The Softness - Tumblr Posts
@karis-the-fangirl thank you so much for the ko-fi!!! these couches are defo not for good catholic girls who abstain from smooching their fiancés lol
Commissions are open! :D
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Non-Hijacked Everlark Reunion
A bit of paraphrasing Mockingjay to start with:
“His features register disbelief and he sweeps the doctors aside, leaps to his feet, and moves toward me. I run to meet him, my arms extended to embrace him. His hands are reaching for me too, to caress my face, I think.”
“Peeta!” I cry, just as he reaches me. He holds my face gently in his hands for a moment, whispering my name in shocked disbelief, and I wrap my arms around his middle. He drops his hands from my face and crushes me to him. I hold him close, pressing my face to his chest, hearing the strong and steady beat of his heart, and tears fill my eyes. Peeta, once so steady, loses his balance as we stand there swaying and we tumble to the floor, me on top of him.
And then we’re kissing, and I let my lips say what my words cannot, every anxiety and every fear that I had these last months without him and the relief that I feel now, having him with me. In return I feel the reassurance of his lips on mine, and his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that fall on my cheeks. Eventually, I pull back and just stare into the deep blue of his eyes, drinking in his wholeness. He appears to be doing the same, as his eyes take me in, a look of raw emotion on his face that in the past I might have turned away from, but I don’t now.
“My one wish all these weeks was to see you again,” Peeta says, tucking my hair back behind my ear.
“Mine too,” I whisper, and then I kiss him again.
The Mark of Yun-Ki
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Hybrid/ABO AU • Royalty AU • Fantasy AU • Daechwita AU
Summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir… but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?
Word Count: 8600
Rating: Explicit
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS PROHIBITED. I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY INTERACTIONS WITH PERSONS UNDER THE AGE OF 18. NO EXCEPTIONS.
Warnings: ABO/Hybrid sexual dynamics and mating, claiming/marking/biting, explicit sexual content, impreg, a brief mention of slavery, rut/heat sex
Content Notes: All flashback scenes are in italics. In this universe, being a hybrid has a distinctly spiritual/mystical connotation.
Acknowledgements: This story was not easy to write, but… in spite of the (or perhaps because of it) I have never been prouder of anything I have ever written. It was definitely a new type of challenge and it took multiple people who are extremely special to me to bring it to life.
To @ppersonna (Lindy) and @taetaewonderland (Donna) … You are truly beautiful souls. You encouraged me relentlessly, let me bounce ideas off of you, and continue to be such wonderful friends. You filled in the gap every time i doubted myself. You never let me think less of myself. I adore you. Thank you so very much. Truly.
To @lemonjoonah (Lemon) and @xjoonchildx (Ana)…You saved this story. I grew frustrated with it so many times and you never ceased to provide brilliant insight into JUST what I needed to add or take away to really bring this world to life. You are lovely friends and the time you spent helping me build (and rebuild) this story have made it truly sparkle. Thank you for your care and fabulous friendship.
To my Angels in the BTS SMUT HUB… So many of you gave me ideas about this story and encouraged me to keep writing. When I really struggled, you sent me countless messages of support and love. You are truly my people and my heart is so full of affection for you.
“Why is he blindfolded?”
The guard beside you shifted uncomfortably.
“The Emperor ordered that his eyes be covered at all times.”
Your gaze traveled covertly over your surroundings, assessing the dimly lit chamber with practiced disdain.
“Leave us.”
“My lady, I cannot—”
“Do you know who I am, soldier?”
Your voice slashed through the air like an icy whip.
“Y-yes, my la—”
“Then you know it is unwise to displease my family.” One jeweled hand came to rest dramatically on your chest. “Your daughter is not yet fifteen …it would be such a pity to orphan one so young.”
The soldier bowed almost too quickly.
“I will be outside, my lady,” he bowed again and again as he backed toward the door, “I meant no disrespect.”
It slammed shut.
Then you were alone… save for the notorious prisoner bound and blindfolded in the cell before you.
He was clearly aware of your presence, but made no move or sound of acknowledgement, not even when your footsteps brought you to the very edge of his enclosure.
“Prisoner AG-D2… name unknown… crime unknown…” your hand travelled up to your hair to withdraw a long silver pin, “no date of birth, no date of arrest…”
The prisoner jerked suddenly when the sound of your pin tripping the cell’s iron lock reached his unnaturally sensitive ears.
His nostrils flared as an almost familiar scent - buried beneath a decade of fury and fear - curled through him.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The words were more of a growl than a question, but the only answer he received was the sound of his cell door creaking open.
“Why are you here?” he tried again.
Lonely silence greeted his query and he wondered idly if you meant to intimidate him.
It will take more than that, pet.
“I am here to tell you a story…”
The prisoner barked out an empty laugh at your strange reply.
“I love a good story,” he whispered bitterly. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit at his spirit.
His clothes were worn, but well cared for and the body beneath them was sleek and strong.
Wrists tied together, eyes covered… but still every inch the proud warrior.
This was not a man accustomed to being bound.
“You were not raised like the rest of our people… The tales of our customs and our gods were - deliberately - never taught to you…But it is past time that you knew of them.”
He grinned, granting you a wicked flash of razor sharp fangs.
“Are all the Emperor’s prisoners tortured with fairytales?”
“Charming,” you snorted, dragging a small stool from the corner of his cell. The prisoner’s ears flicked curiously at the sound.
“Aren’t you afraid of me, storyteller? What if I’ve been imprisoned for devouring beautiful women like yourself?”
You shook your head in amusement as you settled onto the stool.
“Have you devoured many beautiful women then?”
“Oh absolutely-” his grin took on a decidedly sinful slant, “but I doubt that’s why I’m here.”
Keep reading
Ron & Hermione Art by Artdungeon
“It was once green and beautiful, back when the songs were written. And you know what? I’ve never been there either.”
They're not a morning person
yeah, why am I doing this and why do enjoy it way too much haha
letters of complaint to my therapist pls xD
SO. SOFT.
also, this line:
[ “Look at you. You’re so cute!,” you say sweetly and Nat brushes her nose against your neck as to say thank you. ]
MY HEART.
Heart of Gold
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
After you get married, you and Natasha buy a house together and you run across something of importance while unpacking boxes.
Note: Very soft Nat is back 💙 I hope y’all enjoy it!
Natasha Romanoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist
“Hey, baby, what’s this?” You ask Natasha as you hold up what looks to be an old photo album.
You see recognition flash in her eyes and she smiles softly. She walks over to you and gently takes it from your hands.
“This is from Ohio and then St. Petersburg,” Natasha explains.
“You took it from Melina’s when you went to take down the Red Room?”
“I did. It wasn’t easy to keep up with it, but I knew I had to,” she says. Her hands run over the cover of the album and she chokes up at the feeling of it. At the memories attached to it.
“It’s okay if not, but can I maybe see some of the photos?” You ask her hesitantly, but she’s quick to hand you the album. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, detka. I’m sure.”
She stands behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, looking over your shoulder as you open it.
You open the album to immediately see a young Natasha and Yelena standing by a Christmas tree.
“Look at you. You’re so cute!,” you say sweetly and Nat brushes her nose against your neck as to say thank you.
You get to the strip of photo booth photos and you see a very happy young Natasha and Yelena.
“That was a good day,” Nat says.
“I bet. I really love the blue hair,” you say and Nat chuckles. She steps out from behind you and stands beside you instead.
“I just wanted to be different. To do something different. I couldn’t do that in the Red Room, so it felt like this liberating experience. I don’t know- I just wanted to take myself back in some way,” Natasha says.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Nat. It’s more than anyone should ever have thrown at them in life,” you say and you kiss her cheek.
“I guess I just thought maybe if I could be different then the rest, if I could be better, then maybe someday I’d be okay. And I think with you that’s finally happened.”
“Natasha you are different then the rest because you’re so good. You’re so so good,” you say. “I mean it.”
You set the album down on the box again and stand in front of Natasha. Her eyes are a glassy deep green. You hold her face in your hands and stand so close that you could brush your nose against hers.
“How can you say such sweet things to me?” She chokes out.
“It’s easy with you being the most loving, sweetest woman in the world. You have a heart and touch of a gold that would make Midas jealous, baby,” you say, resting your forehead against hers.
“God, I love you y/n,” Natasha says as tears finally spill out from her eyes.
“I love you too, Natasha. Always, always, always,” you say.
She closes the gap between you two and kisses your lips until you’re both breathless. You two hug before shifting to get back to unpacking boxes.
“Hey, detka?” Nat gets your attention again.
“Yeah?“
“Will we let our kids dye their hair like I did?”
“Hmm I don’t know about that, baby,” you say and Nat laughs.
“Come on. We have to let them if they ask,” she says with a cute smile and nudges your shoulder playfully.
“Okay, Natasha. I relent. But only if they ask,” you say with a matching smile.
“Agreed,” Natasha says with a kiss to your cheek.
Someday each one of your children would want the blue hair just like Natasha. It’s not their fault that they want to be like their favorite person on earth.
Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @idkwhygregg @nataliaromanova-widow @romanoffscottage @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @ggrangerdanger @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @sammi1642 @itsyourgirlmalise @jujuu23 @the-night-owl-blr @blackwidow-3 @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat
@scooprtroopr ur tags on this post inspired a lil something and well, here you go friend <3 / also omg this fits for @steddie-week’s prompt pining! tehe
Steve gets that this is how karma works.
You do something bad, you don’t have the best intentions, you trample on one or two people’s feelings selfishly, yadda yadda. Then what do you know? Next month, it’s happening to you. What goes around comes around, right?
That’s how karma works. Steve gets that.
And yet, the sting in the morning when another hookup has crept out in the night feels so goddamn unshakeable. It slices through his ego, hitting every feeling on the way, and cuts right down the bone, and it hurts.
But it’s karma though, Steve knows that. He’s left a girl more than once or twice, and snuck back out the window he had crept into. Stumbled back to his car in the early morning hours.
(Steve pointedly ignores the old part of him that was- is so hesitant to stay — after the iciness of his first ever hookup, who had wrinkled her nose at the thought of him staying the night.
Who had patted him on the cheek in a near condescending way, a girl the year above him, and said, “Don’t overstay your welcome, yeah?”)
So when the other side of the bed is empty when he wakes, he knows he’s lost another game of ‘who can sneak out on who?’
Which Steve hates — it’s why he stopped going over to his dates house and instead started bringing them back to his. Hoping they might read that his invitation to stay the night extended right out til breakfast. Hell, til lunch if they wanted.
No one has come close to overstaying their welcome in the Harrington house.
Empty sheets rip a new ache in Steve’s chest and he groans, a pitiful noise because— of course, he hasn’t stayed.
Karma has the biggest bone to pick with Steve Harrington and he was really hoping it would be done after all these years. Evidently not.
But… Steve can’t help how much more this one hurts because this one was Eddie.
Steve tries to not let regret coil in his gut. Rolling over he buries his face into his pillow, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to think it over logically. Rationally. Ignores the burning in his throat.
Maybe he’s a fool for thinking Eddie would be different from the past.
But the buildup — before there had been flirting, there had been friendship, proper company between the two of them where there were no expectations. That may very well be due to the fact both of them were dudes but… Steve was so sure. So much of him believed Eddie would still be here when he woke up.
Steve huffs a loud sigh into the pillow. Pretends his chest doesn’t hurt a little bit.
“It’s fine,” He murmurs to himself, voice thick with sleep. His fists clench into the sheets for a moment. “It’s fine.”
He drags himself up and out of bed. Tugs on some stray sweats hanging over the back of his desk chair and ducks into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy, Steve eyes the shower through the reflection. He should, probably, but he might get stuck on a loop in there.
Where did he go wrong this time? Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t any of them stay? Why did—
Steve splashes cold water on his face instead, rubbing probably a bit too forcefully at his eyes. He spies the faint pink shape of Eddie’s lips, a mark left on his neck. His fingers grace over it lightly, softly, like a lover would.
Memories hazed with lust remind him of how it had got there, Eddie’s body on his, Eddie’s hands in his hair, Eddie— without thinking, Steve scrubs at the skin harshly. He wishes it wasn’t there. Wishes there wasn’t any remnant of Eddie left behind.
Steve doesn’t need any mementos to remind him he’s been left behind again.
He needs food, needs to get on with his day, Steve decides. The bathroom door swings closed behind him and Steve tries his best to wrangle his thoughts as he wanders out to the top of the stairs.
A run. That’s what he needs to clear his head. A long run til his heart is pounding in his chest so hard it hurts, til his muscles start burning, breathes coming too fast and his head is finally fucking quiet. Yep, that’s precisely what he needs to shake the sting of last night.
Steve’s so enwrapped in his head, thoughts swirling, that he get manages to get halfway down the hall to the kitchen before he hears the radio. It’s not loud, just enough to carry out the kitchen. Strange. He doesn’t remember leaving it on last night.
His feet carry him into the kitchen, another yawn creeping up and he rubs at his eyes, blinking a bit blearily and— and stops in his tracks. There’s someone at the stove.
Eddie’s at the stove.
Standing in the morning sunlight, hair lighter than ever, puckered scars along his arms standing out. He’s clearly ransacked Steve’s drawers, a pair of Steve’s plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, his own softened band tee from yesterday still on. It’s had its sleeves hacked off, the fabric curling up into little rolls. Steve feels his stomach rise halfway up his throat, his hopes going with it. His heart does a strange stumbling pitter-patter.
He must make a noise because suddenly Eddie’s peaking over his shoulder and smiling at him.
“Hey,” Eddie says, shifting a bit to turn more toward him. Steve can see that he’s cooking, something delicious wafting up from the sizzling pan. His chest tightens, pure surprise wrapping around his sternum and gripping - so much, he can’t control the expression on his face.
“Hi,” Steve breathes. He’s still frozen where he is. He stayed. Steve blinks, taking in the scene before him; Eddie has clearly been puttering around, putting together some sort of breakfast. He fucking stayed and he’s cooking.
Eddie takes it the wrong way. He skittishly looks over the benches, covered in his mess, and tugs on the ends of his hair nervously. “I- it’s a mess, I know, I’m real sorry. I was gonna clean it, I just thought you might like…”
He trails off, unable to get a read on Steve’s expression. Steve doesn’t blame him but he can’t fucking stop his chest from feeling like it’s being pulled open, his heart from feeling like it’s soaring. He huffs an awed laugh, a smile curling at his lips.
Eddie deflates a bit in his relief, giving his own smile. He turns back to the stove quickly, giving the skillet a bit of a shake to keep it from burning and Steve draws closer, feet finally moving. Eddie watches him from the corner of his eye, barely biting back his grin as Steve gets closer. He hovers, feels the heat of Eddie’s back they’re so close.
He tries to feel brave — he stayed — and keeps his closeness, peering over Eddie’s shoulder at the skillet on the stove. It’s the Munson Special that Eddie’s cooked a few times for him over at the trailer; eggs, potatoes, shit tons of cheese, maybe a vegetable if he’s feeling healthy.
“Was gonna bring it to you in bed, but,” Eddie laughs, still tinged in nervousness. He sets down the spatula to tuck his hair behind both ears, glancing sideways at Steve as if trying to understand his silence.
He stayed and he cooked and he’s nervous. Steve thinks he might be holding his breath in disbelief, head dizzy with relief. With affection.
Very slowly, Steve’s hands move and, like he’s waiting for Eddie to flinch away, settles then very gently onto Eddie’s waist. His fingers curl into the soft fabric and Eddie makes a little chirp of happiness and leans back.
Leans into Steve a bit, like he wants his touch the morning after everything and Steve releases a shuddering breath, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. His hands grow a little more bold, sliding around to hug him around the middle.
Eddie’s cheeks have turned pink and his grin hasn’t faltered.
“Made me—” Steve starts, but his voice is a bit raspy. He clears his throat, avoids Eddie’s burning stare. “Y’made me breakfast?”
Eddie nods, his curls brushing against Steve’s cheek as he does. His tummy is warm beneath Steve’s hand and his hair smells good and Steve just wants to burrow into him- he tucks himself closer and is rewarded with a content noise from Eddie.
“That’s not weird, is it?” Eddie asks suddenly, picking up the spatula again and beginning to fiddle needlessly with the food. He flips it once, then again, so it’s on the same side as it was before.
He sounds a bit sheepish when he says, “I’m not sure- I haven’t ever really— I’m actually just gonna shut the hell up before I say anything stupid.”
Steve laughs quietly. His hands tighten around Eddie’s middle, head tilting so he can bury his grin into his shoulder— his heart is going haywire, going a million miles an hour, because karma is finally through with Steve Harrington and he gets to have this.
“S’not weird,” Steve mumbles. He thinks about pressing a kiss into Eddie’s shoulder.
“Ha, you said snot,” Eddie retorts with a childish snort and Steve can’t help it, he laughs at that too, muffled laughter into his t-shirt. Then he presses a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, quick as lightning. Rests his chin back on it like nothing happened.
Eddie still stiffens just a bit- turns his head just a bit to glance at Steve and fuck, Steve can’t help the way his stomach swoops.
Because Eddie softens him unbearably with those nervous brown eyes, his pink lips twisted as he tries to hold back his grin. Steve’s beginning to understand that both of them seem equally surprised that this is happening.
Eddie’s free hand moves, pausing only briefly in a moment's hesitance, before it covers one of Steve’s on his tummy. It’s cold, much colder than Steve’s, and he covers it with one of his own instinctively.
Eddie’s trembling fingers give him a little squeeze. Steve thinks he must be able to feel how hard his heart is beating from where his chest is pressed against his back. It’s a lot to deal with; this perfect morning in the sun, the soft sound of the radio, the sweet boy in his arms.
They’re both grinning to themselves. Eddie focuses back on the food before him, doing all his work with one hand, and starts a little hum.
The radio switches to a love song.
thank you i needed this so badly !
vegaspete + *soft* hands
Okay, we stand together.