#he’s such a hot boy

[childoftheriver]

Emerson, Lake and Palmer

[egophiliac]

can't believe that skeleman has turned on us, and Halloween Prom is tomorrow.

(what a top-tier UM...we are about to be just totally obliterated in the absolute silliest way. what possible use could this power have outside of bringing us to the brink of utter holiday disaster.)

[jaypentaghast]

Maybe the real interview were the friends we made along the way.

[muffinlance]

Hi ! prompt idea : What if Zuko was armed during the first episode and was stranded with the water tribe while the avatar left with Katara and Sokka, Iroh on his trail for white lotus reasons.

Oh we are going to have us some FUN with "stranded with the water tribe", say no more.

---

Zuko was dripping, and steaming, and staring down two dozen women and their gaggle of small children, plus that old not-the-Avatar crone from earlier. They were all cowering away from him. Which was--

Good. It was good. If they were cowering, then they hadn’t noticed how steam was not flames. He wasn’t sure he could make flames, not after the arctic water he’d landed in, with that last sight of the Avatar glowing; not after surfacing under the ice pack, after swimming, after kicking slamming breaking through and his ship was gone and there was only ocean all around and

and he’d made it back to this pathetic little camp of the Southern Water Tribe, because that was the only place he knew for sure would have shelter, and he wasn’t going to die just because they were all staring at him, even if felt like he would.

Even if the old not-the-Avatar woman could probably take him, right now. But she didn’t know that.

Zuko pulled himself up, taller than her by at least a few inches, and blew steam from his nose.

“I am commandeering one of your huts,” he said. And added, because Uncle said even a prince should be gracious: “You may choose which one.”

---

She choose her own.

...The only one without children that flames might scar, or younger women to catch a soldier’s interests.

Zuko sat by her fire and determinedly started struggling out of his wet clothes and she was still in here with him--

Zuko pulled one of her animal pelts over himself, and finished fighting off his clothes. When he stuck his head back out, cheeks still reddened from what was obviously the cold, she dropped a parka on his head.

“Dry clothes, Your Highness,” she said.

The parka was much bigger than he was. He fell asleep hoping that the camp’s men were on a long, long hunting trip.

---

He woke up again. Kanna tucked her favorite ulu knife away, newly sharpened, and stopped contemplating the alternative.

---

“I am commandeering a ship,” he said.

The crone led him across the village, all twenty paces of it, to a row of canoes.

“Take whichever one you want,” she said. “Will you need help getting it to the water?”

Zuko looked at the canoes. Looked at the ocean. Watched a leopard seal, easily the size of the largest canoe, dozing just past the ice his own ship had broken through the day before. It was frozen again, a great icy arrow pointing from the waves to the village, snow already starting to cover it over.

Beyond was blue sky and gray ocean and white ice, floating in blocks like stepping stones, like boulders, like cliffsides.

There wasn’t even a hint of gray steel, or smoke. Or any land, besides what they were standing on.

He looked down at the canoes again. Somehow, they seemed even smaller.

“I, uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I’ll require supplies. Before I go.”

---

They... did not have supplies. Not extra ones. This didn’t stop them from trying to give him supplies, food and blankets and anything else he could think to ask for. But each blanket was a pelt hunted by someone’s grandfather, had been inked with images and stories by someone’s mother, was the favorite of someone’s husband or brother or uncle or cousin--

They couldn’t go to the nearest market to replace things, here.

And when they talked about food, about what they could spare, they kept sneaking glances to their children, who were sneaking glances at Zuko from the huts, sticking their heads just over the snowy ledges like their fur-trimmed hoods would hide them. Their mothers and aunts shooed them away, and they crept back, like barnacle-crabs. Zuko glared, and they disappeared.

“When are your men coming back?” he asked. “They’re hunting, aren’t they?”

Oh. So that was what they looked like, when they weren’t trying to hide their hate.

---

Zuko wrapped himself up in the same blanket that night. It was printed inside with fine lines and images, telling a story he didn’t know. He wondered whose favorite it was.

---

Kanna wondered how quickly he’d wake—if he’d wake—if she built the fire up with wet driftwood and tundra grass, if she had one of the younger girls boost up a child to plug the air hole, if she let the smoke draw its own blanket down over this fire child.

---

It was hard to know when to wake up, because the sun never set. So everyone was up before him, and they all had spears and clubs and—and nets, and trap lines, and snow googles with their single slat to protect the eyes from snow blindness. Zuko had seen those once, at the Ember Island Museum of Ethnography, where they’d gone when it was too rainy for anything more exciting.

Oh. They were going hunting.

“Give me that,” Zuko said, and took a spear.

The women looked at him. One of them adjusted her googles.

“I can hunt,” he scowled.

He did not, in fact, know how to hunt.

---

“Give me that,” the Fire Prince said, and Kanna almost, almost gave him her ulu. Humans, like most animals, had an artery in their legs that would bleed them quick enough.

She kept skinning the rabbit-mink one of the women had snared.

“I can help,” he said, with less grace than most of their toddlers. Likely with the skinning skills of a toddler, too. She wasn’t going to let their unwanted visitor ruin a perfectly good pelt.

“Chop the meat,” she said, and gave him a different knife. “It’s dinner.”

“...This is really sharp,” he said a moment later, looking at the knife with some surprise.

“Is it,” said Kanna.

---

Things the Fire Prince was convinced he could do: hunt (until he realized he couldn’t tell the tracks of a rabbit-mink from a leopard-rabbit apart); spear fish (at least he could dry himself); pack snow for an igloo (frustrated princes ran hot); ice fish (the prince was a problem that kept coming close to solving itself).

Things the Fire Prince could actually do: mince meat, increasingly finely; gather berries and herbs, once he stopped trying to crush them; dig roots, under toddler supervision; mend nets, after the intermediary step of learning to braid hair loopies.

“Can’t I take him ice fishing again?” asked one of the women, as she watched Prince Zuko put as much apparent concentration into braiding her daughter’s hair as his people had into exterminating hers.

“Wait,” said another woman, sitting up straight. “Wait wait wait. I just had an idea.”

---

Three words: Infinite. Hot. Water.

---

Summer was coming to an end. The sun actually set, now, and the night was getting longer, and colder. The salmon-otter nets were mended and ready. The smoking racks were still full of cod-lemmings. The children were all a little older, the women all a little more used to doing both halves of their tribes’ chores; a little more used to not watching the horizon, waiting for help to come.

The Fire Prince was staring at the canoes again.

“Are you actually going to try leaving in one of those?” Kanna asked.

“...No.”

“Come on, then; someone needs to watch the kids while the women are hunting.”

She didn’t leave him alone with them, of course. But she could have.

---

Elsewhere, the war continued.

The moon turned red, for a moment none could sleep through; they did not learn why.

The comet came and went, leaving their castaway prince laying on the beach, his breath fogging up into the night sky above him, as the energy crashed from his system as quickly as it had come. Above, lights began to dance in the sky; Zuko pulled his hood up, so none of those spirits—children, dead too soon—got any ideas about kicking his head off to be their ball.

The war had ended. The world didn’t feel any different; no one in the south would know until spring came again.

---

Suffice it to say, Sokka and Katara were not prepared for this particular homecoming.

[demaparbat-hp]

Grumpy, meet Sunshine.

Quote by @sstarbitss

[chloesimaginationthings]

Mike’s got that sopping wet cat boyfail rizz.

Mike either makes people love him or hate him instantly, there’s no in between

[misakarose]

vash + close combat

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about toji the ultimate brat tamer vs two big brats – you and satoru.

you both talked big at first; about how he couldn't handle the two of you at the same time, about how he'd be the one to fold first, about how you'd make him whimper and moan, and yet...

here you are - laying on top of satoru, half limp, while getting pounded like there's no tomorrow. eyes hazy and threatening to roll back inside your head, tears run over the apples of your cheeks and drool trickles from the side of your mouth. he's filling you up so fucking good that you can't even properly moan – the only sounds leaving your pretty lips being shaky breaths and mewls. toji's heavy balls slap against you with every rough thrust and your ass stings from all the times he's slapped your soft, sensitive skin.

toji watches your tight little hole with hungry eyes, he watches you swallow him, he watches himself disappear deep inside you. you're so fucking warm and you feel delicious around him – he's addicted already. he's the only reason you're still half-up on your knees, his big calloused hands hold onto your waist like his life depends on it. he's not letting you go anywhere, no matter how much you want to run from him, from the pleasure.

"'s too much. i– i can't." his dick twitches inside you at your broken whine, clearly enjoying the state that you're in.

"nah." he rasps back. "don't think 's enough, actually."

toji's fingers bruise your skin as he pushes down on your back, making you arch even more for him. he takes his knee from the bed and places it down beside your trembling thigh. he's reaching new depths with this new position and he chuckles darkly when he sees your jaw fall slack.

above you, satoru lets out a muffled groan.

gagged and tied up – the only thing he can do is watch toji fuck your brains out. he can't even hold you, he can't even taste you...

he's never been this hard in his entire life.

your cheek is smushed against his lower stomach and you can feel his cock rubbing against your chest with every thrust toji makes. you're drooling all over satoru and fuck – he really just wishes he could kiss you.

his glassy blue eyes travel from your sweaty body to the man behind you, and he's met with the meanest grin.

"strongest one, hm?"

toji has never felt more powerful than he does in this moment. the legendary satoru gojo – finally at his mercy. tears cascade down his flushed cheeks and his adam's apple bobs, his skin is covered in red marks and sweat, and even though your own body hides satoru's - toji knows he's rock hard. the poor guy can't stop squirming and twitching underneath you, muffled mewls fill the air around you as his head lolls back against the headboard every two seconds.

the tip of his cock grazes against your soft skin but it's far from enough – a layer of his pre-cum coats your chest and your tummy and it's all just so fucking dirty.

toji fucking loves it.

he's going to pound you into the mattress while he watches satoru cry the prettiest tears. he's going to pump you full of his cum and then he's going to eat it out of you until you're passing out from overstimulation while satoru humps the air out of desperation. this is what you both get for talking back to him, for pushing his buttons.

he will make you both beg for his forgiveness and then he'll get to laugh and he'll get to mock – he's not stopping until you're both so fucking cockdrunk that the only thing you remember is his name.

you're both his little playthings now.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Okay so like stick with me but young Derek, alive hale fam au.

So like the Hale family finds out that Derek has a crush on Sheriff Stilinski’s delinquent son, and has mixed reactions. Talia is torn between amusement, worry and wanting to dislike stiles. Papa hale is very protective but thinks it funny that him and his son have the same tastes.

Peter is ecstatic, Stiles once beat him in chess when running from the cops. (stiles was running and sat down in the park around people for cover, turns out he interrupted a chess tournament. Peter challenged him to a game if stiles lost, Peter would turn him over to the police. If he won, stiles could use him as an alibi)

The rest of his siblings don’t really have an opinion other than using Derek’s crush to make fun of him EXPECT for Laura. Laura is in a one sided rivalry with stiles.

As the sheriff right hand deputy she was tasked with keeping an eye out for stiles and she constantly loses him. Which shouldn’t be possible because she’s a werewolf. She can never connect him to a crime he’s committed and can never prove anything. Can’t go to a judge a say “oh he left a scent trail which I followed because I’m a werewolf.”

Derek brings him home to dinner after they start dating. Unfortunately, the day that Derek brings him over, is also the day that Laura had to run around town taking reports of his crimes. She is fuming. Stiles looks her dead in her twitching eye and asked her how her day went.

The only crime she can connect him to is when he commit aggravated assault against a few of Derek’s teammates went to far with hazing. (Derek refused to fight back as not to hurt them) she lets him off.

[childoftheriver]

There’s a theme here…

[tragedy-machine]

Give me Edwin being a badass, give me Edwin protecting Charles, give me Edwin showing off his vast knowledge and skills or give me death!!

Some demon tries to manipulate and belittle him? Please, he's been there, done that, he calls the demon out and banishes it

Someone locks Charles in an iron cage? Edwin doesn't even hesitate before prying the door open with his hands blackening and smoking

The answer to a riddle is in ancient Aramaic? Guess who's got you covered - EDWIN

[kensatou]

forget the horrors and think about this baby achieving everything he wanted and more (first goal, 2005 vs 600th goal, 2024)

[femd-archive]

cw: nsfw/nsft

ken sato, the baseball star that everyone adores! well...almost everyone.

he always shows himself tall and confident, arrogant for most people. he makes thousands of people swoon with a single wink or one of those filtry smiles with his pearly teeth.

that makes you wonder, how many of his fans would percieve him if they ever saw their biggest idol in this way.

on his knees, half naked and looking up at you like you're the one hanging the stars in the sky. there was, ken sato. you smile back at him and reach one of your hands to cup the side of his face. ken leans on it, shutting his eyes peacfully as he melts into your touch.

his big hands are caressing your bare legs with the most care. like you were a goddess to worship. when your hand moves to his hair, he leans his head on your lap, pressing his cold cheek -the one you didn't touch- on your warm skin.

"are you tired, kenji?" you ask, your hand traveling once again, now to the broad of his exposed back, and making circular motions around his skin, listening to the way his breath got steady.

"i'm never tired for you, baby" he answers in the sweetest tone, contrasting his husky voice that he uses to talk in interviews. he props his chin on your thigh to look up at you with those pretty puppy eyes and his cute smile.

your heart swells with love for him. dragging your thumbs through his cheekbones, both of you get lost in each others eyes for a little, before you whisper. "come here" and he obeys. standing from the floor, he takes a seat besides you on the expensive couch, and smiles into your lips as you drag him in for a kiss.

the kiss gets more heated with every second, and your hands started to caress his body until they're found inside ken's trousers.

it didn't take long before the room was filled with his moans as you stroke him fast and steady. he keeps on holding you, kissing you desperately as you were going to disappear. "please baby" he whimpered against your lips, slightly thrusting his hips into your closed fist.

"wanna cum, kenji?" you ask, nonetheless, smiling when he desperately nods. "do it baby. make a mess for me" he moans before kissing you again, finally allowing himself to release thick ropes of cum that end un shooting on his bare chest.

while he regulated his breathing, you placed kisses along his chest, giving sweet caresses to his waist with your thumb. he speaks. "can we make love?" he asks with those begging eyes.

"but-"

“I don't have any training stuff or games tomorrow” he replied before you even asked, and then flashed one of his charming smiles. "please?" he insists and you sigh.

like all his fans, you can't help but fall for his charms. but unlike them, only you can see the great ken sato cry from pleasure.

pretending like i didn't cry like a baby...

[chaneilkular]

BOY RADIO as Aurelio Fantasmas 1x05 "The Little Ones"

[demaparbat-hp]

Their actual first meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU!

Katara had her Oh moment before exchanging a word with Jian Li, and while she gets over it in time (or, at least, convinces herself that she's not embarrassed by her initial reaction to him) this quasi-interaction haunts her for the first couple of days of their stay in Kyoshi Island.

It's just not fair that the place is full of gorgeous people! Or that he's not only beautiful, but also kind and awkward and respectful and dorky and—oh, La—she's in trouble.

[ieidolon]

Insane to me that certain comic book creators who shall not be named dismissed Jonathan Harker as a "milk sop" and a boring character. White-haired avenger with ambiguously vampiric superstrength Jonathan Harker. Most violent and unhinged member of the vampire hunters Jonathan Harker. Ran at Dracula with a kukri knife without skipping a beat and then tried to climb out of a window to pursue him Jonathan Harker. "Like a living flame" Jonathan Harker. Calls his bond with his wife "the holiest love" and determines that if she becomes a vampire, even if Dracula calls her to his side, "she shall not go into that dark night alone" Jonathan Harker. You know. That one.