❛     ouch.     that Looks Like A nasty Wound.     ❜     is Making

' seasons, they will change. life will make you grow. death can make you hard. everything is temporary, everything will slide. but, they say, love will never die. ' ( birds, imagine dragons )

              it strikes him as odd at first.     hearing royalty's words escape him so effortlessly,     preaching on universal topics that can be found at the base of anyone's heart    :    desire to live,     aversion for death,     hopeful for love,     love,     love.     '   life will make you grow,   '     it's a typical statement,     isn't it   ?     how traversing through life's bog    &    withstanding its treacherous obstacles is what builds character   ?     he thinks that's it.     many times has it landed upon his ears    &    many times has he reaffirmed that notion.     rakan's own life wasn't without its own turmoil    ;    rather,     danger beckoned him forward,     cause he'd die for setting him in the most dangerous situations     ———     not like he didn't enjoy it,     though.     there was a thrill to be found in it,     taunting others    &    making out of it with every bone intact.     that's what he thinks,     at least.

              ❛     love won't ever die.     ❜     rakan deliberately echoes jarvan's words,     humming    &    a grin forms on his lips.     ❛     'cause i do think that,     say,     love makes you do something crazy,     you'd still die feeling it    &    all.     that love,     i mean.     ❜     clears his throat,     delivering a confident nod,     pearly whites slightly visible as edges of his lips continue curving upwards into a fonder    &    fonder smile.     again,     again,     she's on his mind.     just like it's always been.     just like it always will be.     ❛     maybe they're right.     love won't ever die,     but that's only if you ask me   !     ❜     immediately his tone changes,     heavy - hearted somber moments just weren't his thing   !     ❛     take it from me,     i've got an 80% chance of being right.     10% chance of being a little off the mark,    &    that last 10%     ...     it might look like i'm off the mark,     but i'm actually right on the center   !     so,     really,     it's actually 90%.     isn't that interesting   ?     ❜       ///       @lightshielded

so. we doing nsfw hcs, huh? let’s do this.

Keep reading

meme.     /     selectively accepting.

@death-from-below​ said :   [ praise ] uwu

              to relieve their desires.     that was the purpose of this,     no heart must drip onto his actions,     they must all be guided by a lecherous want that overtakes his body,     overrides emotion    &    reasonable thought     (   not like the latter mattered much here,     anyway   ),     allows each touch to be void of deep care,     only a superficial level of it is exhibited.     rakan is rough,     because he feels it's right,     because he knows that this is what pyke wants.     the mewls that escaped trembling lips were indicative of such,     stems from the touch at his chest,     where rakan's hands maintain their focus,     groping,     rubbing.     eliciting each whimper,     each moan that coalesced with clarity to form rakan's name drove him to further extents,     to continue touching    &    touching such a touch starved individual for no other purpose than to please.     himself   ?     pyke   ?     ...     a query without an absolute answer.

              ❛     yeah,     you like that   ?     ❜     there,     each feature shifts to form a smug countenance,     evincing his own amusement of pyke's words of praise,     the pleas that told him he's amazing at this.     the begging request,     don't stop,     it fuels rakan's ego.     pride dwells deep within his heart,     within this lust that burns through his body,     very one that has him pressed against pyke.     can he feel it   ?     it's a wonder,     but he's sure he can.     ❛     lose the mask,     babe     ...     ❜     a hand's travel is sluggish,     but eventually tugs at the bandana,     nonverbal request for its removal.     he wants to see him.     ❛     your eyes are nice,     but i wanna see you.     all of you.     ❜

              ❛     i don't really get it.     ❜     far more differences than he'd imagine,     rengar had more of a penchant for hunting than,     say,     dancing,     magic,     freedom   !!     only perceived similarity would be their titles as wanderers.     to travel across ionia    &    discover what this land had in store for them,     that was where their goals aligned or overlapped even a little bit,     right   ?     ❛     hunting   ?     not really my thing.     now,     if we're talking about dancing,     i'm sure i could teach you a thing or two   !     ❜       ///       @prxdestvkler

your art is SOOOO pretty 🥺 i iove seeing it on my dash

I truly appreciate your kind words, my good sir~

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@quartlet​ said :   grasps his chin 😇

              how peculiar.     to have chin grasped like this is meant to be perceived as a gift,     the culmination of a warmth between two souls that dance,     dance.     /     one is meant to reign over land,     protect the greenery that nature's heavenly touch graced,     her teachings sacred    &    a promise of growth.     to nurture these small seeds into blooming flowers of varying hues,     conjuring a mosaic that man - made fabric could not wish to surpass that beauty,     they could not wish to replicate it,     for man's hands serve nature.     the other is meant to dwell within the depths of the ocean,     where few know that nature's touch cannot ever forge a bond between land    &    sea.     yes,     it does not matter how ravishing that presented exterior is,     it matters not what bonny colors he adorns     (   that is all he shall ever know   ),     mysteries lie abundant beyond this serene shore,     yet cerulean hues be only granted a perspective on what is meant to be seen.     the darkness beyond cannot be trod through so easily,     for freedom's end lies at those darkened depths that beckon him.     /

              this is no dance of warmth.     there is no innate love to be had.     what they have   ?     it's different,     but he is not caged.     to leave one's zone of comfort is to spread these wings    &    delve into the world's gifts,     to travel is to journey    &    experiment with what brings joy.     sharing that with others is so truly a virtue few have,     but to reject the side of him that is tempted    &    tempted    &    tempted by this man is to reject himself.     to dance with khada jhin is to accept the dangers of life,     it's to partake in elation through unorthodox means,     shun by level - headed ones that so feared placing their hearts in the hands of death's disciple.     (   what is reason if not an object that obstructs one from mingling with what is deemed pernicious   ?     what is reason if not what impedes growth.   )     is this growth   ?     don't ask him.     to live in the moment without worrying over future is a motto he's so since followed,    &    what great joy it brings him.

              ❛     oh,     so     ...     you wanted to touch me   ?     ❜     to not make an implication of the sort would be uncharacteristic,     to leave the virtuoso without a response would be to reject the self.     each sense in rakan's body is rising,     electrifying nearly,     shudder only barely escaping his lips as an icy touch is felt at bare back.     he hums.     leans into the touch,     their actions could speak for them.     a poem need not be spoken.     let it be performed,     let it be a stage where the only audience is they,     intertwined by a merciless fate.     what,     oh what could be more lovely than this   ?     ❛     going for my chin,     i'd rather you touch me somewhere else.     ❜     hand shifts,     journeys over to the only part where there's exposed skin,     pads gentle in their approach,     carefully touching bicep 'till one digit,     two digits,     three dance onward,     halting before forearm,     only to feel the expanse of skin as they rise once more,     firm grip near jhin's shoulder.     don't stop what you're doing.     ❛     unless     ...     maybe you want to be the one that gets touched tonight   ?     ❜     an open offer.     an open mind.     this dance they have is liberating.     many have clamored over how mystery itself should be feared.     the mystery of khada jhin,     however,     has successfully allured him.

“ I’m not so sure if chocolate is the best thing for you to eat .... “ Ahri responds with uncertainty , keeping the box of chocolates near , almost CONTEMPLATING that maybe rice is better .

              ❛     aww,     don't worry about it   !     you're thinking about it too much.     ❜     so comes his reply,     azure hues fixated on delectable box of chocolates,     pondering on their sugary contents    &    thinking about eating them.     man,     oh man,     it's tantalizing,     watching delicate hands carefully hold the box near her frame,     as if to keep it out of his reach.     tempting,     really,     to simply snatch it from her possession    &    run off with it.     but,     that is not a gift at that point.     he wants it to have at least a sliver of value,     which is probably why he hasn't acted out on his desire.     ❛     hey,     you won't have anyone else to give that chocolate to,     right   ?     i wouldn't want you to make waste of that gift you poured your heart into.     so let me take it off your hands.     it's my own gift to you   !     ❜     that is,     in no way,     a two - way street.       ///       @vuikusen

aight since i saw some interest, here’s a league of legends rpc discord server! :)c

be sure to read the rules!

Hand holding during sex, that’s that good shit

meme.     /     accepting.

@drorious​ said :   [ denial ] ,,,,,,,,,hello

              pride would dictate his visage to keep a collected exterior,     to not give in    &    allow the hand at his cock to contort his features.     rakan refuses to relinquish control,     especially when it's draven,     a worthy rival that declared his perfection to be the only absolute beauty,     that he is more handsome than rakan.     he refuses such an assertion,     thinks it ludicrous,     thinks a battle of prides may be so easily settled with a battle of wits,     not an orthodox one    :    no dance,     no battle,     simply a test of     ...     endurance.     who could tease better   ?     who could last longer   ?     who was more skilled   ?     at least,     that was the initial intent.     opting to go first was a prideful act,     to allow himself to be touched    &    ...     reduced into this moaning mess,     it's embarrassing.

              rakan's hips buck into draven's hand,     seeking a comfortable rhythm whose action is ceased by sudden squeeze,     sudden halt of the strokes,     the gasps escaping his lips transitioning into groans of frustration    &    it only earns draven a glare.     each time rakan feels a bubbling warmth building itself up at his groin,     its tracks come to spontaneous end,     as if man before him could read each    &    every expression on rakan's face.     he hates it.     (   wipe that damn smile off your lips   !!!!!   )     act of submitting to another is not an act holds any aversion for,     but mere fact it's a rival of all people he's submitting for,     it sucks.     it sucks he's not allowed to cum,     that draven's in control,     that rakan leans against him for support    &    hears phonic vibrations that evince his chuckle.     he finds this amusing,    &    rakan's irked that he does too     ...     it feels amazing.

              ❛     fuckin'     ————     just let me cum.     ❜     exasperated breath is delivered,     strained as he utilizes the only tactic he's sure would work,     even if it did damage his pride.     ❛     you're being unfair,     i'm beggin' ya,     just make me cum,     i need to.     please.     ❜     he may be out of breath,     he may be initiating yet another futile attempt at bucking into draven's hand,     but he knows one thing's for sure     ...     one way or the other,     once it's his turn to eat draven out,     his goal is no longer to make him cum fast,     it is to hear prideful performer beg for him in turn.