#cream writes

[melon-cream-enmu]

Since DS demons have heightened smell, do you think they're able to smell when their female human pet/toy is breedable and get extra horny because of it? 😮

Oh absolutelyyyy. Doma especially. Cw for period blood, lots of it, blood getting everywhere, oral on period, sex on periodfingering on period

Muzan is the least affected, at least as far as you can tell. He wants nothing more than to have you folded in half beneath him and fucked full within an inch of your life. He becomes more affectionate, though it may just be possessive. After addressing the moons and sending them on their way, you notice as you remain beside him that his hand had gravitated to your head, petting and combing through your hair.

Your scent is too much for him and his temper becomes worse, worse than it usually is. He’s holding back. He knows it hurts you, you whine and lay beside him as he reads and allows you to lay your head in his lap. He needs some way to get out his irritation that isn’t slaughtering the masses, so you’ll be picked up whenever and wherever and your clothes will be torn enough to give him access to your neck or shoulder, and he will drink from you.

If you initiate it, you will be bred. Hard. Rough. It will hurt, but it’ll feel oh so good~ He’s the king of demons, blood won’t stop him

Doma can smell it before you even start bleeding. He sweeps you up and asks if his pet is feeling alright, if you need anything. You shake your head up at him, but he knows what you like, and a cult member is already out frantically searching for them. He’ll lay you down on the softest, fluffiest pillows and blankets, and lay his head on your tummy. Your cramps must hurt soooo much, he knows, you don’t have to do a thing. He’ll take care of everything, including pampering you, feed you, rubbing and massaging your belly, taking you for baths. Which you’ll want to take often.

When you start bleeding he really isnt bothered, in fact he likes it. He wants to laze about in bed with you, clothes thrown aside, butt ass naked, even if you think it’s slimy and gross. He is horny as sin, if he isn’t balls deep inside you he’s eating you out, if you’re too sore he has a knee between your thighs and moving your hips against him. By the time he agrees that ‘ok we are a little too sticky’ you look you’ve both been murdered gruesomely.

You’re gonna fuck in the bath too, just so you know

Enmu is absolutely enamored with your smell! He has heart eyes when he even thinks about you. He’s constantly begging with his eyes for you to undress and let him eat you out. You’ll feel better! Your cramps won’t be as bad! You can trust him, he was a doctor! If you point out that was a scam he’ll brush it off, saying he learned it at some point anyway. If you do let him, prepare to have him between your legs and not letting go for hours. He can’t get enough, he wants your taste, your smell, the feeling of you on his tongue. 

He also loves to finger you, face near yours, listening to your whimpers and watches your head move to his in search of kisses. He also likes that he gets to taste you like this too, when your blood and juices drip down his fingers and down his hand for its mouth to lick up as it itself moans lewdly.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Ecto-Cream

You know how a lot of people use Vix-Vaporub a lot and just slather it on everywhere when you are sick or hurt, to the point it kinda became a meme?

Oh, you have anxiety? Here put on some Vix-Vaporub!

You broke a bone? Have some Vix-Vaporub!

Have stage 4 cancer? Vix-vaporub!

That!, but what if it was ecto?

The Fenton's invented it and it actually works! A little too well to be honest.

The memes? To Amity Parker's, not memes totally legit.

Suddenly they have the cure for everything with just this 'simple' cream

Now imagine Danny goes to Gotham for University or an internship, and the people around just witnessed him getting Jocker Gassed, totally freaking out right?

and Danny?

He just casually takes out this bright somehow green glowing cream from his pocket and starts rubbing it on his nose and chest, and is somehow fine!?

What the hell?!

~

Just an Idea

[egnidres]

It's Nuisance's birthday （=´∇｀=）

Aim and Post Dark Cream belongs to @zu-is-here

English version

French version

[esquen]

‘where am i?’ miguel whispers, brutal grip on your hips contrasting his sweet voice. ‘donde estoy, ángel?’ he repeats, hands beginning to roam your body.

‘aquí?’ he asks, warm hands cradling your tummy. whimpering, you nodded quickly. ‘in m’ tummy..’ you whisper back. ‘yeah? yeah i know, nena.’ he remarks as he presses his forehead to yours as his thrusts deepened.

[donelywell]

October 7 2023

One day, Sonic got into an accident while trying to show off and do daredevil stunts in a new zone. Unfortunately, he barely made it and accidentally broke his leg.

While being forced to sit around and recover, he got bored very quickly, becoming a nuisance to Tails who was treating his injured foot. Tails knew he didn't really mean to be a dick head, but it was beginning to get on his nerves as the stir crazy hedgehog was practically bouncing off the walls trying to find something to do.

With a glimmer of hope, Tails' communicator buzzed with Knuckles' message about their scheduled DnD session today. The kit completely forgot about it because he was trying to wrangle Sonic into sitting still to not ruin the cast. Something sparked in Tails' brain and quickly made a group chat with Amy and Knuckles to see if they were all down to playing Dungeons and Dragons for a quick one shot.

Amy pointed out that she was watching a sick Cream & Cheese today while Vanilla was out on a trip that she didn't go into detail with, so she couldn't leave the house for several hours to play. Tails pointed out that they could all go over to her house to play, and she immediately got excited, listing off all the things she was going to set up before they come over.

Knuckles was a little apprehensive, because he wanted to continue the story they were already playing, and he didn't want to leave the Master Emerald unguarded. Amy swooped in and said that the Chaotix owed her a favor for helping them with a case, so she could simply use the favor to have them watch the Master Emerald. Still unsure, Knuckles agreed, but pointed that he would make several calls through the one shot to make sure everything was okay on the island.

With everything planned out, Tails went over to Sonic to let him know what he got planned for them today. At first, Sonic was against it, saying he's not as into the roleplaying and numbers game as his little brother. Which led to Tails rambling first about all of the times the hedgehog has told him about that time he went to Camelot and fighting a Genie in a lamp, but then pointed out that it was either this, or sitting on the bed still with nothing to do.

Sonic immediately agreed after that, but embarrassingly muttered that he didn't need to do all of this just because he was bored. Tails huffed, his twinned tails twitching in mild irritation, that this was more for him than Sonic because it'd finally get him to stop bugging him while he was trying to do something.

Tails helped him get on his crutches and over to the Tornado, and running back inside the fallen-plane-made-home (base) to grab a large box of fidget toys and his DnD notes & premade character sheets.

While in the air, Tails rambled about how he's wanted to play this one shot he made for a few months now, how to play the game because Sonic has never played before, and tried to warm him to the idea of playing DnD with them more maybe down the line even if his leg isn't broken. Sonic just sat in the back of the plane, idly listening to Tails' ramblings while mindlessly playing with a fidget toy and feeling the wind in his face. Though the wind didn't feel as great as when he's standing on the wing, feeling any wind against his quills at all is refreshing after being cooped up for a few days at home recovering.

Once they landed just outside of Sunset City, Sonic insisted on helping Tails carry everything. The fox just looked at the injured hedgehog unimpressed but eventually caved and let him hide the DnD notes in his quills. Due to Sonic being in crutches, they ended up taking the subway over to the heart of the city to get to the Rose Family's Apartment. The brothers made small talk while walking, talking about what projects they're working on or where they plan to explore to next.

The duo made it to the apartment and noticed that Knuckles was already there, and laughed at the fastest thing alive being late. The blue blur fired back that he was currently out of commission at the moment and the subway station was having some technical difficulties. Red and Blue continued to butt heads as Yellow and Pink continued to set up the session table (coffee table). Tails only butted into the light hearted bickering to ask Sonic to give him the DnD notes back.

As the fighting calmed down, Amy revealed the snacks and comedically large box of costumes she has for everyone to wear to help them get into character. Tails revealed the characters they could choose, with Knuckles choosing the Cleric, Sonic the Fighter, Amy the Wizard, and Tails being the DM.

They all got situated in their costumes, character sheets, couch placements, and pillow arrangements while snacks, dnd dice, and fidget toys littered all around them.

It went great, Sonic quickly understood the rules and how to play the game, Cream sometimes came over to watch the battles they faced, Knuckles and Sonic only sometimes butted heads, Amy had a lot of fun getting in character and casting spells that wowed the table, and Tails was relieved that Sonic was actually having fun.

Tails laughed while Sonic and Knuckles were quipping back and forth again while Amy was in the kitchen making something for them all to eat for dinner, a soft smile formed on his white muzzle as he realized Sonic was petting the tail he absentmindedly rested on his brother.

We should do this more often, he thought.

[deviouz]

i kind of want to write a reverse sex pollen fic with astarion ): like. needy, desperate, writhing astarion begging for help from his partner because he got too close to a plant when they warned him not to.

or, like, what if (in an alternate timeline) vampire spawn had like. heats.

i am frothing at the mouth and need to be spayed!

[lestappenforever]

Lestappen fic - Ice cream shop owner!Charles AU

I don't typically get excited by AU ideas for Lestappen because Lestappen in canonverse is so appealing to me in and of itself. But, while AO3 was down yesterday, @thearchercore received and answered a whole bunch of asks from lovely anons about a Lestappen AU fic where Charles owns an ice cream shop (as inspired by the news that the man is actually going to open an ice cream shop in Milan.) And, well, for the first time ever, I got excited about a Lestappen AU. So, I wrote something.

This is, obviously, dedicated to the incredible @thearchercore, a true pillar of the Lestappen community, and to each and every anon who has sent in asks about this AU. And because this was entirely inspired by people on Tumblr, you can read the whole fic in this post. ❤️

---

Max realizes that he has probably let this whole thing go too far. Way too far. 

What had started as a chance encounter after the Monza Grand Prix, where Max had gone on a drive and ended up in a small, lovely ice cream shop - LEC - in Milan that served the most delicious vanilla ice cream Max had ever tasted, had spiraled and developed into what was now practically a weekly occurrence. Every chance he got, when the race calendar, his PR and training schedule would allow it, Max would fly to Milan, spending ridiculous amounts of money and contributing an unnecessary amount to further pollute the environment, just to go back to that ice cream shop.

And yes, although the vanilla ice cream was divine, that's not the real reason Max kept coming back. 

No, the real cause of his travels was the ridiculously beautiful shop owner, with the fluffy brown hair, the captivating green eyes Max kind of wanted to drown himself in, and dimples that Max saw every single night when he closed his eyes. And what’s more, the shop owner — Charles — didn't even seem to like Max, because the Monégasque was a die-hard Ferrari fan and he seemed to have made it his personal mission to put all the blame of Ferrari’s lack of success for the past fifteen years on Max. Even if Max hadn’t been in F1 for the entirety of those fifteen years.

Not that he was surprised, really. The passion of the Tifosi did, on more than one occasion, seem to seriously impact their sense of logic and capability of rational thinking. 

And apparently, the beauty, sass and stubbornness of the shop owner did the exact same thing to Max's. 

The irony of that is not lost on him.

The fact that the two of them had discovered they were on the same page about the superior ice cream flavor the first time Max had been in that ice cream shop — “vanilla is my favorite” Max had said at exactly the same time Charles had said “vanilla is the only right choice” — had not been enough to endear him to Charles. His allegiance with Ferrari and Max currently on yet another dominating winning spree with Red Bull was too strong. (Even if there had been the flicker of something in those green eyes when Charles had learned that he and Max were on the same page about vanilla ice cream.)

After yet another failed attempt at charming Charles a few weeks ago, Max had gotten so desperate that he had genuinely started considering a move to Ferrari, even starting to subtly ask around about the possibility, Red Bull’s superior car and strategies be damned. But then word had reached GP and his race engineer had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would not be moving to Ferrari to impress ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’. Which Max had taken offense to, because Charles was not just ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’, thank you very much.

(Max really had to learn how to keep his mouth shut around GP.)

So yes, his obsession with the ice cream shop and its owner has gone way too far. And yet, on a warm August afternoon, Max finds himself walking back into that ice cream shop. 

Summer break has finally arrived, and Max had genuinely considered renting an apartment in Milan for the next three weeks so he wouldn't have to fly back and forth so much. But then he had come to the conclusion that that would be excessive. 

(Because flying back and forth between Monaco and Milan definitely wasn’t excessive. No, sir.)

Charles is there when Max walks in, as he is every single time Max walks in. The guy never seems to leave his beloved ice cream shop, and Max finds himself wondering if the other man gets enough sleep. Or if he even goes home to sleep, or if he has a bed set up in the back somewhere so he never has to waste time going back and forth between the ice cream shop and his home. 

He may not know Charles all that well, despite seeing him regularly for the past few months, but he does know that the man must have an incredible work ethic. 

The little bell above the door announces his arrival, and Charles looks up from behind the counter. For a brief second, Max is sure he sees a flash of excitement cross those gorgeous features, but the Monégasque quickly schools his expression into one of exasperation and indignation, complete with an overly dramatic eye roll. 

“No Red Bull Racing team members allowed,” Charles tells him with a huff, as he puts a brand-new tub of chocolate ice cream in the display freezer. 

Max snorts as he walks towards the counter. He had expected a frosty — pun intended — reception following Ferrari’s double DNF in the last race before the summer break, so Charles’ grumpy demeanor doesn’t deter him.  

“Hello to you too, Charles,” the Dutchman sing-songs, ignoring the way a couple of teenage girls at a table by the window gape at him. “Let me guess, Ferrari’s double DNF in Belgium was somehow my fault?”

Charles meets his gaze and narrows his eyes. He points an ice cream scoop at him. “I am not sure how, but yes.” He waggles the scoop accusingly. 

It’s Max’s turn to roll his eyes. “Right, because the two of them crashing into each other in turn two, while in P8 and P9 respectively, while I was at the very front definitely had something to do with me?”

“Obviously,” Charles confirms with a sniff. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Max laughs, shaking his head in a manner that can only be described as fond. He comes to a halt in front of the cash register at the counter, and waits for Charles to ask him what he wants. 

But Charles never does; instead busies himself with rearranging the different bowls of topping on top of the display freezer, wiping down the counter, and restocking the ice cream cones, all the while completely ignoring Max’s presence. Or general existence, even.

Eventually, Max runs out of patience.

“I’d like three scoops of vanilla ice cream, please.”

Charles doesn’t even stop what he’s doing. Doesn’t even look at him. “We’re all out of vanilla.”

Max stares. At Charles, then at the almost full tub of vanilla, with its little sign labeling it as vanilla sticking out of the fluffy ice cream. 

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Charles, I can see the vanilla ice cream. It’s right there,” Max insists, pointing at the flavor through the display glass. As if Charles isn’t completely aware of its existence, as if he’s not just being a little shit and punishing Max for something that isn’t even remotely his fault. 

Charles pauses in his bustling to look at Max. Then, he follows the length of Max’s arm to where his finger is pointing directly at the vanilla. His gaze returns to Max’s eyes as he says, deadpan: “That is only a display ice cream.”

Max blinks repeatedly.

“A display ice cream?” he echoes incredulously. 

“Yes,” Charles confirms, raising his chin. “It’s only for display, it is not to be served.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like this,” the Monégasque says, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug. 

Max doesn’t know if he wants to smack him or kiss him. 

(That’s a lie, he knows damn well that he wants to kiss that smug look right off of Charles’ stupidly beautiful face.)

“Fine,” the Dutchman sighs, moving his finger slightly to the right. “Then I would like three scoops of the chocolate.”

“I’m sorry, but that is also only a display ice cream,” Charles tells him with a completely straight face. 

“You’re not serious.”

Charles raises one full eyebrow. “Does it look like I’m joking?” he asks.

And, well, Max has to admit that it absolutely does not. 

He stands there in silence for a while, wondering why the hell this infuriating man has been the object of his deepest desires for the past few months. Wonders why Charles’ face is the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes to sleep at night, and why he is the one person that keeps appearing in the majority of his dreams. Wonders why, when his mind wanders as he has a secure grip around himself in bed, it keeps wandering to the mental images of what Charles would look like, feel like, sound like if he was there with Max, when all Charles seems to want to do is get under Max’s skin and infuriate him in ways and for reasons Max hadn’t even known he could let himself be infuriated. 

Oh, who is he kidding? Those reasons, coupled with Charles’ overall appearance and being, are exactly why his mind never seems to tire of Charles whatever-the-fuck-his-middle-name-is Leclerc, and only him. 

Max has always been a sucker for challenges. And Charles is definitely a challenge. 

Had Charles been an F1 driver instead of the owner of an ice cream shop, Max just knows their on-track battles would have been epic. Their rivalry would have been one for the ages; their names and lives so intertwined that people could not have mentioned one without also mentioning the other. Because Max is sure that Charles’ passion, his stubbornness and his outright refusal to give in to anything or anyone would have translated into a fierce, unyielding, unapologetic driver. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Max gives a quick shake of his head to clear is racing mind. Then, he fixes Charles with a hard stare. 

“Let me guess, these are all ‘display ice creams’?” he asks, gesturing with a hand at the numerous tubs of flavors in the display freezer. 

“Of course not,” Charles scoffs, as if that’s the most ridiculous statement that has been made in the ice cream shop in the past few minutes. “That would be a horrible way to run a business. We have one flavor that is not only for display.”

Max is almost afraid to ask, but he does anyway. “Which is?”

Charles doesn’t answer the question with words, just points to the bottom tub at the far left. The little sign reads ‘Mint chip’.

“Who the fuck eats mint chip ice cream?” Max asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “That’s like eating toothpaste.”

For the first time since Max stepped through the door, Charles smiles. A beautiful, self-satisfied, mischievous smile that does things to Max’s body, mind and soul. It makes his heart rate pick up and his skin tingle with an excitement he has no business feeling. 

Pathetic. He’s absolutely pathetic. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Max. That's all I have to offer today.”

And Max, proving just how completely gone he is on this ridiculous man, lets out a long, tired sigh. 

“Three scoops of mint chip, please,” he requests in a voice that is completely resigned. 

Charles’ face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree, and he scurries to get one of the small glass bowls reserved for customers who want to eat their ice cream in the shop, not even needing to ask if that’s what Max is planning to do, or if he wants his ice cream in a cone. And although Charles is doing his damnedest to make Max believe that his general existence on this earth is causing Charles physical pain and emotional turmoil, the fact that Charles remembers his preference doesn’t go unnoticed by Max. 

He won’t even entertain the idea that Charles might just be adamant on making Max sit in his shop and eat his mint chip ice cream so Charles can watch him suffer with every spoonful. 

Charles is generous with the scoops — incredibly so — and Max is sure those three scoops he requested actually equal the size of at least six regular-sized scoops. He realizes that he probably should have asked for one scoop instead of three. He watches as Charles sticks a spoon in the ice cream and places the bowl on the counter in front of Max with the biggest grin on his face.

“It’s on the house,” Charles tells him, probably just to further add to Max’s suffering. 

The Dutchman eyes the bowl of ice cream warily, quietly cursing it and himself, before picking it up with a hesitating hand. Charles watches him expectantly the entire time as Max makes his way to a small table in one corner of the shop. Behind him, a small child, probably around five or six, had entered the shop with his mother while Max was waiting for Charles to finish scooping, and Max hears the boy ask for two scoops of strawberry ice cream. And Charles — the fucking asshole — makes a point out of saying ‘coming right up’ in both Italian and English just to fuck with Max some more.

Max takes a seat with his back to the window so he can face Charles. Because if nothing else, he’s not going to let Charles win.

The first spoonful really does taste like toothpaste with a hint of chocolate, and it’s an awful combination. It takes every ounce of willpower Max has not to let the disgust he’s feeling show on his face. He lets the ice cream melt in his mouth for a long moment, before swallowing the disgusting liquidized ice cream, all the while maintaining a completely unaffected expression. 

Charles watches him eat the entire bowl of ice cream, and Max never breaks eye contact. With every expressionless swallow, Max can see the thinly veiled disappointment on Charles’ face and the satisfaction he gets from that is enough to motivate him to finish every single bite. He even makes a point out of scraping the melted remains of the ice cream from the sides of the bowl, scooping it up into a mint green coloured soup in his spoon, and eating it. He even briefly considers licking the bowl clean just to get a rise out of Charles, but the Monégasque turns away from him with a huff before he can put his plan into action.

Which, thank fuck, because Max is starting to feel a bit sick from the ridiculous amount of toothpaste-flavored ice cream he has just consumed out of spite and spite alone. He pushes the bowl forward and away from himself on the table with a frown.

Charles goes back to ignoring his presence for the next fifteen minutes, and Max waits. Just because he can — just because he knows this wasn’t the outcome Charles had expected and he wants to revel in the satisfaction of finally getting under Charles’ skin for once for a little while longer. 

Eventually, Charles comes to collect his empty bowl and gives Max a disapproving glare. 

“Well? How was it?”

And Max, unable to resist, gives Charles his biggest, brightest smile. “It was delicious, thank you.”

If looks could kill, Max would have been dead. Then, Charles turns on his heels and walks away with Max’s empty bowl and spoon. 

Taking the win, Max gets to his feet and waits for Charles to look over at him from behind the counter. When he does, he gives the other man a wave. “See you tomorrow, Charles.”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow!” Charles shoots back.

“Oh, but I am,” Max counters. It sounds like a promise, and it is. 

As he walks out of the ice cream shop, feeling Charles’ gaze boring into the back of his head as he does, Max pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts looking up hotels in the area with available rooms.

***

Max stays in Milan for two weeks, and he goes to Charles’ ice cream shop every single day. 

Every day, Charles tells him the only flavor he can serve him is mint chip. By day three, Max has stopped trying to argue with him. By day five, Max orders vanilla and Charles responds with ‘three scoops of mint chip coming up’. And every day, Max sits at his little table by the window to eat his ice cream while Charles stands behind the counter, watching him eat the entire time. 

Every. Single. Day. 

And every single day, Max can see Charles’ resolve crumbling, little by little, convincing him that his tragic efforts are not in complete vain. They might be mostly in vain, but Max is in far too deep at this point to care.

On the eighth day, Max stays until closing and Charles spends the majority of his free moments actually hanging around Max’s table and engaging him in conversation. It's a step in the right direction, even if Charles does end up kicking the Dutchman out when he has to count the register.

And on the eleventh day, as Max is about to leave after finishing yet another disgusting, massive portion of mint chip ice cream, Charles finds himself looking at the blond from behind the counter, watching as Max smiles down at his phone. Those piercing blue eyes are crinkling in delight, causing adorable smile lines to appear at their corners, his full, inviting lips stretching to expose his straight, white teeth. A wave of something — jealousy, Charles would define it as if he wasn’t a pigheaded dick when it comes to four-time F1 World Champion Max Emilian Verstappen — washes over him at the thought of whatever or whoever it is that puts that smile on Max's face. 

It makes the Monégasque realize that all of his attempts over the past few months to convince himself that he doesn’t find Max attractive or charming as hell, and that he definitely doesn’t want to find out whether Max likes vanilla in bed, too, have been for naught. 

And so, with an overwhelming feeling that he's losing a battle he's been fighting for months, Charles throws away the paper towel he had been using to dry his hands and resigns himself to his fate. Because sometimes, perseverence needs to be rewarded.

And he's not just referring to Max's.

“You can take me out to dinner tonight,” he tells Max, and it sounds like the statement pains him. Which it kind of does.

Max stops dead, one hand on the door handle, half-turned to face Charles. The look on his face is one of utter surprise.

“Really?” he asks, and he sounds so fucking hopeful that it should probably make Charles change his mind. But instead, it makes him want to close up the shop immediately and let Max take him out to dinner right fucking now.

Which is pathetic, really. But then again, so is the way Charles has been waking up every day hoping Max Verstappen would walk through the door of his ice cream shop for the past few months.

But, having no intention of showing his hand, Charles maintains a stoic expression as he nods. 

“Pick me up here at nine.”

Max's smile is so wide that Charles wonders if it makes his cheeks hurt. He also wonders if said cheeks will feel as warm to the touch as they look.

“Okay,” Max says, still smiling. “Then I'll see you again at nine.”

And with that, Max turns, pulls the door open, and walks out of the shop. 

When Charles can only just see the back of the Dutchman through the window, he sees Max stopping briefly on the sidewalk and pumping his fist in the air in the same celebratory manner Charles has seen after so many victorious races over the years.

He looks ridiculous, and Charles might just be falling a little bit in love with him.

Charles doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

***

It turns out that Max's preferences in bed are far more adventurous than his taste in ice cream.

Which turns out to be yet another thing they're on the same page about.

[thevirtualvalentine]

TAPE THREE : PASSENGER PRINCESS !

Starring … ‘Red Hair’ Shanks 📸

SET SCRIPT : “Hey Babbyyyy congrats on 100! For your lovely followers event could I request afab reader with Dads best friend Shanks n some sprinkles of corruption :3 I love youuu bae mwah 😮‍💨🤍”

MATURE WARNING(S) : smut, unprotected vaginal sex, AGE GAP, use of the title “daddy”, corruption kink, underlying breeding kink (if you squint), Shanks mysteriously has 2 arms, forced orgasm, you’re Mihawks daughter, afab!femme reader.

DIRECTORS CUT : For one of my favorite people on this app @stargirldelight <33 so sorry this took me forever to get to. Apologies, Shanks brings out an unprecedented daddy kink in me I didn’t know I had …

Moving is already stressful enough, add the fact that your dad can’t seem to help you out this weekend and voila; you’re in a pinch. He’s typically off on some sort of exploit around the world anyways, a stoic mystery of sorts. But, your dad did suggest that he come help you move into your new apartment.

Which is fine and all, but you’re not sure how you’re gonna last the already tumultuous move in with Shanks around. He’s your dads best friend, or enemy, you’re honestly not quite sure.

Ever since you were a teen you admired shanks, his warm fuzzy smile, how stern he got when he was mad, and that damn signature red hair of his that you can always pick out from a crowd. You expected to grow out of it as you got older, but you could never quite kick the habit. His voice smooth like honey when he’d stumble in with your father drunk, or when he said bye after helping you move in for college. He’s really your fantasy come true, a handsome man with unmistakable charm that makes you smile even on days you don’t have reason to.

You’re older now, you should be able to handle this. But a man like him ages akin to fine wine, only becoming more and more attractive as the years gain on him. Granted, there was an age gap between you; which is what typically kept your lewd thoughts of him in check.

He’d drive this red dodge charger every time he picked you up when your dad couldn’t, like now. Red hair flowing in his face as you coasted down the highway. He smiles and asks if the boys your age were treating you right while his fingers dance along your shoulders. “Pft, I wish,” you aimlessly laughed, noting that exactly what you desired in a man was right next to you.

“Whaaaat? Cmon’ a pretty girl like you? Really?” He sounded genuinely disturbed by this confession of yours. “You deserve better sweetheart.” His eyes flickering back to the road as you’re a few hours out from your new town.

“I really don’t go out much y’know, and it’s not like I have anything to offer them,” your heard turns as you mumble into your fist. Embarrassed to let the older gentleman know just how little play you get. The compliment he gave you flies right over your head as you try to mask the growing ache for Shanks in your heart (and pussy). He’s always been sweet like this to you, patient and gentle as he places a reassuring hand on your knee. You think nothing of it.

“I don’t believe it, they don’t know what they’re missing. I woulda been all ov-” clearing his throat before continuing, “maybe they’re just not what you need.” He turns the music down as the conversation begins to flow more naturally, tension sparking like electricity in the air as he pushes further and further.

“Oh? And what do I need.” You flash him that look of mischief, one that was saved for when you’d ask him to bail you out of punishment with your dad.

“Someone who could treat you how you deserve, a real man and not some boy.” He can’t control the possessive tone that exits his mouth, it’s just unbelievable to him. After all these years and all those meaningless break ups you’d go through, it was him whose arms you’d cry into. Too drunk off cheap liquor with the sweet but sickly scent of vodka hanging off your breath. But of course, he’d listen. Always the patient type.

“And do I know a man like that? Sounds like you wanna be that guy Shanks,” it was only a joke. Your voice airy as you moved your hair out of your lipgloss. Highway wind was never kind to you.

“Don’t play with me,” and he’s back to serious. The coolness of his words sends a shiver up your spine.

“What if I meant it, hm? What if I wanted you to show me?” Your eyes now burning holes in the sides of his face, his jaw clenches as he battles with his own morality.

“You don’t think I’m a little too old for you?” He sends a glance your way, one that trails from your low cut tank top to the supple skin of your thighs before he’s back to gripping the gear shift.

“Said it yourself, I need a real man,” your knees turn to face him as you let your voice purrr. Mihawk would kill him if he found out about this, but he’s never truly been afraid of the man anyways. Especially not when his daughter is as pretty as you, there’s just so much you don’t know, so much he could show you. It drives him wild.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for.” Eyes straight on the road, but the unmistaken waiver in his voice let’s you know he just needs one final shove before he tumbles down like dominos.

“I’m asking for you Shanks,” you plant a sweet kiss to his cheek; just how you used to when he’d leave town for months on end and you didn’t know when you’d see him again.

For once it’s his turn to be flustered, if he wasn’t so concerned about keeping both eyes on the road he’d grab you himself. “Behave little girl, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

You squirm in your seat, the problem is you know exactly what you’re getting into. It’s finally what you’ve wanted for years. For the object of desire in his mind to be aimed at you, for your affections to be reciprocated, to be with him instead of being viewed as his best friends daughter.

You’ve driven to your new town before so you’re aware that wherever he’s driving isn’t the right way, “Shanks?”

“What? Thought I was supposed to show you.” A light chuckle leaves him as you’re parked in the back corner of a parking lot, headlights turned off.

“Come here hun,” he pushes his seat back urging you to crawl over to him. It feels so right to be held by him, yet so wrong at the same time it makes butterflies swirl around in your stomach. The lack of space pushing you closer to him as his steady breathing makes you feel safer.

“Be gentle Shanks, I’ve only done it one time before.” At that his jaw clenches. A cute thing like you only getting fucked once? It almost makes his blood boil, yet it turns sick when he realizes all he can teach you right here and now. How tight your cunt will grip him as he makes you bounce up and down on him. Oh, Mihawk will kill him indeed; that is if he ever finds out about how he’s stretching out your pussy.

His hands feel so warm on you, rubbing and groping at your skin while you get comfortable. All the attention from him at once makes your head spin, growing needier to get on with it already. “You don’t want it like that though, do you?” It’s barely above a whisper, a nasty vile secret that he somehow knows. All you can do is whimper as he ravages your neck in rough kisses, lips lingering over your pulse points. His years of experience showing as he makes you writhe.

“You want it rough don’t you, t’s ok doll you can tell daddy the truth.” He grins at your hardy whine, swallowing it down in a kiss that devours you from the inside out. His tongue invades your mouth, overpowering yours.

He’s perfect, exactly how you imagined he’d be. Strong arms guiding you further up his lap, helping you wrap your arms around the base of his neck. “Shanks .. more please—” your face hot as you plead for more of him. Feeling how stiff he is makes pride swell within you, was that really your doing? All you’ve done is kiss him, but he groans each time you lean further into his touch.

He leaves pepper kisses on your face and eyelashes, pulling back to look for any doubt on your complexion. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, tugging on one of your curls before wrapping it around his finger. Too intimate, far too intimate for the debauchery he’s about to lay on you.

“Spread those pretty legs wider f’me, there you go,” his phrasing patient as his knees open wider beneath you. Your hands grip his shoulders for balance while you wait in anticipation for anything… “where do you want me to touch you baby,” his eyes meet yours, “here?” His middle and index finger graze the thin cloth of your shorts.

You nod your head profusely, looking down at the space between you with your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Shanks snakes his fingers within your walls, teasing the entrance lightly while using your slick to slide in and out slowly. “Remember, breathe,” the slight sting keeps your hold on him firm as you try to adjust. In and out, rhythmically, the pads of his fingers glide along your plush walls.

Your airy chants of his name fill the darkening small space of his cramped car. Hips beginning to bounce on his hand, desperation creeping in with each drag of his fingertips inside you. “Look at you, suckin my fingers in. Almost like you don’t wanna let them go,” he marvels at you, moving your shorts out of the way so he has a clearer view of your insatiable pussy.

“S’creamy, you been thinking about me?” Bold for him to say, he acts like he’s not knuckle deep inside you with reckless abandon for his position in all this. You’re oozing down his wrist as his fingers begin to scissor back n forth.

“Kiss me Shanks,” you ask.

“Of course baby,” he replies.

It’s always him who spoils you, giving you what you ask for. How could he deny you of such a sweet request? The squelch of your wetness grows while a tight knot tries to unravel itself within you.

“Not yet, can you wait for daddy just a lil more?” He can feel that too? Embarrassment hot on your face while your hips grind against his palm.

It’s indecent how sexy he is, toned chest peaking through his shirt, tongue slightly sticking out as he preps you for his fat length, and his deep even voice that praises every movement of your body.

His entry inside you is smooth, almost like he was meant to fit you perfectly. “Oh my god Shanks f-fuck wait—” Your head is spinning, you can feel his dick twitch with each convulse of your own walls.

He doesn’t mind that you’re clutching onto him hard enough to draw blood, no not at all, honestly it’s making him want to burry himself deeper. “Shhh baby, I got you. I got you, just breathe.” Not yet though, he can’t hurt you (too bad). Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes but he’s quick to wipe them with his thumb. Kissing your collarbones as if to apologize for the molding his cock does to your needy warmth.

The pain subdues, giving way to a hunger you can’t quite describe; but quiet mouths don’t get fed. “Gimmie more Daddy, please,” truthfully the name slipped out, but the damage was done as it left a shiver to creep up the red heads spine.

Well, how could he say no to that? His hands move from your waist down, molding the skin of your ass as he pleases while his hips experimentally shift up and down. When he hears you sigh in pleasure he knows he’s found the right angle. “Better hold on, gonna give it to you just how you want it love.” It’s in how he reassures you that he’ll take care of you that allows you to let go, letting this be your reality instead of some sick sex dream.

His strength is unreal, he’s lifting you with no problem and then pushing you down again and again. It feels like he’s impaling you, knocking your breath out with each rise and fall of your oozing cunt. “Mhm, fuckkk. Been thinking about this for a long time.” The space between you both lessens as the heat rises, giving way to an erotic composition of pleasure.

Any composure you had flies out the window as you’re left dumb and drooling as the only thing that can leave your mouth is praises of his name. Incoherent babbling about how you never want it to stop, losing yourself in the heat of his body. “So slutty baby, what would your dad think, huh?” He lets his palm rest against your stomach as you continue to bounce. Eyeing where his own outline is visible within you.

“Nasty girl, felt the way you got tighter around me. You want him to know? Know that it’s me fuckin’ his pretty daughter in my car.” His words alone are enough to make that tight band snap instantly with little buildup, robbing you of your ability to think as you cry out meek thank you’s to Shanks. He pulls you back by the hair, watching the way your face contorts as you cream around him; squeezing his cock like a vice.

The flutter of your walls spurs him on, picking up an animalistic pace as you’re used to bring him his own high. Sweat making his hair stick to his forehead as your vision focuses back in. “Think you can do it again? I know you can love.”

You’re unsure what he means but when you feel his thumb start to circle at your clit you’re a goner. The intensity of your last climax causes you to squirm as he tries to rip another out of you. “Stop fuckin running.” When Shanks wants something, he always gets it. That’s the rule. You are no exception.

He can feel his balls tensing at the obscene squelch each thrust into your cunt provides him, he knows he’ll have to wash these seats later; but for now he’s gonna dump his load in his best friends hot daughter.

“Let go.” A harsh drag of his thumb has you coming undone yet again, spurring Shank’s own orgasm where he drags you down flush against him. No where to run as his hot seed fills you to the brim. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff baby.”

You’re left convulsing as you try to catch your breath, slumping against his chest like a noodle. “Di.. dirty old bastard,” you weakly protest, slamming your fist into his chest.

“And yet you still wanna fuck this dirty old bastard,” he says with a laugh, peeling you off his chest to kiss you with nothing but teeth. He suckles on your tongue, making you whimper as he’s still inside you. “That’s what I thought,” he says satisfied.

Maybe he’ll have to be like Mihawk, taking out of town trips. However, he knows exactly where he’ll be going. Right where you are.

Enjoy? Reblog & click 2 see event masterlist!

[me-writes-prompts]

-:“Can we share?” Ice cream prompts-:

(It’s summer, so I gotta do this. Tag me!)

By @me-writes-prompts

“I wanna try yours.”

“Hey, no fair! You have more sprinkles than mine!”

“I can’t sleep, can we have ice cream?” “I was about to say that.”

^^Midnight ice cream dates

“Wait, wait, wait, this is melting, omg.” “I told you to eat it right away, you idiot.”

One of them is crying while watching a movie, the other one brings them ice cream to soothe them.

“I’m so hot-” “I know.” “Let’s get ice cream.” “Oh, you meant it that way…” (*blushes*)

“Your ice cream looks delicious, let me try.” “We have the exact same ice cream, for god’s sake!”

^^Grumbling but letting the other one try their ice cream, anyway :)

“What flavor are you getting?” “Chocolate. And strawberry, and also vanilla and-” “I think that’s enough, babe.”

^^Listing off every flavor the store has, because they want to try everything.

It’s been a hot day, and they could really use some ice cream with blasting air conditioner.

[zu-is-here]

Naive souls ♪( ´▽｀)

[master-xochimilli]

My hands are cold, someone should really let me grope and squeeze their pretty tits and soft thighs to warm up~ Maybe I’ll even want to warm up my cock between their thighs as well

[melon-cream-enmu]

Cw Female afab reader, being a house wife to human disguised Muzan, trying for a baby, repeated failure to conceive, mentions of possibility to become pregnant, non consensual unknowing partaking in cannibalism, Muzan cooking and feeding you human meat, implied consensual sex

Im not confident in my ability to write smut for intimidating characters so I didn't, this is void of any described sex

Of all the eons Muzan has been ‘alive’ He’s toyed with people to keep up appearances. He’s been married countless times, killed partners countless times. But out of all of them, he’d say you were his favorite.

Sweet, yet with an attitude, plump, heavy in all the right places. He’d admit he likes your affection. A stay at home wife, you love to dote on him when he’s home, always at strange times due to business and his ‘skin condition’ requiring him to only leave at night. You’d even changed your sleep schedule to better match ‘his’, resting during the day to be up with him during the night. You were so cute, eager to please him, in every way. And you did, you cooked well, you cleaned well, and my, did you perform well in bed.

Such an eager thing, responded so perfectly to his touches, he’s been around a long time and is well experienced, but it’s as if everything he did, you liked. The tears in your eyes, the shine of your lips when he indulges you with kisses, the jiggle and bounce of your flesh. The way you tremble when he fills you so full of cum. He’s been playing a better act than usual, showing he ‘cares’, agreeing that he’d love a family with you, ‘trying’ for a baby. Your pouty face after a while when you’ve shown no signs and been reassured by doctors that nothing is wrong, it just hasn’t ‘stuck’, is truly adorable. Reassuring kisses always brighten your mood.

He’s contemplated turning you in moments where his patience has run dry with his moons and his experiments, sitting with arms crossed and brow knit in thought, but he’s never been too serious. Maybe when he’s ‘done’ with you he’ll try, and if you can’t survive it then it’s no loss to him. But he begins to think how a good human husband would, about ways to ‘improve your fertility’ just to see how you break down when you’re still unsuccessful. Because you will be, he doubts he’ll ever actually succeed in impregnating you, no matter how much you try. The possibility is there of course, but he’s no normal man anymore.

It wouldn’t matter either way. If you succeed, it will only solidify his place for however long he needs, and if not, there’ll be no issue killing you when the time comes. A woman ‘struck with grief at her failure to conceive’, you’ll have killed yourself, and he’ll ‘grieve’ for as short a time as possible and then move on to the next.

His mind rolls back to the hypotheticals of improving your fertility, recalling the medicines humans use, rituals humans perform…foods humans eat. You’d be so appreciative that he went out of his way to research dishes and ingredients to cook it for you. So appreciative you’d no doubt bring him back to your shared bed to try all over again, a thought that makes his eyes close and a puffed, exhaled laugh escape his nose, lips twitching into a smirk.

But his hands tighten into fists in response to the following thought. You’d never know, but he would, and that’s all that mattered. He could taint you, completely without your knowledge. It wouldn’t be hard, disguising human flesh as some other meat for a meal. The thought of your eyes squeezing tight as you squirm where you sit at how ‘tasty’ it is finalizes the decision.

He comes home to see you in a dreary mood. You don’t look up when he enters and you don’t greet him, only humming when he comes close and lays a gentle hand on your head, petting it. “I’m home, my darling.” He says before laying a kiss to the crown of your head, pulling back with a smirk on his lips. “Should I take on dinner tonight?” You look up at him now, a small smile on your face. “If it’s not too much ask…” he strokes your cheek. You’re so warm. He’s eaten countless bodies, warm and cold, but no one’s ever felt as warm as you do. “Of course not.” he withdraws and heads into the kitchen and sets down the wrapped items he'd brought with him.

As he cooks, you go about doing other tasks, leaving the room at some point. It's much preferred. He finally takes out the pound of meat. It looks rough, not properly cut from the body. Which it wasn't, he'd torn it from an unexpected meal earlier in the night. He prepares it and begins cooking it, slightly unsettled as the smell of the delicious blood and flesh soon disappears and aromas of spice and savory flavor takes it's place.

You made your way back into the room just as he was done plating it, and welcomed you to eat it. As you did, you were clear in how much you enjoyed it. Humming and smiling, he smiled at you, though he's almost smirking. You're eating human flesh, and you're too eagerly enjoying how its been prepared to even know. That, and you would never think your husband capable of such a heinous act.

The house was cleaned, you were happily cuddled up in his lap, and the sun had begun rising in the sky, in a few hours you'd grow tired and head to bed. You were quiet as you read, he was hardly aware of what, but it wasn't important as he stroked your side. His hand lowered, to your hip and slowly to your thigh. "I'm glad you let me handle dinner. I wanted to do something special for you, I was worried you'd tell me no." You shift a bit and look up at him, "and what would that be?" His hand moves up your thigh now. "I know it's been hard for you, trying so hard to conceive yet seeing nothing to reward you for all the time you've given, so I looked into some things." You set your book down and adjust yourself, now straddling his lap. He glances down at your body before returning his gaze to your face. "You know food can be used as medicine, yes?" You nod slowly. "Well," His hands stroke your thighs, one soon traveling up to lay on your stomach. "Certain foods are capable of improving a woman's fertility." He hears your breath hitch. "Now, it doesn't guarantee anything, but-" You cut him off with a kiss, something he saw coming. You pepper his lips, cheeks, chin with kisses. He chuckles at you, holding your waist and shifting his head as if moving away from an excited puppy. "Sweetheart I don't want you to get your hopes up."

You kiss him once more. "I won't, I promise." The kisses you give him now are softer, slower, full of love that he can't help but grow excited at. You're loving, treating a good man the way you think he deserves to be treated. You'll only know when it's too late, or maybe you'll never know, the man he truly is.

You start slowly yet eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. "My, we haven't even made it to the bed yet." He teases between your kisses. The way you sink into his lap and rub yourself against him tells him you won't be making it to the bed anytime soon.

He looked down at, you were cuddled up near his side where he sat. Body nude, and though covered in a fine sheen of sweat and sex, you look like the subject of a painting. He almost feels sympathy for you. If it weren't for him, you may have found that painter, been their muse, found a normal life with someone who loved you.

He hands smooths through your hair for a moment before his gaze focuses on your stomach. Maybe he will stick around, try to give you what you want. Though he does hate the sound of a crying, wailing baby...

[fandoms--fluff]

Chocolate Strawberries

Female reader x Damon Salvatore

Request: Would it be possible for maybe Damon and reader to pour melted chocolate and whipped cream on each other’s bodies.

Warnings: chocolate and whip cream play (is that a thing?),

A/n: got a request for this in my messages! Sorry if it's a bit shorter then expected 😞💜

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damon walks into the kitchen where you're dipping strawberries into melted chocolate on the island. He wraps his arms around your waist and leans his chin against the top of your head.

He dips one of his fingers into the melted chocolate and licks it off his finger. "Hey! that's for the strawberries" You look up at him.

"Mmm, but it's too hard to resist" he pulls you into a kiss.

The soft kiss turns into a long, passionate one. Damon picks you up and places you on the table a couple feet away. He incases your lips in his, and you immediately kiss him back as your hands go up to his hair and legs wrap around his waist.

Your clothing is ripped off of you, now only being left in your bra and panties. You pull Damon's shirt off him and throw it to the side as he wraps his arms around your torso, unclasping your bra.

He kiss down your neck, leaving hickeys all the way down to your perked nipples.

"You know what'd look amazing?" He mumbles against your skin. "Hmm what?" You look down at him, eyebrow furrowed.

"This" he reaches his finger into the bowl with melted chocolate and brings it back over, spreading it in the swell of your brests. You watch with fascinated eyes as he then brings his face down and slowly lick off the sweet chocolate from your chest. A small moan escapes your lips while watching.

He pulls back up once it's all off, a smirk on his face. You then get an idea and sit back up. You reach behind you where a can of whipped cream is and shake it before spraying some down Damon's neck.

You lean forward and start licking the sugary topping off his neck, a little bite here and there. He brings his hands to your back, pulling you against him.

"Way better than strawberries" he whispers into your ear, eyebrows raised in pleasure of your tongue on his neck.

[red-writes]

being best friends with izuku leads to you snooping around his room and finding his pocket-pussy he catches you and one things leads to another and now you're sitting on his thighs while you use it on him, his hands are on your waist encouraging you to hump his thigh.

[madwomansapologist]

mint chip — how did they court their lover? with the lotr characters (aragorn, legolas, boromir, arwen, eowyn)

mint chip — how did they court their lover?

⤷ with: aragorn, legolas, boromir, arwen and eowyn

⤷ thank you for your support! it means a lot 💙

aragorn

Aragorn often see himself as someone unworthy of anything he desires. They way people see him and how he perceive himself can be so different. And when he understood you had his heart on your palm, Aragorn swear to never act on it. He wouldn't want to bother you, or worse: to describe that you see him the same Aragorn does.

When it comes about Aragorn, you would have to act first. To make him understand that you don't see him as a unworthy men, but as a promising one. To make him understand that people aspire to be like him. If you make Aragorn understand that you want him, that you don't feel disgusted by him, only then he would be able to court you.

And he would be the kindest. He act like a king, even tho he don't believe he deserves to be one. He would be polite, tell you stories about his quests, protect you as if you already have agree to be his. No one would dare treat you badly when he's around.

Aragorn don't see yet, but he was born to rule. And you will rule beside him.

legolas

Legolas is a noble. Not only a noble, but the rightfull heir of Mirkwood. That means he was trained in more than combat or what it takes to rule. Legolas was trained about how to act around people, taught how to deal with enemies, and learned how to properly court his lover. With that being said, he would ignore all this knowledge the moment he understood what he feels for you.

It wouldn't take long for him to understand that he loves you. Legolas is guided by his heart, don't matter if people like that or not. If when he looks at you he feel warm, if when he talks to you he feels at home, if when he's away from you his life fall apart: Legolas knows he's in love. So he says it.

Just like that. Don't matter when, don't matter where, Legolas will simply say it. He's polite, Legolas wouldn't make you uncomfortable or overcross your bondaries, but he wouldn't think twice before saying it.

He will court you, and Legolas have a elve's patience. He will engage in conversations, ask your opinion on different subjects, and always in a light tone. Legolas will try his best to make you laugh, specially during dificult moments. And he don't need to worry about how long it will take for you to call him meleth. After all, time isn't a thing he lack of.

boromir

No one could say that Boromir don't know what he wants of life. He's a decided man, a hero for his people, and he would never go against what he think is part of the greater good. Boromir is so kind, so aware of the dangers and consequences of war, that the One Ring used his honor against him.

At first, it may seem that Boromir is not subtle at all. He would never do anything to disrespect you, far from that, is just that something on his face screams that he's sure you both will end up together.

He's confident that you would see him as his people do. As someone brave, intelligent and righteous. Boromir see you as you are, and he fall in love because he could understand your soul. He won't spare efforts to make you feel the same.

Boromir will bring you flowers every time he sees you. He would always chose different types, in hope that one day you tell him which one is your favorite. And whenever you need or want to stay in Gondor, Boromir will show you the gardens. He once heard that flowers had meanings, Boromir hopes you can understand the true meaning of this gift.

And it's wrong, so wrong, but it would be worse if Boromir lied to himself: the day he had to fought a creature in front of you, when he effortless defended you from something wicked, that was one of the best days of his life. To think that you may see him as a hero, your hero, made him blush.

So, yes, Boromir's feelings can be quite easy to understand. But isn't this a great thing? Boromir is showing you what he wants from life. And it's you.

arwen

Arwen may not know the world, or understand a great amount of things, but she knows her heart. When her father say that she's naive, Arwen understand that she just feel thing deeply. The only way this could be a mistake of hers was if Arwen buried her feeling and tried to ignore them. But to act on them, to search for her own happyness, will never be something she'll regret.

When Arwen understood that she loves you, at first she'll spend most of her time thinking. How do you feel about her? Would you ever feel the same away? How life, eternal or not, would be if she chose to spend it with you?

But as soon as she undertood her heart's desire, Arwen would stop imagining. She would join you for walks, compliment you and made sure there was no way of you thinking she was already with someone. Arwen won't be too foward, as she don't knows your feeling about her, but she does make clear that she's here.

If you ever need advice or someone to talk to, Arwen will gadly assume this position. She would do anything to know you better and help you with whatever you need. She's there. You can count on her. And If you ever need to be defended, well, she can do that too!

eowyn

Eowyn wants so much of life. She aspect to be brave for her kind, to rule as fairly as her father did, and to honor those who believe on her. If you help her with that, if you hear her dreams and treat them like reality, then you made your way to her heart. And if you live there, then it's only fair that Eowyn lives in yours too.

As we all seen, Eowyn won't be stopped from trying to conquering your heart. She'll be close to you, search for you to talk to, help you with whenever you need. It will obvious, but it's her intention. There is no need in trying to look like she don't want you. What good could it made?

Even if you don't see to feel the same way about her, it won't stop Eowyn. She can wait. She can wait until you look at her with love in your eyes. She'll do her best as a ruler and warrior, and part of it will be for you. To make you be proud of her. To honor your trust. And Eowyn will wait how long it takes to have your heart.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[jajanvm-imbi]

Just say, please stay

Look my way

Just Look My Way - (Official Video) // Helluva Boss