#thinking about HIM again

[talesfromthecrypts]

The Witch (2015) dir. Robert Eggers

[doomsdaybby]

Steve had a habit of being close. The type of close where he could sit snugly beneath your ribs, enveloped by the cushioned weight of your lungs, nestled safely against your heart, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Be it a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, the cradle of a thumb in your belt loops, or a the secure press of a palm to the small of your back, he was always there.

Steve also had a habit of trying to get closer in bed, at your most intimate, if ever possible. As if his end goal was to tie your souls into an unbreakable knot, melding into one being.

Like right now, you straddle his naked hips as his shoulders slouch forward from the headboard he leans against for support. His heated face presses to the soft juncture of your neck, and open mouthed kisses pepper your collarbone.

Your fingers meld to the roots of his hair at the nape of his neck, barely tugging, enough to make him shudder and press his lips to you that tiny bit harder.

The desolate Harrington house comes alive with the sounds of your mingled gentle panting, Steve’s bedroom an all encompassing warmth comfortable enough for a pretty mid-June night.

“You feel so good,” he mumbles into your skin, breathy moans fanning that major artery in your neck. A dreamy sigh escapes your parted lips, right at the shell of Steve’s ear, exactly where he liked them. He always wants to hear every intricate sound that unravels when you’re lost in euphoria, sounds caused by him, the delicate stitching of your very being fraying beneath his fingertips.

Steve wraps both hands around your back, taking his time to skate his fingers over the supple rolls of your flesh. One hand settles to grasp at the fat of your hip, whilst the other smooths delicately up and down your spine. A grounding, tender sort of action that had goose flesh rising beneath his touch.

“Steve,” you whisper in his ear. He was on fire, and you burned twice as hot. A pathetic sort of noise falls from his lips, absorbing into your pulsing skin. He grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly closer, nails creating crescent moons at your hip.

Steve rolls his hips beneath you, grunting as he goes, the position you’re in permitting only the smallest of movements, though his twitching cock manages to bury itself deeper and deeper still.

He shifts up whilst you grind down, glossy eyes rolling back amongst the sheer pleasure of feeling him everywhere. Steve slides his fingers from your back to trace the cage of your ribs, the feathery pressure causes you to giggle into his hairline, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He smiles against you, turning his face to rest his cheek to your chest to hear the thump thump thump of your heart.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, nosing just under your chin. Sure, being roughed up was nice every once in a while. But sex with Steve was exactly like what you would read in romance books; delicate, passionate, engulfing. He could be meaner if you asked him to, but to be completely lost in each other this way was an entire world apart.

You were living out your very own romantic fairytale, and you never wanted it to end.

———————————————————————

just a little something something because I miss my steve 😩

[itsgrimeytime]

hey guys,,, did you know

✨️his swoopy middle part✨️

[rrylies]

the day i see an edit of altan to "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" in reference to shiro's lab i will die on the spot

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

Bellamy Blake was born to kiss his wife and bring baked goods to PTA meetings and like … maybe be treasurer of a small local government branch and have a dog and a garden shed and instead they made him almost but not quite kill someone and then babysit 99 horny teenagers in the post apocalypse wilderness as penance and that’s where it all went wrong your honour

[sh1nsoukoku]

ak-akuta..akutagawa… *curls up and dies*

[lostsolace]

Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind? Um, you know, just… on a daily basis.

STRANGER THINGS — 4.01

[loverofsoups]

Mike ross the typa guy to go “no” when harvey asks him if he finished his work and then say “but i know friendship. I know love. I know how to be kind.”

[misty-moth]

(⸝⸝💙 ̫ 💙⸝⸝)

[toxic-aries]

thinking about eddie being heavily covered in tattoos. i mean heavily covered. the full sleeves all the way down to his fingertips? whole chest and torso covered. some covering his neck. he’s in the process of working on his back pieces and finishing up some on his legs. i need it badly. tattoos are my weakness.

[lazy-toad]

Did anyone ever tell Mustardseed that OVERMike was killed...

[whimsyvixen]

I've written about him performing oral sex but.... I've never actually drawn it...

[laurelnose]

dark yoon ha lee give me the forbidden hajoret family backstory

[bisexualjohnseed]

You have to sympathize with Jack Baker because I, too, would go batshit, crazy, banana-pants insane if I was 'gifted' immortality by some little girl only to realize that not only does it just mean getting a front row seat to watching my own soul corrupt and rot forever in real time, but also that no matter how mutilated, mangled, and unrecognizable my body-- and soul-- becomes, I will continue to persist with no real control over anything at all. Even if death is objectively the best option, my body and mind will forever prioritize my simply being alive, even if whatever that means isn't really life at all. A man, a roaring mess of black something-or-other and eyeballs, or even just a puddle on the ground, but never dead. Never, ever dead.

[racing-stripes]

nick o'malley is so fine. you agree. reblog

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Charlie Clift Photography