#yall are welcome | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevie-petey · 3 months

Text

pretty girl

“Unfair. I was at least–” he breathes out sharply as you begin to suck lazily just below his jaw. “I was gentle, pretty girl. This just, fuck, this feels like torture.” “Shush and let me kiss you, Stevie.”

Summary: steve has to get his daily kiss quota in somehow, right?

Rating: general, makeout session, cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight neck kink if u arent into that, mild makeout session (so so so mild tho) - not proofread, i just kinda wrote so pls ignore typos lmao

Words: 1.1k

Before you swing in: hello ! i was in a bit of a lovey dovey mood, and while i adore writing come home, i simply couldnt bring myself to write more repressed feelings tonight. so, heres a quick lil boyfriend!steve blurb. it isnt at all correlated with come home (although if u squint ... maybe) its just me being so engrossed in my current crush and needing to be severely kissed. rip. anyways, enjoy !

-

Every night, Steve throws rocks outside your window.

The rocks pang softly against the glass, one after another, as they bounce harmlessly on their endeavor to get your attention.

Every night, you answer.

“What ails you tonight, Harrington?” You’ve opened your window now, leaning your head out so that you can see the boy standing below.

He winks at you. “The usual.”

“Hm,” you rest your elbows against the wooden panel encasing your window. “How many do you need this time?”

“Hard to say, but if I had to guess… A million, honestly.”

You laugh. “A million, huh?”

“Maybe even more.” Steve smiles up at you, admiring how the moonlight frames your pretty face, making it even softer than he ever thought possible. It takes his breath away for a second, knowing how the face staring down at him is the same face that stares up at him whenever morning comes.

“Give me five minutes, lovely.”

Steve smiles at the nickname, letting it warm his face as well as his bones. “I’ll go warm up the car.”

You wave, blowing the boy a quick kiss, before closing your window to go over to your dresser. The top drawer has long come to contain your nighttime adventure outfits with Steve. A simple pair of sweatpants and his hoodie that you stole years ago but never gave back.

He knows you have it still, but you know he secretly loves seeing you wear it.

As soon as you’re ready, slippers and all, you quietly run down your stairs so you don’t disturb your parents and unlock the front door. The lock clicks harshly against the night’s quietness, but with one smooth turn you manage to undo the lock and open the door.

Steve, true to his word, is waiting in his car with the heat blasting, just the way you like it.

It’s winter, early January, and school hasn’t quite started back up yet.

The second you approach the car, Steve gets out and walks to the passenger side so that he can open it before you even touch its handle. You scoff at the overdramatic mannerisms, but blush nonetheless.

“I can open my own door, Steve.”

He shrugs. “Sure, but you’re beautiful and I love you.”

The words fall freely from his lips, and you intertwine your hand behind his neck and pull his lips flushed against yours. He hums into it, pulls you so that your chests are engulfed together and your legs stumble and enclose around his. It’s messy, your other hand clutches at Steve’s jacket and he relishes in the way your knuckles tighten around him.

“One down, a million more to go.” Steve whispers against your lips.

You laugh, throwing your head back and he watches the sight of it all. How your neck lengthens as you laugh, the way your hair cascades behind you and the way your eyes crinkle shut. You put on a whole show for him, and he can’t get enough of it.

“You really think we can get through a million kisses tonight?” You ask, nudging your nose against the length of Steve’s jaw.

He shivers. “Got a few ways I think we can manage that.”

You pull away now, though you keep your hand at the nape of his neck. “At least take a girl on a date first.”

“I’m trying, pretty girl.” He gestures toward the car, its engine humming softly. You roll your eyes, but when Steve finally opens the passenger door, you reluctantly let go of him and sit down. “Atta girl, Y/N.”

Before you can huff at him for the nickname, Steve gently closes the door and heads over to his own driver’s side. He opens the door, the warm air escaping a bit, and as soon as Steve is in the car he tugs at your hoodie (his hoodie) and once again you’re kissing.

It’s longer this time, languid and lingering. He brings a hand up to your cheek and his thumb strokes the high point in a fluid back and forth motion. You lean deeper into him, your own hands coming up to his chest as if you could bring him any closer to you.

Steve nips at your bottom lip and you let him in, you always let him in.

You gasp as he sucks on the lip and you feel him smile at your reaction. With one hand still caressing your cheek, his other hand comes up to the base of your neck. It’s warm, he’s always so warm, and his calloused fingers find their usual place, splayed across both sides of your neck. His palm settles just above your collarbones and your breath hitches.

“Steve…” You exhale his name, as if it were a prayer.

He pulls away a little, his eyes a molten honey color in the moonlight. “Yes, pretty girl?”

You turn your head and press a kiss against the hand still on your cheek. “Three down, 999,999,997 to go.”

“Make that four,” Steve presses a kiss to your nose, then your cheek, then to the tips of your eyelashes. “Now eight.”

You giggle as he presses another kiss to your temple and then your ear. He’s everywhere, now, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he can find. “And here, and here, and here…”

Steve goes down to your neck now, his nose trailing down the bare skin, making you shiver, and his kisses are so soft. Despite his teasing and the hold he still has on your neck, his lips leave a trail so soft and sanguine against your skin that they burn like whiskey.

He reaches for your hand now, bringing the length of your arm up to his face, and just before he presses even more kisses against you, you laugh and pull your arm back. Steve starts to whine, unhappy with his kisses being interrupted, but you comb your fingers through his hair.

“Seems unfair to make you do all the work, lovely.”

Steve’s lips are red and swollen from earlier, they almost distract you from his response. “Shush and let me kiss you.”

He tries to duck his head back down to your neck for more, but you stop him. “Nuh-uh. My turn.”

Before Steve can argue some more, you tug at his jacket, and because you’ve caught him off guard, he falls so far forward that his neck is open for the taking. You press your own kisses against it, connecting the moles that litter his skin with a kiss, and Steve exhales shakily as you do so.

“Unfair. I was at least–” he breathes out sharply as you begin to suck lazily just below his jaw. “I was gentle, pretty girl. This just, fuck, this feels like torture.”

“Shush and let me kiss you, Stevie.”

Steve’s hand tightens around your neck as the other flies up to your head, pressing you further into his neck as you suck on a spot that he particularly likes. “Yeah… Fuck, okay. Shutting up now.”

-

⌑ writing masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem #stranger things #m's writing #fluff #this is a cute lil thing #yall are welcome

751 notes · View notes

maxpaulll · 9 months

Text

Legends say he's still talking to this day

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted fanart #redactedverse #redacted snap stories #redacted lasko #this is actually a repurposed sketch from an Imperium lasko #yall are welcome

193 notes · View notes

persnicketypansy · 9 months

Text

I’m trying to write a poem but I can’t get it to go right. I keep writing lines like

I make myself tea/tomorrow my sister/dead dog in the driveway/depression is

A cicada is trying to kill itself against the window glass of my kitchen - which isn’t a metaphor but it sure as hell sounds like one. I’m trying to write about depression and how it’s a cold room with a single warm spot on the floorboards. That’s not right, though. My poetry instructor would say i was unfocused, distracted (by the cicada, if I’m being honest) or at least probably if I’d ever had an instructor that’s what they would say.

poetry has always been about the smallest amount of words to create the biggest, brightest picture. It’s always been a way to put a feeling into words - look, it’s a river I’m pouring into your hands. Do you get it yet?

In the simplest words, the fewest lines, the rawest sketch of an image, imagine me young and sad. Now imagine me now, older and happy. Now pretend that the two images are exactly the same. Did I move forward or did everything else just move away from me? Bead on a string, is the bead moving or is the string? But how do you write that out? How do you make it something digestible?

The cicada is very loud. Bugs skeeve me out.

when I was young I thought happiness was bigger than the sky (do you get it? how big the sky was to me when I was seven years old? the sky was an ancient whale going to swallow me out of the wildflowers. what did that make happiness?)

young went away. now only I remain (I don’t know what to make of this; i shed my youth like a skin. a cicada shell, if you will, now that the thing outside in the dark has finished its fitful dying)

when young had me, I was sad. These things were not connected, except by knots I tied (i wasn’t sad because i was young; young was a well i dug to hold all the sad I already had)

but the sadness went with the child. they live together in the hollow green garden (where the birds sing, you remember the poem about lost children? child me wrote it on her arms and legs. she looked for birds to chase)

I drink tea (and somehow, even though my seven year old self will never believe it, this is happiness)

Idk tho. im still missing an important part of the puzzle. sadness leaves and there’s room for something else in your life suddenly. happiness sneaks up on you. happiness and sadness aren’t opposites (they’re yuri) not like in inside out, but like in a ‘happiness is a survival technique’ way. once you grow up you can’t be sad the same way a child is sad anymore, because you’ve got defense mechanisms in place

sometimes you miss the sadness, the way it just swallows all of you up, but then you make some tea and remember that child you would have killed to be where you are right now, and things are better. the whole (that was a dark time once) (this will be a dark time someday as well) things get better - not things get better, but things are better. child me was wrong about what I needed. what I have now is enough to get by. optimism?

is the point optimism? idk. something something, savor what fulfills you instead of trying to satisfy the ideals you came up with when you were young, because child you doesn’t know shit about a good cup of tea or a four hour conversation with a friend. you don’t owe your past self the satisfaction of all their unrealistic dreams.

child me wanted to get stolen by a bird

like. i don’t know. i’ll come back to this

#crowdsourcing like a true tumblr-assigned poet tonight #yall are welcome #shit like this is why im not a poet yall. i don't know first thing about organizing these thoughts #my friend was like 'oh #youre a poet now. write a poem about it'#not in my job description! but here i am #whatever #persnicketypoem #persnicketydraft

111 notes · View notes

queenalicevera · 9 months

Text

Wasn't planning on posting today but here I am being a...

✨️ Tumblr Slut ✨️

66 notes · View notes

checkeredflagsandshit · 1 year

Text

#yall are welcome #I was going to save this for my own use but its too good to not share #pierre gasly #pg10

50 notes · View notes

demenior · 1 year

Text

So this fitness program I'm participating in, someone posted in the group "men! Short shorts and crop tops are the style for the summer" and now all the guys are like "haha look at this photo of me in booty shorts and a crop. This is me being silly" and I wanna be like hombres? This is not silly this is a gift 😌 it is a blessed day. Post another picture, king.

I beg for the masculine crop top to make a comeback every year, and for once I get to receive.

#if this truly is the year of the resurgence...#yall are welcome #dem speaks

5 notes · View notes

readyforthegarden · 11 months

Text

the next eternal update is already being worked on and it's not even half way and close to this weeks update length.

#yall are welcome

3 notes · View notes

our-stars-graveside · 1 year

Text

Sad, sad demise of the Team: Sam and Destiel ~ aka i could not think of a name for this crackfic that i took a tiny bit seriously

✨✨happy birthday @naughtystiel !!!! seemed like a fun event and i have no idea if you like stargate (checked your ao3 but no luck) so tada this fic requires no knowledge of it but it’s there :)

dean/castiel | 800-ish words | supernatural/stargate sg1 (just the concept of stargate ig)

warnings: destiel (and sam) gets gate-napped but they are also canon and alive. i don’t know

—x—

Cas stepped into the suspect’s living room, gaze focused on a book.

“Dean?” He murmured. It was not at all like Dean didn’t know Cas would never speak so softly to Sam. So he definitely did not always have to pretend he didn’t find it intolerably adorable. Nope.

The man in question glanced up from where he lightly traced the symbols on the ugly yellow wallpaper.

“Yeah? What’d you find, Cas?”

Dean did also not ever say Castiel’s name more often than necessary. He was just not soft for him like ever.

He stepped back over the rolled-up carpet to meet the angel halfway across the room, hanging over Cas’s shoulder, not so close he could feel his light exhale or anything.

“These markings appear to be drawn by the same hand as those on the wall,” Cas mused.

At Dean’s brow raise, he continued, “They are not Enochian, but I have seen some like them…long ago. Those,” he pointed to the large ring of symbols on the wallpaper, “-are a sort of parody of the original, I believe.”

Dean studied his focused frown just because his eyes accidentally ended up on his mouth of course, pursing his lips.

“So what you’re saying is, we don’t know anything. Someone thought flexing artistic license on ancient voodoo charms was a good idea so they vanished the guests in the middle of their dinner party. Great.”

The moose assumed bitchface #7 as he headed towards the two from the hallway, opening a desk drawer. His hoof scrabbled on the handle for a tense moment. Cas flipped a page.

“I am sure it was not intentional,” he told them.

“Oh yeah?”

A loud click interrupted Dean’s hangry overworked hunter rant. Then another. All eyes turned to the drawings on the wall: out of 39, two at opposite sides of the circle had lit up.

The trio moved back to the center of the room, Dean taking a defensive position. Yes, he brought a knife to a…well, a something-fight. Something that was absolutely not natural.

Four more clicks sounded, and four more symbols sent gold light onto the dusty floor in rapid succession as Dean hissed, “Cas? Tell me you’ve seen this before?!”

Castiel looked worried, dropping the book, but he said nothing. In the sudden golden glow, Dean looked positively ethereal, fierce-yet-scared look and all. He very much wanted to count his freckles again, though that would have to wait for later. Naturally he dropped the book for some other reason though, like because a seventh symbol clicked and lit.

The moose practically honked when the wall exploded. Pretty much literally, only within the circle, which sucked the explosion back in before it could touch the frightened wild creature.

Dean rushed to Sam’s side, pulling him away with difficulty because a massive skittering foot struck out and hit him in the calf more than once. Poor literate moose.

Inside the circle glimmered a puddle. It looked like one anyway, and Cas found himself stepping towards the glowing, water-like portal with undivided fascination. The shade of blue reflected beautifully off the angel’s eyes, Dean noted.

That was the last thing he noted before a purple tendril yanked Cas into the puddle. Dean dropped the moose and leaped…and fell, arms empty.

Two sets of shoes appeared before his gaze. Dean struggled back to his feet only to see himself, and Castiel.

“Cas?” He started.

But this Cas was out of breath, sweating, and trenchcoatless. So not Cas.

Fake!Dean supported Definitely Not Cas as he stumbled into the room.

Dean stared and clenched his knife except he dropped that one already. He grabbed a different knife from his belt to grasp angstily instead.

Dean:///// took one look at Dean and a cursory glance at his startled right-hand moose and seemed to realize something.

“Can you…” he glanced back at the innocently shimmering portal-puddle. Porta-puddle?

That-ain’t-my-Cas shook his head, panting. “Take..too long. To,, imbue..them.”

Secondary Dean hummed and nodded. He eased Not Even Castiel onto the floor, leaning him against a chair that was probably there purely for plot convenience.

“Who are you?” The moose spoke up because Dean was too busy analyzing Cas????? to be sure he could not be Cas. He was still pretty so it was hard to tell.

Dean #2 ignored him.

“Well, we only need one of us here, wouldn’t you agree?”

Evil Dean spun, elbowing Dean in the ribs so hard he stumbled towards the portal. With a last kick, since the supposed hunter lost all fighting capability the moment the storyline formed, Dean fell inside and was gone.

“Oopsie,” Victorious Dean snickered. He leaned down to press a soft kiss onto Cas-not-Cas’s lips.

Knew it, Sam thought.

“Looks like we’re staying, huh?”

Cas smiled a little.

Sam emerged from his DeanCas moment and gaped.

Five minutes, three futile bullets, and chaotic moose kicks later, he was gone too.

Because morally highly questionable actions running this thing or not, what CW Spn does will always be worse.

Destiel wins. Sort of.

—x—

thanks for readin, love ya! <3 and happy birthday again to the host aha ✨

@motionlessblackveilbride you are legally obligated to read this. sorry.

#cursed27event #not even sure if this is cursed enough #i wrote it at midnight though so thats close enough right #destiel #not remotely canon #also a little bit of #stargate #i did not do my best :)#yall are welcome #supernatural #our stars graveside

3 notes · View notes

kenchann · 7 days

Text

king of snork mimimimimi-ing

#hades game #hades #hades 2 #hades II #hades hypnos #mmarts #yall im not normal #with hades 2 stuff back #i need to draw one of my boys of all time #after the vil groovy then this shows up GGHHKK AAAAA #i didnt espect the long hair but i welcome it #oh i miss him sooooo #ineed zagreus to kiss him just saying #i still need my hypzag.... im gonna draw hypzag this weekend i gotta #non twst art jumpscare

2K notes · View notes

sketchy-tour · 1 month

Text

Anyway here have some sketches!

Mostly just me actually drawing this man with a ref instead of from memory to relearn him a lil

#plus his secret call audio was so...fucking cute #I wanna hug him so tight yall dont understand #He's just a little darling #my darling #ANYWAY #nfjdjfndmms here take these cause i aint gonna finish them #welcome home #wally darling #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #wally darling fanart #wh wally #my art #sketches

2K notes · View notes

carnivalcarriondiscarded · 9 months

Text

im a simple guy! i think about puppy Barnaby. i promptly explode into bloody heart-shaped confetti

#just a little guy learning to be tall... hard work #now if yall will excuse me im gonna shove my head into boiling water #that oughta fix me #pls enjoy the additional scribbles of his Attempts #they were too important in my mind not to include #godddddd i love himmmmmmm just a little guyyyyyy #i gotta puzzle out how to draw ms beagle #ive never drawn a chicken! much less a chicken puppet!#wait no sorry that was a fucking lie #i have drawn like. 2 chickens previously In My Life. i think... i could be wrong!#ive never claimed to have a working or reliable memory <3 #scribble garnish #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #barnaby b beagle #hes just so small and sweet and immmmmm IMMMMMMM #unwell. simply unwell yes yes #there's no saving me! leave me for the vultures! allow me to live up to my url!#puppy barnaby already makes me feel as though my ribcage has been cracked open #might as well let the scavengers have a Taste. im sure im delicious!

4K notes · View notes

reedrchards · 1 month

Text

PEDRO PASCAL as JAVIER PEÑA Narcos - "The Sword of Simón Bolivar"

#my favourite sl*t #yall welcome for this one #pedropascaledit #ppascaledit #pedro pascal #narcos #javier peña #mine

1K notes · View notes

sentient-forest · 1 year

Text

#cecilsweep and Welcome to Night Vale trending #1 in 2023

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #ive said it before but people not knowing wtnv makes me feel old #i remember the days before cecil had a canonical last name #so tumblr just gave him the jonathan sims treatment #aka called him cecil baldwin (the voice actor's name)#wtnv will always have a special place in my heart as my first fiction podcast #cecil palmer #cecilsweep #oh to be young and queer and stumble upon a funky little gay podcast about a horiffic and absurd little town #yes i am just reusing my tags from my last post #added a description #glad yall are enjoying my shitty meme #i made it while half-awake and unable to sleep because my tummy hurt :(#follow me for more shitty podcast memes #im currently going feral for malevolent #important note: girlies is gender neutral #tumblr sexyman poll

9K notes · View notes

lizaisdrawing · 2 months

Text

Good morning neighbors! ☀️

A little AU I’ve been cooking up a few days, following Wallace, the co-creator of welcome home! He’s very much creative and kind, but you can’t help but worry about him…

Especially with that weird puppet he’s always carrying around, it always seems to be observing… but anyways! It must be all in your head, don’t let fear alter you.

Wallace greets the viewers when the ep first starts, getting to the main learning subject for that day then introducing little Wally Darling! Who will be along side the him in both learning

and teaching! They’re a duo that you can’t help but be intrigued by! Is it the charismatic host that captures your attention, or the silly little puppet?

Or is it the heavy feeling in your chest whenever the puppet looks directly into the camera