#and then Things Got Worse

[roll-de-chagny]

I started reading the book again and I forgot how much it's stated that this is the first time Philippe let Raoul actively move in their social circles. That means that in only a few months, he'd fallen deeply in love with his childhood bff/soprano, swore in tears to kill himself for her whenever she implied he was doing something stupid, had serious beef with the local cryptid opera ghost (and later shot at him), had the managers laugh at him multiple times, cried (and cried some more), and stalked Christine on more than one occasion, once accidentally. He got some kisses on the cheek and one on the lips from her.

Oh and he was meant to go on an Arctic expedition too. He didn't, but it somehow would have been the safer choice. This is what happens when you let your baby brother socialize, Philippe.

[sebastianshaw]

// you have helped me wrap my brain around the Marauders comic and how much it irked me. I tend to take yearly breaks from comics and then I just catch up whenever I get the chance to and I remember picking up that comic and being like 'what the fuck is happening'

Oh, my god, that must have been. . .an experience. Like, look, it was SO BAD for me, but I had been watching Shaw's decay as a character and a villain for years already. Coming into that fresh. . .my god. . .

[morganbritton132]

The first person Eddie comes out to is Hopper.

He is in the middle of a drug deal and Hopper happens upon him and another guy. The other guy bolts before Hopper can see what is going on and Eddie, holding both cash and drugs, shoves both hands on his pockets and blurts out as soon as they make eye contact, “I’m gay!”

The good news is that Hopper now thinks an entirely different scenario was happening here so maybe Eddie won’t be arrested on his third drug deal ever. Bad news is that Eddie didn’t know that he was gay at the time, so he’s a little mortified that Hopper now thinks he’s out in the woods having sex with random men.

Also, briefly, he thinks he might kill him but all Hopper does is awkwardly stutter out, “That’s - that’s fine. But not here.”

“You want me to be gay over there?”

“I want you to go home, Munson.”

The second person he comes out to is Wayne and it goes better than expected. It’s awkward but Wayne is supportive and tells him he loves him no matter what. He also tries to make Eddie feel better about the whole thing by saying, “I knew some guys in ‘Nam who were…like that. Good guys.”

The third person Eddie comes out to is Hopper again.

He’s in the back of Hop’s truck, high on mushrooms and rambling about a pretty boy with freckles who is unfortunately too straight to be allowed to live and Eddie hopes he dies. Hopper is just like, “Why are you telling me this?”

“You were in Vietnam,” Eddie says like it explains anything at all. “You get it.”

[boysborntodie]

TUA S4 proved that Netflix cancelling their shows after the first season is actually a good thing

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[egophiliac]

Since book 7 part 5 (the part where we meet Meleanor/Maleanor 👀) is coming to EN this month, i would love to see your take on lilia’s proposal to meleanor! i mean they were like little kids right? it couldn’t have been that serious…i think the only reason she even brought it up again is because she could tell lilia still genuinely loved her…(even if he didn’t realize it himself?) but, oh well! Let’s think about silly childhood shenanigans to numb the pain! ^_^ (orz)

oh shit?! get ready for a doozy guys, it's comiiiiiing ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I chickened out of posting the whole thing (look, I get VERY carried away when it comes to these wacky kids and their Tragedy), but I do believe that it probably ended with Lilia getting embarrassed and just shoving the first thing he sees into his mouth to try and cover for it.

(we're just lucky it wasn't a frog this time)

[hajihiko]

It runs in the family

[cuntylouis]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE | Louis' various half-smiles, hidden smiles, and forced smiles for his partners

[mipexch]

since layer 7 dropped you can send literally any enemy to go kill something wicked repeatedly & v2 being the one to do that is just really funny to me

[starry-bi-sky]

this just in: danny fenton is just as much of a mask as Brucie Wayne? - another danyal al ghul au

Turns out, being placed in a civilian family who have no knowledge of your background is actually detrimental to the health and development of a child assassin due to lack of proper support! Surrounded by strangers in a foreign city, Danyal Al Ghul does as assassins do best. He hides. Espionage is one of many teachings one learns in the League, and it only takes half a day for Danyal to construct a new persona to hide behind: Daniel Fenton.

By the time dinner rolls around, Danyal al Ghul is safely and securely tucked behind the face of Danny Fenton; brand new adoptive child of the Fenton family who came from overseas. A shy, quiet little boy with a thick accent and curly hair, with brown skin and blue eyes, and an avid interest in the stars. The best fictions are always cobbled together in a little bit of truth, it's some of the only truth he ever lets through. He apologizes in a meek voice for his behavior early, he didn't mean to be rude, and he watches the three of them eat it up with coos.

Lies roll like silk against his lips, he struggles to meet their eyes and offers them his weakest, shyest smile. It's too easy. It's easy to go from there.

Danny Fenton, adoptive son, shy and awkward and unconfident but friendly. Who struggles in his classes and isn't the brightest, but tries his hardest. He makes bad jokes and has a quick tongue and a sarcastic mouth. He wants to be an astronaut. He's got the best aim in school, and is a terrifying dodgeball player. He's one of the least athletic kids in his grade.

It's like playing two truths and a lie, but there's only one truth, and the rest are lies. It's easy to pretend when he knows it's insincere.

Danyal Al Ghul, grandson to the Demon Head. Deadly, trained assassin. Has spilled blood, has had blood spilt from. Environmentalist, animal activist. He loves the stars. He owns a calligraphy set. A sharp tongue, an even sharper blade. He's clever, quick-witted, he would be top of his grade if he tried harder. He purposely doesn't.

He misses his family. He misses his mother, and he misses his brother. Mother visits a few times a year, so few times that he can count it on both hands. He cherishes every visit, as brief as they are. It helps remind him who he is.

Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends. They've never met Danyal, but Danyal's met them.

It becomes routine to become Danny Fenton. As familiar and as easy as pulling on a shirt in the morning. Danyal wakes up and is always first to the bathroom in the mornings; stares at himself in the mirror until he can finally see Danny staring back at him. At night, he locks his door and sheds the mask.

Dying throws a wrench in his mask; splits a crack straight through the porcelain. He's able to smooth it over with sandpaper and liquid gold, but it's a little hard keeping his ghost form under wraps. It instinctively wants to shift to show his true self. Danyal can't have that, he's spent four years as Danny Fenton, he'll spend another four as him as well. Even if the feeling of the hazmat suit in his ghost form feels restrictive, like a too-small shirt suctioned to his skin that needs to be peeled off.

He'll live. Er-- well, you know what he means. It's frustrating however, trying to keep his Danny Fenton mask up even as Phantom - fighting in the air is something he needs to get used to, and the sudden propping of powers throws him off. But he is nothing if not adaptive, and he hates that he needs to slow his own skills down in order to keep pretenses up in front of Sam and Tucker.

The first time Danyal summons a sword when he's alone, is one of the few times Danyal gets to grin instead of Danny. He's fighting Skulker, and from an invisible hilt he draws a katana from thin air. It startles them both. Skulker takes a step back at the smile that spreads across his face.

They're both silent as Danyal examines his new sword.

"Do you know what people like me do to people like you, poacher?" Danyal finally asks him, the accent he began to hide a few months in slipping through. He drops all pretense, dragging the flat end of the blade slow and appreciatively against his palm. It's a good make, and when he cuts it through the air, it slices through like butter. He looks up at Skulker with a smile; "are you ready to find out?"

When Sam and Tucker ask about why Skulker seems so skittish around Danny now, Danny shrugs at them and says with a playful smile; "I don't know, I guess I kicked his butt too hard after our last fight." and he watches as Sam rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and Tucker snickers with his own joke.

By the time he reunites with Damian before their 15th birthday, Danyal is buried beneath so many layers of Danny Fenton that his brother will need a shovel to dig him out. He's not sure what he'll find.

[trans-androgyne]

My whole stay in the hospital, after introducing myself with he/they and having he/him on my little wristband and charts and stuff, I only got called he without having to correct someone once out of the dozens of times I was gendered. Even by the other trans person there. They also marked me down as female even though my legal gender is X and everywhere they don’t have X it’s M. They did the same thing to the transfem I befriended, putting her down as M even though she’s legally F. But at least she got she/her’d most of the time despite not passing either :/

[hashtagloveloses]

The headline is pretty awful but this is one of those things that gets worse as you read it:

The 14-page petition, filed in Shelby County, Tennessee, probate court, alleges that Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy, who took Oher into their home as a high school student, never adopted him. Instead, less than three months after Oher turned 18 in 2004, the petition says, the couple tricked him into signing a document making them his conservators, which gave them legal authority to make business deals in his name.

"Michael Oher discovered this lie to his chagrin and embarrassment in February of 2023, when he learned that the Conservatorship to which he consented on the basis that doing so would make him a member of the Tuohy family, in fact provided him no familial relationship with the Tuohys."

Oher was a rising high school senior when he signed the conservatorship papers, and he has written that the Tuohys told him that there was essentially no difference between adoption and conservatorship. "They explained to me that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took my age into account," Oher wrote in his 2011 best-selling memoir "I Beat the Odds."

But there are some important legal distinctions. If Oher had been adopted by the Tuohys, he would have been a legal member of their family, and he would have retained power to handle his own financial affairs. Under the conservatorship, Oher surrendered that authority to the Tuohys, even though he was a legal adult with no known physical or psychological disabilities.

While the [movie] deal allowed the Tuohys to profit from the film, the petition alleges, a separate 2007 contract purportedly signed by Oher appears to "give away" to 20th Century Fox Studios the life rights to his story "without any payment whatsoever." The filing says Oher has no recollection of signing that contract, and even if he did, no one explained its implications to him.

The [movie] deal lists all four Tuohy family members as having the same representative at Creative Artists Agency, the petition says. But Oher's agent, who would receive movie contract and payment notices, is listed as Debra Branan, a close family friend of the Tuohys and the same lawyer who filed the 2004 conservatorship petition, the petition alleges. Branan did not return a call to her law office on Monday.

"Mike's relationship with the Tuohy family started to decline when he discovered that he was portrayed in the movie as unintelligent," Stranch said. "Their relationship continued to deteriorate as he learned that he was the only member of the family not receiving royalty checks from the movie, and it was permanently fractured when he realized he wasn't adopted and a part of the family."

For years, Oher has chafed at how "The Blind Side" depicted him, saying it hurt his football career and clouded how people view him. He has said that based on the film, some NFL decision-makers assumed he was mentally slow or lacked leadership skills.

"People look at me, and they take things away from me because of a movie," Oher told ESPN in 2015. "They don't really see the skills and the kind of player I am."

"Beyond the details of the deal, the politics, and the money behind the book and movie, it was the principle of the choices some people made that cut me the deepest."

[bunnieswithknives]

Dev this is serious stop beatboxing.

[bizzyboys]

Hello Jade Harley fandom

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “IT’S ALL IN THE FAMILY.”

#. — synopsis : because you — you stupid little fuck, should have known better than to assume the worst out of this sick family you’ve been unwillingly forced into from your parents unfaithful divorce. well, guess what? you were fucking right, and now — you only have yourself to blame, baby brother.

#. — content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con at best, non-con at worst, brief mentions of bullying and violence, alcohol intoxication, big brother whitney being a creep, whiny little sister kylar, daddy bailey being bailey, virgin male reader, semi-forced blow job, cream pie, shit writing and shittier plot with two disconnected scenes.

#. — word count? wait, you guys count the fucking words and don’t raw dog it in the notes app? like, real long, I guess. checked, it’s 7.5k w, jesus fucking christ.

#. — asher’s unhelpful note. “I did it purely for the sister fucking. so I had to churn something out. something filthy — and I mean fucking disgusting shit, y’know? (keep in mind, this is a repost of my old writing from around may, so if it’s dog shit then my writing has progressed from dog shit to even shitter dog shit.)

Divorces papers hastily signed away, the ink dotted onto the lines promising that this was indeed reality along with leathered suitcases packed to the brim. Family problems never were easy, much less when it had all happened far too quickly. To your parents separating, the familiar grip of your mother’s hand stringing you far away from the house you had grew up in, it all seemed like one bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn’t, no. This was the harsh reality of things, hands clasped on your shoulders as you were forced to introduce yourself to the man she had vowed to marry and the children he bore.

Fuck, if only your mother hadn’t remarried.

“This is stupid.” You muttered beneath your breath to which your mother, sharp as ever had somehow heard.

“Oh please, this is necessary. Unless you wish for us to keep on living in that cramped apartment? I am only doing what is needed for us to survive.” She sharply retorted back, not leaving much room to argue with as it was the truth. Your lives had been much more difficult since the divorce, selfish father that took everything else with him and went away to god-knows-where, probably off to spend it all in one go at the sleazy brothel in town. Filthy bitch.

Yes, it had been hard, but if you had been given one more year, finished school for real, graduated and got a job — Perhaps then, you would’ve been able to provide for the two of you and—

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you had faintly registered then that you had arrived into this overly large establishment your mom referred to as your new home. Standing before you was probably the man she had fussed about so much during the uneventful drive. Dark, slicked back hair and stern eyes that dragged over your lips down to the curve of your throat, almost as if to criticize. His outstretched arm and hand stuck out waiting, that was probably for yours to shake which you reluctantly did.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir..?” You uttered coolly, enduring the firm grasp he had on your fingers till he finally was the first to pull away.

“Bailey.”

“Bailey.” You repeated back the unfamiliar name as if to slowly get used to it, knowing you wouldn’t.

“Whitney, Kylar, come down here and properly greet your brother.”

One boy — you assumed to be Whitney, a little older than you, stood at the top of the oaky staircase, perched over the banister. Ruffled blonde hair and sharp blue eyes hidden behind his fringe, eyeing you with disinterest as he made his way down the creaking steps and over to you.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned, taking ahold of your hand in his with what was evidently a faux smile, one that didn’t quite reach his mean eyes that matched his father, a lingering streak of maliciousness in them. Even his grip, barely restrained in its force, threatened to crush your hand before ultimately letting go.

“You too.” Forcing a smile back, both of you knew then, the stifling tension that brewed in the air — Neither of you were going to get along here.

“Hey freak, it’s your turn.”

Another, you had barely noticed, a smaller girl scuffling about in the background, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her oversized sleeves, skittish green eyes purposefully avoiding your gaze whenever you so much as glanced her way. That must be the only daughter, Kylar. Cute thing she was, though your mind couldn’t allow yourself to continue that stray thought any further considering the implications that’d involve after meeting your soon-to-be-step-sister. Fucking get your mind straight, will you?

“P-Pleasure to meet you..” In contrast to her brother’s confident strides, she shuffled towards you before clasping your soft palms together in a hold, weakly shaking it.

“..Pleasure is all mine.” You replied, matching her weirdly formal way of speaking.

Well, she didn’t seem so bad compared to the rest.

The introduction didn’t last very long, lacking any real warmth usually found between two shared families merging together as one. It felt more stiff than anything though you couldn’t spare the thought to think it any further, an ushered murmur said to make yourself at home.

As you made your way over to your new room, hauling your hefty luggage up the wooden stairs, something within the depths of your guts stirred from the shared eyes that bore into the shape of your back, intently observing your every move.

The walls here felt unbearably bare.

Like the people that lived in it.

Ironically enough, your new room was much bigger than your older one, leaving little room to complain as you did when your mother had announced you’d be moving into a new place. All the reasons, no matter how good had earned nothing but a gentle shake of her head, dead set on her decision to drag you along. And to say you hadn’t even told Robin you’d be moving away, best friends since childhood that shared everything between the two, except for this apparently. Imagining his freckled face, worry etched across his features had you wanting to go back to the town you knew, knowing you couldn’t.

Sighing lowly, you sat down onto your bed, hearing the slightest crinkle beneath your weight as you felt an uncomfortable, sharp lump underneath it. That.. Reaching for the covers, you threw aside the thick blankets that covered the suspicious looking lump, revealing fresh packets of condoms haphazardly scattered across the sheets and an old, raunchy magazine displaying a cute-looking school boy getting brutally fucked against the lockers by his own bully.

Heat burned your face at the lewd sight, quickly shoving your little “gift” under your pillow so you couldn’t spare another glance at it. Fucking bastards and their sick jokes, “gifting” you shit like that.

You weren’t like them. Fucking perverts.

Were you?

—

Whitney was the first to change that.

From the first time he laid his eyes on you, you knew then what he thought of you, distaste apparent over his features, the slight curve of his upper lip curled into a snarl. It was obvious, your step-brother didn’t like you. Shit, maybe hate would be a more appropriate word for the things he’d do. Whitney had made it clear from the get-go, the empty names you’d call each other were utterly meaningless, rarely slipping past his own lips. ‘Little brother’. Fuck, you were a pain in his side more than anything else, dropping by unannounced into his life just like that simply because your shitty mother happened to divorce, meeting his dead beat father who then strung up with yours.

The blonde didn’t attempt to hide his obvious disapproval of your presence in his house, blatantly knocking his shoulder into yours whenever he passed by, mouth cruelly drawn into a snide grin as you toppled down to the cold, hard, wooden floor with a dull thud. The bullying didn’t stop there either, often encountering the delinquent in the school hallways, surrounded by his usual cronies that stuck to his side like a bunch of desperate, panting puppies, eager for his approval. They simply wouldn’t leave you alone, went through your damn locker too, ransacking everything that sat in there before carelessly throwing aside the remnants into a nearby trash bin, left to fend for yourself.

Weak, useless. That’s what you were to him, and nothing else. Soon enough, he’d get rid of you, have you snap and run away, it was merely a matter of time.

Well, that was the initial plan he had made up in his mind — Too fucking bad for the poor bully that life didn’t go always as planned, not when he caught you fresh out of the shower, worn towel snugly tucked around yours hips, a bit lower and he’d catch a glimpse of your— Fucking snap out of it, Whitney! The fresh droplets of water that’d trickle down the curve of your back, cascading over the smooth surface before gently dripping onto the fuzzy carpet below. Fuck. Didn’t help that he was staring a tad bit too hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from your bare form shamelessly displayed before him. You were doing this on purpose, weren’t you? Tryna get him all distracted, fill his thoughts with nothing but your thighs sticky with his cum, your lips lightly parted to obediently suck on his fat cock, lapping away at the beads of pre-cum that trickled over the curved length.

Knew he had cracked the second his hand had reached for his cock, fisting his dick for all it was worth, hem of his shirt roughly held between his teeth as he jerked himself stupid to the thought of you. His annoying little brother, fucking bitch, oblivious to the effects you had on him whenever he came with a stifled curse, several strings of cum that’d messily splatter across the curve of his toned stomach and his cotton sheets, staining it.

You, of course, lay ignorant to his frequent glances trailing over your frame, mistaking it for the hostility he had shown you over the past few weeks. You were partially right, except this time it was out of frustrated lust, cock stirring beneath his ripped jeans at the mere sight of his younger sibling now. God, not even the dumb whores that’d sloppily suck him off in the grimy bathroom stalls between classes did it for him anymore, eyes shut in a haze to imagine it was your mouth instead wrapped around the tip of his cock.

Dumb slut. Dumb fucking slut you were, didn’t know what he had in store for you. Take it as payback from having infested his mind with thoughts of you that stray to other thoughts and to other.. that’d eventually end in the same scenario, fucking your slutty mouth wide open.

Yeah.. Actually having you choke down on his cock didn’t sound half-bad now that he thought about it.

So why not make it happen?

It had been a mistake then to accept his offer over drinks, get to know each other better, he had cheerfully claimed with a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bullshit. Think he gave a shit about that? The only ache in his mind had went straight down to his slowly hardening cock underneath his grey sweats as his plan was brought into motion, insistently pouring more and more of his friends stolen bottle into your cup until you had lost track of the exact number. Prideful as ever, you had gulped it all down, unrelenting despite the nausea that had crept in your guts and the dizzying blur of your vision.

A hint of a rosy flush had started to spread throughout your skin, lightly dusting your cheeks with half-lidded eyes intently gazing back at your older brother’s slouched form atop the cushioned couch. The dribbling liquid sloshed lazily in the glassy bottle that threatened to spill from your weakened grasp on it. TV faintly flickering in the background, playing some outdated show that had since long been forgotten by the two of you, leaving the remote abandoned on the coffee table.

“Cmon, don’t be such a baby.” Whitney would taunt whenever you hesitated in your sluggish movements, silently observing the rhythmic bobbing of your throat as you took quick shots from your half-full glass. Lightweight, he mused in his mind.

“I’m not a baby.” You retorted back with that fucking cute pouty expression he adored.

Fuck. That’s the look. That goddamn look of yours he was waiting for. Nothing better than some arrogant slut all fucked up, practically begging to be taken on his own fucking couch.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Whitney?” Shit, the way you’d call his name all whiny too, slipping past your own lips. Had his cock twitch like fucking hell, painfully aching between his spread legs.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why are you so mean to me all the time?? What did I ever.. What did I ever do to you?? I—I just don’t get it.” You hiccuped pathetically, stumbling over your own words, already half-drunk from the fizzling alcohol in your system.

Ah, so you didn’t seem to get it at all yet, did you?

How cute.

“‘Cuz I wanna fuck your noisy mouth, that’s why.”

“..What?”

Blinking back at him, you didn’t even get the chance to register or mutter out another word before he was upon you. Knees firmly planted to each side, increasingly aware of his encompassing frame that towered overs yours as his clothed crotch faced your drunken expression. If it had been any other time, perhaps the blonde would’ve paused then to greedily drink in the sight before him, but this was Whitney after all and he never liked to waste time on silly notions like foreplay, preferring the rougher options that came along with it.

So, fuck it all, right?

With practiced ease, he hurriedly shucked down the elastic waistband of his grey sweats past his hips, hefty cock confidently springing free from the constricting confines of the cotton fabric as it lightly smacked against the curve of his bare stomach. Fuck, you haven’t had the slightest idea how long he had waited for this. Merely a matter of a few weeks for you, though for him, your older brother was dying to sink his dick in that whorish mouth of yours. Looked like you’ve never taken a real cock either, snugly shoved down to the hilt of your inexperienced throat that he’d train till it became a sixth sense to you, gratefully swallowing down his salty cum.

Calloused fingertips tenderly dragged along the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, bloodied cut reopening from the time the bully had split your face open on his fists for the whole school to see in the busied courtyard on a particularly rainy day. Licked his knuckles clean too after that rough beating you took, savouring the heady taste of the crimson mess you left behind, groaning all the while. Had him stupidly hard for the rest of the day, itching to relieve some tension once he got back home. Great times, really.

Now would’ve been the time then, probably— to sputter out your firm opposition over this, resist somewhat. Maybe kick the motherfucker in the balls, satisfyingly watch him writhe on the floor in agony before scrambling up the ancient staircase to hysterically yell about how you nearly got raped by your aforementioned step-brother, to your dozing mother. Christ, that would’ve been the sane decision to do then yet, the bubbling drinks coursing through your veins had thoroughly taken its effect on you, blood rushing down lower to the wrong region, the sinking realization nearly making you bolt upright.

Fucking fuck— you were hard.

And Whitney hadn’t failed to notice.

“Shit, are you getting hard from this?” The delinquent snickered hoarsely to himself, making a show to lightly tap at the growing bulge underneath your own jeans, all too visible despite the rough fabric that covered it. “Should’ve known you’d be into it. Your body speaks for itself, y’know. You want this, you cock whore craving slut.”

No, no. This was all wrong. Must’ve been. You liked girls, didn’t you? Squishy cunts and fat tits you could easily slip your cock into — god. Didn’t like guys and if you did, your step-brother who treated you like nothing but shit would’ve been last on the fucking list.

But you secretly do like being used this way, don’t you? Baby brother.

“I’m n-not fucking—“ Attempting to deny the harsh statement, you cut yourself off from the sudden intruding tip eagerly pressed against your lips, flushed cock head leaking thickly and smearing sticky pre-cum all over.

It wasn’t an order nor anything else that hung heavily in the air, a simple gesture, a subtle thrust of his hips that had his actions speak louder than any words would’ve been capable of. Either you do it or not, the delinquent couldn’t have cared less regardless, always used to getting what he wants and by god, if he wasn’t going to fucking get this. Because the signals alarmingly ringing through your head felt faint in the face of this, shakily inhaling the musky scent of your big brother’s throbbing cock subtly twitching in response to your feathered breaths against it, dribbling out more translucent pre-cum that melded with the scarlet stain of your bloodied lips.

Out of your damn mind — That’s what you were. To even properly consider the implication at hand here. Yet your lips won’t stop from parting, from sticking your pink tongue out, clumsily imitating the gestures those submissive girls in the cheap porns you’d watch underneath your thin covers late at night, shamefully enough. Always thought you’d be on the receiving end of that one day, dutifully patting at the soft hair slotted between your thighs however here you were, shyly pawing at Whitney’s naked hips instead to steady yourself.

All your fault, all your damn fault so shut up and take it, alright? Shouldn’t had led him on like that, now you’re only reaping what you sow, slut.

Felt more like he was plainly fucking your mouth than you were sucking him off, sharp, punishing thrusts meeting your open mouthed lips to drive himself deeper in that warm throat that reflexively tightened around his length whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot — drawing another string of adorable, strangled whimpers from you. “Shit, you sure this your first time? You’ve got the mouth of a — hah, fuckin’ filthy glory hole.” Heat prickling up the nape of your neck at the direct statement uttered, the brief realization of your inexperience being taken away like this, from a blowjob. On the giving end. A first, that will mostly likely not be the only first after this, not when you’re unconsciously getting off to the thought for more in store despite your haze filled brain begging you to reason. Ah, fuck. He’s gone and got you stupidly cock drunk now, didn’t he? The bastard. Slurred mutterings tumbling out above you, almost hasty in how he handles you, wanting to truly savor this never-ending moment when his body can’t stop on its own, too eager to be fulfilled of this yearning pleasure he sought out from you firstly. Thankful for your lack of gag reflex that somehow has you forcefully endure the ruthless slam of his hips, struggling grip straining onto his thighs for leisure, promising to leave a fresh set of bruising marks on the tanned flesh.

A delighted sigh softly escaped from the blonde as you finally gave his dick some much needed attention, experimentally running the flat of your tongue along his leaking slit, coaxing out more dribbling fat globs of pre-cum before slowly and carefully taking his full girth in the warm depths of your tight, wet mouth. “Ah— Fuck. Yeah, that’s good.” No way can he hide the barely restrained, high-pitched, almost needy whimper that threatens to slither past him as you so prettily suck him down to the base, slobbering all over his throbbing balls that has him huffing out a cursed moan of satisfaction, eyes rolling back. “F-Fuckin’— god.” Can’t help the sheer guttural groan that slips out from how tightly his baby brother’s virgin lips sweetly glide around him, the uncertainty in your movements making it all the more endearing as you struggle to take him all in, saliva dripping over your chin to land in varying wet dots on the cushioned pillows. Looking so damn pretty like this with a mouthful of cock, your big brother’s pulsing cock specifically. So don’t blame him then when his hips automatically snap back, slender fingers instinctively reaching for the back of your head to entangle themselves through the soft strands of your hair, ruffling it.

It’ll be more than that though, the sick realization dawning upon him of this opportunity handed to him on a silver plater, free of his taking, of course. Not some other replaceable slut he can find anywhere else by chance, but one forcefully bound to him whether they like it or not since what can you possibly do? Come running with tears in your eyes to your mommy about what your big, mean, older brother did to you? His father will certainly not be one to help you for that matter, that’s for damn sure. Who the hell will believe you then? No one. Fucking nobody. Inadvertently handing him free range to do whatever he so pleases with you, whenever, where the fuck ever. Oh, but it won’t only stop there, y’know. Ruining you fully for the sake of his own selfish pleasure, corrupt that naive view of yours that has you blush bashfully at a bunch of lewd illustrations plastered onto the printed pages. Soon enough, the majority of your days will be lazily spent in his room, leaking cock dribbling profusely from the kitten licks you’ll so cutely give him then while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, grinning proudly as you inevitably beg for more of him. And shit, Whitney isn’t one to disappoint either — he’ll have you rightfully rewarded for such behaviour, in public to be exact. Clip a nice, leathered collar around your neck along with a leash too, tug at it a bit to show off his newfound pet, his loyal little brother that sloppily sucks him off and happily sinks onto his hefty cock at a mere snap of his fingers. Drives him fuckin’ crazy merely thinking about it.

That’s right, suck on your big brother’s fat cock to selfishly earn his twisted love, his blind adoration and protection of your being. His pet. His slut. His beloved baby brother. His now blood, flesh and soul tainted throughly by him himself. Personally service him on your knees like the whore that he knows you are. Fucking get on your knees and earn it.

All too soon, despite wanting to stretch this further solely to ingrain the addictive noises of your stifled whimpers and drooling mouth inside his perverted mind, visibly struggling to take him all in as he shamelessly used your throat like some sort of flesh light stretched to the hilt — He can feel himself reach the brink of his limit, confident hips stuttering in their steady thrusts to greedily bury the tip of his quivering cock into the back of your throat one last time. “F-Fuck. Stay like that — just fucking stay like that.” He hissed sharply between strained curses, head thrown back like some cheap virgin whore who’s just received his first ever mind blowing blow job. The familiar overwhelming heat curling in the curve of his belly, like a coiling string on the verge of popping. Balls tightening in need, pulsing spurts of his fat load squirting out of the head of his cock to messily splatter across the surface of your pretty fucking face, ruining you for his own amusement.

Should’ve busted his load down your throat just to hungrily watch you swallow it down, though he supposes that the cum stained look adorning your pretty face is a sight to behold on its own, taking a good minute to appreciate the mess before him.

A blank, pristine canvas that he had helped ruin and stain with the filth of his very own actions.

It suits you, really.

“That’s a — hah, good boy.” Whitney heaved roughly between ragged breaths, the uncharacteristically gentle praise laced in his tone differing from his usually sadistic nature. If it weren’t for the sticky mess that obscured your vision along with the heat of his sweating palm placed flat across your forehead, you’d notice the strange fond, warmth that had settled into his softening gaze, a sort of reverence in of itself. “My good fucking boy.”

“So good for big brother, aren’t you?” He smirks knowingly at your hitched gasps of breaths, struggling so stupidly to form back a snarky insult as per usual.

Ah, he gets it now — really fucking gets it, glazed over eyes settling onto your evidently hard, twitching cock still tented pitifully against the front of your jeans, frantically humping at the air like some sort of rabid, horny, untrained puppy in heat, tongue lolling out. Aw, so fuckin’ cute when you’re cock drunk and needy for big brother. Makes him wanna do it all over again.

For that, he should be properly training you then.

“Whitney— fuckin’ cmon, please.” Whining so pathetically in a way that sends a jolt straight down through his spent cock, immediately standing up to attention once more. You’re really asking for it, fuck.

So damn cute, but so impatient too. Maybe he should fuck your virgin ass next, stuff it full of his cum and see what happens to that bratty mouth of yours then. Shut you up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just— keep still for me.”

Well, can’t be having his little new pet go frustratingly neglected like that, can he?

—

Kylar, your precious little sister, all too eager to be the first, but the second to sink her mark into you. Convince you a bit more.

Needy as she was, she wasn’t as bad as the rest that inhabited this sick place you reluctantly called home, a flicker of warmth among the distant coldness that resided in this house. Much unlike her brother, the dark haired girl didn’t seem to dislike you in the slightest, often shooting you the smallest of smiles whenever you two briefly locked eyes at the dinner table or in the shared hallways by mere coincidence.

‘Course, she did have her questionable moments whenever you caught her rifling through your drawers, namely the ones where your underwear lay neatly folded in the cubicle space. Promptly muttering out an unbelievable excuse as to why she needed your boxers before bolting past your stunned self, red in the face. Or that time she had decided to curl up onto your bed, lovingly burying her nose into the warm sheets that you slept in, relishing in that sweet scent of yours she’d catch a whiff of as you drew closer next to her at the table.

..Yeah, she certainly had unresolved issues, but it beat the constant poking fun at that Whitney would do. The rough shoving into the metallic lockers that’d clank heavily from your weight, the shared snickering that came along with it and the forced blow jobs that you had somehow eased into over time despite yourself. Fuck, why were you even thinking of that asshole?

Freak or not, she didn’t harbour any of the senseless cruelty this town had to selflessly offer and that was good enough. Enough so that you had found yourself increasingly spending more and more of your time with Kylar whenever you weren’t forcibly dragged along to some shoddy place your big brother roped you into, leaving the loner to her own whims for the day.

So it was no surprise then when the two of you grew closer, a little more than you had expected so to be the one sat onto her worn out bed, her hideaway — she’d call it, a moment of respite from the constant teasing she had to go through from her older brother. A means of escape, perhaps? And for you, it was no different either, all the same. Gladly listening to her overexcited rambling about this and that, about the fine mangas she had newly bought at the local, dusty library, the half priced anime figurines she had found on display beyond the glassy windows that separated them — matching pearly bracelets made of shiny gems and rocks carefully picked at the park she’d sow together to gleefully tuck around your wrist, whining sorrowfully at her own being too loose for her delicate wrists. Cute. Your little sister was real fucking cute, more so than you’d like to admit at times.

So much so you couldn’t ignore the growing knots in the pit of your stomach whenever your knees fortuitously bumped against each other, a sign — a silent, repetitive warning of your shared proximity that was crossing past the treacherous line of two mere siblings. Yeah. Okay. So you found her cute, so what? Big fucking deal. Plenty of guys found a girl cute, didn’t mean jack shit, didn’t mean they wanted to fuck her till she clenched pathetically around them, sniffling miserably at being fucked brutally by their kind, soft-spoken big brother they naively put their trust into. Right, that’s what you were. Nothing more. A responsible big brother she could certainly put her faith into since her other piece of shit brother couldn’t bother with that shitty role, something you’d curse him for on the daily. One she could seek out at a moment’s notice, spend time with to her heart’s content like a normal, unsuspecting relationship between siblings should be.

Not some perverted creep of a big brother who’d steal periodic glances her way, instinctively trailing down to the soft, plump and pink flesh of her parted lips, glistening sinfully from the wetness of her saliva — a habit she unconsciously did despite claiming not to. Gulping thickly, you hadn’t registered how her seamless chatter had ceased to a stop, deafening silence befalling upon the both of you as you stared at each other like some sort of stiff actors awaiting for the next act on stage. Wait, were you staring? Fuck, you were — and she hadn’t failed to notice by the looks of it, blooming flush adorning her pretty, pale cheeks you’d like to press gentle, reassuring kisses to, squeeze under the weight of your palm. Maybe have her spill a few stray droplets of tears across the rosy surface while you’re at it, make her cry the same way Whitney did.

Oh, you’re such a fucking bastard for this one.

“W-What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Her sudden squeak had you stilling in your tracks, twisting the spread sheets without meaning to from the timid pitch of her shrill voice. Look at her, trying to hide behind her torn sleeves in attempt to draw attention away from her bashful blush, becoming a fidgeting mess under your gaze.

Fuck, no. It was more than that, Kylar. It was the pout of your lips that you wore, the black strands of hair that framed your face so beautifully, the exposed sliver of skin of your thighs from that short skirt you slipped on. It was all you, but dammit all — fuck.

“Hm? No, it’s nothing — really.” Liar. Drawing back to create a manageable amount of space between you both, a reminder not to act upon those disgusting urges of yours, better not to. Bad idea to be thinking with your dick, no man’s ever made a reliable decision with that one. Even so, Whitney did it with you and — nothing particularly bad happened, did it? Would it be so wrong, if you were to do the same? Selfishly grasp for what you so dangerously desire, drop meaningless hints here and there to care for her wants, such a gentler option than any boy could ever treat your dearest little sister?

Would it?

Too lost in your endless train of thoughts, your eyes falling upon Kylar’s green own that bore with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, almost as if contemplating — no, waiting for something to happen. Though you couldn’t tell what it was, her actions were enough so to speak on their own with how she shifted considerably towards you, used mattress dipping from the creaking weight over the wooden floorboards. Ah, was she..?

“Ky—?”

Before your mind was even fully given the chance to process it, like the leap taken before the shuddering dip of a waterfall, her inexperienced, virgin lips clumsily smashed into yours, knocking the wind out of the both of you from the abrupt step taken by your little sister. Sweet. So sweet. Pink tongue tentatively swiping along the scarlet cut of your bottom lip, ushered gasps accompanied by startled squeaks as she timidly gave you what she thought was a simple kiss, but felt more like a pornographic make out session with how she so desperately shoved her tongue deeper. More. Wants more of this, more of that honeyed taste she yearned to savour, to finally enjoy while her other dumb brother so greedily took you away every time she wished to be the one at your side instead. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all! He’s so mean, so why does he get to string you along whenever he so pleases? Should be her, only be her to fill that solemn space. Only her, only her—

“W-Wait, wait— Kyl— fuck.”

As if struck by the weight of what she had just done, the loner recoiled back instantly in a fit of panic from the sheer brashness of her actions. Oh, how could she let herself so easily fall to such temptations? What if you hated her now? Or worse, were repulsed by the kiss? Wouldn’t be able to live it down then, quivering lips and bubbling tears threatening to spill freely down the length of her flushing cheeks from her overreactive imagination running rampant — because she’d rather die than to have you loathe her so.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to— umm.. I thought that maybe you.. wanted me to—“ The girl stuttered uselessly, trailing off in an aimless direction only to shrink back in her unbecoming position. Silence only answered her in return which she took as the harsh reality of rejection, mustering up all the courage she possibly had in her lithe frame to at the very least subtly peek at the current expression painted along your face. Would it be anger? Disgust? Disappointment even? Surely if you hated it that much, you’d have plainly kicked her right off the bed by now, right? Storm out in a fit of shock and never so much as glance her way again.

The sight to greet her instead wasn’t an unwelcome one though — no, far from it actually, her gaze deliberately falling upon the blazing flush of your face down to the evident bulge straining painfully between your legs, palm nervously placed over it in a half-assed attempt to keep your dignity at bay — shit. It’s one thing to be kissed by your younger sister but to get fucking hard from it is like shameful admission on its own, a visceral reaction that could not be denied no matter what reasonable excuses may tumble from your lips. “..It’s fine. I don’t mind, actually.” You’re really no better than Whitney in that aspect, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s only fair to mindlessly grasp for it, is it not? More worrying is the debauched idea that forms in your mind in regard to the enamoured expression worn by her wobbly lips and wide-eyed look, not-so-subtly rubbing her plush thighs together in a hint of arousal. Oh, so that’s how it is. If the sloppy kiss itself didn’t confirm it then this surely did, a surge of confidence rushing momentarily through your body at your next actions.

“Like I said, it’s fine, Ky.” That fucking nickname again. Unable to stop yourself from dragging your cute little sister closer towards you till she consequently found herself comfortably placed onto your lap, blinking stupidly at the bold move done by her normally gloomy, big brother. Silly girl.

“Siblings do it all the time, it’s not weird. It’s natural.” Lying through your goddamn teeth with a certain ease that even surprises you internally, but oh, is it so worth it as her viridescent eyes glimmer brightly to the whispered reassurance in your casual tone, acceptance easily slipping through. “But Whitney and I don’t—“ She starts, only for you to immediately latch onto her endless questioning with the seed having already been planted, too late to fucking back out now. “You and I are different. I’m nice to you and you’re nice to me, so it’s normal if you want to. We can do that cuz’ everyone else does it, alright? You don’t have to be shy with me about it, Ky.” Every carefully measured word to make it seem as though this was the norm, knowing fully you’d be seen as freaks and degenerates by your peers attending the nearby school. Not that they didn’t already think so with Kylar, the rumors having grown out to such an unhealthy proportion that it pestered the poor girl at every corner in the narrow hallways. Poor thing.

So isn’t it your job as her big brother to make it all go away? Make her feel better.

“Shh, just let me..” Soothing circles rhythmically rubbed in a recognizable pattern along the edges of her skirt, repeated affirmations of want so to ease her chattering mind over the possible morality of this newfound situation. Could’ve said no if she didn’t secretly desire this, though her actions seem to say so otherwise with how she earnestly complies, willingly tucking her arms to her sides to let your hands do the rest. Good girl. So docile, like a porcelain doll, sharpening breaths noticeably deepening from the careful tugs of her short skirt, revealing the confirmation of her depraved wants as the wet patch of slick soaking through her plain, white panties is bared. Your adorable little sister isn’t so innocent as you thought, is she? Contrary to her modest choice of underwear. Getting fucking wet solely from being leered at so openly by her step brother, even going so far as to spread her soft legs for better viewing.

“See? Isn’t it frustrating to be left all worked up like this?” Agreeing nods promptly interrupted by the press of your thumb against her clothed slit, such a sweet, hitched gasp elicited from the lazy circles traced onto her swollen, twitching clit. A free view of your younger sister’s scrunched up expression morphing to one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, scarred fingertips tightly clutching at the fabric of your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment, really. “This good?” There’s no real need to ask when you can naturally rely on the shivering of her dainty figure, breathy moans of y-yes and feels good! along with the guiding of her needy fingers, flush against her slicked heat. A flick of your thumb is all it takes to have her turn into a babbling mess, bucking her hips up to meet your cupped palm, incidentally grinding onto your aching hard-on. “S-Shit, okay. Look at you, hah — so fucking wet already.” Barely able to discern the own pitch of your voice, but who the fuck is supposed to properly maintain their composure when your little sister is so prettily begging for your cock?

Effortlessly peeling away at the sticky fabric of her cotton panties, slipping it down the length of her legs to thoughtlessly throw away onto the wooden floor beneath. No time to fucking think, not with how cute her cunt looks, pink and dripping with slick coating the smooth surface of her inner thighs. Ah, and she’s already impatiently fumbling with your belt too, smiling so happily once it loosens to eventually tug your own underwear down too, leaking cock eagerly springing free from its restraints. “Want it that bad, lil sis?” Fuck, does it feel wrong to even be calling her so in your current predicament, yet so damn right too. The pleading nods, urgently clinging to your frame to press against as she grinds her sopping cunt along your flushed tip, whining whenever it knocks just right up against her puffy clit, squelching from the melding fluids. “W-Want it, want it inside, please.”

“B-Big brother—“

As much as you like the high-pitched mumblings of your dearest Kylar, there’s really only so much edging you can take before promptly snapping your hips up in tandem with her own, relishing in the slippery warmth that lovingly welcomes you, stretched folds accommodating to the sheer girth of your length. “Oh, fuck — Fuck, just relax for me. You feel so.. hah, so good.” Collectively sighing in relief at the intrusion of your pulsing cock squeezed so nicely by her constricting walls, having to steel yourself from the tight suck of her cunt snugly wrapped around your tip. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.” Softly hushing her breathy whines intertwined with a mix of pain and pleasure, fingertips digging harshly in the tender flesh of her hips to guide her quivering frame up and down the length of your cock. Isn’t this what she wanted after all? Such a quick learner too, steadily bouncing to match the pace you had set, your wandering hands slipping past the hem of her loose shirt to greedily palm at her perky breasts which prompts another moan to exit her parted lips. Uncaring for the increasingly noticeable squeaking of the worn mattress when your little sis is so cutely riding you, doing her very best to satisfy your immoral urges and have you mark her slicked insides with your seed.

“What a good sister.. So good, aren’t you?” Cute, pink tongue poking out, begging for another messy kiss pressed onto her swollen lips which you dutifully oblige with another muffled groan. Sloppily planting your own against hers, treasuring every shuddered gasp to swallow down and stifling her open mewls. It’s borderline disgusting how desperate you are, savouring every thick inch engulfed by the sloppy suck of her baby sister pussy, reappearing briefly only to bury yourself balls deep once more into her defiled cunt. Isn’t really your fault with how fucking tight she is, is it? Barely grasping the reality of the situation which is the very high possibility of being heard from outside her room right this moment, but fuck — you can’t slow down, not right now, not when you’re already on the verge of spilling your cum deep inside. Damn Whitney, the bastard. Damn to hell your parents, your indecisive mother and her new husband, this is heaven itself right here. “I’m close—“ You huff out in a sort of warning, though it’s more of an invitation to Kylar, an opportunity for you to shoot your thick seed in her wanting hole, practically locking her legs tight around your waist.

Anything for you after all, huh? Her beloved. Her darling. You just didn’t know it yet! And to say it came true on its own, openly enjoying the sensation of your fat cock instinctively fucking into her tight, little sister hole. So close.

“Cum inside me, please. Let’s finish together, big brother. I-I’m close too—“

And that’s all you really need, precise thrusts upwards hastily turning into erratic humps to lazily grind against her ass, wanting nothing more but to see the dumb, drooling, fucked out expression painted across her adorable face, the convulsing of her cunt stuffed full of your length when she does have her first ever orgasm. A few clumsy circles drawn over her used clit is all it takes to have her cumming, slick trickling out of her fluttering cunt to drip over the base of your cock and stain the pristine sheets beneath. “Ah— God, you’re so fucking tight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck — Shoving the hilt of your cock as deep as possible into your little sister’s stretched out hole to rightfully mark her pink insides with your seed, spurting out thick, white strings of cum while you fuck yourself deeper into her womb and downright have her experience her first ever accidental cream pie too. It’s only then when she pitifully whines for you to stop that you do eventually pause, hips drawing back to stare in awe at the dribbling globs of cum spilling out of her sore cunt. “S-Sorry.” You mutter out apologetically with a sigh, the tension easing out of your muscles once she giggles softly in response to your strained apology. “It’s okay. I-I liked it a lot too.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm, I did.” Kylar sleepily mumbles back with drowsy eyelids, the exhaustion washing both over you all at once from, well.. all the movement involved. Let’s leave it at that, actually. Plus you deserve the rest, don’t you? Wouldn’t be fair to leave your adorable sister all alone in her twin bed without her older brother’s body to warm it with too, yeah? It’s fine to lay yourself down next to her curled figure snuggling closely against yours, drape an arm over her waist to remind her of your presence close by, make her feel secure and at ease. A silent, ushered promise to clean her up later once you two awaken, affectionately pressing a single kiss atop her head one last time before sleep takes her first. It’s your role to as the big brother, after all, isn’t it?

“..Good.”

[cubbihue]

When you said that the unluckiest person is most hopeful, it reminded me of Nagito Komaeda. If the universe were combined, do you think he would fair well having Anti Cosmo as his anti fairy?

Funnily enough, I feel like it would be Hajime who would have an anti-fairy companion. I mean, he’s surrounded by extremely skilled people! That would attract bad luck in some way for him. Nagito wouldn’t be good food for anti-fairies. Or Fairies. Or Pixies.

...Honestly, Fairies aren’t quite sure what food he produces. It’s like a weird amalgamation of luck, desire, greed, and all sorts of emotions they can’t disentangle. Like a crockpot gone horribly horribly wrong. Eating any bit of that would make any fairy sick.

Eugh. The hell is wrong with that one.

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