#burning wood for warming

[s0fter-sin]

trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband

(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)

he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy

soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's

he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him

he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it

soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan

he takes his baby and runs

he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives

he doesn't know where he's going beyond away

he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him

soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once

he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy

he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself

even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-

soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries

he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-

he can't save him

a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands

but it's not his husband outside the window

soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window

soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding

the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks

"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him

he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."

soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard

the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"

soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips

"not long enough."

the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway

"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”

soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby

“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."

soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers

he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"

soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope

"i think we can work something out."

🧼💀

ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it

he knows someone running when he sees it

if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen

but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no

he covered his baby

like he was afraid he'd be hurt

that's enough for ghost

🧼💀

i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted

he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it

he never had a chance of getting away

but ghost is ex-military

he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know

he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station

[silverskye13]

Good news! We lit a fire in the weird stove in our living room for the first time and we didn't die!

[fe4rfulsymmetry]

[oldfarmhouse]

🍃ᵐⁱⁿᵗ

𝗁𝗍𝗍𝗉s://instagram.com/hildemak78

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞🌿☕

[cozy-x-winter]

x

[mossy-fuzz]

Being close to the chaos of a burning fire somehow brings on a huge sense of peace and comfort.

[luqlustra]

Together these two are unhinged

[cmbdragon98]

She smells like freshly burned firewood and charcoal. She smells like dug up dirt and sweat.

[foxytonic]

Finally started watching Dungeons and Drag Queens! I’m already in love lol but it’s a little awkward to watch, considering that burning cedar is one of my favorite scents in the world…

[nicecomedy]

[outd00rsygirl]

Open fire cooking: Savotta Grumpy Stove

With the change of seasons on us again, my gear too will be at the receiving end of an overhaul to accommodate and adjust for winter. The main priority: staying warm. As a means of passing the evening and keeping warm while doing so, I’m trying out an wood fire stove for cooking on which at the same time will be used for keeping warm for the remaining evening. Grumpy Stove from Finnish brand…

[locallyadored]

thanks for the spotify link! in a hundred years they’ll cut down a tree with our intials carved into its bark and they’ll wonder why its wood burns so warm

[lilangelbud]

She was supposed to be at school. That’s what he thought as he unlocked the front door but the house wasn’t silent. From upstairs, he could hear it—soft, muffled gasps, the creak of a bed frame, and a rhythm that made his pulse quicken. He stood frozen in the doorway, the key still in the lock, his mind racing. That can’t be what I think it is.

But it was. The sounds were unmistakable. She’s here. His daughter. She’s— He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He should have turned around. He should have left, pretended he hadn’t heard anything. But his feet moved on their own, carrying him up the stairs, step by step, each creak of the wood beneath his shoes making his heart pound harder.

The door to her room was slightly ajar, and the sounds were clearer now—little whimpers, the slick sound of her fingers moving between her legs, the soft moans she couldn’t hold back. He could see her through the crack in the door, lying on her bed, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other buried between her thighs. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.

He should have stopped. He should have walked away. But he didn’t. He pushed the door open, just enough to step inside, and said, “Keep going.”

Her eyes flew open, her body freezing in an instant. She stared at him, her face flushed, her chest heaving. “Dad?!” she gasped, her voice trembling. She tried to sit up, to cover herself, but he stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers.

“I said, keep going,” he repeated, his voice low, firm. He could see the confusion, the fear, the flicker of something else in her eyes. She hesitated, her hand still pressed between her legs, her body trembling. “Don’t stop,” he said, softer this time. “Let me see you.”

She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, her wide eyes fixed on him. He could see the war in her mind, the way her body was torn between pulling away and giving in. Slowly, nervously, her fingers began to move again, her eyes never leaving his. She was so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet there was a defiance in her gaze, a willingness to let him see her like this.

He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over her body—the way her legs were spread, the way her fingers worked her pussy, the way her breath hitched with each touch. Her skin was flushed, her nipples hard, her body so sensitive, so alive. He could see the wetness glistening on her fingers, the way her hips moved with each stroke, the way her body was begging for release.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached out, his hand brushing against her thigh, and she flinched, her breath catching. “Relax,” he said, his touch gentle, reassuring. “Just let me watch.”

Her fingers slowed, her body tense, her eyes wide and uncertain. But when he didn’t stop, when he kept staring at her, kept touching her, she began to move again, her fingers sliding through her wetness, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps. He watched her, his hand resting on her thigh, his thumb brushing against her skin, sending shivers through her body.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her body was trembling with every touch. His fingers moved higher, brushing against her hand, against the slickness between her legs. She gasped, her hips lifting, her body arching into his touch.

“Dad…” she whispered, her voice breaking, her eyes pleading. But he didn’t stop. His fingers joined hers, sliding through her wetness, exploring her, teasing her. She was so soft, so warm, so ready. He could feel her trembling, her body so close to the edge.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “Just feel it.”

His fingers pushed into her, slowly, gently, and she gasped, her body arching, her hands clutching the sheets. He could feel how tight she was, how untouched, and the thought of it made his cock harden, his desire burning hotter. He moved his fingers inside her, her wetness coating them, her body clenching around him.

“Oh god…” she moaned, her hips moving with his hand, her body so sensitive, so desperate. He could feel her getting closer, her breath coming faster, her body trembling with each thrust of his fingers.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. “Let go.”

Her body tightened, her breath catching, and then she was coming, her pussy clenching around his fingers, her body shaking with the force of it. He held her, his fingers still inside her, his lips pressed against her neck, until her body went limp, her breath slowing, her eyes fluttering closed.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, her wetness coating them, and he brought them to his lips, tasting her. She watched him, her eyes wide, her body still trembling. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, and she gasped, her body stiffening. But when he didn’t pull away, when his lips pressed against hers, she softened, her lips parting, her body melting into his.

His hand moved to his belt, unfastening it, pulling his cock free. He was so hard, so ready, and when he pressed the tip of his cock against her wet pussy, she gasped, her body tensing.

“Daddy…” she whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with fear. But she didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she reached up, her hands resting on his chest, her body trembling with anticipation.

He pushed into her slowly, carefully, the tightness of her pussy making him groan. She gasped, her body arching, her hands clutching his chest. She was so tight, so warm, so perfect. He moved deeper, her wetness coating him, her body stretching to take him in.

“Relax, baby” he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. “Just breathe.”

She nodded, her breath shaky, her body trembling. He moved slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust, to feel him inside her. She was so small, so fragile, and the thought of taking her virginity made his cock twitch, his desire burning hotter.

He began to move, his hips rocking against hers, his cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy. She gasped with each thrust, her body arching, her hands clutching his chest. He could feel her pussy clenching around him, her body trembling with each thrust.

“Oh god daddy…” she moaned, her hips moving with his, her body so sensitive, so desperate. He could feel her getting closer, her breath coming faster, her body trembling with each thrust of his cock.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. “Such a pretty baby.”

Her body tightened, her breath catching, and then she was coming, her pussy clenching around his cock, her body shaking with the force of it. He held her, his cock still inside her, his lips pressed against her neck, until her body went limp, her breath slowing, her eyes fluttering closed.

He moved inside her again, his cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy, her body still trembling from her orgasm. He could feel his own orgasm building, his cock twitching inside her. He thrust deeper, harder, his body pressing against hers, his lips brushing against her neck.

“Oh god…” he groaned, his cock twitching inside her, his orgasm washing over him. He came hard, his cum filling her pussy, his body trembling with the force of it. He held her, his cock still inside her, his lips pressed against her neck, until his body went limp, his breath slowing, his eyes fluttering closed.

They lay there for a moment, their bodies entwined, their breath slowing, their hearts racing. He pulled out slowly, her wetness coating him, and he rolled onto his back, pulling her into his arms. She lay against him, her body trembling, her breath shaky.

“Dad…” she whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with fear. But she didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she buried her face in his chest, her body trembling with fear and desire.

He held her, his hand stroking her hair, his lips brushing against her forehead. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here. Daddy's here.”

[amaranthinespirit]

kidnapper!simon riley when you warm up to him. cw: kidnapping and stockholm syndrome

simon was a selfish man, a pure debauched and corrupt soul with immoral fantasies. none of which he had acted out, because no one had satisfied that one itch he couldn't scratch, until he caught eye of a sweet thing like you.

met purely in passing, not sparing him a second glance as you ushered by. he wasn't surprised, a pretty thing like you wouldn't dare pay mind to a sickening man such as himself, even if you hadn't known it in the moment.

but he knew he had to have you, oh, you were such an enigma, one he wanted to pry apart himself, crack you rib by rib until your heart laid unprotected to him. such a pretty thing he wanted to have.

oh, and even prettier you are when you cried, thrashing and writhing against him. you fought hard, harder than he expected for a little darling he painted you to be. his dark voice cooed in your ear, asking, almost sweetly, for you to calm down.

how could you, though, as he took you far from the city, a little cabin in the woods with smoke billowing out of the brick chimney. homey, almost, if it weren't for the fact he dragged you through the forest, hauling you roughly over his shoulder the more you struggled.

he kept you in the dark, dingy depths of the cellar, your soft sobs causing his skin to crawl. sure, he felt bad at your broken cries, but he wasn't plagued with guilt, or remorse, it didn't keep him up at night.

he was a poor man, a social reject, and the fact you treated him as such is what kept him up. he was gruff, blunt, unwanted and cryptic. it didn't stop him from fucking his fist, rough palm tightly wound around his aching, meaty cock drooling with pre. head thrown back and pupils blown as he imagined your tear-stained face before he came on his soft stomach, cleaned himself up, and rolled over in bed.

but he took care of you, or at least he tried. you didn't eat the food he beared, in fear of poison, or wear the clothes he provided, because maybe that would be acceptance. it caused a frown to watch you grow thinner.

he watched the way you recoiled from his dirty hands, stained and tainted, even he was hesitant to touch your pure skin, but after a while, he realised you might never come around, and he couldn't let you starve. not after all his effort.

sure, you were squirming under his muscly arms, nails digging into his flesh as he gently spooned food to your lips, holding you against his broad chest. it was a slow process, but the more he managed through to your throat, the more you relaxed.

your body remained tense and poised, but at least you were no longer fighting him and now eating. admittedly, it tasted good, and maybe that's where everything turned around, he thought.

because now the house was free-reign, no longer did he keep you in that musty cellar, but he did proof the house of any escape. with this new space, unbound, it was like you had reverted to your old behavior, until eventually, your old habits began to die.

you didn't know why or how it had developed, but now you had such a deep yearning, an insatiable want, for domesticity that you'd start lingering by his side, like a rough shadow, but you'd still stumble back if he turned too sharply, or took a step too quick.

he didn't mind, though, he just hadn't expected it, not after you'd put up such a fight when he first took you, but he remained cautious. maybe you'd become a fawn, appeasing him until he had given you enough freedom to slip from his grasp.

but you looked to him with doting eyes as you slipped under his arm, face nuzzled into his broad chest, hearing the way his heart thumped. it made you feel warm, and fuzzy. you couldn't help but feel bad for simon, depraved and socially excluded, a truly sick man. maybe it was best to give him what he wanted.

the wooden floors creaked barely under your weight as you carried yourself from the uncomfortable couch in the living room, the flames in the fireplace burning out as night began to settle. simon lay in the haunting dark of his bedroom, blankets lazily thrown over him as he laid in his cold, lonely bed.

his ears perked at the sound of movement, hairs raised on the back of his neck, and he held slight fear that maybe you'd come to stab him in his sleep, but all worries dissipated as the bed dipped, sheets ruffling as you tucked yourself into his chest, leeching his warmth as he held you through the night. pressing a kiss to your temple at your acceptance, that you were now his.

[cozy-x-winter]

x