove it in his hands and as he argues she'd throw her hands in the air and say 'then just toss it when you get home, I don't care!' (she cares, but if she shows she does it won't work).

The real problem is with the other Order members. Severus cannot help himself... many of them he doesn't like and he won't be able to stay out of petty fights. He says things and doesn't care if it's cruel or cold and I'm sure he'd kill the mood quite a few times. It's part self-sabotage, part old grievances, part being a cunt. And with time it's going to get tiring for everyone if he stays and just annoys or angers people.

Tho in a scenario where he's wounded and has to stay at Grimmauld's, maybe Molly would corner him and scold him about the war effort and that -yes- everyone is very impressed and grateful for what he's doing but that this is community and it's also important to take care of the morale by being civil towards each other and that if he keeps being so unpleasant then she can just give him his meal in his room and be done with it.

And they both know part of him would like that. But that it would also read EXTREMELY childish and he's way too proud to accept it.

So he'll start making an effort.

A tiny one.

And then you can build on that.

[crowlixcx]

If we ever get Aziraphale and Crowley neck kisses I'll give up therapy because if that doesn't cure my brain then nothing will

[call-me-pup2]

Slow, intense, hot make out session right now!

[danisha-tdh]

Afsgsg hi creator of Stealing Code AU here I wanna know how do you and @lazymoth design your Wondergotten outfits cause it's all so gorgeous! I wanna learn how to draw such designs too how do y'all do it??? o.o

Hello there! ^^

So basically me and Month come up with an inspiration as we search from culture related or any fancy ones. Also, I always putting Turbø to wear gloves because it's cool and keeps away from the enemies, the Blot. So here's some doodle concepts I have:

Since we do sometimes takes insipred to each other (maybe the fact we share ideas, hehe). Oh! I also mentioned that about the concept of Turbø's new main outfit design. It is involves the plot story of it-

And this is where the steps how I did the design from begin to final. The second was the first post about him I had once a year ago. Dang, took times that I improve my art over many months thanks to this little man, it even inspired me how to make an existing of imagination of Wondergøtten.

A little shoutout to @lazymonth also the one who makes the cool AU of the Opposite and even amazing designs! ^^/

[honorarypines]

Some doodles I made inspired by @likemmmcookies's most amazing fic Heaven Like They Talk About which fully consumed my thoughts and soul lately

close ups under da cut:

[captainhysunstuff]

Uh oh. I dreamed about RadioApple/AppleRadio (Alastor x Lucifer Morningstar and vice versa) from Hazbin Hotel. I’ve been infected. 😅

[shoesallinaline]

Forgive me my ramblings, but sometimes I think about how Armand turning Daniel is the first time they've touched one another sine 1973, and I just. Hmmm. I truly can't believe they'd deny us such an interaction.

Edited to add: that we know of, of course. I'm sure future seasons will turn everything upside down.

[enden-k]

good night booba

[beldamdoll]

Steve Randle x Reader

Long / Short Story

Tension & Fluff

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The house was dark when she slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Her brothers might’ve been gone for the weekend for “brotherly bonding.” With muscle memory moving on instinct, she stepped over the creaking floorboard next to the hall table, didn't let the screen door slam, held her breath, and quickly but quietly paced up the stairs.

She didn't have to do it this one time, so the porch light lit up as she stepped up onto the porch, put in her keys to unlock the door, and let the screen door slam behind her. She reached for the hall light, turning it on, then headed up the stairs to her room, ready to undress to shower when she heard a loud knock. Then another.

She damn near jumped out of her skin. The knocking on the front door was loud, like someone was trying to break in. She ran into Sodapop and Ponyboy's room and grabbed the baseball bat they had when they used to play and, of course, for use in an unlikely situation. But of course, it would happen to her when she was alone. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she slowly descended the stairs.

The door banged again. Whoever it was had gotten the screen door open and now they were trying to open the main door. Bracing herself, she raised the bat and flung the door open as she let out a scream, ready to swing the bat.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she gasped, jumping back.

Exhaling sharply, she dropped the bat, pressing her hand to her forehead.

“What the hell?!”

Steve Randle stood on the porch, hands braced on the doorframe, chest rising and falling like he had just run a damn mile. His hair was all over the place, his shirt half-buttoned like he had barely stopped to throw it on, which made her stare briefly.

“Jesus don’t hit me!! I heard something and thought someone got in.”

The confusion turned to straight frustration.

“Yeah, it’s me! Who else would it be?!”

Steve just stared at her like his brain was struggling to catch up, looking up and down at the girl whose legs looked dirty with her old worn shorts and an oversized flannel stolen from Soda.

Steve exhaled sharply, running his hand through his hair.

“I saw the porch light on and I thought someone broke in. Why are you sneaking around?”

“Sneaking around? In my own damn house? I was out with Stassy and Tate.”

Steve’s jaw ticked. “Well, I didn't know that... Why are you out so late alone?”

She threw her arms out, “Why? And what were you going to do if I was a burglar? Take 'em on half-dressed?”

Steve opened his mouth, ready to snap back, then shut it. Instead of answering, his tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and his eyes lingered on her for a bit too long.

“Listen, I thought you were someone else. I'm glad you're okay and got home safe.”

Her attitude shifted with a weak smile. “Thanks... I’m fine. I said I'd stay here. I'm already around my brothers enough. Thanks, really. I'm fine, I was just going to go to bed. I'll see you around tomorrow?” She leaned against the porch, ready to close it, but something in her mind was hoping for something, though she didn't know what.

He stopped her from closing the door.

“I... I don't feel right leaving you here alone, especially at night.”

“Steve, I'll be—”

He didn't let her finish her sentence, shaking his head like he had already made up his mind.

“I'm not going to leave you alone at night.”

He took no notice of her stubbornness.

“Okay, fine.” She let him in, closing and locking the door. “You're sleeping on the couch, though, Steve.”

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Upstairs, the water pounded against the tile, steam fogging up the mirror as she stood under the hot stream, trying to clear her head. She tilted her face up, letting the water wash over her, but it wasn’t enough to stop the image of him from creeping back into her thoughts.

His voice, low and rough, still rang in her ears. “I don’t feel right leavin’ you here by yourself.”

She didn’t need him to worry. She’d been fine on her own plenty of times before. But the way he looked at her, his hair a wild mess and his chest heaving like he’d just run to her rescue—it stuck in her head in a way she couldn’t quite shake.

And that stupid shirt. Half-buttoned, clinging to his shoulders just enough to show the lines of his chest, the faint glint of moonlight catching on his skin. She groaned, pressing her palms against her face. Why the hell did he have to look like that?

Meanwhile, Steve stood in her room, his hands shoved into his pockets as he stared at her desk. He hadn’t meant to wander in—it just sort of happened. The sound of the shower echoed faintly down the hall, but his eyes were glued to the pictures scattered across the surface.

Her with her friends—laughing, carefree. Her brothers, caught mid-wrestle, grinning like idiots. The gang, leaning against their cars like they had all the time in the world.

But then there were the ones tucked further back. Her parents. His chest ached as he stared at the worn edges of the frame, the weight of their absence settling over him like a heavy blanket.

And then he saw it.

The picture hit him like a punch to the gut. The lake. Last summer. Her soaked to the bone, laughing as she swatted him with a towel. His grip tightened around the edges of the photo, his breath catching as the memory flooded back—the way her laugh rang out over the water, her hair wild and half-undone. She looked so damn happy and—

Stop it, his brain snapped. Soda’s sister. His best friend’s twin sister. The thought terrified him. Falling for her isn't the problem, it is the fact he know he is falling for his best friend's sister, and he couldn’t risk losing his best friend over this, but here I am he thought.

The sound of the water shutting off jolted him, and he placed the photo back quickly, stepping out of the room before she could catch him.

Their relationship had always been filled with unspoken moments. As the years passed, Steve and she couldn’t help but notice subtle changes in each other. It started innocuously enough: a lingering glance, a shy smile, a fleeting touch. They grew up together, their lives intertwined with the familiarity of shared experiences and mutual friends. However, as they matured, so did their awareness of one another.

Their eyes would meet across the room, and what once were casual looks became loaded with unspoken thoughts and emotions. These moments seemed to stretch time, a silent conversation that neither dared to voice. A smile from Steve would make her heart flutter, and she couldn’t quite understand why. Her laughter would resonate in Steve’s mind long after she had left. These small, seemingly insignificant gestures carried more weight than either was willing to acknowledge. Accidental brushes of the hand or shoulder would send a jolt through them, a reminder of the growing tension between them. They would pull away quickly, afraid that lingering too long might betray their burgeoning feelings.

As they grew older, their physical appearances and personalities evolved. Steve noticed the way her hair shimmered in the sunlight, the way her laughter had matured into something more melodic. She saw how Steve’s once-boyish features had sharpened into a more rugged, handsome look, and his quiet confidence had solidified. The realization that they saw each other differently now was both exciting and terrifying. The familiarity of their childhood camaraderie was slowly being overshadowed by a deeper, more complex attraction. Yet, neither wanted to disrupt the fragile balance by acknowledging it aloud.

She came down the stairs a little while later, her hair still damp, clinging to the edges of Darry’s oversized shirt. Steve glanced up from the couch, his heart giving an unsteady lurch as she crossed her arms, fixing him with a sharp look.

“Were you in my room?” she asked.

Steve blinked, sitting up straighter. “No. Why?”

“Stop lying,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “Your cologne stunk it all up.”

His jaw clenched, his mouth opening to argue, but he stopped himself. Instead, he let out a small huff, running a hand through his hair. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Just stay out of my stuff, Randle."

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The quiet of the house was suffocating, wrapping around her like a heavy blanket as she lay sprawled across her bed. Sleep wasn’t happening—not with her mind replaying every second of their exchange at the door, every flicker of emotion in his voice, every unspoken thing that lingered in the air between them.

She thought maybe a glass of water or a late-night snack would help, something to ground her and pull her out of her head. But when she turned the corner into the kitchen, she almost smacked straight into him.

“Jesus, Steve!” she gasped, clutching the edge of the counter to steady herself.

He blinked down at her, equally startled, though he recovered quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sorry. Didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

“You scared the hell out of me,” she muttered, brushing her hair back from her face. Her eyes flicked to the glass of water in his hand then to his bare chest. “Midnight thirst?”

“Something like that.” He leaned against the counter, his gaze steady on her as she moved past him to the sink. The faint moonlight spilling through the window caught the damp waves of her hair, the oversized shirt that hid her frame, and the soft shadows under her eyes. She looked... different like this. Softer. And it tugged at something deep in his chest.

“You couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, more out of respect for the quiet than anything else.

She shook her head, filling a glass with water. “Too much on my mind.”

“Same.” His eyes drifted over her for a beat too long, and he quickly busied himself with the glass in his hand, tipping it back for a long sip, turning to face him as she leaned against the counter.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—like both of them had too much to say but no idea where to start. She traced the rim of her glass with her finger, her gaze dropping briefly to the floor before flicking back to him. To his damn chest then his face.

“You know,” she said finally, her tone lighter now, “I half-expected to find you knocked out on the couch, snoring loud enough to wake the neighbours.”

He smirked. “I don’t snore.”

“Sure you don’t.” Her smile widened as she took a sip of water, hiding it behind the glass.

Steve watched her, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint grin. She had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, and it drove him crazy—how easy it was to forget all the reasons he wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

“So,” he said, setting his empty glass on the counter and crossing his arms. “What’s keeping you up?”

She shrugged, her smile faltering slightly. “Just... stuff. You know. Life.”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “Yeah. I get that.”

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet, the kitchen bathed in pale light. And maybe it was the hour, or the way her shoulders relaxed just enough to let the walls around her drop, but Steve felt the words slip out before he could stop them.

“You know you don’t have to do it all on your own, right?”

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and there it was again—that warmth, that ache, that unspoken thing neither of them dared to name.

“Do what on my own?”

“This, with your parents...your folks gone...you shouldn’t be thinking of staying on your own.”

“I’m fine, it doesn’t bother me. My brothers went off on their own, they didn’t want me there, and I don’t care. At this stage, I only care for Stassy and Tate—and they only-”

“I care. Isn’t that enough?”

His chest tightened, and he had to fight the urge to reach out, to touch her arm, her hand, anything to reassure her. Instead, he settled for a faint smile, his voice quiet.

Her breath hitched, but she covered it quickly, pushing off the counter with a small shake of her head. “You’re full of surprises tonight, Randle.”

“Yeah, well,” he said with a smirk, stepping back to let her pass, “don’t get used to it.”

She rolled her eyes, the smile tugging at her lips again as she left the kitchen. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, watching her go.

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She tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around her legs as her mind refused to quiet down. Every word he’d said replayed in her head, looping endlessly. “Because I care. Isn’t that enough?” The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment—it was maddening.

And then there was the way he stood in the kitchen, so calm and steady, like he wasn’t the reason her heart was racing. Like he didn’t know how much space he took up in her head. He’s my brothers’ best friend, she reminded herself, over and over, but it didn’t help. Not when the memory of his crooked grin and the warmth in his eyes kept creeping back in.

She groaned, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. This was ridiculous. She needed answers—needed to know why he was really here, why he couldn’t just leave her alone. Before she could talk herself out of it, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and marched to the door.

But when she yanked it open, he was already there.

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Steve stood in the hallway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stared at her closed door. He’d been pacing for what felt like hours, trying to shake the restless energy that had settled in his chest. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

The way she looked at him in the kitchen, her damp hair curling over her shoulders, her lips curving into that faint, teasing smile. The way she called him out, so sharp and confident, like she wasn’t the reason his heart was pounding. She’s my best friend’s sister, he told himself again, but the words were starting to lose their weight.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He needed to say something, to clear the air before he drove himself insane. But just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open.

And there she was.

They froze, staring at each other in the dim light of the hallway. Her eyes searched his, her expression a mix of frustration and something softer, something that made his chest tighten. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, she stepped closer.

“Why are you really here, Steve?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. Because the truth was written all over his face. “Because it’s you. Because I can’t stay away.” he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t stop himself anymore.

She stiffened for a moment, her hands pressing against his chest as if to push him away. But then her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled him closer, her lips crashing back against his as she kicked the door shut behind them.

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Her back hit the wall, the cool surface grounding her for a fleeting second before everything else melted away. His lips were on hers, firm and unrelenting, his hands gripping her waist like he was afraid she might slip away.

Her breath came in short gasps between kisses, her hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders as if to steady herself as he moved to her neck. But there was no steadying the storm inside her, no controlling the rush of heat and electricity coursing through her veins.

He’s my brothers’ best friend. The thought echoed faintly in the back of her mind, like a stubborn reminder of why this was wrong. Why she couldn’t—why she shouldn’t. But then his hands slid around her, lifting her off the ground with ease, and all logic seemed to crumble.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as she held on, her thoughts spiralling. He doesn’t have to know. The words felt like a betrayal and a lifeline all at once, her heart warring with her head in a way that made her stomach twist.

Steve didn’t trust himself to think. Thinking was dangerous—thinking meant doubt, hesitation, remembering all the reasons why this shouldn’t be happening. Why he shouldn’t be doing this.

She’s Soda’s sister, my best friend’s sister. The phrase rang loud in his mind, a warning bell he’d been ignoring since the moment she opened the door. But the way she felt in his arms—the way she looked at him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth—it was enough to break him.

Her legs tightened around him pressing against her more with small gasps from them both between kisses to her neck and collar bone . Her body fitting against his like it was meant to be there. Her hair brushed against his face, damp and soft, and the scent of her—faint shampoo and something uniquely her gasps the way her hands were all around him—threatened to undo him completely.

Stop thinking, he told himself.

He was warm, like it still carried the heat from his skin, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air around her. She hesitated, her breath catching as she stared at it, her thoughts spiralling. She shivered as he kissed up her neck slowly and softly down to her collar bone.

This is Steve. My brothers’ best friend. This is wrong.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, her grip tightened on his hair, her nails brushing against his back, by his reaction she knew he liked it. It felt too personal, too intimate, like holding a piece of him she wasn’t supposed to have. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to let go. She couldn’t stop the way her breath hitched when his lips found hers again, deeper this time, like he was pouring every unspoken word into the kiss.

Her oversized shirt slipped slightly off one shoulder, but she barely noticed, too caught up in the way his hands framed her face, steady and sure, like he was grounding her and losing himself all at once. The world outside the room felt distant, unimportant—there was only this moment, only him.

His hands stilled under the fabric of her oversized shirt, his breath catching as he looked at her. She met his gaze, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with his, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to disappear.

Then, with a quiet resolve, she let her feet back down on the ground letting the shirt slip from her shoulders, the soft fabric fall at her feet. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a faint glow over her, and Steve’s heart stopped.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, his eyes tracing her like he was seeing her for the first time. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His hands wandered around, going back to kissing up her neck. Her gripping his hair making him wild.

Her breath hitched, her hands finding his bare shoulders, his touch was everywhere, steadying herself as her voice came out in a whisper. “Steve…”

The sound of his name on her lips was enough to undo him. His hands found her waist again, pulling her closer as he kissed her, slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize every second.

Her whispered ��yes” echoed in his ears, soft but certain, and it was all the permission he needed.

His hands tightened gently on her waist, thumbs brushing against her skin as he pulled her closer. His mind was a tangled mess, thoughts clashing and incoherent—except for one.

She’s my best friend’s sister. Ah, fuck it. His jeans hit the floor, fell at his feet as he stood before her, breath uneven, searching her face. Her eyes skimmed his body, slow and sure. She didn’t look away. Didn’t falter. The quiet confidence in her gaze sent a rush of heat through him. His hands found her waist again, pulling her in as he kissed her, deeper this time—pouring every unspoken word into the space between them. The rest of the world blurred, fading behind the sound of their breaths, the steady thrum of his heartbeat in his ears.

Her hands slid up his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair as she leaned into him. She jumped back into him wrapping her legs around him again. Her skin against his was intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop the way his hands moved—tracing the curve of her back, guiding her toward the bed.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

When the back of her knees met the edge. He cupped her face, thumb brushing softly against her cheek as he leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me to stop.” His words were rough but steady. “If you want me to, just say it.”

She shook her head, voice soft but firm. “I want you.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed her again, slower this time, savouring the way she melted into him. His hands moved carefully, reverently, as if afraid to break the moment. And as they sank into the bed together, the world outside the room ceased to exist.

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★

[antikristvs]

And, I had ANOTHER dream about being pregnant by a certain sword-wielding Archangel. This is getting weird. 🧐

[icantalk710]

...it's 3am 🥱

[bnsni]

❤️‍🔥 prowl?

romantic headcanon hmmm

Everytime after he comes back from work, whether you're guts deep reading a book, snug on the sofa, or chilling on the bed — pottering somewhere in the house, he'll stride over, pick you up and drag you to the bathroom, submerging you both in a warm bath. Doesn't always have to be steamy (if he's like pent up it will be, no doubt) but he just likes the feeling of your soft bare skin on top of him in the bathtub while he closes his eyes and nuzzles your neck.

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I had a dream last night that I was part of some resistance group in dragon age and we were all mages in a circle except it was like. Literally a huge circular cylindrical structure but it was built from a giant hole dug straight into the ground and it was all sandstone with the sky visible above I can picture it so clearly I'll have to draw it. Actually I just realised it looked exactly like one of those underground tunnel things from the Forbidden Oasis in dai. Anyways I helped like explode part of the structure with the goal of cutting off the electricity (we had electricity in this dream) (also the explosive was like a clunky device with a timer on it that I threw into the room and it eventually detonated as I ran off) and as I was sneaking out through the crowd I saw Zevran so I followed him out and then when we got outside he turned and attacked me for following him but then relaxed when he realised who I was and then idk what we started talking about but he started crying? So I hugged him in my dream and he was also much shorter than me somehow like I vividly remember tucking his head under my chin. According to the wiki he's only 1 inch shorter than me but maybe he ducked his head in my dream idk. Anyways the dialogue thing from dao popped up so I selected something and then we started kissing and it gave me the option to call him "amatus" (weird bc I'm not Tevinter) so I did and he said he liked it. Then he challenged me to some love duel that was the same as in Lae'zel bg3's romance route where I had to prove myself and fight him. and then we fucked lmfao. Then the dream changed to me being late for a therapy appointment and then I woke up