#as much as i adore him i DESPISE drawing his hair

[kririawhahha]

u might not know this but he is ACRUALLY my biolocical son (historians were too scared to admit it)

[kingdom-of-sins]

Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader

University AU. Lando despises libraries, but missing you drives him to the one place he swore to avoid.

The library is quiet, except for the faint sound of pages turning and pens scratching against paper. It's your favorite place on campus, especially during exam season. The tall shelves are packed with books, the air smells faintly of old paper, and the warm lighting creates a cozy atmosphere. You’re at your usual corner, surrounded by an intimidating stack of textbooks, your laptop, and your trusty sketchpad and notebook.

Your hair is tucked back behind your ears, and you’ve barely touched the iced coffee sitting on your table. Architecture exams are brutal, and your mind is buried in blueprints and calculations.

Meanwhile, Lando is pacing in his dorm, looking at his phone every five minutes. He hasn’t seen you all day, and it’s driving him insane. He’s texted you twice—no response. Called you once—you declined. You told him you were studying for your exams, but he misses you too much to stay away.

So, for the first time in his university life, Lando decides to do the unthinkable. He heads to the library.

The moment he steps inside, the quiet buzz of the room shifts. Heads turn, whispers ripple across the space, and people glance at him with wide eyes. Lando Norris? In the library? It’s practically campus legend that he’s never set foot in here.

But Lando doesn’t care. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, sitting at your usual spot, completely absorbed in your work. A soft smile spreads across his face. You’re beautiful, even in your stressed-out, focused state.

He walks toward you, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the polished floor. The sound draws even more attention, and now people are openly staring. Lando Norris, campus joker, actually in the library? It’s like a solar eclipse—rare and impossible to ignore.

You don’t even notice him. Your pencil moves furiously over the paper, your brow furrowed in concentration. Lando stops right beside you, watching you with an affectionate grin. He sits down quietly, resting his chin on his hand as he admires you.

For a few seconds, he just looks at you, soaking in the sight of you biting your lip in concentration. It’s adorable.

You turn the page of your notebook and finally notice him sitting there. You let out a small scream, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Lando!” you hiss, your voice a mix of shock and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” he says simply, his voice soft but with a playful edge. “And honestly, this place isn’t too bad. Quiet, cozy... I think it’s a great spot for a date.”

You stare at him, still processing the fact that he’s here. In the library. You glance around and immediately notice the other students staring, some whispering to each other.

“Everyone’s looking at you,” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Let them. They’re probably just jealous I’m sitting next to the prettiest girl in here.”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks flushing slightly. He’s ridiculous. “Seriously, Lando. What are you doing here?”

“Told you, I missed you,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been ignoring me all day. How could I not come find you?”

You shake your head, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. You get up, heading to a nearby shelf, and return with a thick textbook. You place it in front of him.

“Since you’re here, you might as well study,” you say firmly.

Lando stares at the book like it’s a foreign object. “Study?” he echoes, looking at you like you’ve just suggested he run a marathon. “I didn’t come here to study. I came to watch you.”

“If you want to stay, you’re studying,” you insist, crossing your arms.

He groans, flopping dramatically in his chair. “You’re so mean to me,” he whines, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Start reading,” you say, pointing at the book.

With a dramatic sigh, he flips it open, but within seconds, his eyes drift back to you. He drags his chair closer to yours, the legs scraping softly against the floor.

“You’re so cute when you’re serious,” he whispers, his tone low and teasing.

“Lando,” you warn, trying to keep your face stern, but your cheeks are already warm.

“I can’t help it,” he says, smirking. “You’re irresistible.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. The students around you are still sneaking glances, some clearly entertained by the scene.

“Focus, Lando,” you say, turning back to your work.

“I am focusing,” he retorts, resting his chin on his hand. “On you.”

Despite his protests, Lando eventually starts flipping through the book, though it’s clear he’s not actually reading. Every now and then, he leans closer to whisper another ridiculous compliment, making your face heat up even more.

After about an hour, the teasing stops. You glance over and see Lando slumped over the book, his head resting on his folded arms. He’s fast asleep, his messy curls falling across his forehead.

A soft smile spreads across your face as you watch him. You shift closer, leaning gently against his shoulder while you continue studying. The library feels a little warmer, a little cozier with him there.

[ardensregias]

his songbird

contents!! yingxing x female reader. prone bone turned missionary. reader is shy :3 dirty talk. lots of teasing!!! sliight dacriphilia. edging. praises. tummy bulge mmmm. petnames: angel, baobei, darling. yingxing gege !! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

my clit wrote this so this def sucks & not proofread & kinda selfship-coded . . ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა *runs away*

it's endearing, the way you tighten your hold on the silk sheets, buries the sweet face he's missed so badly into the feather-filled pillow, as if that'd help you to tone down the loud and obscene noises that escape your lungs.

"still so shy, hm?" he coos, slotting himself deeper into your aching cunt, "'s not like this is the first time we've done this, angel,"

too exhausted to form a coherent reply, a whine escapes your lips instead, giving yingxing all the answers he needs. the craftsman reads you like an open book. no matter how much you seldom admit to it, deep down you know that it's the truth—that he always knows what to do with you; the things you'd love to hear and feel, and all the right ways to turn you into putty for him with masterful ease.

such as right now; the way he brings one rough hand down from your breast to your hips, pressing down on the plush skin to stop you from squirming too much, pushing you into the edge and humming in satisfaction at each one of your adorable reaction. it fuels his ego to know that he's the only one who can mold and shape you into such a perfect doll for him to use and fold into any position he'd like.

"i can tell you're loving this. would you like me to go harder, baobei?"

from the mirth oozing from his words, you can already picture him wearing the cheekiest smirk that you so despise to see, waiting for any kind of response—which he's 100% sure will not be a comprehensible one.

"gege, i—please—nghh... i-if you do tha—haaah!" you cried out, hiccuping out little incoherent babbles and dragging your nails across the soaked sheets, seeking for any semblance of relief.

so predictable, he thinks. his lips curl further upward, grinning at your reaction, finding it difficult to resist teasing you further, "use your words, baobei, c'mon—or are you telling me that this is enough to break you?"

and as if to make it worse for you, yingxing rolls his hips up, pushing his pelvic bone flush against the swell of your butt until his leaky cockhead manage to kiss that soft spongy spot inside you, and your back arches alluringly in return, lips quivering in a struggle to keep your voice down—fearing the possibility of alerting the entire neighborhood of the debauched activities you two are engaged in.

your lover presses a series of chaste kisses on your shoulder blade like you are his revered goddess, seemingly unbothered by the sound of your wails and whines bouncing off the walls. if anything, he wants to show you off—after all, not everyone is lucky enough to have such precious songbird in their bed.

"still no answer, huh... need me to stop?" he queried, halting all movements as broad shoulders hunched down to loom over your smaller body, silver strands of hair cascading over your back—perhaps to purposely tickle the sensitive column of your neck, adding more stimulation and drawing out more of your sugary sweet voice he'd swallow like the wine he often shares with the quintet.

(your lover can be quite cruel sometimes.)

"g-gege!" you yelp, using the little energy you have left to find purchase in his arm and spoke between gasps, "no, nonono—don'... don't stop, gege, please... wan' you to go harder..."

(but he's never immune to your adorable pleas.)

he cannot help the chuckle that escapes his lungs, because finally, "that's my good girl—see, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" he croons, large hands finding purchase on your sides to maneuver you on your back, and you swore you felt his length twitches at the mere sight of you—mouth agape with a trail of drool running down the side of your mouth, tears clinging to your lashes and the apple of your cheeks, and—oh.

was that a little bump he's seeing on your tummy?

yingxing went silent for a few seconds, before he slowly—painfully so—slides his palm from down your torso, stopping atop your abdomen and pressing down on the slightly protruding flesh, successfully drawing out the most darling squeal out of your spit-slicked lips, followed by a subtle shudder of your body, "gege—! w-wait..."

the blacksmith pays you no mind as he begins moving again, battering your insides with renewed vigor, thrusting faster and shoving his girth deeper, relishing the sight of the bulge disappearing and reappearing with each jerk of his hips. you did beg for him for this, after all—he's just being a good husband and doing what his beloved wife wants him to do!

he gently cups your cheeks, admiring the cockdrunk look you have on your face before he shushes you with a light press of his lips against yours, "sshh, 's okay... cum for me, baobei—be a good girl and cum on my cock, will you?" the teasing lilt in his voice falters into a guttural groan as your walls constrict and gushes around his girth and triggering his orgasm. seeing how hard you're clamping down on him, it's safe to assume that you're trying to milk him dry, knocking the cockiness off his face as he pant on top of you.

once the blacksmith regained his composure, he brings his thumb down, rubbing hearts over your throbbing nub as he stills himself, gazing down at your juices mixed with his milky seed drivelling down your thighs and webbing his pubes. it's a sight awfully lewd and he can't stop the little aww it pulls from his lungs.

(you look your best when he's laid his claim on you.)

"are you alright?" he asks, keeping a close eye on your trembling form before he slather your smaller frame with his warmth, the plane of muscles serving as a shield and a reminder that you're safe with him, that he is here to take care of you.

you nod, dewed lashes fluttering up to meet his, "k-kiss—w'nna kiss, gege, please...?"

and of course he'd comply—when you're asking so politely even in this fucked-out state, colliding his lips with yours to devour the cherry-flavored drool that mingles with his own, eliciting a rather juvenile wish from the old man's heart; to stay this close for as long as forever.

[baby-tini]

Imagine Dabi kidnaps you and he's actually really sweet. Besides the kidnapping, he could be actual boyfriend/husband material. Like he hasn't hurt you physically and it kind of fucks with your head a bit. He provides everything you need to live plus more. And you don't have to worry about surviving anymore. Since you were kidnapped dare you say more relaxed than ever. So, you put up with it and eventually develop Stockholm syndrome fr.

I don't think this was a request BUT I genuinely can't stop thinking about this, I love when he's so soft.

You despised him at first when he took you away, but it got better, Dabi told you it would. He told you that if you behaved that he would take care of you, treat you like a princess. Dabi truly loved you, he just wanted you to understand that and he would do anything to make you understand. It took a little while with punishments here and there but it worked. When he came home, you were there to greet him with open arms. Telling him how much you missed him, kissing him, nuzzling into his chest. Dabi could truly say, that for once in his life he truly felt happy, at peace... like he finally was enough for someone.

It felt.. nice, to be around Dabi, he was comforting in a way. Brushed your hair for you, braided it, let you sit with him on the balcony as he smoked. It was nice to just sit and talk about things with him, smelling the mid-night air as you leaned against his chest. He smelled nice, the smell of cigarettes now becoming a comfort, the sick smell of ash that had you wrinkling your nose now had you clinging to him, shoving your nose into his jacket. Dabi truly became someone of comfort for you, holding you close on cold nights. Kissing your head when the thunder sounded too loud on some nights.

You don't remember falling asleep, but then again, no one does. His side of the bed was warm though, so that had too mean he was home now, throwing the comforter off you go looking for him, and sure enough, he was out on the balcony, smoking. He truly looked ethereal, his eyes relaxed, shining a beautiful cerulean, head thrown back, dyed black hair a little tousled from scarred hands running through it. Dabi truly is a sight to behold.

Opening the sliding door, he looks up at you as you step out, closing it behind you so that bugs don't get it. He wraps an arm around you as you walk towards him, plopping down into his lap as blows the smoke away from you. "How you feeling doll, you sleep good?" There's a nod from you as you bury your face into his chest, inhaling that sweet smell of ash you've come to adore so much. The smell always makes you think of him, an automatic comfort it brings you is a stress-relief.

"How was work," you ask him softly, running your hands through his hair. He inhales through his nose before sighing, "It was fine, tiring, but fine." You can tell, he sounds exhausted, looks exhausted too. You kiss him, running your hands up and down the nape of his neck, he shudders at that, pecking your cheek. His right hand running up and down your back, drawing little patterns every now and again.

"...can I hit it," he glances at you, then looks at the cigarette, the tip burning a bright blue. He hums at you, holding it to your lips as you inhale the smoke. Holding it for a couple seconds, you blow it out away from his face. He pushes some of your hair behind you ear, mouthing at your neck. "You feel better pretty girl, hm?" His voice is always a welcome, low and deep, sounding so apathetically pretty.

"Yeah, thank you," he hums again, kissing at your collar bone as he runs a hand through your hair. He kisses your cheek before giving a couple pats to your ass, "come on, up, I'm tired doll, lets head in."

[pinkydevil16]

Dark!Aegon Targaryen x Targ! Reader

18+ non con/rape 

Do not read if this will trigger you.

“Bring her to me!” Aegon screamed as he threw his cup roughly against the wall, wine splattering on the stone as soldiers panicked to try to appease the King.

Y/n ran through the corridors, her boots slamming against the stone as she tried to get to the dragonpit, praying she could get to her baby before the guards found her. Her hands grabbing on the wall as she threw herself towards the stairs, almost falling down as she caught herself and continued rushing. 

“Please please.” Y/n begged to herself as she heard the clattering of armour as Knights, guards and anyone who could answered the King’s demands to bring him his Queen. Y/n could feel the blisters ripping open the backs of her feet, stone scraping against delicate skin as she shoved herself off walls to propel herself forward, anything to avoid being captured. She let out a scream as a Guard appeared, his sword drawn as she heard more footsteps behind her.

“NO! Kill me! Kill me if you plan to take me please.” Y/n begged as she turned, Sir Criston Cole staring at her with a smirk as he stared down Rhaenyra’s daughter, his sword drawn as he twirled it.

“My Queen, we would never think of betraying the throne in such a way. Please come with us peacefully, the King requires your presence.” Y/n could feel her heart sink as she surveyed her choices, she would be damned if she was taken easily back to that monster. She heard a chuckle as she spun, Aemond standing there with a cat-like grin.

“Niece, pray tell what are you doing?” Y/n scowled at him as she stood tall and proud.

“You arrogant pest, you despise your King and yet you stand here returning the one thing he covets instead of allowing me to leave. You are as foolish as you are bitter.” Y/n spat her words, Aemond drawing his sword and pointing it towards her as he raised an eyebrow and walked closer.

“I am returning the one thing that controls him, the one thing that he can control, although if you were my Pet this escape attempt would have never happened.” Y/n grit her teeth as Aemond called her a Pet, she was sick and tired of this charade that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms adored Aegon. She despised him as much as Aemond but where his was out of jealousy, hers was pure hatred. 

“You are a coward.” Y/n raised her chin as she spoke the last word, staring deeply into his eye as she felt the sword under her chin.

“And you are not? You could have thrown yourself from a window or poisoned yourself and yet here you are, running in circles for attention.” Y/n grabbed the sword, throwing Aemond off guard as she held the blade tightly, pushing his balance off and grabbing his long white hair. Dragging him to the ground as his sword hit the floor, Criston Cole holding his hand up as the two tousled on the floor before Aemond was ontop. His eyepatch ripped off as he pinned Y/n beneath him, her body thrashing wildly as he held her hands together and used his other hand to grip her hair.

“You fucking whore.” Aemond ground out as he banged her head against the stone flooring, her eyes rolling as she cried out in pain and her wiggling slowed. 

“Atleast someone wants me.” Y/n whispered as she concentrated on Aemond, seeing the fire in his eyes as he climbed off her and forced her up, his grip on her arm bruising as he pushed her back towards the throne room. 

“I hope he strings your body up and your pathetic mother hears of your death.” Y/n spat on his boots before he threw her down in front of the throne, gritting her teeth as her knees slammed against the stone. 

“My beautiful wife!” Aegon cheered as she glared at Aemond before looking up at Aegon with a blank face.

“Aegon.” The King pouted at her coldness, climbing off the throne where he had been lounging and walked towards her with his hands on his hips.

“That is no way to speak to your loving husband Y/n. I was so worried for you.” His eyes wide and innocent as he crouched before her, his hand coming to hold her face tenderly before glaring at Aemond.

“You have bruised her.” Aemond rolled his eye as Y/n moved away from Aegon’s touch, his eyes filled with hurt at her actions.

“My darling, let us retire and i shall look after you.” Y/n was pulled up by guards much gentler than before with their King watching, Aegon linking her arm with his as he walked her towards their quarters.

“My angel why, why did you run?” Aegon questioned Y/n as they walked, her nails digging into her palm as they entered the chambers. The door closing before she was pushed onto the bed, Aegon’s eyes filled with tears as he crawled onto her and stared into her eyes.

“Why, why my darling?” Y/n could only stare back at him as tears fell from his eyes, his body wracked with sobs as he held her.

“I have done nothing but love you, I love you so much it burns me and yet you spur me so.” Y/n laid still as she breathed deeply, his head in her chest as he pinned her with his weight.

“You do not love me Aegon. You are obsessed with me. You are a spoilt brat who became King by being a Usurper, perhaps in another life i could have loved you but not in this one.” Aegon continued to sob as he shook his head, refusing to believe her words.

“No, no, you love me. You told me.” Y/n clenched her fists as Aegon’s sobs turned into gentle kisses across her chest, her body shivering in disgust.

“You told me, you told me you loved me.” He kept repeating to himself as he peppered kissing along her breasts and collarbone, working his way up until he could stare in her eyes. His confidence in her was restored as he wiped his eyes and smiled down at her.

“You told me, do you remember?” Y/n wanted to cry as she watched him in his madness.

“I was 12.” Aegon did not care as he only widely smiled and nodded, his heart soaring at the thought of her holding the memory close.

“Yes! You told me you loved me and that you wished to stay with me.” Y/n felt a tear escape her eye as she recalled the dreaded beginning of his obsession. It was after Aemond had taken Vhagar, and she had told Aegon she loved him as her Uncle and that she wished they could be friends. Instead he had turned her childish words into a declaration. Now the words repulsed her, she could not think of anything worse than saying those words to Aegon, to appease him in such a way. 

“You never have to wish for that again my wife. You will be with me forever.” His kisses turned harsher as he claimed her lips, pressing her into the mattress as his hunger took over, mumbling her name over and over and he pushed up her dress.

“My beautiful wife.”

His hands pushed her legs apart.

“You are stunning.” 

She could feel his forehead against hers as he gripped her hips.

“I love you.” 

She stared at the ceiling as she tried to imagine herself anywhere else. 

“I know you love me.” 

The pain made her wince.

“Gods say you love me.” 

His body was sweaty as he held her close.

“Going to keep you forever.”

His hands fumbled to grab hers as he kissed her.

“So…so beautiful.” 

She could feel him stutter, could tell his hair would be sticking to his forehead and body would be shaking.

“All mine.”

She wanted to sigh in relief as he groaned.

“Say it.” His voice demanded as he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were empty and hollow as she spoke.

“I’m yours.” 

Y/n sat on Aegon’s lap, the crown haphazardly placed on her head as he thrust up into her, her hands trying not to get cut on the iron throne as she stared at the metal behind his head. His moans and words not registering in her mind as he held her hips, forcing her further down as she contained the whimper of pain. 

“Gods you were made for me.” Aegon moaned out, his arms moving to wrap around her waist as he pulled her down, cumming harshly as he forced her to stay on top of him. His breathing evening out as Y/n placed her head on his shoulder in shame, one of his hands coming to push his hair out his face.

“Ride with Vhagar to Rook’s Rest, follow Sir Criston.” 

“Of course brother.”

She was trapped. 

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Blood or Contract

aemond x wife!reader

A/N: writing this made me a tad bit sad but I hope the requester enjoys😭 request is here

summary: your husband finds humour in harsh words spewed at your family

TW: angst

word count: 762 words

When Vaemond Velaryon spoke that filth about your mother, about you and your siblings, you had of course expected your husband to support you in your rage. All Aemond did was smile. You even believe that he would have laughed if it wasn’t so improper. He had always cared for propriety and his family much more than yours. But you thought he favoured you more than that. You thought you were important to him.

“You’re upset.” He states when you enter your private chambers. “You’ve been quiet since the succession claims. I would have thought you would be pleased.”

You turn to look at him, even more hurt when he can’t understand why you feel this way. “You were amused.”

He clearly doesn’t know what you’re referring to. How can he not know what you’re referring to?

“About what?”

“Vaemond Velaryon called my mother a whore and you practically laughed!” You raise your voice at him. “He called my brothers bastards! He called me a bastard.”

“I was amused by his audacity.” He says coolly.

“That sentence amuses me.”

“Don’t accuse me. I would protect your honour with my life.” You want to think he means it but you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you take his head yourself?” It is perhaps a silly question but you’re angry and you want him to feel it.

He scoffs. “I’m not so reckless as Daemon.”

“You could have had the decency to look angry about it.” You sigh. “A whore, Aemond. He called my mother a whore.” There’s hardly much worse for a woman to be called. All sorts of demeaning repression bundled up into a single adjective.

“You are my family. I am eternally defensive of you.”

“My family is yours as well.”

He almost seems to cringe at the concept of that.

“He called me a bastard.” Such a strong word, a disparaging remark that you haven’t been able to escape your entire life. It’s sticky on the soles of your feet, a stain on your dress that you can’t remove. It’s in the colour of your hair and your eyes and it follows and draws attention like a shadow that has decided to glow bright.

“You’re different.”

There couldn’t have been a worse response.

“I am the same as them and there is nobody I would want to be more binded to.” He wants you to speak these words about him; he's your husband. There shouldn’t be another person in all of fucking Westeros that you speak about this way.

“You are more than them.” He says. It’s supposed to be a compliment.

“Why, because you can fuck me? Because I shall carry your heirs? Your children, if they will grow in my womb, will be just as damned as I am. Their blood will be just as tainted.” The words are full of such venom that it angers him. He adores you and yet he despises the blood that’s in your veins.

“Nothing made by you could ever be damned.” Oh, the blasphemy. You wonder if he would ever say such a thing in the presence of a septon, or perhaps in the presence of his mother. “I won’t have you speak of yourself in such a way.”

“I can’t, but you can? The word ‘bastard’ used to tumble from your lips like prayers.”

“I have apologized for that. I swore I would never use such a word to describe you or your brothers again and I haven’t.” He defends himself, perhaps it is a fair defence.

“In my presence, you have not.” It’s a half agreement.

“I won’t be called a liar by my own wife.” His jaw clenches.

“I don’t recall using that word.” You say as you give him an innocent look. He sighs again, rubbing his temples.

“What does it matter now? We are wed. You are royalty and a Targaryen.”

“By blood or by marriage?”

“My love-“ He starts. He wants to talk you down.

“Am I worthy of you only because I am married to you?”

Is it some fucked paradox?

“I shan’t warrant such a silly question with an answer.”

Is that all you are? A silly girl?

“I’m going to my chambers.” You whisper out and what an off putting sentence it is. You practically live in Aemond’s chambers. Everyone considers them yours as well. The other ones are only kept for propriety’s sake. And now you’re leaving them.

“I don’t want that.” Is all he can say.

“Will you command me to stay?”

He doesn’t. He wouldn’t.

You walk out the door.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 42 - Discovered

The rogue has an epiphany.

Her blood blasts him like a flare of sunshine. An opened window, light pouring in and engulfing him. His skin tingles, on the edge of burn but it’s so warm, so amazing. He groans and clutches her to him. Legs spread, her arms around his shoulders, burying him in the scent of her.

He gulps her down. Her skin, her touch, her slick still between his fingers. She was so tight, so hot. His cock was already hard but now it aches. The thought of entering her, still wet from his work…

He’s her first. No one else has touched her thus, tasted her thus, felt her writhing and gasping, the way she tried to bight back her delightful moans, but he tore them loose regardless.

All the pain and terror of the last few days burns apart in the golden light filling her blood. It’s not even blood, anymore, but ambrosia, life made liquid filling his mouth and gullet, seeping into his own veins and making his skin shiver.

“Darling,” he whines between one draw and the next.

She’s so godsdamned soft. His fingers sink into her plush thighs. She molds beautifully around him, as he expected. His cock strains against his too-tight trousers, and he can’t break away long enough to free it, so he has to settle for grinding desperately against her thigh like an awkward boy.

Her hands clutch at his shoulders. He wants her to bury them in his hair. Rake her nails over his scalp. Whisper into his ears and then caress the tips and oh, how her mouth would feel—

Her heart races. From passion, yes. But her blood begins to thin. He’s taking too much.

Astarion forces himself off. Lifts his head, licking at his lips, unwilling to let a single droplet be wasted. She sways in his hold, and he snatches up the closest bag and retrieves a health potion.

“Drink this,” he says.

She does so without complaint. Soft and compliant in the glow of her pleasure (that he gave her) (also from the blood loss). Makes a face and shakes her head. When he pulls her back down, the marks on her neck have closed, leaving her skin smeared in blood. He should ask. It would be the polite thing to ask.

He licks her instead. He’s imagined this. Following the trail of her blood. Lapping it as she squirms in his hold. In that fantasy, he buried inside her, bucking into her as she squeezes his cock and gasps.

But he’s her first. She said hands only, and so he shoves that thought down and savors every lap and lick. Cleans the mess he made of her neck. Takes a few nibbles and leaves a handful of bruises just to see how it looks, and she is divine. So prettily marked by his touch. He shifts down to complete the task and make sure he tastes every drop of blood clinging to the top of her breast.

And when he’s done, he lingers. Breathing against her, just so he can smell her skin, her blood, her lingering arousal.

Until she finally shifts. “Um…”

He both adores and despises that word. Half the time, it heralds something hilarious. But right now, it’s ruining the bliss of her blood flowing through his body.

“Do,” she tries again. She plucks at the ruined frills of his shirt collar. “I mean, I haven’t, uh. But do you want help? Y’know, with…?”

Ah. She’s noticed how hard he is. And is offering?

Oh, to train her hands on his cock. Teach her how to hold him, how to stroke him, how to squeeze him. Her hot hands on him, drawing forth his pleasure the way he rarely gets to experience.

He manages what he knows is a pained smile.

“I believe we ought to save that for another time,” he says. “Your blood was quite delicious.”

Warm and…and happy in him. He doesn’t really remember what it was to be drunk, but he imagines it’s this.

(So that’s why that bastard had them all—)

But he’s in his tent, with his glorious leader still draped over his lap. Her cheeks (and throat and chest) are stained in a light flush.

“You sure?” she says. “I, I don’t mind.”

The adventurous virgin. What an utter delight.

He runs the backs of his fingers along her cheek. She turns into his touch unconsciously, he thinks.

She’s his. She could be his.

“It’s been a very long day, darling. We both need rest.”

And she—he feels a twinge of a scandalous gasp twinge in him—looks pointedly to his lap and arches an eyebrow at him.

Gods. Of all the people he’s stumbled into since that beach, out of all their band of idiots, she truly is his favorite.

He pulls her down to hover under her lips. “We’ll save that for a later time, eh?”

And gives her a quick peck. That turns into several. That turns to him burying his fingers in her hair (oh dear, he’s left a mess there) and licks into her mouth. He knows she must taste her own blood. But she doesn’t protest. She knows what he is and she not only neglects to stake him, she treats him like…like an asset. Like a valuable one.

She feeds him. Protects him. Jokes with him and tells him stories and grabs his hand to flee. She curls into his lap in his tent, her blood smeared on her lips, and lets him kiss her.

His chest is too tight.

He breaks it. Lays his forehead to her chin as if he needs to catch his breath (he actually stops breathing entirely) (why is his chest so tight, the blood should have fixed any injury).

Then he nudges her. Eases her off. She hisses and shudders. Shakes her feet. Catches his puzzlement and says, “Pins and needles.”

Which makes no sense. Until he remembers living bodies and living blood flow.

She recovers and ducks out to relieve herself (“I told you, not uneducated and people gotta pee afterwards”). He surveys the tent. The air thick with her scent and his. Her pack and armor laid against the canvas wall. The bedroll he’s been carrying ready to be laid out.

Which she does once she returns, smelling now of lake water. Her hair drips—she noticed his little lapse in situational awareness earlier, and instead of shouting or striking, she simply washes herself. Then she lays herself out. Looks up as he sits there.

“You gonna sleep, too? Or, what’s it, reverie?”

He smiles. “One of us ought to keep watch. You need more rest than I do, especially after that invigorating mean I’ve just had.”

She can’t hide her face fast enough to disguise the blush. She was riding his fingers over his lap, offered to stroke him off, and now blushes at the slightest wordplay.

Odd, delightful creature.

She falls into a slumber quickly, for all her talk. Poor thing must be thoroughly wrung out. Soon enough, those soft snores puff her lips.

Once he’s sure she’ll not awaken, he unfolds himself and steps out.

His hands shake as he nearly rips the buttons off his trousers. They’re so tight and he aches so badly. Sighs in sheer relief as he frees his cock. Ponders a moment, and then lowers himself to his knees and takes himself in hand.

He hasn’t done this in…oh, some time. Most nights end with his mark’s satiety. Even when he does get hard—a body is a body, after all, and sometimes when he’s feeling especially wretched, he’ll pick one that might, in some small capacity, attend to him. Give him the smallest moment of bliss.

But most nights he goes without. Most nights, this doesn’t bother him. Most nights, he’d claw off his own skin if he could and be done with the whole affair.

Not with her blood on his tongue. Her slick on his hand. It’s that hand he spits into and wraps around himself. Imagines it even wetter. Stroking himself with her. Circling over the tip and smoothing it down until he glistened with her. Her watching him do it.

“Gods,” he breathes.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps she’s in his lap once again, pressed tight and hiding her face. She’s ashamed of her pleasure. Yet she’s bold enough to make suggestions.

Traces of her blood still linger on his chin, in the creases of his fingers. He sucks those fingers into his mouth. Finds the hint of golden light and pumps himself into his own hand.

He’s had more sex than he can count or even remember. He’s had the blood of thinking creatures, say, enough to count on two hands now? (Do goblins count?) (Perhaps it’s just one hand, after all.)

Never have the two met. He’s thought about it, on his back, rocking in time to the ministrations of the mark atop him, their skin disgustingly damp. Sometimes they’ll press in close and their neck will be right there. In his mind, he opens his jaw and plunges in his teeth as they plunge into his body. A tit for tat.

He’s imagined that nectar—so close, yet utterly forbidden—pouring down his throat as he grabbed that mark, savaged them, tore them open and gorged himself. Would that he could every, single person who put their hands on him.

This, though. This night is another first time. His dear Eleanor gives them out so freely, doesn’t she?

He moans and squeezes himself (he was right to get on his knees; he’d fall to all fours if he didn’t need both hands just now).

Her taste lingers in his mouth. Her enthusiasm, the sharpness of her mind, her own need as he held her and fucked her with his hand. She tastes like the sun. Like life itself.

His abdomen tightens. His relief barrels at him.

She stayed with him. Supported him. Even when she wouldn’t let him give her this. With nothing from him, she stayed. She even urged him to save himself. No one has done that before. No one has ever said those words to him. Not ever. But she did, and now he’s finally able to properly reward her and…and…

He gasps. He’s close.

He imagines her bare. Those breasts swaying heavy as she rides him properly. She’ll still hide her face, but in his imaginings, he pulls her hands aside to watch her brow furrow and mouth fall open. Stares at her as she clenches around him, blood streaming down her breast from his bite (he’ll bite and bite and bite until it covers her in her own, hot blood, and she’ll moan and sigh and grasp him, urging him on, giving him more). Blood will drip off her nipple, and he’ll curl in to suck them both into his mouth and he’ll—

Astarion barely bites back a shout. The tension snaps and surges out. His spend coats his fingers as he works the rest through. That shocks him, but not enough to stop—even when he does manage to present arms, as it were, the rare times he finds his bliss he’s barren. Not enough blood in rats and bugs. But this time, having feasted, he slicks himself thoroughly. And then the thought of her hands, sliding through his spend, the color on her soft hands—

But it’s not. Her hand. No warm, brown skin on him. No dark eyes glinting in triumph and arousal. He’s alone, in a cave on his knees, looking down at the mess he’s made over his pale, cold hand.

He swallows back a sour feeling in his gut. Wants to drop himself (his dead flesh feels disgusting), but then he would only dirty his trousers. Disgusting boy, look what you’ve done. Ever the filthy whore.

He rises. Walks to the water’s edge on heavy feet to clean himself up. At least this water doesn’t stink faintly of the sewers.

He’s done it. He’s seduced her—thoroughly, this time. Just as he planned. He’s used his body as it was meant to be, done the one thing he’s good at. Even now, a month or more away, free from him, and Astarion is still a thing to be used. Even by himself.

This is what he is. What he does. No matter what she might say. No matter what she might give him.

He stands there, a moment, staring out at the lake. Down at his softened cock. Tucks it back into his trousers and buttons himself back up.

He knows, has always known deep down, this is what he is. His body knows it so well it manages to trick him. But no matter. He’s won. He’s used the tools at his disposal to get what he wants, for once. That’s what he needs to focus on. His clever little leader will never turn against him now.

She hasn’t before. This entire time, she’s returned for him. Refused to leave him.

But now it’s ensured. Now he’s safe. He’s her first, and people get sentimental about that sort of thing. He can use that. Will use that.

His feet carry him back to the tent. The cave is always cool, and he doesn’t really notice it until he ducks inside and her living body has turned the inside air warm.

He seats himself nearby. Not touching. She sleeps on. Her face is nuzzled into the bedroll and for a moment, his palm almost feels her cheek, the way she nuzzled into him like she does that bedding.

Would she do that now, were he to lay beside her? Wrap herself around his cold flesh and sigh?

Because she trusts him. Because she likes him. She said that herself—she doesn’t even think of sleeping with someone unless she likes them. She must also believe he likes her back.

Many of his marks believed that very thing. Those who weren’t hunting a mark of their own, who didn’t ask him how much. Some of them genuinely thought he felt for them. Right up until he handed them over. Until the boudoir door opened and he knelt there, naked, as they realized something else was occurring. A rabbit caught in a snare. They would look to him (he never looked at them, not even as he was bedding them if he could help it; not in the face). Turn to him for answers. For help. And he provided neither.

He sits near her, now, fully dressed. One hand on the handle of his knife. Water laps against the shore, echoes off the cavernous walls.

But…she’s his first, too. She let him feed. His first taste of real blood, thinking blood. He’d wanted to make her cry out in pleasure. Wanted it to be his hand and his tongue and…and him doing it. It had felt…nice, the parts he was aware of. It hadn’t hurt him, she’d barely asked for anything, really. Just a hand and some words. He even got to finish himself off afterward (that was the blood; hers does that to him).

Ah. That. That is how he knows it’s a trick. One he’s pulled on himself (he’s done that many times before he learned better, ever the stupid, pathetic boy).

Astarion does not receive good things. Astarion is not a good thing. Not worth it. Doesn’t deserve it. So this cannot be a good thing. That’s not how the world works. This is a transaction. He can give her pleasure now, occasionally stab someone for her benefit, and she’ll come back for him. She’ll rally the others to protect him.

His plan from the start. He took a detour, and while he’s dense and bad at planning, he can eventually be corrected. He’s back on track, now. He’s succeeded.

He looks down at her. Vulnerable. Trusting.

Traces a finger over the edge of her hair to brush it out of her eyes.

She’ll keep trusting him. Especially now. Eventually, those sharp, dark eyes will open and she’ll greet him and possibly smile. And he’s never known a day two. The morning after. Only the night of passion.

What does one do after?

He’ll have to figure that out. Has to keep her invested (he’s got some idea of what gets her going, now; he can work with that).

She wiggles in her sleep. Scoots herself towards him. It seems to settle something in her, being closer. She sighs again and relaxes.

This is a transaction. She’s still a mark, if a long-term one. Because…because…if she wasn’t. What would that even mean? What would that make her? There isn’t anything else. People to be used, and the people who use. She can’t be anything else.

Then the sound of the waves changes. Something moves out there, on the lake. Astarion unsheathes his knives and crouches down to peer out the gap in the tent flap.

Distant heartbeats. Two of them. Only…one isn’t a heart at all, but a whirring, clanking—

“Oi! Over there!”

A familiar voice. Boisterous and strong, even at such a distance. Astarion re-sheathes his knife and ducks out to greet their long-lost band of idiots.

[diegowife]

Guts ( GOLDEN AGE ARC )

Guts As Your Boyfriend SCENARIO

No Warnings

A Bit Yandere ¿

Part 2 ( NOT CONNECTED ): Post-Eclipse

• First of all, his other comrades could gape in disbelief seeing someone like you, kindhearted and gentle, deserve a fierce man like Guts.

• In spite of his intimidating presence, it was difficult for them to accept that he could indeed be your boyfriend as all he does is brandish his sword and ruthlessly slaughter any human that crosses his path on the battlefield.

• PDA is something that Guts despises. Its presence, particularly in public, is something that he would certainly find quite awkward. Unsolicited neck kisses from you are also something that he strongly disapproves of.

• In private, his affectionate nature truly reveals itself. Displaying his profound fondness towards you in the presence of his comrades is not his preference. Nevertheless, it is essential for everyone to be aware that you are exclusively his alone.

• In the forests, the only setting where he feels comfortable showing affection towards you publicly (restricted to just the two of you), he doesn't hesitate to embrace your waist. Occasionally, he enjoys teasing you.

• He also adores clasping your waist and drawing them near.

• In the initial stages of the relationship, the only terms of endearment he utilizes for you exclusively consist of ‘Dumbass’ and ‘Jerk.’ This should come as no unexpected revelation.

• Upon reaching a state of comfort, he consistently addresses you with the customary term while incorporating either ‘Love’ or ‘Babe’ depending on his mood.

• Engaging in his physical touch involves allowing him to place his head on your lap while you delicately run your fingers through his hair. It is also experienced when both of you intimately intertwine your fingers.

• Seeking comfort from your touch is the sole method to alleviate his concerns, which consistently proves effective.

• Before embarking on the mission commanded by Griffith, he adored the gentle and tender quick kisses on your lips.

• “Take care, yeah? I will not be dead, I promise.”

• Other than that, he may display reckless behavior and may not even show concern for offering an apology.

• In every debate, he is swift to lay blame on you and incessantly strives to emerge victorious, even though he is often the one who started the argument.

• Despite his stubborn nature, he refrains from criticizing or belittling you when engaged in an argument. To illustrate this, he does not resort to using derogatory terms such as ‘dumb,’ ‘stupid,’ or ‘fool.’

• “Tch, y'know, I have reached my limit with the nonsense you constantly spew. Don't talk to me again and deal the problems with yourselves this time!”

• However, his words are not intended to be taken seriously; they are simply a dramatic expression because the next day, he would present you with a quantity of fruit collected from a tree and placed in a bucket as an earnest gesture of apology.

• The bestowal of gifts is not a preference for Guts; his offerings consist solely of flowers plucked from the garden or a handcrafted floral crown fashioned only during his leisure moments. Indeed, he does not possess an inclination towards bestowing presents.

• “Dumbass, at least I got a present for you. Why are you even complaining?....”

• In spite of everything, Guts inevitably starts feeling envious when witnessing your increasing intimacy with his allies, especially Griffith. Even though Griffith is Guts' closest companion and depends on him, Guts remains uncertain about allowing you to interact with him.

• Guts becomes aware that both genders exhibit great enthusiasm toward Griffith and regard him with reverence akin to that of a God. Guts has his reasons for discouraging you from spending too much time with Griffith; who can say if you'll end up becoming a devoted fan of Griffith in the future?

• One time, during your conversation with Griffith, Guts unexpectedly approached the two of you and forcefully pushed you aside.

• Noticing Guts becoming sullen and defensive is truly precious. Nevertheless, your genuine displeasure arises due to the fact that you exclusively perceive him as the only person with whom you can communicate.

• “Why the hell are you spending some time with that twink?!!? I'm literally right here!”

• Occasionally, Guts can exhibit rather confusing behavior sometimes. On one occasion, he may display intense passion towards you, while on the following day, he might become perplexed if you attempt to establish more comfortable with him, catching him off guard.

• “Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” 

• “Why did you try to kiss me?!”

• Exist of having a partner or in a relationship seems to slip his mind, almost as if it disappears from his thoughts. It wouldn't be fair to hold him accountable for this oversight; perhaps it's a result of the immense fatigue he experiences while engaged on battlefields, hindering his ability to grasp his thoughts accurately.

• In addition, Guts held a deep concern for your well-being. Take, for example, how Judeau and Corkus extended an invitation for a shared wine drink. However, Guts swiftly confiscated the bottle, forcefully shattering it on the floor. 

• “Don't you ever dare to accept anything from what my comrades gave you.”

• He strongly advises against you engaging in any potentially dangerous activities without his knowledge. Ultimately, he fears the consequences that may arise, envisioning a situation where you end up succumbing to intoxication, mirroring the experience of his late father.

• “I don't want you to be as pitiful as my old man back in the days....”

• Guts observe his peculiar sense of pride when Y/n is unexpectedly praised for the noticeable growth of his muscles or when he emerges victorious from a duel. He dismissively chuckles, portraying himself as the utmost embodiment of strength, impressing his partner.

• Demonstrating his biceps and measuring himself against others is his preferred method of flaunting his strength, allowing him to observe your entertained response proudly.

• “Me? Strong? Nah, I ain't really that strong. But keep in mind, I'll be the last man standing on a battlefield!”

• When it comes to sharing food, Guts is highly possessive. He refuses to relinquish the final portion of food to anyone else.

• “Nope, get it yourselves....”

• In order to provoke him, the optimal method and most effective tactic is to approach his fellow companions, such as Pippin and Rickert, and engage in the act of food sharing.

• Upon witnessing Pippin and Rickert tenderly feeding you food as if you were a little girl, an intense surge of anger welled up inside him.

• With a firm approach, Guts would seize your wrist, voicing his frustration, “What on earth are you doing!?” It was as if he had conveniently forgotten his own unwillingness to share food with you.

• On the other hand, if he discovered you crying, he observed as you concealed your face within the depths of your knees. An expression of confusion caused his brows to elevate, prompting him to playfully poke your head multiple times.

• “The hell you cryin' for?”

• Regrettably, he failed to acknowledge that his actions simply exacerbated the situation. With a sense of agitation, he clumsily tousles his hair as he finds himself unfamiliar with the task of comforting others.

• Besides, he never had anyone comforting him, so he's obviously shit at it. 

• “Gahh... how do I deal with this...”

• When your head rises, instantly his gaze falls upon your face, where red and swollen eyes meet his sight. Observing you in such a state causes a momentary pause for him; a sense of tranquility overtakes him as he descends and bends down alongside you.

• Witnessing you in such a state inflicts upon him a sensation akin to a sharp blow to the chest. The brewing question in his mind is, what if the fault lies upon his shoulders?

• “Hey, now, I don't like seeing you this way. Tell me exactly what happens.”

• Instead of yelling at him to leave, he anticipates your outburst, yet you continue to sob incessantly.

• Having a lack of aptitude in offering advice, Guts excels in the art of listening. He remains attentive to every expression and release of emotions you convey. Not once did his attentive listening falter, ensuring that your words were never overlooked.

• He'll let you bury your face into his chest and enables you to cry your heart out.

• Therefore, with a heart full of warmth, he will greet you with his most radiant smile while gently patting your head.

• ”Crybaby. Smile; you're adorable when you smile more.”

• In the midst of slumber, Guts will unanticipatedly carry you in a bridal style, gently cradling you in his arms, to an undisclosed destination amidst the woodlands.

• The destination to which he will take you remains uncertain. This gentleman is inclined to lead you up the hills, near the river, or perhaps even closer to the summit of the mountain to instill feelings of fear within you.

• Occasionally, he would drop you off under the tree as you and he sat together, allowing both of you to marvel at the crescent moon illuminating the night sky.

• Throughout the night, a transformation would take place within him, causing him to adopt a gentle demeanor. This shift in behavior can be attributed to the absence of people and the serene night air that envelopes him.

• During cuddle sessions, Guts will softly press his lips against your jawline, all the while gently caressing your cheeks with his thumb. The warmth and comfort of his hugs are undeniable; whenever his tender touch graces your skin, you experience an overwhelming sensation of melting in his presence.

• Murmuring sweet words to you is his habit before dozing off to sleep.

• “Tch, you never fail to steal my heart..”

• “I feel so safe with you; it's embarrassing...”

Thank you so much reading !

[dorkus-mcdingus]

A Familiar Voice: A Lilia Short Story

BIG OL FREAKING DISCLAIMER!

This bit of fanfiction is based on the "Crowley is Raverne" theory (which has neither been confirmed or denied) which I both DESPISE TO MY CORE and adore so much.

So I thought, if that theory is true, what would be going through Lilia's head seeing a somewhat familiar face during orientation?

Admittedly, the final scene with Crowley, I was inspired by Prince Kallisto's drawing and oof the amount of inspiration it gave me when I saw Maleanor's painting get slashed! After all, if a portrait has a mouth, why can't it talk?

Enjoy the story and the little moments of Lilia being a wholesome dad :3

A new year meant new students coming in, packing the mirror chamber like sardines while the Headmaster gives the most boring yet somehow self-serving speech imaginable.

The seniors were trying their damndest to stay awake but getting a good look at the new blood, their hearts began to palpitate rapidly as in the sea of cloaked boys, only one had horns poking through his hood.

"Dude, we got a code red." One third year student whispered

"Shut up! The headmage is gonna hear us!" Replied a second year in a hushed tone.

"I'm serious, look in the crowd of freshmen!"

When the boy turned to the crowd, it was like his blood froze into ice in his veins.

"You're kidding...! You mean to tell me that's..."

The third year nodded, just as terrified as ever.

"Malleus Draconia... I feel so bad for everyone in Diasomnia right now..."

"How do you know he's gonna end up there? The Dark Mirror hasn't even gotten to him."

"Uh! Hello?! 5th most powerful mage in Twisted Wonderland AND the fact that he's a fae from Briar Valley?! No duh he's going to get sorted into Diasomnia!

Another second year boy tapped on their shoulders.

"I heard a lot of things about the fae from that place. They're not as forgiving compared to here. I mean, mom and dad already hammered in before I came here to always be polite to the fairies but I'd rather avoid Malleus like the plague unless I wanna get cursed. Just looking at him gives me the chills..."

Curious, Malleus looked over at the whispering boys but the trio panicked as they hid their mouths behind their hands to muffle a gasp.

"Malleus," Lilia whispered. "Pay attention because they're going to call you up soon."

"Understood." He sighed.

Those etiquette lessons had to be drilled into his head despite how bored he was hearing the headmage go on and ON about how generous and kind he was but once Lilia got a good look at the man... Something told him that he's seen him before. It was hard to tell behind the mask he wore, but even he was left staring.

"Cater Diamond!" Called the masked man.

The ginger haired boy with a black diamond painted on his cheek stood in front of the mirror as the mirror said with a booming voice,

"State your name."

"Name's Cater Diamond~!" He replied with his overly jovial tone.

"Cater Diamond, the nature of your soul is... HEARTSLABYUL!"

Lilia may have been short in stature but his red doll-like eyes couldn't pry away from the Headmaster. He definitely didn't register as a dinural fae from his appearance, but where had he seen that man before?! Was it during his travels?! Just... WHERE?!

Malleus in turn gave Lilia a light tap on his shoulder.

"Are you fairing well, Lilia?" He whispered.

"I can't quite put my finger on it, but I feel like I've seen the headmage before. Though, drat! I don't remember where?"

"It could've been someone you encountered on your travels, but from the looks of it, he might be one of us. Though, I do wonder, why wear a mask?"

"Indeed. There's no doubt about it that he's a fae like us but still... Urgh... Dash it all! My memory's not serving me well in my age."

Soon enough, the headmage called.

"Malleus Draconia!"

A loud surge of whispers roared throughout the chamber as some boys looked on in shock and horror, while some were rendered flabbergasted at the sight of the crowned prince in front of them. He maintained a perfect posture, a calm demeanor, but admittedly, the whispers cut him deep like daggers made from cold-forged iron.

"Why's he even here when he's already in the top five?!"

"I feel like I should apologize just for looking at him!"

"He's so powerful it's so suffocating!"

"His appearance alone is enough to give anyone nightmares."

"Rest in peace to the current Housewarden of Diasomnia. You're doomed!"

One student (a lion beastman in particular) remained quiet but shot a disdainful glare at the young dragon. As if the man needed another reminder that he'll always be second best and the fact that the boy is the crowned prince of his country too!

But as soon as Malleus stepped up to the mirror, the mirror commanded,

"State your name."

"My name is Malleus Draconia."

"Malleus, the nature of your soul is... DIASOMNIA!"

One given the magestone for his pen, he made his way back to his seat beside Lilia.

Though, with one good look at the boy, the old bat fae could tell that the whispers were troubling the young dragon. It may have been against what those old bastards in the Senate would've wanted, but he wrapped the boy's hand in his and gently rubbed the back of it with his thumb.

"Don't let it get to you, Malleus." He said gently. "As sad as it is, humans often fear what they don't know but once they get to know you, they'll be dazzled for sure."

"You don't need to treat me like I'm still forty, Lilia." Malleus replied trying to keep a straight face. "After all, Grandmother thought it would be good for me that I try to get to know these children of man better. Although, I don't know if four years will be enough."

"You won't know unless you try my boy." Lilia giggled. "Besides, if you're going to try and maintain peace with them, why not start young? It won't be all bad though. Silver and Sebek will be joining us over the next two years we're here."

"Silver will be a welcome presence, but I worry about Sebek when he does arrive."

"He still has much of the world to see and has much to learn just like you and Silver. You three are growing children and an environment like this will be beneficial to you. True, it may not be traveling but it can help you sample the different cultures they come from."

Malleus gave the old bat a small smile.

"You make a fair point. This could help them too just as much as me. By the way, were you able to figure out where you've seen the Headmage?"

Lilia heaved a slight sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alas, I have not and it's bothering me!"

As the list of names whittled down, with the Headmage yelling such names as,

"Rook Hunt!"

And as a huge shock to everyone,

"Vil Schoenheit!"

Lilia couldn't help but comment saying he's seen a couple of his movies while out traveling. He really had grown so much compared to his days as a child actor but even then he was born to be a celebrity. For a human, one could say he embodied elegance.

As Crowley went down the list once more, he called,

"Idia Shroud!"

The timid boy with blue hair that acted like fire, Malleus at one point had heard of them through his old texts in the family's ancient library. They were born to a family with a bloodline curse of burning intense amounts of blot but as time passed and the family began dedicating their studies to blot research, it soon grew into the facility known as STYX.

He looked at Idia as he tried pulling his hood to hide his face while a cute little humanoid robot floated beside him as he urged his big brother to keep walking.

"Heh, a big Shroud and a little Shroud. How adorable."

"Ooh, knowing who that boy is related to, I know he's going to grow up to do great things."

"State your name." Said the mirror.

"I-Idia Shroud!"

"Idia, the nature of your soul is... IGNIHYDE!"

"No surprises there." Lilia whispered. "The Shrouds for many years have always had a knack for technomancy and engineering."

Further and further down the list the headmage went and boy was it getting long and boring! Yet still, Lilia couldn't take his eyes off of him.

Everything about him from the feathers, to the talon rings, just something seemed so eerily familiar but the more he got a good look at the plague doctor mask he wore, it was like someone quickly erased his memory before he found out too much.

Almost like... A childhood friend he knew once upon a time before he went missing. Not even to this day has it been confirmed that he passed.

He could recall a time when they snuck out of the castle, this cheeky little princess saw a bird trapped in a human's net and she wanted to give him a fright.

"Into a boy." She commanded.

The moment the raven began transforming into a human, his yellow eyes stared back at the princess once he threw the net off of him and he said to her,

"What have you done to my beautiful self?!"

"Would you rather be mauled by that human's dog?"

"No."

"I thought so."

All the while, Lilia was sent into a giggling fit.

But the merriment wasn't to last. Lilia was left all alone for so many years, ridiculed by the Senate, and with their son to look after. Something about those those yellow eyes hiding behind the mask just made it so familiar to him.

Soon enough,

"Lilia Vanrouge!"

Of course, he heard the whispers just like Malleus with the other boys saying,

"A girl? Since when did NRC go co-ed?"

"Gotta admit, she is pretty cute."

"Kufufu. Those boys don't know what they're in for." Lilia giggled quietly to himself.

But for some strange reason, the Headmaster couldn't help but get a good look at the small old man. He kept a straight face but even though he kept people at an arm's length, never revealing his face to anyone, the older boys could tell that the headmage was acting slightly off.

"State your name." Said the mirror.

"Lilia Vanrouge."

Hearing the boys' shocked expressions upon noticing the sound of his deep voice made it so hard for the little bat fae not to keel over from laughing.

"Lilia, the nature of your soul is... DIASOMNIA!"

No surprises there. Well, at least it'll make looking after Malleus easier. Still, although Lilia gave the headmage a sweet and charming smile, but behind the mask, Crowley was actively trying to play it cool.

With the ceremony coming to a close, before he made his way back to his office, Crewel stopped him for a minute asking where he was heading off to especially since Sam was so kind as to throw them a party to start off the new school year.

"I just need to take care of a few important documents, Professor Crewel. I'll be right back."

A ghost from the past he tried so DESPERATELY to forget and the boy he was with... It was like his days of old regrets were coming back to haunt him once more. Behind a pair of black curtains, hung a portrait of a woman with long jet-black hair and chartreuse eyes. Like the royal she was, she was fully decked out in the finest of jewels and silver resting on her shoulders as well as acting as a tiara hanging around her horns. However, the one curious thing about her portrait compared to the paintings around the school, hers had her mouth slashed.

The old headmaster held his head in his hands the more he looked at her. Even in death she still found a way to haunt him after so many years of trying to bury his past.

[bones4thecats]

Them Having A Ghostly Gondolier! S/O

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: Them Having A Ghostly Gondolier! S/O Characters: Enmu, Kaigaku, Gyutaro, and Nakime Idea-Giver: Random Ideas

A/N: The character of the Ghostly Gondolier is from the show Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! from 1969. The character is featured in Season 3, Episode 13! Also, the reader is uppermoon 5, though Gyokko is still in the story, just as the fellow moon alongside the reader. Also, they hate one another, anyways, the warnings are below.

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Minor Swearing and Death ⚠️ Spoilers for: Manga Ending ⚠️

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

As the descendant of royalty, you had a hidden lot of treasure hidden somewhere inside of your homeland of Italy. But when you discovered your ancestor had another descendant, you grew irritated. This was your family’s reward for hardship, not his!

You had always heard about a legend of a traitor being sentenced to the dungeons, and when you found a reference drawing of what they looked like, you dressed in your indigo tunic and gray cloak before adding gloves, a belt, and boots to finalize your look.

During your time acting as the spirit of a deceased traitor, you had been found out and escaped from the authorities, sending you and your gondola across a few rivers before going on foot through more pieces of land before landing in Japan.

Growing the need for more, you began another life of crime, stealing valuable jewels from the Entertainment District’s many rich prostitutes and their customers.

You had yet again been caught and almost died if it weren’t for the intervention of a man with black hair and red eyes, who had killed the many officers around you in the blink of an eye.

" You seem to be of use with your cunning traits. I will offer you this once, mortal. Become a demon and you will gain the power you so desperately want. Nobody or thing can take you down. "

It has been many years, perhaps a few four hundred years? Maybe four thirty-one? No matter, you rose in the ranks like nothing. Obtaining many treasures and valuables from your victims, demon slayers, average humans, and alike.

You expected every single attack and would teleport away faster than any other demon, but what you couldn’t disappear from was your feelings, much like your dearest demonic-lover…

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

💤 Enmu loved to watch you fight. You just taunting and scaring humans left and right as you would train your abilities with your fellow uppermoon 5, Gyokko, whom you despised more than that hashira that nearly killed you mere years prior

💤 You were known for your sneaky and very greedy personality, and the fact that your face was always hidden behind a cloak as your mouth and eyes glowed a horrifying yellow

💤 Despite how many feared you, Enmu adored you. He would find you after Lowermoon/Uppermoon meetings and hug you, requesting a small amount of time together, which you agreed to. You could count your gains that week that way

💤 He is very masochistic, while you are fairly sadistic. So, whenever you guys were to fight against one another to help with your boyfriend’s attack speed and power, you would harm him harshfully, much to his enjoyment

💤 Enmu loves to watch as you taunt humans, especially when it means he gets to see a genuine smile against your face when finding a hunk of pricy metals or whatnot that you didn’t have before

💤 You constantly fight with Gyokko, who yells at you for trying to steal his pots. And while normally many would be scared of his nasty ass face, you just laugh maniacally and lift one of his smaller and more delicate pots, threatening to throw it away as Enmu watches and laughs with you

💤 Your boyfriend also adores to go with you on your gondola, you lightly motioning it to slowly flow through the waters of a nearby river. This was the only place you guys could relax

💤 After you were sent the final words from your boyfriend before he died at the hands of the hanafuda-earring wearing slayer, you grew angry, just as angry as your master

💤 That bastard was going to pay for harming your lover… and he was going to pay with his life…

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

🍑 As one of the fastest rising uppermoons, Kaigaku met you fairly early in his short life as a demon

🍑 You were fairly ticked that Gyokko had died, the guy was so weak that he had fallen to the hands of a single hashira. And not only was it one hashira, it was a child! A mere excuse of a death, if you said so yourself

🍑 You were very powerful, and Kaigaku recognized that, and because you were fairly close with Kokushibo, as he would give you some things he knew you’d like off his multitude of victims, you met him early on and helped train him

🍑 Kaigaku noticed he still had a shard of humanity in him when you had held his blade out to him, with a small gold chain attached with the words ‘I believe in you, champ’ written in a little plate

🍑 You had made and gifted him something with so much value? Why was his face so warm at that action?

🍑 When you guys eventually became a duo of fighters, it made Muzan sigh, since he was being reminded of the previous uppermoons, Daki and Gyutaro, who died in his eyes by the shred of humanity they had left for one another

🍑 Kaigaku merely scoffed at Muzan’s remark and declared you would be the ultimate duo, one more powerful than the last moons

🍑 You fought against a group of demon slayers when a crow flew by, announcing the demise of your lover, and hearing that his supposed fellow trainee of Jigoro Kuwajima just enraged you even more

🍑 But, instead of fighting, you stood frozen as the young Kamado boy jumped and readied his sword to decapitate you. And once your eyes looked into his filled with tears, he readjusted and fixed his breathing style

" Boy… no- Tanjiro. Thank you for this… kick Muzan’s ass, yeah? "

🍑 Watching with widened eyes, Tanjiro smiled and bowed to your disintegrating body before walking away and wondering just why you gave up so easily at the mention of Kaigaku’s death

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

🩸 You have been uppermoon 5 for hundreds of years, and when Gyutaro and Daki first joined, you recognized the female as the Oiran Warabihime of the Kyogoku Estate in the Entertainment District

🩸 How did you recognize her, you might be asking. Well, you may or may not have snuck in and stolen a few very expensive vases before…

🩸 Anyways. Gyutaro noticed how Daki groaned at your appearance, you were just a plain-looking person, at least in demon standards to her

🩸 Your face was completely a shadow, while you had a glowing yellow mouth and eyes, which honestly gave the female demon the heebie jeebies while her brother became infatuated with your unique appearance. You were kinda like him in that way, a unique look and personality

🩸 Gyutaro began to seek you out whenever he got some time away from Daki, and while you wouldn’t admit it straight-up, you enjoyed spending some of your time with the sixth uppermoon

🩸 Daki grew onto you because of you delicately you treated her, even if she did annoy you with her constant whining. You just would hand her a piece of your horde and move on as she gloated to others about how you liked her more than the others

🩸 Only you and Gyutaro knew that you adored him the most, since he and you were the only couple between any moons throughout history

🩸 Whenever you had a successful hunt, you would travel to the Entertainment District and hang around with him and sister, though since Daki normally had work to hold, you would just sit down on the rooftops or go hunting alongside your dearest demon

🩸 Gyutaro is very self-conscious with you, he believes that you only are with him because you pitied him, I mean, why would someone as powerful and amazing as you want to be with someone like him? He couldn’t even protect his sister when he was a human…

🩸 Due to a small breakdown, you stayed in the District overnight, which was when Uzui and the squad came there and began the fight against the siblings and you

🩸 You watched as Gyutaro and Daki were killed, and in a frenzy, you wailed in agony as your boyfriend screamed for you to leave and began having a fight with his sister over their fates which would leave you alone and in so much emotional pain

" Stop right there, demon! " " You’ll pay for this, you damned slayer. You’ll pay for killing him! "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

🎶 Nakime met you fairly early on in her life as a demon, since she took control of the Infinity Castle while you held your position as a powerful and long-lasting uppermoon, specifically uppermoon 5

🎶 You would spend your nights out gathering victims, demon slayers and civilians alike, and would steal everything valuable they had on them. From pieces of their clothing to even a part of their blades, you gathered it all

🎶 Bringing it back home was even better than the actual hunt for you, as you would sit down and count everything you gathered, though you particularly liked the medallions some rich people had on them, and you would listen to your lovely lover play her biwa in the background

🎶 She likes to look up from her instrument for a couple seconds to see you throwing some of your 'garbage' off to your fellow moon Gyokko, saying things like;

" This shit'll fit right in with your nasty ass pots, Gyok'. " " Holy! Y/N, what the hell! You almost hit my damn head! " " Good, it'd be a massive improvement. "

🎶 Whenever she would notice that Gyokko or another demon was targeting you or your gatherings, she'd strike her biwa and send the demon far away, and anyone could hear their screams of irritation from miles away

🎶 You would just look up and her and give her a thumbs up while yelling your thanks and adding a 'babe' or 'tesoro' at the end, making her gently smile and nod her head

🎶 When she had joined the Twelve Kizuki in replacement of Hantengu after his demise and you took over the position of uppermoon 5 for yourself, you always felt the urge to protect her now more than ever

🎶 This showed during the final battle of the slayers vs Muzan

🎶 Nakime and you were the final members of your organization remaining, and you were getting super fed up with these kids and traitorous demons

🎶 Your teleportation was hardly effective anymore, it's as if they were able to predict where you were going to come and go from, much to your, Nakime, and Muzan's chagrin

🎶 Muzan eventually grew so fed up that he had decided to eliminate Nakime, so that the castle wouldn't be controlled by Tamayo's little imp, and he just sent you a final message as you watched Nakime die from your leader's actions

" It's nothing personal, Y/N. " " Muzan, you son of a bitch! "

🎶 The young and older slayers watched in shock as you landed on the ground and cursed Muzan out as you slowly crumpled apart, and your final words were ones that put far more motivation into the future saviors of humanity

" Kill that guy! If you don't, I swear I'll haunt you all until the days you guys die! "

[adrift-in-thyme]

what are some hcs you have for Time? 👀

- hero-of-the-wolf

Oh I have so many of them (I’d better put them under the cut lol) Tysm for asking!!

He’s a vegetarian. In the Lost Woods, he and the other kids didn’t have access to meat and so ate what the plants provided (seeds, nuts, edible flowers, etc). He didn’t even taste meat until he was an adult and he didn’t much like it. It’s all veggies and grains for him. But he could never be a vegan. He likes milk too much

He has a major sweet tooth. It’s a byproduct of being part fairy

He was extremely shy as a child. As an adult he’s a lot less shy but definitely still introverted. His social energy depletes fast

He loves drawing but he’s not great at it. It doesn’t stop him from trying though. And Malon loves his art no matter what

He’s messed with time so much he can control it without the use of his ocarina

He frequently talked to Epona as a kid and once he got his masks he talked to them too

He despises heights because he’s fallen from them so many times. He’d one hundred percent be that one guy on a theme park ride screaming his head off during the drop

His favorite color is red. It reminds him of Malon’s hair

He’s afraid to get close to Warriors in lu after thinking he would never see him again. Every meeting leads to a parting and he’s not ready to part once more. But he loves his big brother so so much and ends up getting really close to him again anyway

He’s intimidating without even trying to be. He uses it to his advantage, because sometimes it’s the only way people listen to him. But really he hates it. He’s a sweetheart who doesn’t want others afraid of him

He’s not a leader. He HATES having to be one. He’s spent his life going solo (save for the War of Eras) and he doesn’t really know how to deal with so many conflicting personalities. His efforts in lu are a combo of help from Warriors, damage control from Sky, and faking it til he makes it

He can’t believe there’s such a thing as a dog or cat person. He adores them both equally (yes I know there aren’t cats in his Hyrule but to me there are lol)

Stalfos terrify him because of what they symbolize (plus his inability to save Grog from his terrible fate)

He’s healed a lot from his adventures with Malon’s help. But a large part of him still believes he is destined to lose everyone he loves. This leads him to be strict with the lu boys…even to the point of pushing them away

He loves thunderstorms. Absolutely LOVES them. He can and will stand out in the middle of them, arms spread, staring up into the sky with a goofy grin on his face. Don’t try this at home kids you’ll get struck by lightning

He tries to hold it back to be all mysterious, but his true smile is huge and slightly silly and extremely sweet and immediately lights up the room. Guaranteed to earn him a smooch from Malon every time

He’s a girl dad. Period.

He doesn’t have many friends. But he cares deeply and is fiercely protective of anyone who manages to earn his trust and get him to open up

[mad-serotonin]

Who's your favourite black clover character and why?

My favorite Black Clover character

💚 Is absolutely Finral 💚

More than that he is actually my favorite anime character in general.

He’s been close to my heart ever since starting the series in 2019 and he’s not once been dethroned from his spot as my favorite. There’s a lot about him that makes him so special for me.

This is going to be a bit of an essay but I got a lot to say about him HAHA

First off he is my fav archetype done right, and done the best:

I have a personal preference for the characters that are hopelessly flirty guys with confidence issues and emotional baggage. it’s just a trend for me. Most of my favs are this character archetype but done in different ways. I absolutely love Tabata’s approach to how he wrote Finral. He has such a wonderful way of bringing him in as a very simplistic character and building upon his personality and how he became who he was at the start, and continuously finding ways to beautifully motivate his development in such a very real way. The arcs where you see him slowly build himself up while fighting alongside Asta and Vanessa specifically are SO good for creating a new depth and feeling behind his tropes that make him so fresh and unique.

Simping AND Kinning:

Straight up required to say I’m just simply in love with him?????? He’s literally perfection for me. I think he has the most genuine kindness and pure personality I’ve seen written. I love how his fear and weakness transform through the series into a strength and determination to prove himself and protect the people around him.

And he’s so relatable for me. I genuinely sympathize with a lot of his story. His issues with feeling like he belongs and becoming someone he himself can be proud of hits home. Watching him grow throughout the series was a experience that I hold very close to my heart and it makes me SO HAPPY to see how far he’s come and knowing there’s more to come just keeps me going.

Sweetest Angel ever (Angel symbolism AWOOGA):

He’s just so nice, literally cares so much about his team and his friends. And don’t get me STARTED on his unending love and support for Langris despite all that’s happened. He just sees the best in his brother and doesn’t despise him for things out of their control and truly puts in the time and effort to build a healthier relationship with him. He is a simple man who wants to love and be loved. And this applies to his squad, his family, and his pursuits for love and I think he deserves to find that love and be happy in all areas.

Designs and magic wise the angelic symbolism alone and in contrast to Langris was such a beautiful and amazing choice. Tabata was COOKING with that. He truly does see himself as a “fallen angel” his story literally having him fall from “grace” if you look at it as grace being nobility. I just think there is so much symbolism and potential in expanding his magic using this connection and I personally love thinking about it myself.

He Pretty:

Overall I think he just has a pleasing design. I adore his hair over everything else. I love how it changes through the series both in style and color. As someone who changes their hair a lot I completely vibe with his reasonings for changing it too. Like yeah please add that color to give yourself a reinvigorated spirit and confidence for success. His hair looks so fluffy and I wanna feel it. (Personally love myself most when I dye my hair with green tips I love matching him it’s so nice hehe)

Outfit design wise I LOVEEEEEE IT the full color scheming is nice but the overall very Elven vibe with leaf motifs and the pointed boots is just MWAH 💋👌🏻. He just has a solid iconic look and it suits his vibes perfectly.

As an artist I love the experience of drawing him too. He’s so fun to draw and he’s got so much potential for expanding on his design outside of canon. (Drawing scars from the Langris fight is my fav thing to do) and at this point I’m so sure I’ve drawn him more than any other character EVER and I will not be stopping any time soon.

All in all I LOVE HIM. and he means the world to me. That’s my man and I will always be in his corner as the series progresses. I hope he continues to get moments to shine and I hope others will continue to enjoy him like I do.

Thank you for sending in this ask! I’m happy to have gotten to rant about him a lil bit. : D

Bonus hehe:

[mojo-is-rising]

 I Hate Him (conditionally)

Day 4 - AU (hosted by @minthe-drawings )

Baxter and Akio - What if Akio lived in Golden Groove? Baxter POV (yes, i'm doing a AU for both of my Baxter MCs, that way they get an equal amount of content C: )

Warning: Angst, Underage Smoking

-

Words spread fast in small towns, the autumn wind helping the whispers fly far and fast, reaching even into the depths of the forest where the solemn mansion Baxter has the privilege of calling home is. 

A boy his age has recently occupied a house long left behind in the suburbs, right next where his best friend lives.

And Baxter absolutely despises him.

He stands taller than him, taller even than Ren and his voice is already deep, drowned out by his pride and snotiness, even if he has no reason to be like that. He doesn’t go to Baxter’s private school, he's never seen prowling on the dance studio nor the band nor any extracurricular worthy of pride, his house is nothing to cry for either. Yet, his predatory eyes of overwhelming darkness always seem to find their way into the Boy’s Club usual hangout places.

He hangs out in the park with a crowd half from his own school half from Baxter’s private one. Then he invades the private bridge tucked away in the forest’s core, smoking hidden from his family and spewing teasing words towards Baxter, even going as far as desmissing Qiu’s authority because he’s just “some kid”. Not to mention the diner or the convenience store or the bicycle paths and everywhere else! Baxter just can’t catch a break.

Even late at night, when Baxter’s legs ache from the continuous lessons and he just can’t seem capable of snoozing, that incredulous person seems to find his way into Baxter’s most private, inner thoughts. Thoughts about how he so effortlessly breaks rules, right behind his parents back, while still presenting politeness in the face of the adults - something Baxter can only fantasize of doing. The way he dresses rebellious, with chains, funky patterns, earrings and black. In fact, a lot of things in him are black and white, Baxter’s most adored contrast of colors, from his raven hair to those haunting eyes all the way to his fair skin and the silver of his jewelry. Baxter hates it, hates it all, hates spending so much resting time agonizing about how his canines fang out of his plush lips when he smugly smiles - re-playing every interaction they’ve shared on that day, no matter how minuscule it may have seemed.

Baxter loudly sighs as the night goes on.

He truly hates Akio Takahara. How dare he be everything Baxter wants to be while having nothing at all.

-

Minutes couldn’t go slower, seconds couldn’t take more decades as Baxter waits to be dismissed from that stuffy class. He has to force himself to chant in his head over and over again how it is a privilege to afford a level of education not even half of the population can just to power through the unbearable speech of his senile professor. Trying his best to focus on the words instead of what's awaiting him after the class.

Finally, after a few more agonizing moments, he is met with such paradise. Akio Takahara - sworn enemy and rival - hangs out behind his posh school, leaning against the wall aloof while puffing his cigarette and scrolling on his phone. He’s visibly disheveled and clothed comfortably in gym clothes, he must have just left his judo lesson, Baxter concludes. 

They briefly greet each other with teasing words. “Loser”, “idiot”, “bastard”, “weirdo” and many other pejorative terms are common in their lexical of endearments, even if to the eye of an innocent onlooker it may seem like the very opposite. Baxter smushes Aki’s cheeks together, remarking how ‘cute’ he is, and Aki grazes his hand a little too close to Baxter's waist. And then they leave that place behind walking side by side.

It’s a funny sight, Baxter in his carefully-picked dress coded clothes with Akio, now much shorter than the former, dressed relaxed yet walking with pride and conviction.

They finally arrive at the diner, grab a quick lunch, and find themselves tucked away from society in that little abandoned bridge. There they can almost forget who they are, where they came from, what awaits them outside the forest and just focus on the boy before them. Both seventeen and incredibly stupid. 

Sure they kiss a few times, go even further than that. Risk their reputation much more than they should. And sure, Baxter may enamour the people from his dance hall and Akio enjoys toying with the handsome boys from school. But at the end of the day, they always find themselves together, having conversations they don’t have with anyone else, including Baxter’s childhood club who is now long gone. Hidden from all prying eyes and expectations. 

Their relationship doesn't have a label, ‘enemies’ are not exactly known for making out under bridges in the middle of nowhere. But they won’t allow themselves to address whatever they have as more of a ‘rivalry’. 

After all that, when Baxter is once again lost in his thoughts in his bed, enveloped by the night, he can’t help but wonder if he has the option to ask more from Akio. What exactly, he’s not sure. Is it commitment he wants? More attention and time? Security in their relationship? (Can he call it a relationship?) No matter how far his thoughts go, they always end up with the same answer.

No. He doesn't deserve whatever he’s dreaming about, it is not achievable or possible. A great life awaits for Akio, a life of fame and beauty. And a different life is reserved for Baxter.

He hates how Akio makes him dare to wish for more.

-

The last autumn leaves fall, the trees are now barren and the wind is getting chillier. Baxter looks back on his mansion as his chauffeur stuffs the last of his baggage into the car’s trunk. He finds himself leaving the comfort of his lavish conditions to venture into college life, a new beginning in his independence, a goodbye to the small mountain town he has lived in for his entire existence - he doesn't plan on rotting there after he gets his degree. 

“Mr. Ward, I must inform you that we have to stop for gas before leaving Golden Groove.” His pessimistic thoughts are interrupted by the chauffeur, Baxter weakly nods and does little to complain. A trip down memory lane couldn’t hurt, right? 

Baxter stays inside the car while his employee worries about mundane tasks, he bores his sight into the line of trees barely seen behind the gas station. He supposes that view won’t be reachable for a long stretch of time as he tries to glue the memory onto his shambled mind. But then, a certain someone is seen leaving said gas station.

Clad in black and red, holding onto two small bags of cheap snacks, drinks and, of course, a cigarette ready to be lighted. His nemesis.

Baxter forgets about the stupid forest and glues his eyes to Akio’s figure, he looks divine and Baxter wishes to remember his image for the rest of his life.  

And then Akio recognizes the chauffeur, looks into the car and freezes at Baxter like a deer in headlights. Many would call it true destiny but Baxter sees it more as miserable unluckness, to lock gazes with him just moments before they separate for…forever.

Akio understands the meaning of it all. His eyes lack their usual brightness, portraying a deep, unsettling helplessness. Silently says goodbye with a shy nod and walks away. Baxter thinks he saw tears but it must have been his hazy mind playing tricks.

As the drive towards the airport continues, Baxter finally comes to the conclusion that he won - he no longer has a rival. Akio can't get to him anymore, he has no conditions to hate anymore.

He doesn't have to worry about stumbling upon a rude, self-assured bully. Nor hide away from everyone in secluded places. No pesky feelings about wanting more. He’s at peace, at least.

Baxter is finally able to close his eyes for good, falling into a slumber while the image of Golden Groove disappears from the car windows.

He sleeps, even if his throat dries, his limbs go limp and his heart clenches with pain.

[animeyanderelover]

“I could have easily murdered you without hesitation. But those angelic eyes made me dizzy and weak.” “Tonight we’ll become one.”Tsukinami carla with petite human s/o. I love you, admin! <3

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, abduction, Stockholm Syndrome, slight Nsfw, blood, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of past non-con, petite s/o, afab s/o

Prompt 121+125

Rough fingetips swept across your tiny form, tracing the numerous scars which had faded with time, a faint reminder of what torture you had been forced to endure in the past. Your memories were blurry whenever you tried to recall what exactly had happened during those difficult days of your life, a flash of searing pain in all of your scars was the only thing you always felt as your body remembered something that your head had long forgotten. These days you didn't try to recall your past as often, busily basking in the presence of the man you had once sworn to despise and loathe for all eternity. What silly promises you had used to scream out only to break them yourself in the end. His deep voice was like music to your ears as you connected a sense of security to it, his golden eyes shone with newfound adoration and softness ever since you had mellowed out and his much bigger frame nowadays often wrapped you up, indulging you in your newly awakened clinginess. You always wanted to be near him, to see, feel and breathe him and Carla couldn't have been more content to see that all of his training had finally paid off.

The silk of your (f/c) clothes hugged your smaller body, the outfit Carla had chosen for you made you look a little bit like a doll but you honestly didn't care. You latched on every tiny affection this man gave you and if dressing you up in pretty clothes he liked pleased him, you'd never even dream about complaining. Your half-opened eyes followed the movement of his fingers, gliding from your hair to your back and to your hips, shortly settling there. You felt slightly bleary, feeling like your body was slowly sinking deeper into the mattress of his private chambers, your head resting on his chest.

"Are you tired, little one?" you heard him murmur against the crown of your head, fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your hips to draw your drowsy attention back to him. You hummed in response, tilting your head so that you could look him into his eyes. The sight in itself was pathetic in it's own strange way as you laid there, terribly putty in his hold as tired eyes blinked at him so innocently and trusting, it almost made Carla want to devour you. You'd become so naive and dependent on him, it was hard at times to not abuse that considering your smaller frame in comparison to his own tall one.

"You have to stay awake for a little longer, I fear."

You barely flinched when you felt his other hand gently wrapping itself around your throat before his fingers slowly started to squeeze the flesh, cutting slowly your ability to breathe properly short. His piercing golden eyes were hypnotizing as you didn't break eye contact with him once even if your facial expressions slowly showed your struggle to breathe in enough oxygen. Still, you didn't dare claw at his hand to remove it from your throat, waiting obediently for him. Carla was aware that he had broken you severely yet he still liked testing you at times just to snuff out any rebellious spark before it could ignite into something more. He eased his grip on your throat until it was nothing more than a cold reminder as his skin absorbed the warmth of you

"Do you remember the day I first found you?"

"I do." you replied gently, memories of your first encounter with the First Blood King flashing before your eyes. It was strange as it felt like it hadn't been that long since then but that was mainly because a large period of time you'd spent with him was this throbbing blur of pain you couldn't and didn't want to remember.

"I could have easily murdered you without hesitation. But those angelic eyes made me dizzy and weak. You know that you should be grateful for my decision back then to spare you, don't you?"

He shifted his position, his hand on your hips pressing you down as he climbed up, his face buried in your neck as you twitched when hot breath fawned over the sensitive skin.

"I am. I am grateful that you decided to have mercy on me and instead took me in, Carla-sama." you whimpered as soon as you felt teeth pressing against your skin, twisting your neck to give him more space. He let out an appreciating hum upon seeing your submissive gesture, canine teeth breaking through the skin on your neck. Your body tensed up as soon as the searing pain hit you, although you did your best to stay still as you listened to the sound of him drinking your blood, a fuzzy feeling inside your chest despite the agony. The closeness between you two made your heart flutter against your chest and nervous giddiness started filling you when you felt the hand that had previously rested on your hips slide down to land on your thigh, pushing it slightly away so that he could push himself in between your legs.

There was a pleasurable sting when he pulled away, gazing over the wound that would surely leave yet another scar on your body. You felt cold fingers wandering under your hem, tracing the soft and warm skin of the insides of your thighs. You felt heat collecting in your cheeks as you suddenly felt a bit shy as your smaller body was lying underneath him, leaving you vulnerable to his want.

"Look at me." he ordered when he saw how you averted your eyes, choosing to look somewhere else. You quickly obeyed when you heard those words, though you yelped quietly when you heard the tear of soft fabric as your nude skin was exposed to the cooler air. You shortly tried to cover yourself only to retreat your hands even faster when Carla gave you a sharp glare, silently forbidding you to hide yourself from his eyes. Golden eyes roamed greedily over your body, skin soft and free to mark and bruise to his liking. Your body tinier in built in comparison to him and he knew that he would have to go a bit easier on you, he considered being a tiny bit more gentle due to your mellow attitude and obedience. Nevertheless, he planned to use this night to it's fullest now that you willingly let him take you instead of crying and screaming and resisting him. It was perfect, now he had nothing to worry about anymore because now you'd accept him just as much as the child he planned to put inside of you.

One of his hands flew down to your stomach, stopping right over your womb, still empty without any child inside. That would change soon though. The image of you swelling up within a few months with child and milk excited him, even though another part of him also worried how your petite built would handle carrying his heir inside of you. That's why he'd be there for you though.

"Tonight we'll become one. And soon you'll carry my son inside of you."

Your gut twisted shortly in horror, a faint memory embedded in your body trying to remind you of something. When you felt Carla's tongue pushing past your labia and the tight opening of your hole, considerate enough to prep you, you quickly forgot about it though, your head spinning with his promise.

A child.

You hoped that they would have his gorgeous golden eyes.

[vincord]

hi vin i just wanted to say you're really really really cool and your art is amazing and truly incredible and so dazzling (woah) i genuinely can't put it into words hrhghhhghhh like the colors n the textures and the way you stylize characters is just. so good. (i am the biggest sucker for stylization so your art makes me jump in the air and run around and do a little dance) also your kazui!!! that is the most kazui kazui i've ever seen nothing can compare to him he's the pathetic wet cat that he is it's so crazy. i can't stop staring at your recent art of him it's aughhhaughugahuh ehuhwuha. anyways i hope you're doing well, ik i don't interact much but just know that i'm glad to have you as my mootie euheuuheuheuheh :,,3

CHIIBIIIIIIIIIIII 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 CHIBI IN MY ASKBOX HI HI CHIBI HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII MEWTUAL HII HOW ARE YOUU hope you're doing well too!! I do not know how I am doing, because during the day I managed to cry, and believe in the end of the world, and look out the window thinking how wonderful life is, and sit in a corner in fear for no reason. So I guess everything is cool.

I'm really glad that you all like watching me torture this man and take his ideal-anime-swag away from him, slowly turning him into my own oc. More bodyhair, more wrinkles, more gray hair. He's almost 40. He must have it. I hope this year I will draw even more pictures where he is unhappy with everything, and he will be unhappy with everything in the canon. Put this pathetic man in blender and go brrr brrrrr brrrrrr.

It's always so awkward and maybe not so comfortable me to be in anime fandoms and draw fanarts to anime fandoms, because I've already encountered negativity towards how I draw characters, so any words of support make my heart warm. But really. It's so nice to hear that. especially from you. i need to squish your Shidou like squishy or squeaker toy. He always looks so tired and despises everyone in the world i adore it so much. I always come back to your art and look at it over and over again. I would really like to write big texts, because I obviously have something to say, but I'm always so sleepy and tired..

It is a great honor to have mewtual like you. nod nod. very serious.

[annabthesolitarywriter]

For the Headcanons Game

■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

OC: That One Elf ™

Thank you for the ask!

Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanons and That One Elf.

[I'll name him at some point, but I feel like he'll always be That One Elf in my head].

A little bit of context first.

Though he's very much a Fëanor-wannabe, he only admires Fëanor's smithing skills and actually vehemently despises the person Fëanor is/was. He did not join his kin in Middle-earth to retrieve the Silmarils and thought the whole Oath thing was complete bullcrap and a colossal waste of time. He is a kind, very eccentric person. He's a weird guy, especially compared to other Elves. His home and the way it is decorated is very much in line with his eccentricities.

He owns a palatial home in Tirion—a sort of family estate—which is basically Versailles on a much smaller scale. He's obsessed with gold and diamonds, so there's plenty of that in every room. He loves mirrors because he loves to stare at his beautiful reflection at any given time and his bedroom walls are basically covered in mirrors and self-portraits in various outfits. He has a wig room—I do not know how his obsession with wigs started yet, but he has thousands of them—and he chopped off his hair because he hated the idea of having to comb it and style it every day. He loves wigs because they're more "practical" (his words, not mine). Too bad that he spends hours styling them with ribbons, pearls and diamonds. My dude is obsessed with diamonds. He could easily braid his real hair in half the time he spends styling the wigs but...that's what he enjoys, I suppose.

In addition to the wig room, he also has a smoking room. That's where he stores every kind of plant he can get his hands on and his tobacco stashes. He meets up with Bilbo and the Hobbit introduces him to pipeweed. It's love at first sight for him (or love at first smell, I guess) and he basically creates an indoor greenhouse to grow both athelas and pipeweed. I'm not sure whether pipeweed is native of Valinor, actually. Though I suppose Bilbo and Frodo could have imported some of it from the Shire. It's my new headcanon. And yes, That One Elf does smoke athelas. That's probably why he's the only sane Fëanorian one can have an interesting conversation with. He's very pleasant to be around.

To be honest, if he could he would probably smoke grass as well. It's my headcanon he went to Yavanna quite a few times and straight up asked her if she had some good stuff to share. He'll probably tell Sam and Pippin all about it and Pip will eventually build a shrine in his honor and worship him like the legend he is. They'll be best buddies. It is also my headcanon that Olórin and That One Elf did test one another's knowledge about pipes and had smoke puff battles. Manwë doesn't know by the way. He would probably have a heart attack if he did.

Back to the main topic: he's a collector and adores statues and it's highly possible that he sculpted a few busts of himself he placed both in his yard—it's basically an English garden—and in his study. Self-absorbed much? Maybe just a little.

He loves fountains too so add a couple of those as well. The more stuff, the better. His dining room is basically a Roman triclinium—nope, he doesn't eat at the table like normal people, he's that extra—and his bed is huge. Silk bedsheets and pillows because that's the bare minimum, of course. Velvet curtains and silk everywhere. The kitchen is the most spotless room in his house—did you seriously think the guy could cook? He's as bad as Éowyn, maybe even worse. He also has an entire ballroom to his own, a ballroom full of mirrors. The more mirrors the better. He has two wine cellars but he doesn't really drink Valarin wine. He's stoned out of his mind most of the time, so I guess that makes up for it. His house also has a drawing and music room. He plays the piano and the lute. He's a composer and write his own songs. He usually drinks several pints of ale as he practices the piano and I'm quite certain all the alcohol he consumes kind of affects his singing. Don't tell him though. He is very kind but he has a huge ego. I'm also sure he's a major Bagginshield shipper and cries his eyes out when Bilbo told him his story. He also has a copy of Bilbo's book in his study.

That's all for now, I think. I'll tell you more if I come up with additional deets!

Thank you again for the sending in the ask and I'm sorry that it took me so long to reply!