#(okay so I definitely did)

[pokimoko]

Asexual bird? Please

How about two asexual birds?

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

POV you’ve informed the Queen and the Court’s Sorcerer of something and they very clearly know something that they’re not letting on

[bluebelledmoon]

kagome chan... you are everything to me

(((op has not finished watching inuyasha so no spoilers thanks! :)))

[sen-ya]

Summer of Lawlu @truffyfest || Lawlu Day! || “I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did.”

I spent far too long on this. Hands. So many hands. I’m drowning in hands. Anyway they’re special to me and it’s their day!!

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

guess who just spent 15 minutes of their lifetime transcribing a 4 minute clip of pearl rambling about life series on stream (29/10/2024)

anyway i can’t upload the video (too long) here’s the transcript anyway (also long)

Pearl: Um, alrighty. By the way, I wanna— I’m, I’m curious, I wanna know, okay, it— when it came to… Secret Life, why did people think I— I betrayed Gem completely? Wouldn’t me teaming with Gem have betrayed Scar? I wanna know where all this, like, super [word that i can’t place for the life of me. solar???] “Pearl betrayed Gem” came from. (laughs) 

I understand, I killed her at the end. And we teamed up for a moment. But Scar was on our side and not trying to kill my allies. That was my team from the beginning. Gem, was always trying to kill ‘em. So how… how is that not a betrayal in any… like it kinda has to be quote unquote betrayal, but technically Scar was allied with me more? (laughs)

“Scar was distinctly not on anyone’s side” Did anyone watch my finale? ‘Cause, he was teamed up with us. Gem was trying to kill us in that last episode. So, logically, I would fight with the person who’s not trying to kill my team. [Freudian slip]

So I just wanna know, how did I do the betraying in that instance? (laughs) “From her POV it was a betrayal” Ahh, it’s a belief system, huh? (laughs) But it’s funny. I like it. I was just curious what, uh, put the nail in the coffin for that belief. ‘Cause I’ve seen it come up a little bit lately, and apparently I’m the one that betrayed. 

(laughs) I dunno about that one. Curious. Curious, curious, curious. (laughs) Technically, whichever way I’ve gone, I would’ve went— it would’ve been betraying somebody, right? If I’d turned around and killed Scar, I would’ve betrayed him, because he was allied with us at the end. And then killing Gem obviously, same. But, when it came to that, I actually let Scar— I think I hit her once. Otherwise it was Scar. I did one whack, and then I stood back and let him kind of rock and roll. And uh, make it— make it between those two. So it was an interesting finale, that one.

But, something that people have mentioned actually, is that, uhh, another thing was, with, uh, Cleo and Scott in Real Life.

All this talk of Pearlo betraying people, are we not gonna realise that people have betrayed me in the life series? With a split decision? I’m just sayin’. They ain’t innocent. (laughs) Just sayin’, I think— I think 5am Pearl had every right to do what I did. Throw in um, what is it, the fuel on the fire for this one?

Character arcs. It’s cool to see how people analyse them, so I’ve been seeing a little bit of that. Especially with the new, uh, “I don’t love you” line that I got last session. Love you Gem. Always will. Even when you say no. (laughs) Even if you don’t, I’ll still be there. It’s fine. (laughs)

“Do it for the plot, Pearl” Basically.

(clip ends)

[sevenines]

i saw this tweet and found it interesting for two reasons. one is that some people base how good cartoon network would be to toh by how it treated su, and despite the fact that su’s treatment by the network was considered poor at the time, now its thought to be exceptionally good in comparison to modern shows.

two is how exactly su got impacted by a limited budget. a common criticism is how characters like connie, peridot, and lapis are left out of missions. but balancing a lot of characters is not only hard but also costly (extra animation, extra voices—it’s been revealed that the show is limited to a set number of characters per episode otherwise they’re over budget). animation mistakes are not uncommon since retakes cost extra. the entire reason the original show got cut short was due to loss of funding!

[acekindaneat]

do you guys think serizawa has seen reigen somewhere before in passing

reference + another version under cut!

i knowww it's an old redraw thing but i wanted to redraw serizawa in it for so long... here's a version without the vignette

[3-aem]

when he splash his pure shit water up ur nose during butt bath time and then acts like the victim

[couch-house]

it is with a heavy heart i must announce the fankid-enjoyer has made another fankid 😔 this is comet... ive been playing with him for a while. he's a couple years younger than johnny jr and umm well I'll tell you more about him later. when i post the other pile of drawings i have of him.

[gunsatthaphan]

"I will let you know."

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[whaliiwatching]

let’s put it to music

prompt: boombox

[brekitten]

Be Careful What You Wish For

Tucker could make fun of him for not reading comics all he wanted, but Danny really did enjoy reading them. He just didn't have much time to after the Accident, with all of the ghost attacks.

He had the time now, he supposed. There were no ghost attacks anymore, not with Vlad "taking care of them".

He was almost scared to find out what the Fruit Loop meant by that.

Danny sighed, staring up at the bare white ceiling of his bedroom. He missed the stars he'd had stuck to the ceiling of his room back home. Because Vlad's mansion wasn't home, was it? It wasn't ever going to be, no matter what.

Again, he began to think of the heroes he'd always admired, the ones that he had always fantasized about when he was younger, as if they would fly out of the comic books and take him and Jazz away, take them to parents that would actually pay attention to them. Now, Danny would take his parents not paying attention to him over them being dead.

Danny sighed, his eyes slipping closed. He wasn't tired, but he wanted to pretend that he was somewhere warm and safe, anywhere but here.

"Man, I wish superheroes were real... I could really use one right now."

Then came a gentle whisper in his ear, one that promised the safety and warmth he was desperate for. "Your wish is my command, little Prince."

Danny jolted upright, but it was too late. One moment, he was sitting in a bed that wasn't his own, could never be, no matter how hard he tried to pretend it was, and the next, he was sitting in a field, cornstalks swaying gently in the warm breeze.

Where... was he?

[courviknight]

happy holidays and a happy new year, @ko-rka!! i am your secret santa for @fmasecretsanta ^^

i drew for you emo punk ed fashion, cats, and stars... and let me tell you, it's been SUCH a pleasure drawing as i've listened to your mcr playlist!! i ended up liking a lot of songs on spotify back-to-back, but some of my favorites were "to the end" and "sleep"

i hope you like it, and i'm wishing you the best for the new year! :]

[possamble]

farcille postcanon characterization warmup that got way out of hand. beware, here be spoilers, dragoncock, and bottoming as an extreme sport.

~~~

Marcille has always loved Falin’s voice. Soft, high, airy and girlish—it was always as gentle as the rest of her, even in the midst of pitched combat. When things went to hell in a handbasket, it was always Falin’s whispery incantations that kept Marcille grounded as blood and monster guts sailed through the air. 

And that hasn’t changed. No amount of dragon could really change that, Marcille thinks. Yes, she she has moments when her voice becomes rough and ragged and guttural, mostly when she’s swinging her mace or her fists, or gritting her teeth through a monster claw stuck into her side. But maybe that urge to growl was always there, and she’s just finally able to voice it now. Marcille finds that she’s loud at times she would have been silent before—grunting with exertion when she would have grimaced quietly, singing some nonsense melody over a mundane task when she would have hummed it under her breath—and that’s a good thing.

But otherwise, nothing has changed. Falin’s voice is as delicate as ever, chiming in a lilting giggle behind a dainty gesture of her hand. Rustling like pages of well-loved books as she casts her protective wards, or ponders over how to cook a new monster, or murmurs right into Marcille’s ear while she…

Well. While she’s got Marcille bent over her own desk with her nightgown pooled at her ankles. Marcille’s not sure if it’s rude or considerate that she didn’t get a chance to dress herself before she had a girthy cock shoved up her cunt first thing in the morning. 

“Marcille,” Falin whispers, unfairly shaky as if she’s the one getting fucked within an inch of her life. She’s mouthing at Marcille’s neck, draped over her and pressing as close as possible in every way, gripping Marcille’s hands tight and keening like she’s found heaven between her legs. “Marcille, Marcille…” 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that she gets to do that, that she gets to sound like that—with that sweet voice she’s always had, now making obscene little noises that are still whispery fine and almost ethereal coming from her mouth. These quiet, barely voiced sighs that puff against Marcille’s ear, the dulcet moans that thrum against her skin, and that demure little gasp when she thrusts a little harder and somehow finds even more space inside Marcille to bottom out in—

“Marcille…” she whimpers like she’s in pain, on the verge of tears, fingers tight between Marcille’s as they grip the edge of the rattling desk together. “You feel—so good, oh… You’re”—another moan buried just behind her ear—"so wet, so good…” 

It’s not like Marcille got the chance to be anything else right now, did she? Not when Falin fell upon her just as she was sorting through her documents, pressed against her back and already unfastening the clasps of her gown and slipping it off her shoulders. She was fully naked before she even got a playful good morning whispered into her ear—it’s a miracle she had the forethought to push her papers out of the way just before Falin had her wrapped around her finger in the most literal sense. 

Well. Fingers in the plural, really, since she always starts with two. Usually while pawing at Marcille’s tit with her other hand until her stupid knees give out and she ends up buckling over whatever surface is nearby—in this case, her desk, mercifully free of any uncapped inkwells at the moment. Now slathered with sweat that makes her tits slip and slide along the wooden varnish, of course, but otherwise non-disastrous. 

Hopefully her nightgown is catching most of the mess running down her thighs, or she’s going to have to make the most humiliating request to the castle staff about her carpets for the third time this month—

“Yes…!” Falin digs her heels in and fucks her even harder, taken with some kind of mindless momentum all of a sudden. “I love you,” she pants in that stupid—feathery, daisy-light tone that has no business being this sweet while she’s ravaging Marcille like this— “you’re perfect, you’re perfect—” 

Marcille’s going to die like this. This is how she’s going to go: Bleating like an animal with her cheek stuck to her desk with drool, eyes just permanently rolled back in her head, toes barely touching the floor as Falin keeps fucking her further onto the desk. She hasn’t said a single coherent word since her second orgasm however many minutes ago, just broken into an endless stream of guttural noises as her cunt slobbers and squelches around Falin’s cock almost as loudly as she’s wailing. 

“Marcille,” Falin keens, sounding like a bashful princess ravished to breathlessness—just something straight out of a high-minded erotica novel—all while hammering Marcille into the desk at a shallow, breakneck pace. “You feel—feel s–o good, you’re perfect, oh—oh, you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, I love you, I love you—” 

For the love of—fuck. Marcille can distantly hear herself scream, can feel the desk digging into her as she flails, her grasp on sanity getting thinner and thinner with each word that tumbles out of Falin’s mouth and shoots straight through her nerves. She’s—good god, she’s not usually this talkative. It’s almost always Marcille begging and blabbering about how much she wants Falin’s cock, how good it feels, how she wants it harder and faster and more, screaming and crying Falin’s name over and over—

But now, in the absence of Marcille’s pathetic yapping—after she’s already fucked the words out of Marcille so thoroughly—Falin’s taken it upon herself to murmur a stream of honeyed nonsense into her ear, her frail and gentle voice breaking with desperation—and fuck, it’s not fair.

“Yes, yes, oh—” Falin sobs into her neck. “I love it—I love it when you sound like this, I love you—you’re so good, so good for me, my Marcille—” 

No, no, no, she can’t do that, she can’t do that—she can’t say that, in that voice, while her cock is so deep in Marcille there’s hardly room for anything else, battering all her nerve endings and rearranging her so that there’s nothing left but her, Falin, Falin—

“Ah!” Falin cries out, like she’s the one getting reamed against her stupid fucking desk so hard she can barely breathe— “Yes, please, please—please say my name again!” 

Well. She can beg all she fucking wants, but it’s not going to be pretty and she has no one to blame but herself—it’s her fault Marcille can hardly speak, it’s her fault her name is only coming in rough wails with both syllables separated with heaving, crying breaths. Marcille gives it her all, scrapes whatever intelligence she has left to speak, and sounds like a dying animal in a way that can’t possibly be anything but hideous to listen to—

And still, Falin sobs, as if in utter ecstasy as she fucks Marcille so hard the desk starts scraping along the floor in harsh jumps. 

“Yes, yes—ah—” Her voice, not so whispery gentle now but still so melodious and clear, sounding out from deep in her chest— “I—love—you—” she weeps, punctuated by the hard slams of the desk against the floor as she drops the rapid pace in favor of mercilessly hard thrusts— “Beautiful—perfect—mine!” 

Then she finally, finally comes—not that it stops her, not with how she thrusts with every spurt. Like she’s not just satisfied with letting it spill out, like she needs to fuck it into Marcille with all her strength, once, twice, then one last time, stuffing her cunt absolutely full with searing heat—

And Marcille doesn’t even realize she’s coming until she’s unceremoniously ejected out the other side of the high, that telltale swoop of vertigo rushing through her veins. The orgasm doesn't even have the grace to let her go limp with afterglow, of course, and she’s left there convulsing and twitching like a drowning fish. With her jaw pressed to the desk, she can actually hear her teeth chatter from how hard she’s shaking, Falin’s warm weight on her be damned. 

(One day. One day, she’ll stop embarrassing herself like this—one day she’ll finish like a normal person during sex, instead of going off like a cheap firework every half hour and wringing an orgasm out of herself as soon as she feels Falin finish inside her, whether or not she even had one left in her to begin with.) 

“M-Marcille,” Falin stammers, her voice breathless but now shy and girlish again as she slowly untangles their hands. “Are you—are you okay?” 

The gall. To ask her that, when she’s nothing but a sweaty carcass slung over her desk, still twitching erratically. To be so gentle as she straightens up and kisses the back of her neck, tenderly brushing her hair to the side as she pulls out ever so slowly—

And still. Not. Slowly. Enough—apparently! Not with the sparks that explode in Marcille’s eyes again, utterly unclear if this is another orgasm or just a particularly brutal aftershock! She just goes squeaking and shaking and sliding off the desk onto her knees, hands clapped over her cunt like they’re going to protect her from the lightning racing up and down her spine. She doesn’t even know where she landed, really, convulsing and closing her thighs around her hand as cum and slick drools into her palms, falling forward and— and smacking her head against the edge of her desk.

“Oh!” Feathered arms clasp around her before she can slide past the wood with her sweaty forehead and land on her face. “Careful—are you okay?” 

The gall. The audacity. The—something, or whatever, fuck, Marcille doesn’t even care anymore. Her head throbs with an oncoming bruise, she can’t feel her legs, she can feel her pussy way too much, and it’s a wonder she hasn’t fallen apart on the spot—

“Okay… let’s…” There’s some maneuvering going on, but hell if Marcille can actually tell what Falin’s doing. “Here, let’s take a bath—I’ll go draw some water.” 

Marcille whines, because no—she doesn’t know where she is, she just twists until her face finds feathers and buries herself there. She even manages to bring one cum-covered hand to grip at the quils, because this mess is Falin’s fault and if she doesn't like it then she can wash it off herself—but she’s not allowed to leave. 

A little chuckle under her breath—and it’s so fucking cute and girlish like she hasn’t just demolished a full grown woman to the brink of unconsciousness, but Marcille can’t even find it in herself to be mad. Falin can ask her whatever the hell she wants, do whatever the hell she wants, so long as she doesn’t let go. 

“I’m bringing you with me, I promise,” Falin whispers so tenderly, pressing a kiss to Marcille’s head. There’s arms tightening around her back and under her knees, and she feels herself being lifted. “I wouldn’t leave you like that…” 

Better not, Marcille grumbles to herself. Not sure if it made it past her mouth, but it doesn’t matter. Falin’s going to take responsibility for turning her morning into—into this, even if it means having to draw some bathwater with an elf clinging to her the entire time. She’s going to be the one to wash her off, bring her their missed breakfast, and tell everyone why she wasn’t there at the morning meeting—

Maybe not that last part. 

“I’m sorry,” she hears, in that soft and whispery tone she’s loved for so many years. That voice that didn’t change, even with everything that happened—everything that Marcille did to her, and it’s—

It would be so, incredibly stupid if she started crying out of nowhere. 

“Liar,” she whines, digging the indignant annoyance back up to pout like a spoiled brat. “You liked… every second…” 

Another giggle that so infuriatingly lovely. “I did.” The sound of a squeaky valve turning, then rushing water that slaps against stone. “Did you?” 

Marcille just grumbles again and clings even tighter. Falin just laughs a little louder and strokes her hair, too kind to demand an answer in so many words—or, perhaps, impishly content to let Marcille incriminate herself with her silence, as she so often does.

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family Steddie Part 4

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

As always, if you see a typo, no you didn't. Enjoy reading!

After nearly a year of knowing Eddie, Steve would say he's got his fiance-to-be's personality down pat. He has a general idea of how Eddie will react to things, what he prefers for a midnight snack (chocolate-covered wasp wings), and the music he likes listening to when they're making out (KISS, but he'll put on Fall Out Boy if Steve bats his eyes just right).

He also knows Eddie is not the most patient man in the world; he's rather impulsive, in fact. He'll get an idea and run with it, not pausing to consider the potential consequences, especially if he thinks it'll make Steve smile. He's even jumped head-first into a ball pit after Dustin and Steve, despite how off-putting he found the colors, just to make Steve laugh.

Clearly, Steve knows Eddie. Very well.

So, he's having a hard time understanding why Eddie hasn't proposed yet. It's been three months since they became engaged-to-be-engaged. Not to the minute, but to the day. Steve had expected Eddie to climb through his window at exactly 12:01 AM to propose. He had even laid a carefully planned trap (it involved a net, exactly three knives, Hulyet, and impressive knotwork) if only because he knew Eddie would find that romantic and would love to propose while hanging from the ceiling.

Steve had even been thinking up snappy one-liners for when he turned on the lights to see Eddie trapped. He could say, "Finders keepers, which means you're mine," or maybe, "I guess I should find a good taxidermist now. Do you think El knows of one?" or even, "I can't wait to tell Dustin I caught breakfast." The first one is probably a bust when he really thinks about it, but those other two could work.

So, Steve isn't expecting to sleep through the night, only waking up because the sun is shining through his window. He even lays in bed for an hour, scrolling through social media on his phone in case Eddie is running behind. He wasn't, and the only thing saving Eddie from getting utterly maimed and tortured (not the fun kind) is that he sent a good morning text.

That good morning text doesn't answer any of Steve's questions, though, and he spends another hour carefully cleaning the trap he'd carefully placed. At least Hulyet is reassuringly predictable, resting on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck as he cleans.

An entire day passes without Steve even seeing Eddie's shadow. He literally watches the sun set below the horizon after dinner, his disappointment morphing into annoyance and frustration that he takes out on the dishes he's scrubbing. He's annoyed with Eddie for not even swinging by when he usually can't stay away, but he's also frustrated with himself for his annoyance and for the tiny voice in the back of his brain wondering if maybe Eddie doesn't want to be together as badly as Steve.

"Could you please stop brooding? I'm trying to balance chemical equations," Dustin says, throwing a pen at Steve's head from the kitchen island. "Besides, you're fucking murdering our plates."

Steve sighs, glancing at the pen now resting pitifully on the floor. He rinses off the plate he's holding, places it in the drying rack, and picks up the pen. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did, but what's up?"

"Is there a non-romantic way to murder Eddie?"

Dustin is silent for a few moments before letting out a put-upon sigh. "Probably not," he says, resting his chin in his palm. "Why?"

"He was supposed to propose today."

"...It's like you lose all your brain cells when Eddie is involved. How do you know he was supposed to propose?"

"I told him to wait three months exactly three months ago," Steve explains, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his stomach.

"And you want him to propose? Like, you want to marry him? It's barely been a year of knowing the guy."

Steve doesn't even have to think before saying, "Yes." Because he does want to marry Eddie. He wants to feel even closer than they already are; he wants to have a wedding ring that he can show off; he wants to be able to introduce Eddie as his husband.

Well, now that he thinks about it, why does he care so much about Eddie being the one to propose? He could do it himself! Steve could go buy a fucking obsidian ring with ruby accents, passive-aggressively get down on one knee, and shove the ring onto Eddie's left ring finger. It doesn't exactly sound romantic, but Eddie lost that privilege when he didn't sneak into Steve's room at 12:01 this morning.

"If you're that desperate to get married, just kidnap him for a shotgun wedding or something and have a ceremony later. Why wait on him? It's the era of feminism, dude."

As mean as Dustin's tone is, Steve has to admit he has a point. Steve doesn't have to wait on Eddie, and he's not going to. Fuck it. He'll go propose himself. "You good on your own for a while?" Steve asks, returning his attention to Dustin.

"Yeah, I'm good. Go get hitched. Take a picture with your Elvis impersonator for me," Dustin says, waving his hand dismissively at Steve as he focuses back on his worksheet.

Steve rolls his eyes, ruffling Dustin's hair as he passes him. "I'll probably be back in a few hours," he says, waiting for Dustin to smack his hand away before heading to the front door and pulling on his sneakers.

----

Eddie's bedroom is on the second floor, and his window is on the side of the house. The first time he climbed to Eddie's window, he'd nearly impaled himself on the spikes in the flowerbeds along the house. Thankfully, Steve has discovered the ability to use both the tree by the house and the drainage pipe for the gutters to climb up.

Now, Steve can reach Eddie's window in his sleep. He pulls himself up the tree, leaning dangerously far from the trunk and using the drainage pipe to steady himself with one hand. He tugs Eddie's window with the other, getting it mostly open before launching himself through. When his waist catches on the sill, he wiggles until he falls to the floor just under the window.

Steve huffs, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he sits up and looks at the bed. Eddie is watching him with an amused smile, leaning back against the pillows with a guitar in his lap. "You're especially beautiful when you're wiggling through my window, sweetheart," he says.

"Shut up," Steve mutters, pulling himself up off the floor. He climbs onto the bed, taking Eddie's guitar and carefully setting it aside before climbing into his lap. "I'm upset."

Eddie blinks, his smile immediately replaced by a concerned frown as he places his hands on Steve's hips. "What's wrong, Stevie? Who upset you? Are we having a murder date night?" he asks.

Steve doesn't answer for a few seconds before sighing and hugging Eddie, unable to hold onto any annoyance or frustration when he's offering murder dates so sincerely. "You didn't propose today," he whispers, tugging on a lock of Eddie's hair with a frown. "It's been three months."

"Stevie, baby, sweetheart, beloved, my darkest night after a blistering day," Eddie says, his voice soft and dripping with love, and Steve snorts at the cheesy names.

"Get to the point already."

"Tomorrow is three months, sweetheart."

Steve blinks, pulling back slightly to look down at Eddie. He has a soft smile, one that's a little goofy and utterly comfortable with how much love it reveals. "Are you sure?" Steve asks.

Eddie grins and grabs his phone from the nightstand, pulls up his calendar, and shows Steve a notification that's set for exactly 12:01 AM and reads "PROPOSE TO STEVE" with several ring emojis.

"Are you sure it's right?" Steve asks, looking from the notification to Eddie.

"Stevie, do you really think I'd wait a single second longer than necessary to propose? I spent three hours making sure this was exactly three months."

Yeah, all of that is exactly what Steve had been expecting that morning. He feels relieved, actually, because Eddie is just as impatient as he is and just as unwilling to wait a second more than necessary. "Well," Steve says, drawing the word out as he takes Eddie's phone and places it on the nightstand, "I am already here."

It takes two seconds for Eddie to catch up, his eyes lighting up when he does. "Seriously?" he asks.

"I might change my mind if you take too long," Steve says, his sentence barely finished when Eddie pulls a ring box out of absolutely nowhere.

And Steve would wonder how he did that, but he's too focused on Eddie opening the box to reveal a pitch-black ring with an obsidian main stone and ruby accent stones. It looks exactly like the kind of ring Steve was ready to hunt down not an hour ago. He glances up at Eddie, unable to help an excited grin.

"So, I had a lot of different speeches prepared for this," Eddie says, carefully taking out the ring and tossing the box aside. "But now that we're here, none of it feels genuine enough. I love you so much that it literally hurts. My heart aches when you're not around, and I can't get enough air into my lungs if I can't see you. I spent this entire day preparing a dinner date and romantic gestures, and it was pure torture because I was too busy to hold your hand or kiss you. I would embrace death with you by my side, but I would truly die if we were apart. And I hope we never have to be, so please marry me, Stevie."

It takes everything in Steve to not interrupt Eddie with a kiss, but he somehow stays strong until the end. "Yes, of course, absolutely, now kiss me already," Steve says, grabbing Eddie's collar and yanking him close. He hears a surprised noise and almost apologizes when Eddie bites Steve's bottom lip and pushes a hand into his hair. Steve sighs softly, leaning fully onto Eddie and tasting the remnants of his toothpaste.

When Steve is just about to push Eddie down on the bed, he breaks the kiss and flashes a huge grin, his sharp canines in full view, and Steve has to stop himself from starting another kiss so he can drag his tongue against them. "I still have to put the ring on," Eddie says.

"Well, be quick about it. I wasn't done kissing you," Steve says, holding his left hand out and feeling inexplicably grounded when Eddie slips the ring onto his finger.

-----

Tag list (good lord, there's so many of y'all lmao)

@estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx, @somegirlsomewhere, @imjust-that-shy, @blaqcats-fics, @littlebluejane, @xoxoladyclara, @halfadoginatank

@pjoneedstherapy, @nocturnalgayboi, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @justforthedead89, @gothwifehotchner, @elizbaehth, @angels-dressed-in-blood, @imfinereallyy, @oile-loves-sharks, @carlprocastinator1000, @stxrcrossed186, @spider-boygirl, @epiclazershark, @7shrewsinatrenchcoat

@perfectlymellowthing, @just-a-tiny-void, @nburkhardt, @nailbatandfreak, @sunfloweringstories, @vampireinthesun, @novelnovella, @bookworm0690, @bestwifehaver, @goosesister, @phantomcat94, @martinskis-lydias, @ghostofyourvampiregf, @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

@nerdsconquerall, @dontslayfay, @potato-of-the-lord, @suikatto, @deliriousmom, @code-switcher, @lizard-dyk3, @anonymousbandgirl,