#the anime is fucking incredible with some moments. others not so much

[kookoofufu]

Not to be a manga-only pretentious dweeb but every time I see one piece fans talk about terrible pacing or being annoyed by a beloved character I start vibrating in my chair frothing at the mouth shaking uncontrollably bleeding from my eyes bleating like a goat read the manga please just read the manga the issues you have with one piece are with toei animation please pick up a book PLEASEJUSTREADTHEFUCKINGMANGA

[bayofwolves]

Yeah I am mad about how the authors treated their sweet angel Abeke actually.

Bad things that happened to Abeke:

Mom, only person to understand her, died pre-series

Dad and sister are emotionally abusive

Tricked by her enemies and roped onto the wrong side

Distrusted by the rest of the Four and believed to be a spy

Targeted by Meilin in particular

Kidnapped by obnoxious pre-teen boys

Gets frostbite

Gets concussed

Gets stabbed

Gets captured

Gets beaten up by Meilin

Lied to and betrayed by her dearest friend

Meanwhile dad DISOWNS her

Understandable depressive episode

Makes up with dad because he apparently decided he wanted to keep treating his daughter like shit

Mauled by cougars

Loses Uraza to arch-nemesis Zerif

Another extremely understandable depressive episode

Nicknamed "hollow-girl" which tells you a lot

Almost killed by Uraza on two separate occasions

Friend* killed by Uraza

Denied proper resolution with said friend

Doesn't get to kill arch-nemesis Zerif

Doesn't get to use her Rain Dancer powers a single time

Attacked by ants

Mid bond token

Can't even keep her cat

Justice for Abeke.

[tariah23]

Well, I’m still glad that Gojo was always a character who was growing and learning at least. He’s literally one of my favorite characters of all time now. Like, he’s never been as perfect as how the fans would make him out to be despite canonically being viewed as an absolute nuisance to everyone around him (I don’t think his peers necessarily hate him but a lot of them probably hate to see him coming and the ones who’ve dealt with him long enough to consider him a friend, tolerate him and groan whenever he opens his mouth, too 😭… out of love. He’s extremely childish so there is only sm the other adults around him can take and to an extent, his students. I think the only characters in canon who adore him and their eye’s sparkle whenever he’s around, and being a silly teacher was Yuuji and Miwa (she asked him for his autograph (he’s the most famous sorcerer in the jjk world) and when she was alone, she did a little dance in the empty hallway 🥺…) from what we’ve seen even though the others still care about him, too. They just find him rather annoying, which he most definitely is. And he does it on purpose. He plays too much.)

[erinaeris]

Laios Touden and the Responsibility of Power

First off, let me gush just a bit about how fucking STRONK this man is. Olympic weightlifters are dying of sheer envy and lust over this man. He is a FUCKING POWERHOUSE.

My favorite panels ever, and judging by the cropping of the second photo, Tumblr agrees.

AHEM, where was I?

Ah yes. He's not just strong and incredibly hot, my man is literally an invasive species in this dungeon. He knows every single weak spot of every monster Thistle tried to throw at him and when he finds it he just fucking RAMS HIMSELF AT THEM AND TAKES THEM DOWN.

And when he's a dwarf HE LITERALLY BENDS STEEL.

"Beat Namari at arm wrestling"? My boy, she wouldn't let you anywhere near because you'd FUCKING BREAK HER HER HAND ALONG WITH THE TABLE. (It's such a fucking shame we didn't see Senshi at least raising an (perfectly plucked except it just grows that way naturally) eyebrow in the background when he sees this. Alas, he was too distracted by his hair.)

But I mentioned responsibility, didn't I? Strength is power in the dungeon, and we all knows what comes with great power. And Laios is, in fact, very responsible with that power!

(Futther examples under the cut, wee bit spoilers for anime watchers)

This scene lives rent-free in my head forever, because of two things: Thistle suddenly realizing just what the hell he's up against,

And Laios breaking Thistle's arm.

Now, I think Laios didn't mean to actually break his arm here, he's just half-blind and dizzy and knows he has to restrain Thistle or it will all go to shit. So that's what he does. The move you see above is a restraining hold. The point is that the person pinned down can't struggle much because the position of the arm presses the suprascapular nerve, so it hurts a lot, but unless they're held that way for too long they'll be fine.

But Thistle is TINY and elves are generally fine-boned. I think Laios really did just underestimate his strength.

And the moment the dragons aren't an IMMEDIATE THREAT anymore?

Laios heals him. Thistle's a better mage than him by miles, he could have done it himself. But no. Laios does it. He was too rough, too careless with his strength, and he immediately backtracked, fixed what he broke, and continued with more mindfullness.

And these are just the examples that stuck in my mind the most. And it happens often enough that the team isn't even fucking surprised! Laios' strength would 100% scare people who only saw him in a barfight and didn't know anything else about him. Hell, the other adventurers they meet fucking quiver before this guy who just took down a monster they had nightmares about in one blow, up until he opens his mouth and they relax. You put more malevolent software in that sort of hardware and he'd be the next Shadow Governor.

But Laios is Laios. He's a gentle soul at heart (a Great Pyrenese, specifically, the gentlest souls ever unless you're out for their flock) and he is VERY CAREFUL with his strength, ESPECIALLY around his team. Chilchuck, who is literally half his size and underfed to boot, can smack Laios as much as he wants with ZERO fear because Laios is aware he can hurt Chilchuck by literally tripping over him, so he just stays still and lets Chilchuck smack at him. I'd be surprised if he ever managed to leave a bruise. Chilchuck has to aim at Laios' weak spot (back of the knee here) just to get Laios to notice him!

But because I have some experience with marital arts and close combat, I think the fight with Shuro exemplifies my point so fucking well! Laios is HURT here, he's living every autistic person's worst nightmare.

And he HOLDS BACK. His restraint is fucking IMMACULATE.

Shuro is fucking lucky Laios still liked him when he started talking shit, because he would have broken his spine otherwise. Laios doesn't even take the fight seriously! He starts with a fucking SLAP.

Shuro retaliates with an actual punch (that does nothing but piss him off)

Laios wobbles. Shuro HITS THE DIRT.

And this is the part where he realizes just how outside his weight category he is. Shuro definitely has technique on his side, but that means jackshit when you need ten blows to to even bruise your opponent, but one hit from them will leave you drinking through a straw for a week. For a second there, Shuro thought he was in ACTUAL DANGER.

But instead of finishing the job, Laios tries to talk him down, which just sets him off again. Man was at his fucking LIMIT, and it snapped. Self-preservation who?

And the best part is? Shuro is throwing all his strength behind his punches and Laios just takes them, but Laios? He mostly pushed Shuro around!

They're mostly grappling here, precisely because Laios is very conscious his friend is pretty fragile right now.

And when he does have enough?

Shuro is flat on the ground again, and Laios has a black eye and a bloody nose. He sits down and five minutes later he's ready to go! Like yes, Shuro was at a low point here, but he's been mowing through monsters at only a bit slower pace than Laios' party. He's no weakling regardless. And Laios had to HOLD BACK SO HE WOULDN'T HURT HIM. And it's so obvious that Maizuru takes one look at the two of them and leaves them to their toussling.

When I saw her reaction I had to scroll back and take another look, because I was sure she would intervene! But she doesn't! She is aware of Laios' strength, she has to be, and she doesn't lift a finger to help her precious charge. She knows the big dog he's wrestling with knows to watch his strength.

And that's my whole point: my boi is STRONK AF! And he is very aware of his strength, and how he could hurt the people around him is he wasn't careful, so he is ALWAYS CAREFUL. He has deeply internalized the fact that to have strength is to be careful with it, to use it in service of people rather than to hurt them (possibly from his dad). He is going to SUCH a good king! He's not going to like the job but by GOD he will do it really well.

And I will give my right arm to see a fic about the first corrupt lord/governor/courtier who attempts to misuse their authority for their own gain. Kabru's gonna have to talk Laios out of an execution.

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (1/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, memories of murders of both humans and animals, descriptions of violence + a lot of sadness ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

Yes, Ewan's recent photoshoot inspired me to return to the vampire theme, this time in a modern version. I liked my idea for the character and their dynamic so much that it won't be a oneshot, but a mini-series! The general idea is that vampires in my world no longer produce their own blood, so they must drink the blood of others: however, once it enters their veins, the blood they drink takes on their own taste and smell, which attracts victims like a lure.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The night was cool and crisp, the sharp air pleasantly filled his lungs. Even though he didn't actually need to, he breathed: it allowed him to remember that he was alive.

The centuries he had spent in perpetual, primitive thirst, starving himself, only to finally succumb again, wove together in his mind into chaos. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since his body had gone cold and no blood flowed through his veins.

Nor was it flowing through his heart, although he needed it.

That was why he had to eat.

He made frequent use of the blood that was stored in hospitals, as did others of his kind; nevertheless, to his disappointment and dismay, this was not enough for him.

No matter how many litres of blood he would drink from a plastic bag, he still felt a hunger that only passed when he sank his fangs into someone's neck.

He didn't understand why he couldn't stop himself – why, despite doing what he was supposed to do, he couldn't fool his nature.

At some point he just stopped trying.

He didn't kill, or at least he tried not to, however, his victims didn't show gratitude for his generosity – for fear that someone would recognise him, he kept changing his location, having several flats across the country.

Alys had told him about this town – she assured him that the police did not act too quickly here, and that it was easy and pleasant to eat in peace in the large, badly lit park. Indeed, when he arrived he found, walking the quiet streets at night, that the place had enough inhabitants to remain anonymous.

This was his chance.

Although he usually watched and followed his prey for long days, that night, as she passed him, he felt a hot, strange shiver and his heart, half-living, half-dead thumped harder in his chest. He turned behind her immediately and stopped, feeling a drop of cold sweat run down his back.

She was young.

Too young for his taste.

If he overreacted and lost control, she might not survive.

But she smelled so incredibly good.

He felt his fangs lengthen involuntarily, his jaw tense as he took a slow, heavy step behind her, into the depths of the park lit dimly by only a few night lanterns.

She was probably coming back from work from a night shift at some club or bar, because she had a rucksack slung over her shoulder – even though it was the beginning of winter, she was wearing only a jumper, scarf and trousers, her hair loose, their scent reaching his nostrils even though she was far ahead of him.

Fuck, I'm not going to make it, he thought, desperate, feeling his desire intensify for some reason – his senses sharpened and his hands clenched into fists as she turned into a dark side street, between the trees.

Now.

He found himself there within moments and froze, ready to attack, seeing the void in front of him – her scent was clear, but somehow she had vanished into thin air. He swallowed hard, biting his lower lip with some kind of feeling of regret and disappointment, looking around.

"Are you thirsty?" He heard a soft, calm voice behind himself and turned suddenly, feeling his heart leap to his throat with fear.

How could she be standing far behind him when she had just been in front of him?

What was that question supposed to mean?

He wanted to lunge at her, but hesitated as he saw her cock her head, pointing her hand back at her rucksack.

"I have a few bags full of blood in my backpack. I can give them to you if you need them. I have more at home." She continued, undaunted.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in disbelief when he noticed that, indeed, her face was pale, her hair unnaturally shiny and thick, her eyes sparkling with some disturbing gleam.

He was so thirsty that he did not notice that she resembled him.

She lowered her hand and blinked, seeing that he was still silent, looking at him with some kind of worry, as if he were a stray, hungry dog.

"What do you need?" She asked at last, and his gaze fled to her neck, to the blood of others that her heart had just pumped.

Blood that would have her own unique taste.

"Not here." She said, moving suddenly ahead, as if she had changed her mind. "Come with me."

He didn't know why, but he did as she said.

Usually it was the others who obeyed his orders, but now he didn't have the strength to stand up.

Perhaps he didn't even want to.

He was so terrified, intrigued and excited that he was breathing through his mouth.

It had been a long time since he had felt his own heartbeat so clearly.

He didn't know where she had got so much courage to let a stranger, much less a man like him, into her flat. To his surprise, it was cosy and colourful, full of flowers and plants, prints and posters, soft blankets and cushions in fancy patterns.

He stood in the middle of the corridor, not knowing what to do with himself, unable and unwilling now to just throw himself at her.

She pulled off her shoes and backpack, entering the living room without turning on the light, just as he seeing clearly in the dark – she sat down on the couch and held out her hand to him, a warm smile on her face that had a hint of comfort in it.

"Come here. It's okay. You've been brave." She said softly, as if praising a small child, her tone of voice filled with serenity and melacholy, as if she had known him for years.

He didn't know why he pulled off his shoes and coat, looking straight into her eyes, why, drawn by some unknown, mystical force, some strange warmth that filled his chest, he approached her.

He watched, breathing heavier and louder, as she lay on her back, still holding her hand outstretched towards him – he grasped her fingers uncertainly in his, thinking with some kind of tenderness that they were as cold as his own.

And yet, for some strange reason, though he was dead, it seemed as if life was still pulsing within her.

He was ashamed to admit to himself that he felt not only desire at the thought, but arousal as he lay down beside her, smelling her scent more and more clearly with every movement.

There was something intimate about the way she looked straight into his eyes without fear, the way her fingers combed slowly through his short hair, the way they were both silent for a moment, just breathing.

"– it's okay –" She repeated in a whisper, running her knuckles over his cheek, making him feel a squeeze in his throat for some reason.

He was moved.

When was the last time he'd been close to someone in this way?

He moved closer to her, feeling a wonderful shiver of excitement and anticipation run along his back as he leaned over her neck – his lips, swollen with desire, ran tentatively over her soft skin.

He heard her quiet sigh, her hands clenched on his body as he slid his slick tongue out, trailing the tip of it over the crook of her neck. He felt his erection pulsate, pushing against her thigh as he opened his mouth wider and his fangs slowly sank into the delicate structure of her flesh.

The fact that she was a stranger to him, unlike Alys, whom he had known for years, made him, for some reason, not dare to be aggressive – even though he could certainly hurt her if he wanted to, he decided to show his gratitude for her understanding and be polite.

There was something pleasurable about being able to focus only on the taste of her blood as it spilled over his palate – because of the way it circulated inside her body, it was warm, though not like that of a normal human being. He didn't mind, because it was a strangely refreshing taste, while at the same time providing him with a feeling of comfort – he thought the last time he felt like this was probably when he was an infant, drinking his mother's milk.

Safety.

He took one sip, then a second, and a third, one hand holding under her back, the other trailing slowly over the skin of her neck and jaw, for some reason wanting to feel her this way – her flesh grew warmer from the gentle rubbing of his fingers.

There was something in her blood that gave him the conviction of her kindness, and he was surprised by this discovery – he felt his heart begin to beat more slowly again, and his muscles, all sore a moment before, relaxed.

He wondered if she felt that he was completely hard.

When he pulled away from her, he closed his eyes and just nestled his face against her chest, tucking his head under her chin. He swallowed hard as she placed a soft, warm kiss on his hair, stroking reassuringly his cheek and back with her hand – he knew their closeness was just an imitation of what they both desired and needed, but he was too desperate to deny himself that.

He would never have asked for it out loud, but for some reason he craved what she offered him.

He wanted to hide.

He didn't need to sleep to survive, but he liked to rest that way, even more so when he was tired and relaxed. That girl, whoever she was, didn't try to escape his embrace, which gave him the feeling that she wouldn't do anything they both might regret.

When he woke up, he could see through the thick, bright curtains that the sun was already high in the sky – he murmured, snuggled with his face into her cheek, not having the strength or desire to move.

Now, in the light, he could look at her clearly.

She had been transformed when she was no more than twenty years old – of that he was certain. Her behaviour and appearance, in his mind, indicated that this sudden, frightening change in her life was recent: fifteen years ago at most, maybe less.

He swallowed quietly and stood up, deciding there was no point in prolonging it – the girl turned towards him and rubbed her eyelids, sleepily.

"Are you leaving already? Wait until sunset." She muttered.

He froze and cursed in his spirit, glancing at the window.

If it had been cloudy he would have survived somehow, but in full sun the burns was the least he could hope for.

She stood up, apparently seeing what he was thinking about, and moved lazily towards the kitchen, massaging the back of her neck.

There were no more marks from his bite, but her neck was all dirty with blood.

She reached for a plastic cup with a straw that looked like an old Coca-Cola packet and began to drink from it, slurping loudly. She raised an eyebrow when she saw that he was staring at her without saying a word.

"What? You made me thirsty." She explained, however, without a hint of resentment or regret, looking into her fridge, filled from top to bottom with plastic bags filled with blood.

"If you want, I can make blood tart or jelly. Or soup. So you won't be hungry again." She said, still continuing the activity of drinking through a straw from a plastic cup.

"What?" It popped out of his mouth, probably because he didn't understand what he had just heard.

"You know, food. I miss it sometimes. Mixing it with blood makes it nourishing, tasty and more interesting than blood itself. It's good with ice as a drink. I once put it in a soda maker to make bubbles inside, but the experiment failed." She said with a sincere sadness that made him just hide his face in his hands.

Was she serious?

"Sit down. I'll make us some jellies. Blood and raspberry. Yummy." She decided on her own, apparently completely not needing his opinion on the matter.

Indeed, he decided that he couldn't leave as long as the sun was shining so hard, so he sat down, watching in disbelief as she pulled out the gelatine, bowl, blood, raspberries and a few other things she apparently needed to create whatever she had in mind.

Looking at her with pity, he stated with a kind of melancholy that it had been a long time since he had watched a woman cook – the last time was when he had seen his mother as she was baking a cake, his favourite one: yeast with plums.

He felt a sting in his heart at the thought that he could still recreate the taste of it in his head.

"Do you live here? In this town, I mean." Her curious voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He looked at her, or rather at her back, watching as she stirred the steaming liquid in a small saucepan.

His thumb began to pick at the cuticles around his fingernails as his whole body screamed for him to do what was better for him, which was to lie.

"Yes. Since recently." He replied.

"Oh, I see – I've been living here for four years now. I'll probably have to move out soon. For now, they think my unchanging appearance is due to good genes." She said softly, pouring the contents of the saucepan into two ice cream goblets.

God, she really does make fucking blood jelly.

He blinked and looked at her, hearing the silence around them, recognising that he should answer something after all.

"Thank you. For yesterday. For your understanding." He said finally, his thumb digging into his skin too hard, creating a small, red wound along his fingernail.

Blood.

He saw her flinch and look over her shoulder – her eyes were big, as if she was surprised by something, her lips parted slightly, as if she felt arousal.

"– oh – do you want a plaster? –" She muttered, turning back – he noticed that her hands were shaking as she set the cups down in the fridge.

He lifted his finger to his lips and licked the bright red, sticky liquid from it.

"– no need –"

He saw her reach for her plastic cup, her eyes closed as she drew a few deep, greedy sips from the straw.

His manhood twitched in his trousers with delight at the thought that she craved his blood.

He swallowed hard when she came to him close enough that he could smell her clearly again – the psychological advantage he thought he had gained over her dissolved into thin air when he realised he wasn't driven by desperation then.

She smelled so good.

She tasted so good.

Maybe he could stay with her longer?

"Maybe we could be friends?" She asked.

He looked at her, feeling that his eyes were wide open in disbelief. Seeing that he had opened his mouth to answer something, she continued quickly, as if she feared she knew what he would answer.

"I have no one here. I don't trust myself enough to spend time alone with other people. I'm afraid of hurting them. But with you, I don't have to be afraid. You're new here too, so... I want you to know that you can count on me in times of need." She said quickly, stammering a few times, as if she was ashamed of her own words.

Was that why she had brought him to her home?

Because she was lonely?

"I don't know." He muttered, this time answering honestly.

"Okay. I just wanted you to know that the door to my house would be open for you."

After all, you don't know me completely, he thought.

You don't know if I didn't kill someone yesterday, if I won't hurt you, rob you, destroy your life out of boredom, for fun.

"How can you be so naive?"

He wasn't sure if he'd really said the question or if he'd only heard it in his head, but her expression told him that the words had left his mouth after all.

"You think so?" She muttered, heartbroken, as if his opinion meant something to her.

Why?

"I was thirsty and you allowed me to satisfy my hunger. You invited a strange man into your home. I could have raped you, I could have killed you. I still can." He snorted with a wide grin, looking at her in disbelief.

He saw her swallow hard, something moist shining in the corners of her big eyes.

"Maybe that's what I wanted. Maybe that's what I hoped for."

He felt a twinge in his stomach at her words, serious and filled with regret.

What were they really talking about now?

Was she hoping he would kill her?

"What do you mean?" He asked, running his fingers over the soft material that covered the armchair he was sitting on.

I can end your torment if you want me to and drink your blood to the last drop.

"I am alone. I can't talk to my parents or the friends I had before I…" She mumbled and drew in air loudly, apparently trying not to cry.

He was wrong.

It probably hadn't even been ten years since she'd been transformed.

How was it possible that she was doing so well?

Young vampires were usually feral and hungry, seeking pleasure in orgies full of blood. She, meanwhile, lived in her small flat like some kind of hermitage and worked as if nothing had happened.

That's why she cooked food, that's why she dressed the way she did, that's why she decorated her flat according to contemporary fashion.

She didn't want to let go of her old life.

"I'm sorry." He said and once again, he was honest. "In truth, I admire your self-control."

"I killed my dog. My best friend. A labrador with big, brown eyes." She mumbled out, fiddling with her fingers, whooping with the tears that began to run down her face one by one.

She had no one to tell about this, so she treated meeting him like a confession.

"I see. Then you ran away from home?" He asked calmly, for some reason feeling towards her words nothing but understanding.

His father's numb body lying on the floor beneath him, his loud panting when he finally regained his composure – he could see perfectly his lifeless eyes open in horror, his mouth spread wide, his throat ripped apart as if it had been torn by an animal.

He loved him, but he never noticed him.

He showed him no support when his eye was taken away, instead comforting his daughter from his first marriage.

Why was it always her and never him?

"Yes." She muttered wearily, her breathing deep and laboured, full of suffering.

"Do they know what happened to you? Where are you now?" He asked further, and she shook her head.

"Good. You did the right thing." He stated.

He raised his hands slightly in the air, surprised, as she sat on his lap and snuggled into him, embracing him around the waist.

She was sobbing like a little child, and in a way she probably was one – torn away from her family and what was familiar to her, she was wandering around the world alone and aimless, filled only with longing and grief.

He struggled to accept the thought that he understood her all too well.

He shuddered when he felt her warm, heavy breath on his neck – his hand ran over her back reassuringly, giving her wordless permission to take what she needed.

Comfort.

He'd only let Alys drink his blood so far, but for some reason he couldn't and didn't want to refuse her – he closed his eyes and sighed, tilting his head back as he felt her fangs slowly dig into his skin with surprising gentleness.

He heard something that sounded to him like a grunt of pleasure when she swallowed a loud gulp of his blood – his lips parted as her hips rolled forward, brushing it against his half-hard erection.

His fingers clenched on her flesh as he involuntarily reciprocated the movement, reaching out to meet her – they both began to breathe louder, as if surprised that they were taking pleasure in two forms of intimacy at the same time.

Their bodies rubbed against each other in calm, gentle harmony, his nose sunk into her soft hair, which he combed with his fingers, the sound of her swallowing arousing him more and more with each passing second.

She needed him.

He wanted to be needed.

He always had.

When she finally pulled away from his neck she pressed her cheek against his chest, exactly as he did then, and took a deep breath, as if she had accomplished some great achievement by not drinking his blood to the last drop.

"…shall we eat our jellies?"

[applestorms]

L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

[vivwritesfics]

🥹❤️👹👹

So I pretty please want one where the reader finds out that they were a bet?

But I do kinda want some flashbacks to thier whole relationship for the last maybe two years??

The drivers have obviously fallen for her at this point Nd have completely forgotten about

Maybe even thinking about proposing??

Let's say a mechanic accidentally or on purpose reveled the whole thing

You can make it as angsty as you want

Jaut please include smut ❤️👹👹👹

Thinking maybe lance,lando or maybe even mark???

Idk, you decide. I trust you 🫶🫶♥️♥️

warnings: smut, angst

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Lando fiddled with the ring box in his pocket. In just three days they were meant to go to dinner, and he was going to propose. But now, it seemed unlikely.

"Y/N," he said as he stepped towards her. Shaking her head she walked away. Lando knew better than to chase after her. He looked to Max, fury in his eyes, and then back to where she disappeared. He was well and truly fucked.

She returned to their apartment and bolted the door shut. There was no way she was letting Lando in. Whether he tried, she didn't know. She was in their bed, crying too hard to hear anything else.

They'd been together for two years. Two fucking years and it had been a lie. Did he ever really love her? She'd given up so much for him, completely turned her life around to try and be there for him. She'd left her family and moved out to fucking Monaco. And for what? For a fucking bet.

When the words had left Max's mouth she hadn't wanted to believe it. He had to be mistaken. But then Lando confirmed it and her heart snapped in two.

She could still remember the day they met. It was a club. The lights were flashing, the bass booming, and floor vibrating with the movement. Lando saw her. He stared for a moment, debating whether to go and talk to her.

"I dare you to go talk to her," Max (Fewtrell) shouted over the music. It wasn't a bad dare, his way of getting Lando to talk to a pretty girl.

She didn't know this, of course. What she knew was that an incredibly attractive man was approaching her. Whatever he was saying to her, she couldn't hear. They still danced the night away.

They went on proper dates after that. Hooked up before they made it official.

He'd taken her to dinner. After she'd had the brilliant idea to get drinks in a bar.

Fuelled by alcohol, Lando took her back to his place. Their kisses were a mess of tongue and teeth clashing together, but they didn't care. They barely pulled away from each other to pull their clothes off, leaving a trail of them from the apartment door to the bedroom.

He had her pushed up against the table as he gripped her ass. Her arms were wound around his neck, grinding against him. But Lando couldn't wait much longer. He pulled her into the bedroom, laid her down onto the bed, and fucked her like an animal.

The next morning his back was covered in scratches. Goddamn he loved the feel of them when he stretched up. "Be mine," he whispered as they laid together in the morning light, his fingers touching her bare skin.

That was two years ago. They'd been so in love for the last two years. She'd travelled with him to as many races as she could, sat with him while he streamed because they couldn't stand being apart. They went on holiday together, skiing and getting away to the sun.

He tried to teach her to play golf and how to game. She taught him about her passions. They became each others best friends and their partners.

And he'd thrown it all away.

When her crying stopped, Y/N finally heard him knocking on the apartment door, begging to be let in. She stood, wiped her tears, and marched towards the front door.

When she pulled it open, there he was. On his knees Lando held the ring box open, holding it towards her. "Will you marry me?"

With her arms folded over her chest she stared at him. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" She spat and Lando nodded his head. Still, he held the ring box towards her.

She sucked in a breath and looked down the corridor, trying to distract herself. "I think you should stay somewhere else tonight," she said quietly, unable to look into his eyes.

"Y/N, please-"

"We can talk tomorrow. Just give me some space. Please."

[averycutesalamander]

thinking about you and boothill both spending the day together for crimbas... nsft because it gets spicy

He spoils you absolutely rotten with gifts. One of your favorites is the plushie he bought you during one of his trips; it's some alien animal you don't recognize, but it's so incredibly charming that you don't mind. He bought this blanket that's absolutely sinfully soft, and the two of you immediately bundle up together on the couch. You lay across his chest as he rubs circles into your back, and watching movies turns into half-watching movies when you creep upward to kiss him, all slow and tender. He purrs into your mouth, one hand raising to bury in your hair.

You spend... quite a bit of time like that, devouring each other with a steadily increasing hunger, but never crossing the threshold into true, burning heat. Eventually, long after the credits have rolled, you pull away with a heaving breath, your lips and tongue aching from where he's been nibbling at them.

Oh, and how beautiful he looks underneath you, his eyes soft with a low, smoldering arousal, his hair slightly mussed from your touch, his lips indented with the markings of your teeth. He looks like he wants to consume you whole, like he wants to slide you up the couch and let you pin his face between your thighs and beg you to use him however you please.

But if you do that, your plans will be very much derailed - so you slowly sit up and away from him, mourning the distance.

"I'm gonna go get changed," you murmur, slowly tracing the exposed plating of his abdomen.

He shivers under your touch, swallowing heavily as he looks you up and down, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Wait for me in the bedroom, won't you?" you say, your voice dipping into something taunting, something tempting, something almost lascivious.

Without another word, you slide off of his lap and pad off to the bathroom, feeling his gaze burn into your back.

The moment the door closes behind you, a wicked grin overtakes your face. You've already given all of your gifts to him for the day-

All except one.

You kneel down and quietly open the cupboards below the sink, pulling out the small, inconspicuous box tucked in the back. It's been here for weeks, waiting for its time to shine.

Or, rather, your time to shine.

You swallow as you lift the lingerie from the wrapping, running your fingers along the soft red lace and decorative bows and ribbons. God, you pray this will look as good on you as you hope it will.

You strip, shivering subtly at the chill of the room; without any delay, you get to work putting on all of the pieces - girtle, garters (the moment you see them around your thighs, you know he's going to go absolutely postal), the skimpiest bustier you've ever seen in your life (and dear fucking lord does it make your chest look incredible), and plenty of other miniscule pieces that take you ages to figure out. The thigh-length stockings are especially agonizing, because they're essentially just twisting spirals of ribbon - but once you get them on, you know it was worth it. The ribbons are just tight enough to squeeze around your thighs and calves, and you'd bet your life that he's going to lose his mind over the subtle bulge of your skin in the spaces between. You add a few finishing touches - most important is the bow that you tie delicately around your neck, the ends dipping tauntingly between your breasts. Finally, once you're done, you take a long look at yourself in the mirror.

You realize rather abruptly that dating Boothill must have dramatically increased your confidence, because there isn't a doubt in your mind that you look phenomenal. You're a little worried he's going to go into emergency shutdown from overheating once he lays eyes on you.

Well, you'll resuscitate him. You're desperate to see the look on his face.

So, without further delay, you step out of the bathroom, then head straight for the place that you'll certainly be staying for a few hours at the very least.

The bedroom door creaks as you push it open, leaning in the door frame as dramatically and lasciviously as you can manage, and-

Boothill whips around and freezes like a deer in headlights at the exact same moment you do.

He's... He's completely bare, and in the process of wrapping himself in ribbon - bright, sparkling red and silver stands that wind around his chest and his limbs. It's a bit clumsy, a bit crooked, but it's genuinely quite good; you suspect he went through the trouble of looking through a guide of some kind. The ribbon crosses and loops to perfectly emphasize the curves of his body, framing the bulge of his plating and the dips in between. His whole torso looks fucking mouthwatering; he's perfectly framed his chest by a crossing pattern of ribbon that sweeps perfectly down into the dips and seams of his waist, which already looks incredibly grabable by default - but you actually feel your fingers itching, yearning to clench your hands just above those pretty little hips. His thighs are cradled beautifully by the winding stands, looping down around his calves and highlighting the sharp arch of his heels. He was just getting started on his arms, but one of his biceps is already beautifully bound and wrapped.

He breaks the silence. "Sweetheart, you..." he rasps, swallowing audibly. You were so distracted by ogling him that you honestly forgot he was ogling you - and he looks ready to pounce on you. "You're so gorgeous it's gonna put me six feet under."

"Well, you'll be taking me down with you," you mumble, a bit dazed, "because you look absolutely stunning."

Slowly, you lean away from the door, walking toward him like a lion on the prowl, your hungry eyes drinking him in like he's your next meal. You stop just in front of him, so close that you're able to reach up and trace the choker of ribbon that he's wound around his neck, following down to the ridges of his collarbones, into the center of his chest, then even lower, your fingernails running down the plates of his abdomen.

"Pretty boy," you murmur, partly to yourself. When you look into his eyes, you can see that the red dots of his pupils have blown wider than you've ever seen. "Can't believe we both had basically the same idea."

He takes a shaking breath when you slowly trail your fingers down between his legs, and his whole body shivers when you trace the seams of the plates that hide his cock.

"Honey, I'm..." he whispers, practically devouring you with his eyes. "I need you, darlin'. You look... Fudge, sweetheart, ya look so good I can't stand it."

Oh, how he makes your heart flutter.

When you smile, the edges are lethal, and your eyes glitter with mischief. You pout as dramatically as you can manage, but the curl of your lips gives you away.

"What, you aren't going to finish wrapping my gift? I'm wounded, honeybee." Before he can break out of his stupor, you reach down, twisting your fingers in the loose ribbon that hangs from his arm. "I guess I'll have to do it myself, then."

You see the realization in his eyes like a flash of lightning, and you can't resist the urge to hook your fingers beneath the ribbon at his neck, yanking him down into a kiss so hot that it could melt steel. You lick into his mouth feverishly, hungrily, almost desperately, scraping your tongue along his teeth. He moans, sweet and low in his throat, rumbling in his chest; his hands finally drift to rest at your hips, the cold chill of his metal bleeding through the thin material of your lingerie - and fuck, you love how small he makes you feel, how easily he could overpower you at any moment.

"Ah, ah, ah," you croon, pulling away. "Hands behind your back, honey."

The look on his face is positively agonized, and you drink it in like the sweetest ambrosia you've ever tasted. "But- But, sweetheart-"

You press your finger to his lips to shush him. "Gifts don't speak, do they?"

He looks like he wants to pin you to the wall and rip you apart. Instead, he opens his mouth and curls his tongue around your finger, his lips curling mischievously when you shudder. Entranced, you carefully trace his teeth with the pad of your finger, savoring the subtle sting.

"Turn around," you rasp, suddenly feeling parched.

He gives your finger a tiny nibble and your hips a thorough squeeze before obeying, turning his back to you, obediently holding his arms behind his back.

Time to get to work, then.

With a teasingly light touch, you wind the final stands around his arms, looping and crossing and tucking; then, you tie them together, hand to elbow, wrapped all pretty in red. You tie it off with a bow, and by the end, your favorite present of the day is standing there in all his glory.

You admire him for a long, long moment, circling him like a hungry hyena; all the while, he tracks you with his eyes, looking distinctly eager to pin you down and ruin you.

"You're so beautiful it makes me crazy," you mumble, nibbling at your lip.

"Keep talkin' like that, and I'll have to rip right outta this and tear you apart," he rumbles.

You smile, wide and wicked. "You won't, though."

You walk backwards until your knees hit the bed, and you settle into a lounge on the edge of it.

"You're awfully confident, sweetheart," he purrs, slowly prowling toward you like a wolf on the hunt. You watch him with dark eyes, spreading open your thighs so he can stand between them, looming over you in a way that might've felt menacing if he weren't looking at you like he wants to fuck you until you break like glass.

"Because I know you're a good boy," you croon, watching with delight as his jaw clenches, heat flashing in his eyes.

Low and sultry, you purr, "Down on your knees, bee."

Your gut clenches with arousal from just how quickly he obeys; he drops down in front of you, staring up at you like you're the most divine creature he's ever seen.

"See?" you murmur, your lips curling - though your brain is so hot that your lips shake slightly. "Good boy."

God, you think you could come just from the look on his face.

You take a breath, trying to compose yourself, and he takes the opportunity to rasp, "Let me taste ya, baby. Please. Wanna feel you on my tongue so bad I could die."

Well, who are you to deny such a polite request?

You watch his eyes dart to your cunt as you part your thighs just a bit wider, your lower lips visible through the sheer, soaked fabric. You sling one leg around his shoulder, pulling him into your orbit, watching him lean eagerly toward your pussy like a starving man to a banquet. You bury your fingers in his hair, holding him just out of reach, laughing openly at the tiny whine that escapes him.

"You want something, bee?" you say, your eyes shining. "Then take it."

When he looks up at you, you suddenly feel like you're the one on your knees. Without missing a beat, he leans forward, carefully pinching your panties in his teeth. You hold your breath as he drags them down, down, down, exposing your dripping cunt to his greedy eyes.

When he licks his lips, it reminds you very much of a wolf licking its chops before digging into its prey.

"You're gonna have to beg me for mercy before I'm done with ya, doll," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine. "And when I'm done, I'm gonna fill you up, and I'll make ya come until ya cry."

He's right, in the end. He ruins you, over and over and over and over, until you're utterly spent, until you're so come-drunk that all you can do is lay there and take it. He tears the fabric away from your body eagerly, muttering that he'll replace it later; then, he breaks you over his cock, rutting into you like an animal, marking your body with his teeth. He listens to the chorus of moans and whimpers and whines that spill from your lips, never sated, always starved.

And all the while, his arms stay bound behind his back, wrapped and tied neatly. And all the while, you're utterly helpless beneath him, pinned down and drooling.

(Merry Christmas indeed.)

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis

[brattyfork]

.

summary: you’re horny but you’re on your period, matt has an idea

warnings: dry humping, (i hate that word lol) cumming in pants, super short sorry

i was sitting next to matt on the couch and he just looked so fucking good. he was playing clash of clans, completely focused on his game. he was wearing a wife b3ater and some plaid pj pants, his chain was sitting loosely around his neck and his hair was all messy bc he hadn’t brushed it yet. it was too much.

i dramatically fell to my side with a loud groan.

“what’s up my love?”

“i’m hornnyyyyyy”

“so what’s the problem?”

“i’m on my period”

“oh”

matt and i had tried period sex but we decided it was too much work, too messy. we weren’t sex addicts so we could abstain for a week, it wasn’t a big deal, usually, but i felt like a feral animal today.

“yeah” i stared at him. he looked up from his phone like he was thinking and i swear i saw a lightbulb appear above his head.

“come sit on my lap”

“i’m not in the mood to be teased”

“i’m not gonna, c’mere” he tossed his phone to the side.

i climbed on top of his lap, interested in what he was thinking. matt immediately pulled me into a kiss, one of his hands on the back of my neck and the other on the small of my back. he pulled away briefly.

“think you could get off just grinding on me princess?”

“mm probably”

he smiled and kissed me again, moving his hands to my hips to help me move. i let out a small whimper at the much needed relief.

matt slid his tongue along my lips, asking for permission which i quickly granted. he pushed his tongue in my mouth, joining mine, which quickly created a very sloppy make out session.

usually we were pretty composed but this was different. this was a gross, messy, hot spit swapping kiss, and it was fucking incredible.

i could feel him growing harder under me, slowly adding more and more pressure to where i needed him. i moaned into the kiss, feeling the ends of his lips curl up into a smirk.

“feel good baby?”

“fuck yes so good” i started sucking on his neck, licking and biting wherever i could, lots of skin exposed thanks to his tank top.

matt took one of his hands off my hip and ran it into my hair, grabbing a fistful of my hair but not pulling. he wrapped his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

“so good for me angel, such a good whore”

i whimpered into his neck as he rutted up into me. matt used the fist full of my hair he had as leverage, pulling me away from his neck back to his lips. we once again got lost in a messy kiss as i ground harder into his lap. the way his hard dick still hit my clit even through four layers of clothes drove me up the wall.

i could feel the knot in my stomach growing tighter as i moved faster and harder on his lap.

“close already my love?” he pulled away. i whined as i dug my head into his neck, embarrassed of the effect he had on me.

“don’t be embarrassed, you’re so cute all worked up for me” he moved closer to my ear, “plus i think you’re gonna make me cum in my pants just from grinding on my lap”

i immediately pulled my head out of the crook of his neck, attaching our lips harder than ever before. god, the fact that he was as worked up as me turned me on so much. i felt like a horny teenager, making my boyfriend cum just from sitting on his lap.

i made some noise into our kiss, signaling that i was about to cum and matt just

hummed back, both giving his approval and agreement. i felt the knot snap in my stomach as my orgasm washed over me, matt’s hands still guiding my hips, holding me through my high.

i felt his dick twitch against my sensitive clit, making me cry out while he groaned into my ear. matt took complete control of my waist, using me to rub himself through his orgasm, which i allowed. i was super sensitive but it still felt unreal so i just let him do his thing until he slowed his motions, leaving his hands on my hips while my head leaned on his shoulder.

once our motions had stopped completely and we took a moment to catch our breaths, matt pulled me into another kiss.

it was different though, not needy or messy, more of an “i got you kiss”, sweet and passionate. i smiled into his lips and felt him do the same before i pulled away and he grabbed my face, he peppered my skin with kisses making me giggle before pulling away again to let me breathe.

“i think i need to change my pants”

a/n- sorry this is so short :( i didn’t wanna drag it out too long. but! i have more stuff coming very very soon

[a-tired-human-draws-junk]

LU Four headcanons + Minish cap thoughts

EDIT: HELP I DIDNT MEAN TO POST THIS YET💀 fuck it we ball

So I've been playing minish cap and I'm having a great time it's so fucking whimsical and lovely everybody ever should play it right now but it made me realise how little?? Minish cap stuff gets mentioned in linked universe??? like where is my funny little figurine collection I spent thousands of shells on, where is my cute minish lore, where is my cane of pacci, where are my KINSTONES!!!

Anyways this is basically me nerding out over Minish cap and sharing my new silly little thoughts on Four (and spreading my new knowledge to the fic writers please there is so much untapped potential here you dont understand😭)

I've never done this before so bare w me

Starting w KINSTONES

So much of this is kinstones why does nobody talk about them I've read hundreds of LU fics and did not even know they existed till I played minish cap

I think Four has just SO. MANY. KINSTONES.

He just has a bag of random kinstone pieces on him at all times

Imagine the chain all sitting around the fire one day and fours like "anybody wanna match kinstones?" And the others stare at him like... "bro what is even that 😭"

Another funny idea, he just goes through his bag and starts trying to match the pieces he has, one actually works and a chest just appears next to the chain and four is like "aw hell yeah that's some good luck"

Everybody else "four how did you just SUMMON TREASURE"

"Got lucky :]"

Imagine hes not even really known as a hero in his home town but as the kinstone guy™

They go to Fours hyrule and little kids will just come up to him like ",,kinstone,,?" And he will just whip out the biggest bag of kinstone pieces and grab the exact one needed to match

It's like a magic trick

Desperately need some good luck? Talk to the kinstone guy hes gotchu

Imagine the colors all get their own bags

He just has four bags of kinstones at all times (maybe five if they have a community pile)

(There are more at home)

Also animals? Can have kinstones?? I feel there is comedy potential in that

Four has a collection of silly little figurines he paid thousands of mysterious shells for and I need somebody to talk about it

He has over A HUNDRED SILLY LITTLE FIGURINES

I dont know what to do with this knowledge but it is important to me that people know that

Cane of pacci.

CANE OF PACCI

Please its concept is so fucking funny people need to use it more.

(I've seen it a few times but NOT ENOUGH!!)

Imagine dink shows up and gives an evil monologue and everyone is having an intense stare down and four just discreetly grabs his cane and zaps dink w it and he just fucking flips upside down smacks his head on the ground and passes out

LIKE PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT

Theres a hole in the ground and he just zaps it and jumps in and rolls around and fucking flings himself into the air

I've seen so many fics where Four can just shrink down at will and that's fine I like em but in game you have to use minish portals and it's a whole thing

And I've seen people utilizing portals which I love

But I need more funny moments so

In game they are so very inconvenient and some are so fucking funny to me

Four just walks into a house flips this beautiful, giant vase, upside down jumps on top and becomes smol

Like??😭 going into people houses and breaking their pots is a link tradition but just... flipping one upside down is for some reason incredibly hilarious to me

Or running head first into a tree using pegasus boots to reveal a portal

Somebody do something w these portals they are so incredibly good

Also piccori are SMALL

They are TINY

When I imagined the minish I was picturing a lil guy the size of my thumb maybe a little smaller

NO

THESE BITCHES THINK ACORNS ARE BIG!!

THEY ARE SO INCREDIBLY TINY!

MINISCULE!

I dont know what to do with that I just desperately needed to share

Imagine the picori lore potential yall

I've seen a few good ones but I NEED MORE LITTLE GUYS

Fours hyrule has a whole lotta beliefs and traditions about the minish me thinks

I mean they already have a festival about them

So imagine-

They find chips on the walls of their homes that are neatly shaped and nicely trimmed and they leave them, they take it as good luck, the picori are staying here

You see many of such spots in someone's home and you take them as kind, the picori stay with them

I think they abide by leaving picori paths

Random small planks connecting homes and making paths too small to walk are left where they are

If a plank starts decaying they leave a similar sized one nearby and the next day find the old one replaced and a kinstone lying nearby

If your flower pots neatly lined in a row suddenly have a small gap between two, keep it, the picori are passing by here

I think they make spaces in their homes for them

I think Four would go out of his way to leave space for the picori in his

Maybe he makes little houses he keeps in his yard or on a shelf or on the rafters or all of the above

Maybe he leaves out food in odd places and when it disappears he finds treasures somewhere nearby

He basically has a whole neighborhood of minish living in and around his house

I think Four has actually learned minish

Like yes he used the jabbernut to understand them initially but I think he went out of his way to properly learn it

And there are canonically different dialects, lil tidbit courtesy of Ezlo, so maybe hes learned multiple versions of minish

Imagine the funny moments where he just fucking starts saying smth in minish like "pico pipi pori co" and the chain stare at him and he just stares back like 'what?' "WHAT DOES PICOROCOPOIPO MEAN,??"

Hes just spent too much time as a tiny guy

[aimedis]

lovely & vincent headcanons 🧛⚡

“god, your kisses are fucking nuclear...”

for lovely's birthday one year, vincent bought them their dream car. he took them to the dealership and asked, "if you could have any of these cars, which one would it be?". he let them point at the car he knew they've always wanted, dropped the keys in their hand and said, "it's all yours." (lovely was in shock for days)

lovely always finds themselves falling asleep quite often around vincent. it's because they spend a lot of time in fight or flight mode subconsciously and he just makes them feel safe

literally saying "vincent, i'm tired" every time there's five seconds of silence

lovely and vincent are both horror movie/game wimps (grown ass vampires scared of pixelated ghosts)

vincent is always incredibly empathetic with other vampire's turnings (especially lovely's)

vincent was 100% ready to let lovely go if they didn't want to be turned. he would rather grieve them than have them talk to him the way he talked to william

their song is rewrite the stars by james arthur & anne-marie

lovely and vincent are always always around each other. where one is, the other is not far away even if you can't see them both (aside from work and stuff ofc)

they are always looking for one another in a crowd when they're rarely apart for two seconds

always touching too, even if they're arguing or not speaking to each other they're always holding hands or touching some part of the other's body

they wear each other's crowns sometimes

vincent is always slapping lovely's ass. and whenever lovely gets caught off guard, they release electricity from their body (even post turning) so vincent is always getting shocked but he refuses to stop

vincent's favourite hobby is kissing all over lovely's face or being corny to them (especially in public) just to embarrass them (because they get embarrassed very easily)

lovely hates it but they can't help but laugh when they're done hitting him

lovely loves ignoring vincent as a joke. not responding when he's being clingy or talking to them, pushing his face away when he's trying to kiss them, and saying "what's that noise?"

vincent enjoys finding new ways to get their attention, both innocent and nefarious

whenever lovely has nightmares, vincent always wakes up before they do. he can just feel their distress like it's his own, not even just because of the maker/progeny bond they have

vincent puts lovely's shoes and jewellery on for them whenever they're going out for date night, outright refuses to let them do it for themselves because he loves doing it so much

in turn, lovely always does vincent's eyeliner for him on a daily basis (he says they do it better than he ever could) ((bonus if lovely can never do eyeliner on themselves))

lovely and vincent are so obsessed with each other, they literally get jealous so easily. not because they don't trust each other, they just hate the idea of anyone touching/talking to their partner the way that they do

when lovely gets really excited they either start hitting vincent a billion times or they jump into his arms and he has to spin them around to get the zoomies out while they both giggle loudly

they love playing minecraft and animal crossing together in bed

after the summit, lovely was reliving the trauma that came with watching another vampire get their head ripped off/adam's name being brought up and they had a panic attack in vincent's arms the second the two could get a moment alone

the entire time the queen of the house of baz was talking to vincent, lovely was just staring at the ground while squeezing vincent's hand as they tried to fight off the panic. but when vincent finally got away from people, he pulled them outside to the car to get some fresh air while they cried and shook in his arms

their way of dealing with traumatic events/stress is just holding each other for a long time after it's over

vincent definetly gives lovely princess treatment (gender neutral) ((opening doors for them, putting on their shoes, foot massages, kissing them all over etc.))

vincent carries lovely around the house more than he lets them walk unless they have people over (they’d never walk anywhere again if vincent had his way)

they rarely ever ever fight. during one of their first and fights, lovely started crying because they got overwhelmed and vincent immediately backed up and started apologizing (and that only made them cry harder because they've never really been apologized to before)

vincent felt really bad for making them cry and held them while they did because that was the only thing they wanted (they finished the argument later without any tears) 

now, they argue once in a blue moon whenever they can't probably regulate their feelings about the situation. but they usually make up within ten minutes

vincent tickles lovely's sides whenever they're stretching (lovely is crazy ticklish)

lovely before they got turned was really prone to nosebleeds

lovely calls vincent ‘lovebug’ 

lovely loves painting vincent's nails (even though the smell is overpowering for both of them, it’s something lovely enjoys doing so he likes it too) 

lovely kissed vincent in the car before some fancy clan gathering for a little too long and he got hard immediately so they had to wait in the car for it to go down before they could go inside. lovely was making fun of him the whole time

vincent used to heal pre-turning lovely’s every cut and bruise even before they themselves noticed they had it (he still heals them if they haven't fed recently and can't heal as fast)

vincent really really likes pining lovely to walls (they can barely walk down the hall without him zipping up to them and pressing their hips into the wall before kissing them hard) 

vincent and lovely are both korean (they also both did dance and figure skating)

vampire don’t get sick easily (it’s actually quite hard for them to get sick) but when they do it’s bad. vincent and lovely are both babies with being sick

vincent and lovely cry about everything together (happy? tears. sad? tears. angry? tears. excited? tears. bored? you guessed it, tears.)

lovely's favourite thing ever is how dazed vincent gets whenever he says they smell good (which is basically all the time) he's literally sniff kissing them all over and pulling them closer to him

vincent loves kissing lovely more than anything ever

blowing each other kisses whenever one of them leaves the room

vincent was away for two days on a work trip and everyone who saw them said they had never looked so sad

clingy mfers

both of their love languages are physical touch and gift giving (+ quality time)

they bicker a lot about the most random things

always texting each other random little updates with no context like "porter's pissing me off" "what the actual fuck does _____ mean?" "are you coming home yet? hurry up" "i'm tired" "i need to punch someone" and sometimes it doesn't even lead to an actual conversation

always on the phone if one of them is away, sometimes not even talking or looking at their phone but it's comforting to know that the person they love is with them in some way

vincent took lovely to italy for their birthday because they mentioned wanting to go there all the time

lovely rented a huge mansion in the mountains for vincent's birthday so they could just. relax. and get away from everyone

they're THAT rich couple

[teastyun]

࿐ྂ edge's hatred

NSFW! mdni

after a hard week of patrolling and going on missions, you're finally able to take a night off with your friends, watching anime while getting drunk. but instead of getting drunk, you get railed by your enemy Abby in the community bathroom. oops?

╰┈➤ masterlist

finishing today's mission, you're walking down the corridor to Manny and Abby's room for your friend circles' weekly Friday tradition: watching anime together while getting drunk. it is by far your favourite day of the week and not even your nemesis Abby, who you'll always have to be faced with each with despite your often encounters on missions, who is always so bitchy and rude towards you. but this time, you decided to not waste your energy on her odd interactions with you and enjoy the time with Manny, Nora and Leah, who were the reason for you and Abby not throwing punches at each other yet.

the thing is; you can't claim that you truly hate her. of course, she's extremely agitating and provocative, but no one knew that by the end of the day, you'd be three fingers deep into your pussy with her moaning her name out like a prayer.

three weeks ago, your two were bantering on a mission with Manny and two other comrades about wether or not you should extend yall's mission for one day. normally, Abby was in charge of any leading actions, leaving you no room to counter back, but that day Abby was incredibly easy to provoke and you couldn't help but tease her back. one thing led to another, with you being pinned down by her strong hands on the dirty floor, while the missionary position you two were suddenly in was incredibly intimate for the first time. if Manny wouldn't have grabbed her by her backpack and got her back up, who knows what would have happened. until today, you can't seem to forget that day. her strong arms were pinning you down so easily and her eyes were filled with with something uncertain you couldn't quite make out. that night after the mission, you imagined her pinning you down in your shower, while fucking deep and hard with her thick, strong fingers, until every last drop of your cum was spent.

what you didn't know, was you were the reason for all that frustration Abby was facing since several weeks now. she still remembers how kindly and charming you introduced yourself to her, when you first joined her group in the wlf. she was stunned by your beauty, smell and beautiful eyes that she didn't manage to say a word back, leading her to looking at you with a judging expression and turning away. her own reaction confused her so much; she would never greet anyone so rudely and ignorantly. that moment drew her into agony, not knowing what exactly was wrong with her. her solution was to simply ignore you whenever she's with you, so she wouldn't face her problem of feeling like a loose limp whenever she's with you. her attitude would make you so angry and frustrated, leading you two to bantering and bickering anywhere and anytime.

you two were in this shit for almost two years already and Abby just recently realised that she's heavily attracted to you not only sexually, but in general. few months back, she got into a romantic relationship with yall's friend Owen, hoping to finally forget you and see you as just a comrade, but her relationship proved her unexpectedly the complete opposite. anytime Abby and Owen would cuddle, she imagined spooning you, feeling your plump ass and toned back on her skin. anytime she and him would make out, she imagined you sitting on her lap, grinding your wet pussy into the waistband of her cargos. anytime she and him had rusty sex with, she would imagine eating you out, until you were crying and begging for her to stop, and fucking you knuckles deep into another dimension.

now, you are sitting across her in your usual armchair, while talking to a new friend in your friend group, who was sitting seducingly on the handle of your chair. y'all were actually watching some old anime Manny found in a random basement of a family's home, while sipping on some homemade beer from your local kitchen, but everyone was rather talking to each other than watching. you and that girl are involved in a deep conversation, while Abby would watch you from the corner of her eye. the way you are openly accepting any compliments and flirting makes her breath hitch and her heart beating faster. after a few moments, she notices you two standing up, calling it a day and saying goodnights to your friends. frustrated and with furrowed brows, she watches you leave her room with the new girl, flirting and all touchy with each other.

you look incredibly attractive in your comfy trousers and revealing black tank top that would accentuate your toned collarbones and glistening skin perfectly. for the rest of the night, Abby is seemingly on edge and eventually grabs her shower basket to take a cool shower, praying it would actually calm her down.

the thing is that Abby wasn't the best at hiding her jealousy, at least not to you. you quickly realised how your interactions with that girl catalysed Abby's growing frustration, which still leaves you incredibly confused, but you couldn't help and spend the night teasing her to test the waters by flirting openly with the new girl. when you said your goodnights to your group, you feel her eyes on you with every single motion you do. swinging your hips, biting your lips and throwing your head back when laughing are all the things you did to feed Abby's visible frustration.

realising what just happened, you walk the girl back to her new dorm, but she wasn't actually your type at all. she was super kind and fun to talk to, but right now, you could only think about Abby and the new side of her you've just discovered.

as you got back from the girl's dorm to walk into the community bathroom, you grabbed your toiletries and went ahead wash up by the sinks.

it was past midnight and most of the people were already fast asleep in the building, but the screeching of the bathroom's heavy door tells you that you're not the only one awake at this hour. turning around, you expect Nora or Leah, but are surprised with Abby, who's just as shocked as you are. when she sees you, she walks slowly to the sink next to you, her eyes never leaving yours.

it is such a bold move by her and Abby's heart was racing, but she coldly says "didn't expect to meet you here, shouldn't you and the girl be fucking after the show you put on back there?"

her question makes you drop your the product you've just been using into the sink, stunned by her sudden question.

"how the fuck is that any of your business?" you say with an agitated tone in your voice, "and why would that even matter to you?"

"no reason," she responds and takes her top off, leaving her in a grey bra and black washed out joggers. she smirks when she sees your eyes catching every move of hers. "but princess, maybe don't put on a porn show on in the future if you wanna contain that perfect imagine of yours."

with that, she takes off her joggers and leaves them next to you by the sink, opening her braid and throwing the hairband onto her clothes. walking past you in just her underwear and wavy long blonde hair, she says "cat caught your tongue, huh?" and goes ahead to turn on the shower.

"are you telling me I'm a slut?" you respond, "is that what you're thinking?" you slap your hand on the cold counter, clearly angry and incredibly confused.

amused by your reaction, Abby leans on the wall sideways and crosses her arms, "I don't know, are you?" and cocks her head sideways.

the challenging look in her eyes drives you crazy, and without thinking you take a step towards her, checking every single inch of her out. her hair was slightly wet, leaving it much darker than its usual golden tone. her skin was glistening and her freckles were all spread over her body. her arms are flexing from its position and her wet grey bra is slightly visible underneath. her chest is incredibly toned, leaving her abs so prominent and captivating. and her thighs- her strong thighs stole your breath, and just slightly above them you see her black boxers, fitting so snug and tight from the water. you knew that Abby was fit and built so strongly underneath her clothes, but seeing her with almost nothing on makes your legs go weak.

you look back up at her with heavy eyes. Abby was still looking at you challenging, but smirks when she sees your eyes wander over her almost naked body.

teasingly, she slowly unclips her bra and removes her boxers, throwing them mindlessly away. while she does that, she never breaks eye contact with you and takes several steps until she's right in front of you. you don't dare to break the eye contact, knowing that this is what she's aiming for at the moment. for you to break, to give in, but your stubbornness wouldn't let you.

instead, you undo your pants and slide them off with your underwear beneath. the furrow in Abby's brow is hinting that she's clearly taken aback by your actions. you smirk in response and take off your top, throwing it into her face before grabbing your products and heading for the shower she's turned on.

"what are you doing?" she says quietly, the sound of the water splashing on the floor almost covering her voice. her eyes would never leave your exposed body and you tilt your head teasingly at her. "am I not allowed to take a shower in a bathroom?" you ask, pretending to be dumb. your game frustrates Abby visibly and you're shocked she hasn't broken down yet.

slowly, Abby walks up to you. her sudden quietness filled the room and your two's tension was higher as ever.

"at least take an unoccupied shower." she whispers, now standing in front of you, making you back into the wall behind you. you hiss at the tiles coldness. "but this one's already running hot..." you mumble unsurely, unsure wether you should tease back or not. Abby was intimidating this close, and you weren't sure what's going to happen next.

her arm supports her next to your head, while she breaks eye contact to slowly look down at your naked body.

the body she always secretly admired whenever you were on a mission with her. the body she always secretly dreamed of making love to. the body she always craved.

"fuck," she mutters under her breath, not daring to touch your body without your consent. with a desperate look in her eyes, she looks into yours. "look, if you really wanna continue your stupid game-" she starts, but the touch of your hands touching her cheeks interrupt her. she continues after regaining her focus, "-then we need to stop, now," she whispers the last word, her eyes never leaving yours.

"stop what, Abby?" you ask, tracing her prominent cheekbones with your thumb. "this- fuck, I won't be able to control myself if you touch me like that-" she mumbles breathlessly as your hand travels from her cheek to her neck, down to her glistening collarbone, tracing the beautiful bone.

"then don't," you whisper. "kiss me, Abby," you continue, your hand threading through the hair at the back of her head.

with that, she finally breaks in and connects her lips with yours. her arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you up and you wrap your legs around her hip, desperate for any touch you're able to get. Abby responds with gripping your as roughly, while your kiss grows more intense and sloppy.

desperate for air, you break the kiss and whimper her name, as her lips continue to travel down to your neck, sucking and biting any spot she could find. "so pretty for me," she murmurs, "so fucking beautiful."

your nails dig into her shoulders, clinging for support as your body grows weak by her words. "and so desperate," she continues, but removes her lips from moving your neck and looks up at you to see your reaction for what she's about to do next.

with her hands gripping your ass, she raises her thigh up into your core, pressing you down harshly. you try to suppress a moan by biting on your lips. "you like that, princess? like it when I press my thigh into your cunt?" you desperately close your eyes and bite your lip, trying suppress another moan.

"princess, I need to hear you," she says with a low tone in her voice. you can't help but whimper and she smirks in response, when she sees you so close to fully collapse in her arms. "

her hand travels up to your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipple. she lowers her head to lick it and a high noise escapes your lips by surprise. desperate to hear you again, she bites and twists your nipple with her tongue and you couldn't suppress a moan anymore, as you tilt your head back to the cold wall. "good girl," she mumbles and her other hand squeezes your ass.

before you realise it, her hand on your breast travels down to your core. her thumb strokes through your folds and in response you cling to her even stronger, the back of your heels pressing into her lower back. "you've been desperate for this, haven't you?"

"desperate for me, fuck..." a gasp escapes her lips and she presses a circular motion on your clit. "only for you," you whisper. you're so wet, the squelching noises aren't easy anymore to be heard over your two's uneven breath anymore. her middle finger slips between your folds into your entrance. "god-" you gasp in surprise and Abby chuckles. "you can just call me Abby."

laughing, you playfully slap her shoulder, but were quickly interrupted by her finger pressing on a bundle of nerves inside of you, leaving you moaning and trembling. "shit, you like that? like it when I fuck your sweet spot?" she mumbles as another finger of hers enters you.

your thighs begin to shake and you try to suppress the uncontrolling moans and screams by biting her skin, but she quickly pulls back and whispers "nah-uh, I need to hear you," she teasingly bites your earlobe. "A-Abby, everyone could walk in on us and hear what's happening..." you mumble into her skin, still suppressing any coming sounds since her pace never slowed down. "I can't- I don't care anymore. let them hear you, princess," she pulls back to rest her forehand against yours, closing her eyes, "let them hear you scream my name."

she added another finger to her ruthless pace, as her palm presses against your clit. you're trembling and shacking in her arms, moaning her name like a prayer. "attagirl." she praises you, grinning against your neck. "yes, yes, yes..." she taunts you, feeling you clenching around her fingers. "Abby, I'm about to- I'm to cum," you sob, struggle to speak.

"cum for me then, princess." she responds, "cum for me..."

the orgasm hits you harder as ever and you scream her name with the sudden wave that hit you. your vision goes blurry and you see stars, crying out the ecstasy you feel in your whole body. Abby is in heaven watching you fall apart in her arms.

"fuck, you did so well," she whispers breathtaken, admiring your blissed out expression. she kisses your cheeks several times, trying to get you back to earth. you look up at her dreamingly, still processing what just happened, when you two suddenly hear loud steps in the hallway.

"princess, we need to get out of here as soon as possible." she whispers, slowly helping you get your clothes back on and quickly following your actions on herself.

you two weren't caught that night, but lets just say the whole building knows that you and Abby aren't on bad terms anymore...

a/n: thank you for reading until the end!! let me know in my inbox if you have any ideas on what to write next :)

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Do you think Riot will make more seasons of Arcane in different regions post-s2, make more shows with different names that are set in the Arcane universe, or secret third option?

Yes and no.

To start with, yes: Arcane has been by far Riot's most mainstream successful media project ever (even outstripping K/DA), and there is literally no way in hell that the company isn't going to want to keep milking it until it is as dry, stale and withered as the PROJECT skin line.

So I predict that, absolutely, we will see new seasons of shows set in the League of Legends universe, probably animated, and hopefully with some of the extremely good animation partners Riot has managed to cultivate over the years.

The ARCANE branding is incredibly valuable now, and I wouldn't put it past Riot to do something stupid like name a show set in the Freljord ARCANE: True Ice or something unbearably stupid like that, even though the name relates extremely specifically to the setting and story of Piltover/Zaun and the Vi/Powder/Viktor/Jayce character group.

On the other hand, Riot might be the company on earth I trust the absolute least to effectively capitalize on and carry forward a success in creative arts that can't be monetized with skins and event passes.

Riot has an absolutely astounding history of tripping on their dicks when it comes to telling stories about their characters, in no small part due to its leadership quite simply never valuing storytelling as an end in itself. If it doesn't sell cosmetics or drive Engagement™ with the core League of Legends product, good luck getting Riot management to spend a fucking dime to make anything real.

Passionate people inside the company have to go to war, every single time, to make anything good happen. Legends of Bilgewater, the Spirit Blossom visual novel, the Marvel comics collaboration (RIP), Riot Forge, and very much Arcane, were absolute passion projects pushed over the line by people who literally put their jobs (and in many cases their health) on the line to make them happen.

Alex Yee and Christian Linke are old hands at Riot with a lot of clout, a lot of friends at the company, and a lot of goodwill to cash in, and if that hadn't been the case, there is literally no way in hell anything like Arcane ever gets made.

The behind-the-scenes documentary Riot themselves produced obviously goes out of its way to let Riot leadership suck themselves off about how much they contributed and how much they believed in the project, but make no mistake, they would have axed Arcane on the spot if there wasn't creatives fighting pitched battles every other day to keep it alive.

This is true of K/DA as well, by the way, there was a lot of internal resistance at Riot to that project - and to Star Guardians, and to Heartsteel. Anything cool Riot has ever made? Just assume that someone internally was shitting on it in meetings and trying to get it shut down.

Which is why I am intensely worried about Arcane in the long term. Not so much about Season 2, since it is mostly being produced by the same group of people, as far as I know, but that project is also going to be absolutely besieged by C-suite jackoffs trying to worm their names into the credits, making themselves Stakeholders™ and offering Feedback™ and voicing Concerns™, and I don't envy the showrunners the battles they are going to have to fight to keep these vultures away from the product.

But I am fucking worried about whatever Season 3 becomes. I am fucking worried about what happens the moment any of the key creatives behind the first two seasons resign, or get headhunted to new jobs. I am worried what's going to happen when Riot decides that the showrunners are "being difficult" and standing in the way of what leadership wants to do with the now very valuable ARCANE branding, and either corporately mandates them into roles of diminished influence or just outright fucking fires them (it'll be publicized as a mutual decision of course, it'll be publicized as a much celebrated retirement or "it's time to move on to new adventures").

Riot is a company with absolutely infinite capacity to fuck up a perfectly good thing for absolutely no fucking reason except some kombucha-chugging, suit-jacket-over-a-graphic-tee-and-sneakers-wearing, keeps-his-job-despite-multiple-sexual-harassment-allegations-because-he's-bros-with-the-C-suite, motherfucking "I am a player so I know what the players want" platitude-spouting "themes are for book reports"-ass Silicon Valley libertarian piece of shit decided he knows better than the artists whose work are the reason he takes home six figures a year.

[archangeldyke-all]

Little fucker growing up with slow living reader and sevika 🥹

i'm crying this is so fucking cute

men and minors dni

you and sevika pick a warm day about a month after you take little fucker home from the hospital to carry your baby around your little family farm and introduce her to all your animals.

the ducks and chickens were indifferent-- which you were expecting. sevika's a little upset that the birds aren't a little more excited about your daughter, and you just laugh and kiss her cheek.

"it's not snow white, sev, they're not gonna sing to her."

"but, baby, she's our baby! they should at least, like, do a little dance for her or something!"

the goats and sheep are much more excited, all sniffing little fucker with wide eyes, bleating happily, their tails wagging when they realize that the baby you'd been growing in your stomach is finally here. they were all incredibly protective of you when you were pregnant, so it's no surprise that they're all thrilled to see her now.

you assumed the cats would be indifferent at best, jealous at worst toward your baby.

you weren't expecting them to be obsessed with her.

there's always a cat by little fucker's side, bravely enduring her little grabbing hands and squeals and squawks in order to keep her safe.

(the first time your baby girl laughs is when she's squished between bert and ernie-- both of them grooming her by licking the four or five wisps of hair that have managed to grow on her head so far)

icicle, your first cat, is the most protective of your daughter out of all of them. she gives up her spot on sevika's chest every night to sleep on the dresser next to little fucker's crib, keeping a careful eye on her each night.

when little fucker starts to grow up, you let ice in her crib. the two cuddle each night, and you and sevika have about a million pictures of your babies curled together, snoozing.

she learns how to walk in the little field of wild flowers behind your garden. it's much more soft and cushioned than the hardwood inside, or the gravel on the driveway, so it's where you take her for a few hours each day to work on standing and walking.

some of your happiest memories are you and sevika and your little girl in your plush field of flowers, laughing and encouraging little fucker to take a few steps on her own as she grabs onto tall stalks beside her to balance herself.

once she knows how to walk?? you and sevika basically raise her in the goat pen lmaooooo

the goats adore her. she adores them. she's constantly laughing and rough housing with them, pushing them into piles of hay only to get tackled a few moments later. it's adorable.

(she also takes to butting her head against you and sevika like goats do when she needs attention or is upset. it's adorable-- but you worry a bit that she'll give herself a concussion.)

your favorite evening activity is walking through your garden with your baby, letting her pick berries off your bushes-- stuffing her face with the sweet fruit. it's beyond fulfilling and humbling to know that the food you've grown in the garden you've built is feeding the baby you made and adore so much.

sevika's quick to teach your baby how to be handy. each time a project pops up-- little fucker's by her mom's side, holding a flashlight for her, or passing her tools. sevika buys her a little toddler tool belt-- and she never takes it off. (it's usually loaded with snacks instead of tools, a banana hanging off her hip on one side and a bag of cheetos in the little pocket meant to carry screws on the other.)

you decide to homeschool her for pre-school, but once she's elementary aged, you want to send her to the local public school so she learns how to make human friends. (she's great with goats and cats.)

the school bus picks her up at the end of your winding drive-way, and each day when she comes home from school, all the animals start to wander over to the bus-stop, waiting for your baby to get home.

she gets off the bus with a grin each afternoon, squealing a "hi babies!" and then sprinting up the driveway with a dozen goats and ducks and cats running after her.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh

[n1ghtfurys]

Cream

I saw this idea on tiktok and I don't know where I found it but I had to do something with it so if anyone knows who posted the original idea please tell me so I can credit them :)

Second part

Keegan being flirty↓

You hated parties, always have, always will but your roommate, and best friend, loves them. She has one almost every week, sometimes it's university friends, sometimes work friends but this time it's a party for all of the people in your building.

You hate it, it's loud and annoying and people keep trying your locked door. Probably so they can come and hook up on your bed, fucking animals. It's not even like you dislike the people in your building, you just hate parties.

It's moments like these that make you curse your minimum wage job, if only you could have a mini fridge. You wouldn't have to go out there to get the lemonade you so desperately wanted. You've been arguing with yourself over it for a good twenty minutes.

You tried texting your roommate, then calling but she's probably borderline dry humping some guy in the middle of your living room right now. You kind of respect her ability to do that, envy it sometimes. And anyway, you'll probably hear about this guy's sexual skills tomorrow over lunch.

When you finally come to the conclusion that you're doomed to have to leave the sanctuary of your bedroom, you reluctantly open the door. The noise is worse out here. It's shitty club music and the bass is so hard that the cups on the table near the speaker are shaking. Like you expected, your roommate has her tongue down someone's throat, the girl from the floor above actually. She has short brown hair and so far, in your three years of living here you haven't seen her not in a flannel. Upon a quick look around you find that most of your younger neighbours are here.

You almost drop your phone when your eyes land on Keegan. Not only is he so rarely home, because of deployment, you also never took him as a party goer. Equally you find him incredibly attractive and have made a consistent fool of yourself around him, he's always friendly but you assume that's because your best friend is hot and also a bit of a psycho. The last time you saw him, you walked into the door of the lift and your friend simply told him that she knew where he lived, he grinned but nodded and kept his laughter to a minimum or at least he tried to.

You turn so quickly that you walk straight into the boy who lives across the hall from you. He's sweet really, you apologise and hope that Keegan didn't see that because that would be yet another time you made a fool out of yourself, and in your own house. God all you wanted was lemonade.

You look down at the floor and try not to come off as embarrassed as you feel, you just want to get back to your room as fast as you can. When you finally make it to the fridge you grab the lemonade but notice that you've still got left over whipped cream. Your roommate convinced you to get some the last time you went shopping, you can't really remember why but it's there now.

You can't resist it, so you tilt your head back and squirt some into your mouth. As you go to replace the cream you're stopped by a voice, a voice you can place immediately. One that makes your knees weak.

“Got any left?” Keegan looks down at you, his mask concealing all but his steely blue eyes.

“Um what?” You heard what he said but you're frozen and it's like your brain has gone into low power mode.

“Whipped cream.” He clarifies, looking between you and the canister. You stare at him, you probably look like such an idiot.

“You want some?” You ask as if you don't know, as if it's not incredibly obvious.

“Yeah, just squirt some in my mouth.” You try to ignore how dirty that sounded and also try to stop your mind from drifting to how he would sound saying other things.

He pulls his mask up just over his nose. “Um okay?” You reach up but the angle is awkward, you haven't really processed how much taller than you he actually is. “Sorry you can just…um.” You hold the whipped cream out for him but he shakes his head.

You give him a confused look and he lowers himself onto his knees in front of you opening his mouth.

You stare down at him utterly bewildered, a smirk plays on his lips as he looks at your expression.

“Better?”

You stare, glued to the spot and completely frozen for a moment before you come back to reality and conscious thought.

“Um yeah..”

He opens his mouth again and you press down on the nozzle until the cream fills his mouth. You try desperately to keep your thoughts from wondering. You hope he doesn't know how much that affected you but the flush on your cheeks probably does nothing to hide it.

“Thanks princess.” He smirks as he gets up and rolls his mask back over his lips. You take a moment before putting the whipped cream back just to regain your motor control.

The image of him on the floor in front of you with a mouth full of whipped cream will be burned into your retinas for the rest of your life and did he just call you princess? Fuck, now you needed to go back to your room but for a whole different reason.