#that I’ve had the time to get so invested

[cosmicdahlias]

Top Student

Ford Pines x Reader

MINORS DNI

Professor Pines has seemed a little down lately. You stop by his office with the intention of raising his spirits, as well as… other things.

tags: professor ford au, teacher/student relationship, oral, multiple orgasms, biting, fdom/msub, bondage, praise kink, p in v, creampie

okay confession this is inspired by a crush i had on a teacher in my senior year of high school, dude was a total nerd but in like a hot way. i literally applied myself so hard for him that i finished top of the class, still got the medal to prove it lmao. i’ve always had a thing for well read older men and that ain’t ever changing!!!

You stood outside the door to your Astronomy professor’s office. As of late Professor Pines had seemed less like himself, appearing to be not nearly as engaged in his lectures. He covered the material just fine, but his passion for the subject matter just wasn’t there anymore. He always looked exhausted and worn out as well. Were it any other professor, you still would’ve cared, but there was an ulterior motive that led you to stand at his door. You gave a knock.

“Come in!” Professor Pine’s voice called from behind the door.

You opened it and took in the sight of his office. The room was softly lit by both a floor and desk lamp, giving the space a cozier feel than what overhead lighting could achieve. Well stocked bookshelves stretched to the ceiling and multiple PhD diplomas lined the walls, from what you’d heard he had accumulated at least twelve. His desk faced the window and a couch sat in the corner. You stepped into the room.

“Oh hello, y/n. What a pleasant surprise.” He said.

“Evening, professor.”

“Good evening to you too. Please, take a seat.”

You sat on the couch, it was almost far too nice for just an office. Professor Pines really went above and beyond to make sure his students were comfortable. He turned in his chair to face you.

“So, what can I do for you?” He asked.

“Well, to be blunt I’m a little worried.”

His brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You’re doing incredibly well in my course. Don’t go spreading this around, but you’re top of the class. I promise you have little, if anything, to worry about.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about myself. I meant you, professor.”

He gave a confused chuckle.

“Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

You took a deep breath.

“You’ve just been so… sad lately. It’s subtle, but you seem distant during your lectures, like you’re just going through the motions. You look so exhausted too.”

Professor Pines fidgeted with his hands.

“I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you I’m doing just fine. I promise.”

You looked at him directly in the eyes.

“Professor…”

“I’m sorry, I really do value your worries, but the life of your professor isn’t something you need invest yourself in. You’re incredibly sweet, but seriously I’m fine.”

“I know depression when I see it, I wouldn’t be a good student if I didn’t care.”

He let out a long sigh.

“If I really cannot dissuade you, then alright. Just promise to keep this between us.”

“Of course.”

“Things haven’t been going well for me romantically. It seems to be one failed relationship after another. They start off great for a few weeks, or if I’m lucky maybe a month or so, but no one has seemed to enjoy my company long term. I’m not exactly romantically adept, so it’s more my own fault than them, but still I’m starting to lose hope of finding someone. I’m not getting any younger and at my age you become painfully aware of just how little time you have left in the grand scheme of things. It’s really starting to feel like loneliness might be it for me.“

“Oh, professor. I had my suspicions that it might’ve been something like this, but I’m so sorry.”

He gave a small, dejected smile.

“You know, I really thought I was doing my best to hide it. Foolish of me to assume that you, my top student, wouldn’t catch on with that intuition of yours. I apologize if it’s affected the quality of my teaching.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh goodness, no. You don’t need to do anything for me.”

“Are you sure?” You said, standing and coming close to him.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

“I suppose now is as good a time as any, but I’ve always found you attractive, Professor Pines.”

His cheeks turned a dusty pink.

“Um… I- ah- thank you. I’ve always thought you were incredibly attractive as well, but perhaps you shouldn’t be standing so close like that.”

You moved a hand to his chest, there was a slight firmness to it. You moved in closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

“I think I could benefit from some private instruction, don’t you?” You whispered.

His breath shuddered. You leaned down and kissed him, he moaned softly into your mouth before pulling away.

“N- no, this is wrong. I- we can’t do this. Look, you can sit back down and we can discuss anything pertaining to my class, or you can leave and I’ll see you for tomorrow’s lectu-“

You sat on his desk, spreading your legs and slowly pulling up your skirt.

“I know you want this as badly as I do.” You cooed.

“I can’t- oh dear god, you weren’t wearing anything underneath that skirt this whole time? Did you… plan this?”

“I just figured I could help out my favorite professor.”

You slipped a finger to your clit, Professor Pines watched intently.

“You’re so wet, is this because of me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve touched myself to you.”

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, but someone as radiant and stunning as you with your hand between your thighs and dripping onto my desk for me is by far the least expected.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, professor. Do you know how many people would throw themselves at a silver fox like you?” You purred.

Professor Pines moved himself out of his chair to stand in front of you, he cupped your cheek, kissing you passionately.

“If your flattery is a means to get me on my knees for you, I’d say you’ve won me over.” He said as he sank to the floor, his face level with your pussy.

He allowed his hot breath to linger on you for a moment before dragging his tongue up your dripping lips.

“You taste so good, sweetheart.” He said, his mouth finding your clit as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Despite claiming to be romantically inept, he certainly wasn’t at pleasuring his lover. You had no idea what his past partners didn’t see in him, he could be as awkward as humanly possible, but his looks and skilled tongue would keep you cuffed.

He stopped for a moment and looked at you.

“How does that feel?” He asked.

You stroked his cheek.

“You’re so good for me.” You praised.

Your praise seemed to invigorate him, he returned his mouth and tongue to your clit, lapping at you furiously.

You felt yourself growing close and you tightened your grip on his hair. You moaned loudly as you came, bucking yourself against his face. He held your hips steady, keeping his mouth on you and making you cum again in record time. He refused to stop, not even allowing you to catch your breath before making you cum again and again until you lost count. Your ears rang by the time he removed his mouth.

“Holy fuuuuuck. You’re incredible, Professor Pines.” You panted, your final orgasm subsiding.

“Please, just call me Ford. After making you cum on my tongue that many times I think we’re past the need for formalities.” He said as he stood to kiss you.

“Well then Ford, how about we move this to the couch?” You said as your hearing fully returned to normal.

“But of course, sweetheart.”

He picked you up underneath your thighs and sat on the couch with you straddling his lap. You felt his hard cock press against you through his pants as you kissed him passionately, pulling down the turtleneck of his maroon sweater. You were about to bite his neck when you noticed a cartoonish tattoo of a smiling star giving a double thumbs up with the words “Hey now, I’m an all star.” You failed to stifle a laugh.

“What is it?” Ford asked.

“Nothing.”

You bit down on him, he gasped.

“Oh god, no one has ever done this to me before. People my age aren’t nearly as adventurous.” Ford whimpered.

You laughed again.

“You think that’s adventurous? Let me ask you something, have you ever been dominated before?”

He blushed hard.

“I- no, never. My partners have always preferred I take the dominant role.”

You kissed him deeply, biting his lower lip as you pulled away.

“I’m about to blow your mind, Stanford Pines. Now lie back.”

He followed your command, shifting himself to lay on the couch with you still on top of him.

“You ever had someone tie you up before?” You asked.

He looked away, embarrassed.

“…Not in a sexual way.” He mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Just what were you doing before you became a college professor?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Guess I’ll just have to fuck the information out of you.” You teased.

“You drive a hard bargain, my dear.”

You unbuckled his belt, pulling it free from his pants. You pinned his arms above his head, looping the belt around his wrists and fashioning it into handcuffs.

“How’s that, not too tight?” You asked.

“No, it feels snug.”

“Good.”

You let your hands travel to his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock.

“Goddamn, your previous partners are idiots. Who would pass up a cock like this?” You said, giving him a few strokes.

“Mmmnn, your hand feels so good.”

“I think I know something that’ll feel even better.”

You moved yourself to hover over his cock, slowly sinking down his length. He throbbed as you reached the base of his shaft. You looked down at him and smirked, staying still.

“Y- you can’t just sit there with my cock inside you and not move. Don’t tease me like this.” Ford whimpered.

“I need to hear you tell me how much you want this.”

“Please, I need you.” He said as he frantically attempted to buck his hips.

You pulled yourself off of him.

“No no no, please no, you can’t stop now.” He whined pitifully.

You cupped his chin, your thumb stroking his lips.

“You have to beg. Tell me just how badly you need your top student to fuck you.” You commanded.

“Oh god, please y/n. I need you. I fucking NEED you. Ever since that first day you walked into my class I’ve desired you so intensely. You don’t know how many times I’ve had to stroke myself because I lay awake at night thinking of you. I’ve even touched myself in the lecture hall between classes after seeing you sit in the front row in those little skirts, crossing and uncrossing your legs, your panties just barely visible. I’ve never longed for someone the way I have for you. Please fuck me, I can’t take much more of this.”

“Ugh you’re adorable when you beg, music to my ears.”

You took his full length back inside you, he let out a loud gasping moan as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Thank you, dear Moses thank you. You feel so good, s- so warm and tight.” He shuddered.

You slipped your hands under his sweater to his nipples, pinching and tugging them. He was a mess of moans and whimpers.

“You like that, smart guy?” You purred.

He looked up at you in surprise.

“Did I say something?” You asked.

“No, I just- it’s funny, you’re not the first person to call me that, but I like it far better coming from you than I did him.”

“That’s my good boy.” You purred.

You felt him throb hard inside you.

“Nnngh, no one has ever said that to me before. Your praise alone could make a man cum.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

You gripped his shoulders, moving your hips to fully slide him out and back in over and over. Your name left his lips with a moan and he looked up at you, eyes full of pure lust.

“Oh god, just like that. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” He whined.

“So needy, you’re doing such a good job for me.”

You felt him throb repeatedly as his moans and whimpers increased in volume and prevalence.

“I’m so close, m- may I cum in you? I need to know what it’s like to fill you with my seed. Please, y/n.” Ford begged.

“Very good, handsome. I didn’t even have to tell you to beg. That alone deserves to be rewarded.”

You picked up your speed and felt the pulse of his cock one final time as he came deep inside you. He bucked his hips, trying his hardest to go as far in you as he could.

“Y- you’re s- s- so incredible.” He stuttered.

“And you make for one hell of a ride, handsome.” You purred, stroking his cheek.

You pulled yourself off of him and he looked down, his and your cum had completely stained the front of his pants.

“Oh god, we’ve made a mess.” He said, putting his hand to his forehead.

You giggled at the sight of him.

“Don’t laugh, you’re wearing a skirt, you can get away with it.” He groaned.

“Sorry, I just like the idea of leaving you with a little reminder of myself.”

Ford took your hand.

“You really are amazing, sweetheart. No one has ever come close to feeling like you.” He whispered.

“Yeah? How would you like to do this again sometime?”

“R- really?” He asked.

“Oh without question.”

“Then by all means, feel free to stop by tomorrow. Perhaps you could let me see you sans clothes next time.”

“Good boy, sounds like a plan.” You said, leaning down to kiss him.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

A destiny encounter where unmasked Vessel (still sour and hurt by his past relationship) meet a nice person (younger but mature) at a music shop. Slowly they get close with each other and develop romantic feelings. When its time for them to confess their feelings, Vessel decided to tell his secret about who he is. Turns out his lover is a big fan of Sleep Token e Vessel have this big grin on his face while his significant other babble about how amazing his music is.

Bye~ and sorry 🫠🫢

Healing hearts

Vessel had decided that was it. No more. No more relationships. No more commitment. He wasn’t gonna ever open himself up. He was too damaged. Too hurt. Too scared of ever giving any piece of himself to anyone else again. But life worked in funny ways. When he first met you he thought nothing of it. He had just come back from a tour. Tired and drained all he had wanted was to come back to his usual routines. One of them was visiting random music shops, shit that has opened while they had been away.

Vessel rarely paid others peace of mind. He didn’t want to be approached so equally he didn’t want others to think he was all up in their space. But his eyes instantly found you. As if by a pull from the moment he stepped into a store. He wasn’t sure what drew him in. From a first glance, you looked like every other girl. Big fluffy scarf. Hair pulled up in a messy bun. Concentrated on digging through the vinyl records.

“Wouldn’t buy them here if I was you”, for a moment Vessel was almost confused himself that he had said anything at all. Until your head turned to him. “Sorry?”, you quickly reached for your airpods pulling them out. And it’s when your eyes hit him that Vessel realized how truly mesmerizing you were. His mouth closed and fell open a couple of times before he reached out for the shelf. “The records are overpriced here”, he repeated, clearing his throat. “Oh, I… thank you?! I was just…”, you stuttered, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m new to the area”. Vessel nodded quickly, “There’s a spot just down the corner. Same stuff half the price”. A slight smile softened your face even more, “Thank you, I’ve been missing music in my apartment”.

“A musician?”, Vessel asked making you quickly shake your head, “Just an enthusiast”, you chuckled, “Y/n by the way”. And here it is the moment that usually has him running for the hills. Because from this point you would no longer be strangers. “Vess”, he extended his much bigger palm to you. “Tea?”, you asked, “For saving my wallet for unnecessary purchases”, you chuckled and Vessel couldn’t help but smile himself, “Wouldn’t this be an unnecessary purchase?”, “Nope, feels like an investment”, you shrugged. A feeling Vessel hasn’t felt in a while sparks deep within as he let himself watch you for a minute. Something deep urging him to try this one more time, “Sure”, he mused, “Lead the way”.

[fresh-new-yoik-watah]

Fault Lines

CHAPTER ONE

a/n: oops, the need to consume more arcane led to this

pairing: Viktor x OC

warnings: none!

word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

——————————

Had Viktor known partnering with Jayce Talis six years ago meant he came with a pet, he might have let Jayce succumb to the catastrophic consequences of his explosive (revolutionary) theory, absolving himself of what often felt like a second, unintended partnership. Well, Rosie wasn’t a pet, per say, indeed very much human. Piltover’s Golden Girl, but still human. He would not have minded Jayce’s leech so much, or was Jayce her leech, the lines blurred, if she did not make her presence so noticeable. It seemed she had been crafted by the gods with the sole purpose of getting on his nerves, a distraction. Jayce adored her, enjoyed the chaos, enjoyed the humming. That faint, lilting melody with no discernable tune, infuriatingly persistent. It managed to weave itself into the rhythm of Viktor’s thoughts, like water seeping through a crack. No matter how he tried to drown it out, how loud his tools were, it persisted, an uninvited guest.

He’s unsure what compelled him to believe today might’ve been different. She had been admittedly quiet for a much longer period than usual, so perhaps it was false hope, toying with his desperation for silence he had not had in a long time, hanging in front of him, just high enough where he could not reach. He should have known better.

It barely rose above the drill in his hand, blending into the mechanical whirr as he worked on the metal arm atop his desk, but when he released the trigger and the tool fell silent, the sound continued. A hum. His head snapped up, golden eyes narrowing at the woman at the opposite end of the room that sat perched like some contented cat on a stool too high for comfort. Rosie’s face was hidden behind a book, its cover emblazoned with the title in bold, elegant script: Flourish Without Air: The Science of Oxygen-Free Plant Growth. An odd choice for her, Viktor thought, and turned his focus back to his tinkering, trying to block her out.

The door that led to the Academy hallway burst open with a thud, and he did not have to look up from his work to know who it was.

“Late,” Viktor said, the single word holding the weight of a reprimand. He didn’t turn around, didn’t need to.

“I know, I know,” Jayce replied, his voice carrying its usual blend of warmth and exasperation. “Save me the lecture.”

The humming stopped. “Lost track of time?” Rosie chimed in, maddingly chipper. “Got too invested in the art?” Her final word was emphasized just enough to imply a hidden meaning, some private joke between them.

Jayce groaned audibly. “I’ve told you, I’m not interested in art.”

“Sure, you aren’t.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, finally looking up from the metal arm he had been tinkering on. “Art?” he repeated, his gaze flicking between the two of them with muted interest.

“It’s nothing,” Jayce said, a little too quickly, his words tumbling over themselves in his eagerness to shut down the topic. He was halfway across the room now, making a beeline for Viktor’s area of the long desk that lined the back wall of the lab.

Viktor didn’t miss the way Jayce’s jaw tightened, the way his brow furrowed as he sent an irritated look in Rosie’s direction, who was still seated on a stool. She, unfazed, mouthed something silently back at him, her smug, delighted expression barely hidden behind her book. Viktor didn’t catch the words, but honestly, he didn’t care to, finding the exchange to be immature.

Jayce caught Viktor’s unamused stare, and his brow smoothed into an overly bright expression. “Oh! There’s a surprise for you,” he said, turning toward Rosie with a grin that was just a little too wide, a little too practiced.

Her head tilted slightly, a few ginger strands of hair fell over her shoulder as curiosity flickered across her face. She straightened up, closing the book she’d been engrossed in and set it aside. “Surprise?” she echoed, her voice intrigued, though edged with slight skepticism. Her tone said she’d heard this before, likely more than once. She folded her arms loosely, casualness that didn’t quite mask her piqued attention.

Ah, the surprise. Viktor resisted the urge to sigh as he turned his focus back to his ‘hexclaw’, picking up a screwdriver. He’d heard about it too many times already, Jayce had been mulling over the idea since the beginning of the year. “A gift,” he had explained, despite Viktor never asking for elaboration, a token of appreciation for everything she had contributed financially for their work over the years.

Viktor found Jayce’s gift idea baffling then and found it no less baffling now, and perhaps even a bit misplaced. There were many others with brilliant minds who lacked opportunity, forever hidden in the shadows of the elite, those perhaps a little more deserving, those who were not already provided for. That wasn’t to say Rosie was undeserving or unintelligent—far from it; he’d made that mistake early on, assuming her mind and wit were limited to social arenas and her artistic pursuits, he quickly realized how incredibly incorrect he had been. It came in slips—a casual comment here, a nonchalant observation there. She’d interrupt to answer complex equations about rune calibrations as though she were reciting the day’s weather of sunny skies with no chance of rain. He first thought she was guessing, but she had yet to be wrong. The first time might have been luck, the second, coincidence. Third and fourth? Practically impossible. And yet, despite her undeniable aptitude, she never expressed any extreme interest in a scientific niche.

But Rosie was Jayce’s “dear friend”, and this was Jayce’s gift, it wasn’t Viktor’s place to question, and frankly, he did not care enough to argue. And if it meant she would be out of the lab for a while—taking her infernal humming with her—he wouldn’t complain too much.

“What is it?” Rosie asked.

“It would not be a surprise if he told you,” Viktor interjected without glancing up, his voice flat, carrying the faintest edge of dry amusement.

Jayce rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Viktor’s lack of enthusiasm. “It’s a gift. From us,” he said, turning back to her with a wide grin.

Us.

Viktor’s hand briefly froze over the Hexclaw. It was not from them, this was a Jayce initiative, through and through. Viktor hadn’t contributed to it, hadn’t suggested it, hadn’t even particularly supported the idea. And there was Jayce, dragging his name into it, as though he had been some eager participant.

His grip on the screwdriver tightened. He had long since grown accustomed to Jayce’s habit of roping him into things he wanted no part of, but he didn’t understand Jayce’s incessant need to build a bridge between him and Rosie over the years, constantly, in the minutiae of their daily lives. She liked her coffee with honey, and Viktor knew this only because Jayce always handed him the honey packet to pass to her, insisting it was easier that way. It wasn’t, it wasn’t easier for Viktor to intercept and awkwardly hand it off. He eventually started bringing the packets himself to save Jayce the trouble of manufacturing another pointless connection between them.

”You’ll see it tonight,” Jayce said, still grinning, either oblivious or simply ignoring Viktor’s irritation.

“Viki, do you wager he’ll tell me before then?”

That name. It was a particular source of agitation for him. Since the day Jayce had introduced them, Rosie latched onto it immediately, as if they were friends that had known each for years before.

He had never corrected her though, not once.

She was prone to outbursts more than he, saying something would have only invited unnecessary confrontation, and Viktor didn’t find it worth the energy. Still, the nickname wasn’t any less annoying in his silence. It grated on him, chipping away at his patience each time it fell from her lips.

“I doubt it,” he replied, his voice steady and disinterested. He decided he would in fact be very glad she would be leaving their lab for good, gone somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t there.

“Shame,” Rosie said, her tone light. “I guess I won’t be finding out what it is today then.”

Jayce’s brows drew together in sudden realization. “Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his freshly cut hair. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot about your rehearsals.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “You’re alright, Jayce,” she said, her voice warm. “I know you’ve got a lot going on here,” she gestured broadly to the lab, “and up there.” She punctuated her words with a playful flick to the side of his head as she walked past him.

Jayce huffed a small laugh as he shook his head. She made her way across the room to where her bag lay haphazardly against the wall. There was a faint rustle of paper as she tucked her book into her bag.

Viktor presumed it was about a gala, but didn't dwell. Rosie’s career was a subject that rarely concerned him. What mattered was she’d be leaving soon for the day, and he could feel the tension in his shoulders ease at the thought.

The small screw Viktor had been adjusting gave more resistance than it should’ve, and with a bit too much force from tightening, seized up. He quickly twisted the tool in his hand back, attempting to loosen the screw, but he could feel the lack of grip against the stripped threading. It was ruined, unusable and unsalvageable. He instinctively reached for a small tin box to his left, his hand brushing against the cool metal lid before flipping it open.

Empty.

His fingers hovered for a moment over the hollow interior before he glanced over. He’d used all the screws. His lips pressed into a thin line as he closed the lid with a sharp snap.

Viktor grabbed his cane from beside his chair and pushed himself up, crossing the room to the cluttered corner Jayce had claimed as his workstation.

Jayce paused mid conversation with Rosie when he glanced over and saw Viktor rifling through the mess. “What’re you looking for?” He asked, stepping toward him, his tone curious.

“Screws,” Viktor replied without looking up, voice flat. He shifted a few loose bolts and a cracked lense aside. “Unless you’ve moved them again.”

Jayce reached down to shuffle through a stack of papers on his desk. Beneath the clutter, he pulled out his own tin box, popping the lid open with a flick of his thumb.

Also empty.

“Guess we’re out,” Jayce said.

Viktor gave a long sigh. Of course. Just his luck. He could place an order for more through the Academy, but with the amount of middle men it would have to pass through, delivery would take days, and he didn’t have that kind of time to allow his project to sit idly for. That left him with one option.

He moved back toward his corner of the lab, retrieving his coat from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. “Ensure Miss Young locks the lab if I’m not back before you leave,” He said over his shoulder, addressing Jayce.

“Where are you going?” Rosie asked as he walked toward the door.

“Screws,” he replied curtly, tone clipped and devoid of elaboration.

“Well, goodbye to you too, Viki,” she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Viktor didn’t pause, didn’t look back, didn’t dignify her comment with a response. He grabbed the handle, twisted it and pulled the door open toward him, stepping into the hallway, leaving the lab and its occupants behind.

He hadn’t intended to take as long as he did. By the time Viktor had begun retracing his steps the sun was already gone, dipped far below the horizon. The store had been decently far to begin with, nestled along the cliffside edge of Piltover, but Viktor’s practicality still sometimes gave way to habit, and he had found himself taking a detour after the shop, adding what he hadn’t realized then to be hours to his time away.

He had found the spot as a child, and it was one of the few things that stuck with him through the years. He liked to go there when the weight of his work pressed too heavily, when he needed inspiration or shift in perspective, and just linger. The air there was cooler, it carried a scent of damp iron from the pipes of the city’s waterworks. It was secluded, just for him. His sanctuary of steel.

Viktor had set his own deadline to finish the hexclaw by Progress Day, and despite still being months away, he could feel it ticking closer with each passing day. It wasn’t essential to his and Jayce’s presentation to the council, ancillary at best, another tool in the arsenal of what Hextech could achieve, but he still wanted it to work, to function as flawlessly as the vision in his mind. Perhaps it was a point of pride, or humanity, as much as he sought to rise above it, an urge to perfect, to show off. Not to seek validation, he was confident enough of his mind, there was simply a certain satisfaction that came with demonstrating the full breadth of what was possible, not only to enhance, but to transcend human limitation. But perhaps he might’ve been shooting too far beyond what was objectively possible in the moment, having to remind his ambitions he was still only in today.

Viktor passed the steel bridge that connected Piltover to its sister city on his walk back after his detour to the water treatment facility. A pair of enforcers could be seen lingering at the far end, the Undercity end. They stood stiffly in their navy and gold uniforms as they monitored the crossing, though there was little activity to surveil. Few people ventured between cities this late. Viktor’s attention drifted to the gleaming arches that marked the start of the bridge. A marvel of Piltover’s engenuity, a symbol of unity, they called it. To him, it was more illusion than truth. To him, the bridge merely emphasized their divide, a glittering, steel reminder of everything the Undercity lacked and Piltover hoarded.

He was ready to turn his focus back to his path ahead when he heard it—a hum. His steps slowed, the sound prickling at his ears in a way that set his teeth on edge. It was a familiar melody, one he couldn’t quite place, but it wasn’t the tune itself that agitated him, but the person behind it. His golden eyes scanned the empty stretch of the bridge, searching for the source.

He spotted Rosie sitting on one of the benches towards the center of the bridge, almost perfectly suspended between the two cities. Her red hair was unmistakable even in the dim light. She was hunched slightly forward with her elbows resting on her knees, her gaze distant as if she were looking at something in front of her that Viktor couldn’t see.

The hum continued, soft and unhurried, filling the otherwise quiet night.

He hadn’t intended to stop, hadn’t intended to linger, but now that he saw her, leaving without saying something felt as impossible as turning back toward the lap without the screws rattling in his coat. He hesitated for a moment before approaching her. The clink of his cane against the ground echoed softly with each of his uneven steps as he walked. Rosie’s hum trailed off as she noticed the sound, her head lifting up in mild surprise once she saw him.

“Viktor?” she said, her voice curious. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He stopped a few feet away. He realized she was still in her same clothes from earlier in the day, a fitted green shirt adorned with intricate gold stitching, with sleeves that stopped just above her elbows. It seemed ill-suited for the night’s chill.

“I might say the same,” he replied.

She gave a small smile, leaning back against the bench. “I’m here often,” she admitted. “I haven’t seen you yet, though.”

His gaze flicked briefly to the enforcers at the far end of the bridge, then back to her, weighing whether this conversation was worth engaging. Talking wasn’t what he’d come for.

“Are you not cold?” he asked instead, his tone carrying more observation rather than concern. He saw the way her body seemed to press into itself, her arms resting tightly against her sides, her shoulders hunched.

“Perhaps I misjudged the temperature,” she admitted, her voice airy, trying to play off her discomfort. She crossed her legs, pulling her arms in closer in a futile attempt to fend off the evening chill.

Viktor exhaled softly through his nose, a near-silent expression of mild exasperation. There were certain principles he could not—would not—abandon, ingrained into the marrow of his being as firmly as the constructs of his mind. Small things, perhaps insignificant to others, but immovable to him, and among them was a simple rule: no matter the circumstance, he would not stand idly by while another suffered discomfort that he himself could alleviate, and certainly not a woman freezing in the cold. It was his ethos, a tether to a part of himself that had not been worn away by ambition or cynicism.

His brown coat was well-worn, hardly a shield against Piltover’s winter nights, but it was layered over his vest, and his shirt’s sleeves extended far enough to cover his arms. He would endure; he always did.

Awkwardly, he shrugged off the coat, his cane wobbling when he let it go momentarily to free his hand to pull the coat fully from his shoulders. He held it out toward her, giving a faint nod.

Rosie’s brow arched as she took the offering, a flicker of amusement lighting her face. She slipped her arms into the fabric, adjusting it to sit comfortably over her frame. “Chivalrous much?” she teased.

Viktor’s expression remained neutral. “I have a code,” he replied, the words matter-of-fact.

She let out a quiet laugh as she tugged the coat tighter around herself. “I hope you don’t flirt like that,” she said, glancing sideways at him.

He shifted his weight against his cane as he readied himself to walk. “No,” he said, his gaze fixed forward, “it is merely how I conversate with you.”

Her laughter bubbled up again as she stood and fell into step beside him. Without further exchange, they began the walk back across the bridge toward Piltover. Neither felt the need to fill the silence, but Viktor knew it wouldn’t be for long, that she would speak again soon enough, filling the air with her observations, her quips, or whatever other thoughts happened to occupy her mind.

Rosie shook the coat gently, the faint clatter of tin boxes rattling within the pockets broke the quiet. She tilted her head, a grin tugging at her lips. “Your pockets are loud,” she said.

They approached one of Piltover’s green trolleys. “Unfortunate for me. Now you will be twice as loud,” he responded without missing a beat.

Rosie’s pale eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief, her grin morphing into mock offense. “What—hey!” she exclaimed, clutching the coat dramatically as though wounded.

He allowed himself the smaller flicker of satisfaction. Her reaction was gratifying enough to almost coax a smile from him, though he refrained. Silence descended between them again as they stepped into the trolley, the vehicle tilting faintly beneath their weight as it settled on its tracks, but this time the silence was different, lighter. He took a seat near the window, his cane resting at his side, while Rosie folded herself into the spot opposite of him.

Outside, Piltover passed in fleeting glimpses, the light from streetlamps flickering in and out as buildings interrupted their glow, creating moments of shadows interspersed with bursts of warm illumination. Rosie leaned back in her seat with an ease Viktor envied as the sound of the trolley wheels against their tracks filled the quiet.

Her voice cut through one of the darker moments. “It’s a vocal exercise,” she said, her words seemingly plucked from nowhere.

Viktor glanced at her, confused.

“The humming,” she continued, her gaze focused somewhere out the window. “I do it when I’m nervous too.”

He didn’t respond. Words hovered on the edge of his mind, but none took shape. What would he even say? It struck him then how little he knew of how to actually talk to her. He had spent years observing her the way he did with anyone in his orbit: Jayce, Skye, Heimerdinger, the occasional Academy scholar who crossed his path, she was no exception. He had learned her patterns, noted her tendencies. The way her voice got higher when she was about to offer a barb or a joke. Her legs always crossed when she sat in the lab, her foot even twining around the other calf and shin. She always wore shoes with a squared front, giving them the illusion of something weighty and clunky. And yet for all that, she was still… indecipherable.

Was this an invitation to talk? A moment offered for him to connect? Or was it simply an explanation, overdue and brought forth by his earlier comment about her being “loud”? Had he struck a nerve, made her feel she needed to defend herself?

The trolley slowed with a faint screech of metal on metal, easing to a stop. Viktor blinked, barely registering the movement across from him as Rosie stood up from her seat. She probably said something—a farewell, a “goodnight,” maybe—but her words barely reached him, muffled as if they were spoken from the other end of a long corridor. He gave her a tight-lipped nod, a vague acknowledgement of her departure before she stepped off and vanished into the night.

The trolley lurched forward again, the wheels humming as it resumed its path. Viktor leaned back, letting the sway of the carriage pull him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t until he glanced down at his grey sleeve cuffed above his wrist that he realized Rosie still had his coat.

And his screws.

His lips pressed into a thin line, though whether it was from annoyance or resignation, he couldn’t quite tell.

Progress, it seemed, would have to wait for morning.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Giving Thanks

steddie, omegaverse, family dinner, treat for best behavior 😈, mdni 🔞

Eddie loves his boyfriend. He loves him. He loves Steve so much. But he has to keep reminding himself of that fact while he’s at the Harrington’s for Thanksgiving.

They’ve been dating since the fall of Steve’s junior year, and Eddie has met Steve’s mom a handful of times, she’s nice if a bit oblivious. But his dad has been out of town on business every time Eddie’s come over for dinner, so he’s successfully sweated through his first iron-gripped handshake from Richard Harrington today. Now he just needs to survive being in a room full of Reagan Republicans without jumping on a table and calling them fascists.

Steve can clearly see that Eddie is about to lose it as his Uncle Charles drones on about the stock market and returns on his investments at one end of the room, and his Aunt Maureen praises Nancy Reagan’s crusade against drugs and music with explicit lyrics at the other. He squeezes Eddie’s hand and whispers in his ear, “Babe, let’s go get some air,” before making their excuses to his Grandpa Otis and dragging Eddie to the ensuite for the first floor guest room, locking the door behind them.

“Thank you for telling your mom that Wayne picked up a shift today so he didn’t have to be here, too,” Eddie mumbles, hiding his face against Steve’s neck.

“You’re doing so fucking good, Eddie. I’m sorry they’re all like this.” Steve slides his fingers into Eddie’s hair and scratches at his scalp.

“Your grandpa’s pretty cool, kinda racist, but…”

“I know. But we just need to make it through another couple hours, and then you get to unwrap your present.” He guides Eddie’s lips to his, kissing him softly. “But I think you deserve a little peek now,” Steve adds with a wink as he lets go and steps back.

Reaching down, Steve grips the hem of his sweater and raises it to his collarbones, showing off the delicate bralette he put on that morning. His dusky nipples show through the lace, and Eddie stares. He’s seen Steve naked plenty, but this lingerie set is new to him, and the bralette frames his tits so well. “So beautiful, Baby,” Eddie murmurs, stepping in to grip Steve’s side, his thumbs rubbing over his nipples as he bends down to place a kiss in the shallow valley between Steve’s breasts.

Steve chuckles and pets Eddie’s hair. “Do you think that’s enough to get you through dinner?” he asks.

“No,” Eddie whines, pinching one of Steve’s nipples.

“Puppy…” Steve warns around a moan.

Eddie brings a hand down to hold Steve’s waist, grinding their hips together. “Want you, Stevie. Please,” he gasps against Steve’s ear.

“We cannot have sex in this bathroom, my mom would lose her shit.”

“I can’t believe she thinks we haven’t had sex yet.”

“That’s the only reason she’s let you into the house. My mom’s a big believer that omegas shouldn’t put out until they’ve got a rock on their finger.”

“Yet she pays for your birth control.”

“I’ve got an irregular cycle!” Steve hisses, swatting at Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie grins, hips moving as he whispers, “We both know that’s not true, Baby. You just like the feeling of me coming inside you.”

“Eddie…” Steve whines, forcing his sweater back down. “Just a couple more hours, and we get to go have pie with Wayne. Then you get to see my matching panties.”

That’s finally enough to get Eddie to agree to return to the gathering. He’s good for the rest of the afternoon, except for when Uncle Gene goes off on a rant about unions and Eddie practically shouts, “MY UNCLE IS A UNION STEWARD!” It honestly makes it easier for Steve to say they’ll take dessert to go.

Wayne has the game on when the boys arrive with an entire pecan pie. They all put up their feet as they eat massive pieces of pie and Steve and Wayne talk about football; Eddie’s focus is entirely on sneaking his hands under Steve’s sweater to toy with his bra strap.

Just as the news starts, Wayne slaps his knees and says, “Well-p, I’ve got a card game to get to, you boys don’t get up to too much trouble while I’m gone.��

Steve smiles and wishes Wayne good luck. Eddie hides his face in Steve’s hair and mumbles, “Bye, Wayne!” He drags Steve to his bedroom as soon as the door is closed behind his Uncle.

Quirking an eyebrow, Steve pulls his sweater up over his head, once again revealing white lace. He doesn’t have time to do anything else as Eddie practically tackles him and fits his mouth over Steve’s nipple, mouthing wetly through the fabric. “Oh, fuck,” Steve moans, fingers tangling in Eddie’s curls, holding him in place.

Eddie bites once, pleased to see how much darker that nipple is now than its twin, pulling back and reaching for Steve’s belt. He undoes Steve’s fly, pushing his dress slacks down to pool at his ankles, fingers catching on the open-lacing at the back of his panties. “Oh, Stevie,” Eddie purrs, “Give us a twirl.”

Steve grins, completely aware of how much this is effecting his alpha, and slowly turns to show off his underthings from every angle.

After, Eddie tears off his own sweater and dark jeans, and pounces, pinning Steve to his bed. “Fuck, Baby,” he breathes, “I ever tell you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

“Only every damn day,” Steve answers, pulling Eddie down for a kiss. Eddie’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, too.

[seven-thewanderer]

Okay I’ve been trying to draw this for who-knows-how-long, but I just kept forgetting I was drawing it while drawing it, and doing something else instead

But I finally doodled some lil design imaginations of Sun and Moon…

…from MASM ooh betcha didn’t see that coming it’s neither canon FNAF or SAMS

Firstly, Sun

I kinda imagine his body’s more like… a hard doll? Idk like wooden maybe? But he’s still an animatronic that’s just how his outer casing feels. He also kind of has retractable hands, so he can swap em out for different things, which I doodled some examples on the side (normal hands, feather dusters, lil grabby claw, vacuum - which the vacuum empties from his chest)

There wasn’t much I had for Sun (at least that I remember) cus I kept getting distracted the most while drawing him

Then there’s Moon

I imagine he has more of a plush feel to his body (since Moons are typically started off as the Naptime attendant on these kind of things) so his face and hands are more plushy

(So I imagine when he does his tech stuff, he has to wear tough gloves so he doesn’t tear the fabric of his hand)

(Also still animatronic, just a plush outer casing) (it’s like how I imagine Lefty’s body to be on EAPS but we’re not talking about the Security Breach Shows rn)

(Also mid-typing I decided it’d be better to imagine Moon with one of those tough… porcelyn? Faces, while the rest of him’s a plushy material)

Also, both of them have glowy forearms & waist & wrist ribbons

also, funny thing: I don’t watch MASM.

I already watch SAMS, LAES, and EAPS, and I don’t know if I could mentally handle the mentality of having to watch all of 4 daily shows instead of 3

So I only occasionally glance at MASM, and I’m slightly invested in Moon’s interest in Sun. (you got this lil gay boy, but dang are you so bad at it XD)

And also I’m pretty sure the thing that made me go back to checking on their channel was when this artist I’m subscribed to was doing voice claims for their characters of their SAMS x Dandy’s World AU, and Moon’s voice claim was the Moon from MASM, and the line of him saying “I’m gonna go bake more cookies!” In what sounded like a near-sob tone was so cute for me from the last time I had heard that Moon, so I was like “I need to know what’s going on here” XD

But yeyeye I’m just gonna leave this here

[dottedwaves]

I’m about 50hrs in and so far there’s been one big decision. And people are using it as an example of having to make hard choices/dark things happening. But it’s just… not. Because the same bad thing happens either way - you’re just choosing who it happens to. You aren’t even doing anything bad to anyone, it’s just who are you not doing something good to.

And it’s not like Mage v Templar where you’re choosing between a historically oppressed group vs whatever the Templar argument was supposed to be. It’s literally just Option A or Option B. Even if your background should leave you invested in one group or another, it doesn’t because of other writing flaws. And you don’t really spend enough time with the groups to get invested in both.

And maybe I have soup for brains, but I can’t think of a single other decision I’ve had to make. In the earlier games I was constantly deciding if a blood mage should go free or a dwarf should leave their home and family or who should lead an army or kingdom. And those decisions had consequences.

And now in dialogue I’m just getting little pop ups that say “He’ll remember you said that/He remembered you said that” and then it not actually meaning anything to the rest of the conversation, let alone the world.

The skeptic in me thinks the only reason is that having decisions that matter means you need more branches in your gameplay. And those are expensive, so best to having nothing actually effect the single plot line you’ve written for.

i remember a common criticism of dragon age (inquisition especially, but maybe it sticks out more to me because it was the first da game i played on release) was that in an attempt to portray moral ambiguity/shades of gray, they ended up losing historical context and nuance, often portraying groups or issues as equally bad (like "the mages and templars are equally bad")

it feels like some at bioware/EA (writers? execs? other devs???) took the wrong lesson from those critiques - rather than improve upon their portrayal of moral ambiguity, they just...largely removed it

[rainia]

why would I obsess over a goddamn dnd podcast that goes on perpetual hiatus with no sign of return dudeeee I should never have trusted those white boys

[cheekblush]

it honestly baffles me how immature and vile some people can be

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[romance-incubomp3]

aghhhh:(

[mycological-mariner]

My mother watched a documentary about the Endurance expedition and she’s already an angry woman but she was just straight up throwing curses and things at the screen

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

I ran this morning AND wrote some AND made art and I’m so proud of me

[glittertimes]

My problem is that there is a very jaded smart part of me that isn’t surprised when ppl are awful and shitty this part of me fights back whenever I’m hurt.

But there’s also the naive caring part of me that just wants community and connection and I still don’t know how to be both at once so I can stand up for my boundaries but still be caring and understanding.

[fingertipsmp3]

Someone on a NaNoWriMo prep thread: if you’re trying to win NaNo for the first time my advice is to pick the simplest idea

Me: yep, that seems smart. I’ll do that

Also me: *walks away from my first brainstorming session needing to research the golden age of piracy, the composition of the UK in the mid 17th century, the British navy in the mid 17th century, and the overall concept of a time loop*

[seilon]

jesus christ I feel like shit

[acotars]

(I have no idea if this will make sense—sorry I’ve had some wine this evening and so I’m rambling)

I think this is a “popular” opinion but not widespread—people need to understand that there is so much nuance to reading. Obviously there’s the “you can like things I don’t like” and vice versa, but also in HOW people enjoy things. Like take Fourth Wing (I know I know), but while I also agree with a lot of the complaints, I still was just like “that was a fun time, I totally ignored all the sex scenes bc I hate how they were written, but I was vibing the whole time.” And I feel like some people would still respond to my opinion like “okay but it was so horrible how did you even enjoy it at all??? Lame”

Like okay Betty, I love high fantasy as much as you, but sometimes I want something that just fucks, okay?

(and not to say you aren’t allowed to not like things, but there seems to be a fine line between “hey! I didn’t like this but that’s okay” and “I hated this and I CANNOT comprehend why ANYONE could find even an inkling of fun from this + I’m going to subtly implicate that I think people who like this are stupid”) (obviously not for books that are objectively hurtful or offensive)

And of course you can go so many different ways than just that example, but it’s a mix of gate-keeping, prejudice, lack of empathy, and a bit of a superiority complex that makes it so hard for the reading community to really be united.