#and then i realized nah fuck that. the anon is weird

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[tyrianludaship]

we need to put the selfshipping community on witness protection to truly figure out what the fuck is happening.

[sheep-from-rad]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

[ryiju-muunie]

if toji asked me what my bra size was. i wouldnt know how to answer. not cause id be weirded out or anything but because i only wear sport bras 😭

Boob Guy (Drabble)

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/Toji Zenin Warnings: this is crack, IM SORRY I HAD TO, foul language, tit job? , breast fetish, nipple play, Toji shall fuck your titties ur weeellllccommeeee Word count: 530 DESC: You bet Toji he can't guess your bra size

I know u didn't request anything ANON but this inspired something super stupid LMAO

Think of this as a PT 2 to Cake! Cake! Cake!

“Zenin,” you announced, smacking your boyfriend upside his head. He blinked a few times and grumbled something, looking over at you with a frown, “Guess my cup size.” You two had been together for a few months now and you came to realize how much Toji truly liked your breasts. He’d always stare when you wore those tight low shirts, exposing your supple cleavage. And it wouldn’t take him long to get that top off and sent flying across the room, giving him time to palm your skin.

Toji tilted his head to the side and sized up your tits, biting on his bottom lip as he thought. “What’s in it for me?” He asked after a moment, meeting your gaze with a sly smirk, “If I guess right … gimmie a tit job.” 

Your stare shifted into a glare, your mouth hanging open, “First the thigh job, now this? Is my pussy not enough to satisfy you, pervert?” You asked, before begrudgingly nodding. Toji liked every part of your body, thighs, tits, and ass. He had his own personal checklist of the kind of “jobs” he wanted from you, boob job just happened to be one of them. He had already gotten his jollies off when you gave him the best thigh job of his life, now he needed to complete the rest on the list.

“Nah, I just wanna cum on your pretty tits,” then he paused, looking over your mounds a few more times. Truth be told, he already knew your cup size from snooping around your bra drawer. Why was he doing that? He didn’t remember, but now it came in handy! “34 B,” he said confidently, watching your face fall further. He let out a gruff laugh and raised his hand, motioning for you to take off your top. 

You found yourself, breasts out, pushing them together around Toji’s meaty length. He leaned his head back and watched with half-lidded eyes as you whined, thrusting your tits up and down to satiate his burning desire to cum. “You better be happy, Zenin,” you mumbled, letting a bit of saliva dribble from your bottom lip onto his tip, before taking one of your soft hands and massaging it around his slit. 

Toji groaned, “F-fuck princess, you’re gonna make me cum…” He used one of his hands and brushed your messy hair out of your face, so he could watch your concentrated expression as you bobbed up and down, getting him closer to finishing on you. It was electric how he felt. Your skin was so soft and warm, giving him a new sensation he had never felt before. Not to mention, your fingers focussing on his swollen tip were sending shivers up his cock. It took a few more seconds and he tensed, thrusting his hips a few times as cum splattered out of his cock. It coated your breasts in his sticky, hot, fluid. You let out a small noise, a mixture of a moan and an annoyed groan, although a smile painted your lips. You’d do anything to please him, even if it meant completing the other weird “jobs” he had on his list.

[romanscool]

maxiel kith (kiss) prompt 27 on a place of insecurity if you want :))

#27: a kiss on a place of insecurity - maxiel: sfw

hi anon!! thanks sooo much for this prompt, I've actually giggled when seeing it cause I've been wanting to write it so bad haha

I hope this is what you had in mind when you asked for me this!

anyways, enjoy <33

->

Max had seemed down all morning. It’s not usual for him to be this way.

Actually, he’s generally pretty open about everything. Daniel likes to jokes that he literally wears his emotions on his face like his goddamn Red Pull polos and skinny jeans, to which Max always answers, in usual Max manor, ‘fuck off.’

Classy. And, open. 

But now, Max is weirdly backing up. He’s hiding and holding his own hands under said disgusting Red Pull polo merch, and his socked to ankle feet are together in a way to bend his knees and make him look like he’s those insects that roll up. Rounding up. He looks seventeen again with a little baby fat still hanging to his face, red round splotches of teenageness like constellations on his jaw. He looks young, Daniel realizes. 

Except not the right young version of Max. Young Max was brash. He was frank, and frankly blunt, and Daniel liked that about him. He doesn’t really like that weird dystopic version of young Max that has him belittling himself on his own sofa, cat on his lap burying his hidden hands under its little fur body. Daniel still can’t decipher Sassy from Jimmy, but right now it doesn’t seem like it matters. 

« Hey, Maxy what’s going on? » 

Max turns to him, chin propped on his chest. Daniel hears the familiar ‘ding!’ of the lunch that’s been cooking in the oven for the past hour signaling it’s done. He ignores it when he sees Max grimace. 

Daniel circles round the sofa and sits by Max’s feet. He takes one and puts it on his lap, silently asking Max if it’s fine with him. Max doesn’t answer. Daniel takes it as a yes, and holds Max’s other ankle just above the sock, which he accidentally pulls down a little as he sets Max’s left foot with the other one. Daniel has always liked that about Max, too. How pliable he always was. He’s a little tense, Daniel can see it in the twitch of the muscle in his shin, but he still lets Daniel in a little. 

Daniel pulls the sock back up and asks, « Wanna tell me what’s been on your mind this morning? ». He’s gentle with it, too, setting what he hopes to be a comforting hand on Max’s leg, where the peach fuzz sits so pretty and is the perfect amount of rough under Daniel’s hand scar. 

Daniel tries to find an answer in the way Max’s brows furrow, and usually he does, but apparently nothing about Max makes sense today. 

Max takes out his hand from his t-shirt in one quick motion, pulling the hem of it over his sleep-shorts over it as soon as he’s done. Daniel can’t even stop to stare at Max’s little trail of hair there. He doesn’t wonder why he’s a little disappointed at that, because he knows. He’s been with Max long enough to know he’s crazy about anything Max. Even the weird shit. 

« There’s nothing, Daniel. » Max answers, but. Daniel doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t. Not when Max gives him this awkward little smile that barely lifts the corner of his mouth, the one that doesn’t make his eye crinkle and soft, soft, soft. 

Daniel shakes his head. His hand goes up Max’s thigh on its own. « Nah, don’t believe you. » When it reaches the bottom of Max’s shorts, it stops and goes back down. Leaves little goosebumps in its trail. « Tell me what it is, » He sees Max opens his mouth, and can sense it in the air that Max is about to say one of those PR-friendly answers the team has taught him to say when he doesn’t want to comment on something but has to, so Daniel stops him, « also, yeah, no, none of that please. » He keeps his tone light, sing-song-y and all high pitched on the ‘please’ to drag the truth out of Max. It’s been a while since he’s had to do that. 

« No, it’s just-, » Max stops for a second, and Daniel relishes in the dutch accent peeking out during the ’s’s, making them sounds like little waves that never crash on Monaco’s shore. « It is stupid, really. »

« Nothing’s stupid. » Daniel says, and he sees Max kind of pouts and the expression on his face is back to very much translating ‘fuck off’ but Daniel brushes it off, though he’s glad Max is starting to open up a little. Crack like his voice used to do in the early years of his career. « No, nothing’s stupid, Maxy. ’Specially if you get all grumpy like that. » 

Max’s lips turns just the smallest turn upwards and Daniel wants to kiss them. « You always say I am grumpy in the mornings. » 

Daniel giggles, because it’s true, Max is always grumpy in the morning, and Daniel does have an habit of pointing it out. 

« Yeah, you are. » Daniel says it so fond he’s worried for a split second if maybe it’s too much, but Max doesn’t say anything about it, just has to weird downturn smile plastered on his face that makes his chin wrinkle slightly, and Daniel’s hand seems to think that’s enough of a reason to allow itself to go further up Max’s shorts. « It’s not that this morning, though. » 

Daniel hears Max take in a short breath more than he sees it, because he’s following his tattooed hand closely, gaze fixated on it, so much that he has to tear his eyes from it to see Max’s flush spreading just below this awful navy polo. 

« So, you gonna tell me what it is? » Daniel adds a small smile of his own, just for good measure, just to really relax Max. 

He sees his shoulder slump a little and Sassy-or-Jimmy stretches on his chest and claws at his collarbone slightly. Max goes to pet her-slash-him, but the cat gets frightened and runs away quickly. Jimmy, then. Daniel feels his hand bob up and down a few times as Max chuckle. Feels fucking amazing.

« It is stupid, Daniel. » Max says it like a warning, but it’s hard to find it convincing when his furrowed brows ease just slightly, and his bottom lip is a little tucked between two rows of perfect straight teeth. 

Daniel shakes his head and takes Max’s feet from his lap and sets them back on the sofa. He climbs slowly between them and sets his head on Max’s clothed thigh, just a little higher than he’s allowed his hand to roam up to. « Tell me, baby. » 

« It has been a while since the last race. » 

And, yeah, that’s true. Just a couple month ago, Abu Dhabi happened and Max got out of the car for the last time of 2024, fourth championship tucked away safely in his pocket and a big smile on his face. 

Daniel remembers it very clearly. Remembers the sweat pouring down Max’s forehead, meddling with the champagne that Lando showered him with, even though he was the one that had won the race. He remembers the white fabric of his fireproofs turned a little yellow and transparent during the podium, remembers the way he could almost do more than imagine Max’s pinkish nipple under them. Daniel wanted to lick then, and he wants to lick now, nipples under Red Bull merch that Max has been wearing for two days straight. Disgusting and sweaty, just as he had been then.

« Yeah, and? » 

Max flushes again, probably from the long time Daniel took to answer him, probably because he remembers that night too, the hotel and the morning. « It’s been a while since the last race, Daniel. » Max says, again, parrots, really, with that insisting look on his face that Max wears when he’s trying to Make Daniel understand something. 

Daniel doesn’t understand. « Yeah, I got that. Two months, it’s been Maxy. » He tries to think harder, to put the pieces together, and he suddenly gets an idea, « You miss it? Racing? » 

« No, this is not, » Max sighs, and intertwines his hand on his belly. The fabric of his t-shirt ruffles and Daniel can just see the skin above Max’s boxer’s waistband. « I mean, I have been in vacation for too long. There is, uh-, » Max closes his eyes and the back of his head hits the arm of the sofa, « Photos. On the internet. » 

What. « I don’t get it, Maxy. » Daniel picks up his hand from where it’s been staying on Max’s thigh and starts to trace that little band of skin. Pale and so so pretty. 

« Daniel, just, » Max sighs again, long and desperate. « I have been letting myself go a little. »

Daniel feels himself frowning. His cheeks smushing up against Max’s sleep-shorts. « Well, yeah. It’s winter break, Max, what the hell you gonna do? » 

« Train. » Max swallows and pulls down the t-shirt way more than it should be, « Control myself, maybe. »

And that’s such a weird thing to hear Max saying that, because he’s never been that way. Self-conscious. He’s never been the one to-, « Are you quoting the media, Max? ‘Cause if you are, and I mean it, what the fuck. » 

Max suddenly gets this strange look of impeding doom fall on his face, melting all his feature in the wrong way, « You have seen it, too, then. » 

Daniel lifts his head for Max’s lap and sits on his knees between Max’s legs. « No, no, I haven’t-, Max, you-, » He sighs and leans down to kiss him. Just a quick one, to make his brain stop screaming ‘what, when, why, who, why’, « The media all say shit. You know that, they don’t-, they don’t fucking speak the truth. Like, ever. » 

Because Daniel has seen the fucking articles, in a way. He’s seen shit talk about the way Max’s chest looks at the beach, or how his t-shirt hugs him tighter than it used to on his lower belly, on his shoulders, his arms. How there’s more of him. Daniel has seen this shit and thanked the fucking world that Max looks like this, that there is indeed more of Max, more to love, to fucking worship and touch, swallow, bite into.

He hadn’t thought for a fucking second that what those dumb reporters had said was true. He doesn’t understand how Max could, either. 

« I know, Daniel, I know that. » Max sighs, and Daniel tries to search for the smallest hint of something that isn’t shame in Max’s eyes but he can’t find it, so he has to listen to Max say, «  It is only that, I’m starting to see it. »

And Daniel wants to scream, throw middle fingers at all the fucking people who make a living on hating Max fucking Verstappen, four times F1 world champion, biggest dork on the planet, and perfect, perfect, perfect man. 

The only thing that Daniel can say is, « Maxy, » and Max doesn’t seem to understand, eyebrows together and bottom lip slightly jutting out, so Daniel makes him understand. Makes him see himself like Daniel sees him. 

Daniel climbs between Max’s legs again, and takes hold of Max’s waist. It’s such a perfect fit too, the curve of it allowing Daniel’s palm to slot just right, to hold and dig his fingertips in the flesh that has Daniel’s brain think crazy thoughts. Daniel leans down, rubbing soft circles on Max’s waist and starts to kiss over the fabric of his polo. Just soft pecks of fucking gentleness that Daniel wishes Max had for himself. He curses the world as he starts working up Max’s chest, landing on his neck. 

« Daniel, » He hears Max whisper, but Daniel acts like he didn’t hear it. He continues his way up, planting his lips on Max’s jaw, where pebbles of pimples used to sit, now replaced by awkward and unevenly shaved stubble, and Daniel is glad for it, glad for the slight itches he gets on his mouth as he kisses there and higher, on Max’s ears and cheekbones, going left to land on his eyebrows and eyes, which Max closes, bracing for Daniel’s lips on them. 

Daniel kisses there as he starts working his hands up Max’s t-shirt, whispering a small, « this okay? » centimeters away from Max’s lips, getting a silent nod and a hot breath on his own mouth that has his fingers dig on Max’s hips. He pulls away for a second and takes Max’s shirt off, Max’s back hitting the sofa again in a dull thud that has him giggling and Daniel wish he could record the sound and listen to it every fucking hour of the fucking day.

Daniel kisses Max a small kiss on the lips, one that has Max whining a little, a small sound in the back of the throat he always does to ask Daniel to do something again, whether it’s pass a hand through his hair of put toothpaste on his toothbrush, because Max is weird and has decided when he was a kid that using three times the amount of toothpaste required was a good idea. 

Daniel kisses and kisses down again, hands still rubbing soft circles on Max’s waist. He kisses between his pecs to his belly button. He finally gets to see the little trail of dark dirty blond hair that half-hides under Max’s boxers. He leaves it hidden but doesn’t forget to plant kisses on top of the weirdly smooth material of Max’s shorts. 

Max giggles, and Daniel feels it under his fingertips, feels it under his breath and in his ears, tingles all the way to his toes that are starting to cramp up. « I get it, Daniel, please I-, » 

« Ticklish? » Daniel teases, plants another kiss just under the bare skin he’s kissed countless times, just above what he doesn’t want to think about right now, because this isn’t about that.

« Kinda. » Max’s voice cracks and Daniel thinks he’s just heard the fucking world speak to him. « You’re so fucking weird, Daniel. » 

Yeah, Daniel thinks. So fucking weird. « Obsessed, too, maybe. » Daniel knows his voice is breathy, but he doesn’t really care. Max is open, bare skin all over the leather sofa, clammy hands far, far from his stomach, and Daniel’s been allowed to kiss him better. That’s like a fucking victory.

I've started to post those on ao3 so please check them out!

don't hesitate to leave a comment/ask/tag for other (kiss or non kiss) prompts! I always appreciate them a lot <33

lots of love, and see you in the next one!

[bettertwin1]

Do people who use ‘neopronouns’ actually think they ARE what their pronoun is though? For example, my sibling tries to get me to use her ‘neopronoun’ which is Flower/flowerself… i find that shit really weird so, I always call her she. Does she think she is a flower? I have tried to get her to come to her senses and realize how nobody will take her seriously if she tells them that. Me sending this ask does NOT mean that I dont think ur blog is fucking stupid, i just want more information on wtf these are.

-paragraph anon

Usually? Nah, i don't think i'm a literal star, but the vibe the star has describes me pretty well, the colors, the shine, the beauty of it, especially once it implodes on itself? That's what my gender feels like, hence star/starself.

The world is cruel yeah, some people won't take flower seriously, but there are people out there who will accept flower for how flower identifies flowerself, it may seem silly and ridiculous to you but this is flowers identity and if flower believes flowers represent flowerself then hell yeah.

And even if your sibling thinks flower's an actual flower then who r u to complain? Let flower live flowers life LMAO not everyone will be mean and unaccepting like you 💙

[horizon-verizon]

The showrunners just continue to steal from TV Daenerys’s characterization and final storyline to improve their Rhaenyra (a self righteous Targaryen woman with delusions of grandeur ? Groundbreaking), but she remains completely boring and forgettable. Dust in the wind.

And even though TV Daenerys is radically and entirely different from her book counterpart (as much as I love Emilia Clarke), TV Daenerys’ daddy didn’t tell her she’s special, unlike Rhaenyra, Daenerys realized she’s special when she brought back dragons from extinction and walked out of fire utterly unharmed, please can people stop compare her to any of the mid characters from HOTD ??

Speak it again, anon, bc what?! It's quite obvious that they are trying to inject as much a literal magic layer of significance in Rhaenyra's story as magic was in Dany's Or they are trying to make Rhaenyra more "important" in the Targ lineage & "interesting" to those who loved Dany (which is most of the fandom, lets' bfr) to promote the show. And yet at every turn they have also excused D&D's atrocious illogical writing of Daenerys' core traits and convictions behind the ol' "GRRM has not finished his series".

We know that there are only 2 books left of this series and Dany is still very NOT like her show counterpart's more...demanding isn't the right word but for now, we'll go with it. Based on this fact alone, people are so much more willing to believe that Dany will turn a 180 somewhere in these last 2 bks and destroy KL or do something akin to Mad!Aerys "bc Targs are crazy and she seeks to be a white savior while profiting from slaves". That this extreme turn for her will not happen for someone like Jon Snow who literally came back from the dead after nearly all under his command killed him. That they don't feel it rather be Cersei, not Dany, who'd blow up KL despite all the comparisons and actions she has similar to Aerys in the text, word for word verbatim. No it has to be Dany, bec she is a "foreign invader" come to ruin the good town of Westeros with her slave-owning ways.

Ryan Condal recently said as much about the D&D defense on BigThink:

Besides, there were a lot other instances where it's clear the real reason why they demolished her was to move on from the project and they just didn't like Dany. Go on over to ozymalek/PhoenixAshes' Youtube and search through to see how they broke it all down.

And yes, Dany actually showed/has very good reason to believe her singularity and even this pseudo-religious quality from her revitalizing dragons, effectively patching up a lot of the magical balance of the world by doing so.

What's also pretty cool is that bk!her still doesn't think of herself as a "god" the way Euron Greyjoy is kinda heading towards/is already at.

So it's so fucking weird how they are trying to re-capitalize on Dany's effect and show!character (and before that, her nonviolenet ADwD arc about the pits) for their false version of Rhaenyra bc apparently we can tolerate and even like ambitious, vengeful, cruel, or just selfish men like Euron, Robert B, Robb (not evil, but went to war for his own ends and his armies also raped indiscriminately), TYWIN [Rains of Castamere, everything else], etc. BUT a woman who has even just the mere self-concern to want to claim back a throne that was DEFINITIVELY usurped?! Nah, apparently, that's too much. She's unsympatheziable.

For a woman, she HAS to be "unselfish", trying to prove a point to men--dead or alive--of her strength 24/7, but unable to settle with an idea of her own "strength" or worthiness, and thus eventually be lead into semi-unintentionally building some strange "cult" around dragons from Westerosi religiosity to feel in control & for people to sympathize with her. She HAS to--as one Twitter user said--have a problem with her gender identity so as to attribute "womanly" stuff as "weak" to want the same things as what a man are granted.

If the audience is stupid, does that mean you should be as well and perpetuate MORE sexist stereotypes/frameworks? No; HotD is for the money and comes form a place of ignorant "women guide violent men" narrative, no matter much it claims it is "feminist" or how lore-knowledgeable Condal says he is.

We all know this is a media company and Condal is more businessman than creator and that you need sorta both a business/production sense as well as a creative spirit for TV/film. Problem is that Condal is inevitably and attempting to build an ethos and ethical narrative while also treating the org stories and GoT as material to re-market through his own "vision" of what he'd personally like to see as a ASoIaF story.

Just bc this is a huge media company doesn't mean whatever they say is "God" for the actual story they were tasked to adapt! You can enjoy that and still recognize nothing about it or most of it informs the orig story or "proves" anything of it WITHOUT bringing up good reasoning and comparisons as to how-why!

Much of the characterization/writing/plot decisions he makes are not about feminism or making the characters palatable for others but to--like with a lot of censorship--just make it so that as many people as possible are watching and are comfortable with the most popular but incorrect ideas of what ASoIaF & feminism or sexism is about, etc.. those of which have already been in fandom and larger life/online circulation for YEARS.

Therefore, there is much superficiality as well as what could have been fleshed out and nuanced ideas or directions the current writing HotD has AS WELL AS Condal's/Hess' own biases written into the very fabric of this show that mark it as just ASoIaF "fanfiction" instead of a strict "adaptation". I know people get annoyed with the fanfic allegations, but if you have an "adaptation" that no longer has most-to-any of the core ideas, themes, characterizations, EVENTS, etc. as its original, you call that a fanfic, not an adaptation. Just bc it came from a prestige major studio/company and had a lot of money thrown at it, doesn't make it actually an adaptation.

If the author themselves--even though they should know better bc look what happened with Dany, Euron, Cersei-Jaime, etc.--say something is egregiously wrong with how they written a certain thing in the show, it is not actually using the orig lore and therefore it is more fanfic than adaptation:

Dany--unlike any other Targ, which includes Rhaenyra--has a relationship with 3 separate dragons even though she will only ride one. Vermithor should NOT have been as "docile" with Rhaenyra as they were in the show (saw another clip online, still haven't watched the episode). There is still a reason why Jace tried to get her out TWICE, why Viserys was upset at Aemond for going down to the Dragonpit alone, why Rhaena nearly died trying to bond with some, , why Nettles approach and SUCCESS with Sheepstealer is so amazing, why Baelon bumping a dragon on the nose gave him the moniker "Baelon the Brave", etc. Dragons are damned dangerous to anyone who aren't their rider! And Rhaenyra's "specialness" was evident in the plethora and rise of dragon eggs....you want to show her as such? Have dialogue about the trajectory of dragon eggs laid compared to now vs 40/30/20/10 yrs ago!

Yes, most of the Targ women are connected and esp through magic and fertility & expressed "Targaryen woman's strength" and agency in unique but still related ways. But as rhaenin-time once said:

HotD thinks it's somehow an improvement to insist that actually, no, they're all just (by circumstance) variations of a "generic targ girl" template.

You could have even have Rhaenyra stumble on something a GoT character later finds but not have her go into that deep about it bc she's focused on the war/usurpation if you really want to stick with the whole oversimplified "distracted by selfish stuff" going on. Point is, Rhaenyra's significance was meager compared to Dany's SPECIFICALLY when we talk about active and participatory spiritutality/magic. Passively and more subtly, Rhaenyra dying spelled the end of dragons...so be subtle about it and stop with the whole "religious cult" nonsense that really is just a continuation of the whole Dany-is-a-facist nonsense we got in the final season of GoT. "Targ madness" and all that.

Of course they won't bc this is Condal's "vision", but hey, got things off my chest.

[nnnyxie]

CAN’T WAIT ANY LONGERRR

So this one is angsty (if you squint) basically reader is Bakugos little sibling (by like a year or two to not make it weird) and they grew up together…And this is kinda mean!Izu x reader but whatever

Izu one day just randomly reflects on Bakugos bullying and is like well fuck him and decides to date his younger sibling to fuck with Bakugo as ‚revenge‘

Failing to inform them he was only dating them to fuck with their brother. He‘s still doting and sweet and oh so loving(he also failed to realize he fell for reader fr)…and on one random Tuesday they just overhear him speaking about it like on the phone to his friends being like „yeah Kacchan is totally pissed it worked like a charm“

Reader absolutely breaks down and runs to Kacchan for comfort because big brother is always the solution🤞 so then Izu dosen’t even realize and tries talking to reader and they just cut all contact and Izu panics and realizes what he feels for them but it‘s too late hehe. (I need some sort of happy ending for reader😭)

Bonus ofcourse would be lots and lots of groveling before they eventually restart, or reader moves on if you‘re not the second chance type..revenge is always the answer🫶🏻 idk both ends would be cute Idk when I turned into an angst Whore I used to be a fluff addict😞 #𖢥 izuku anon

SOBS!!! DRAMATICALLY THROWS MYSELF ONTO THE FLOOR!!!! CLAWS AT MY ENCLOSURE!!!!

i’m not much of a second chance person when it comes to this stuff but……. i like fluff……. so we shall see how the ending goes…….. it’s a wild card for the both of us???

(ps there is swearing bc it’s me…) (pps i did add a part where he said ‘fuckin with my blood’ but i originally had like— an adopted sibling in mind?? so just read however you’d like!!) (ppps i added some comfort from our girlies and kiri bc i LOVE them)

for this we’re gonna pretend like the boys have had no progress in friendship and that they HATE each other with a passion and that season 6 didn’t happen!! AND that they’re in their second year while you, darling reader, are a first year at UA!!

okay so. despite katsuki being such an asshole and probably the most difficult person to deal with— he has such a soft spot for his little sibling!!

he makes it known that if anyone fucks with you— he’ll beat them worse than they could ever imagine. you thought his normal threats were bad? oh sweetheart, these are far worse!! he’ll go into solid detail and even give ‘warning’ hits.

enter izuku, your longtime crush. ever since you were kids, you have always liked him. loved him, even. you admire how ambitious he is and how far he’s come.

izuku was dense about your crush at first, in all honesty. it wasn’t until he overheard your conversation with katsuki in the dorm stairs one day!!

it was something along the lines of “you can’t love that nerd!” “but i do! and if he feels the same i don’t want you ruining this for me!” “you’re too good for him! plus you’re too young to date anyways!” “katsuki, i’m not a baby anymore! look— if he ends up rejecting me then i’ll tell you. and you can do whatever you want, okay?” “okay. and if he accepts then, i’ll punch him too.” “katsuki no—”

izuku usually isn’t the type for petty revenge but— katsuki has hurt him for long enough. so this would be a great way to get back at him, right..?

now let’s dive into izuku’s little plan—

like i said before, he isn’t one to do this sort of thing. he really isn’t but— katsuki just… fuels a fire in him that he can’t put out.

izuku thought this little idea was crazy (it is), so he confided in someone about it— can you guess who?? wanna know who??? the one and only…

kaminari denki!!

that is correct, he confides in kaminari. see— izuku doesn’t tell kaminari that the person is katsuki’s little sibling.

izuku just tells him “i want to piss this guy off by dating their younger sibling but, i feel like that’s crazy…” and kaminari says “nah dude, if that person is a piece of shit then i say go for it. i mean— if they’re shitty then their sibling probably is too!”

which is very incorrect— you and katsuki aren’t alike.

well— you are?? but also aren’t??? if that makes sense

anyways… izuku was STUPID and took his advice.

so— izuku enacts his plan. he’ll fake confess to you, in front of katsuki. it has to be in front of him. he’ll date you for a bit to make katsuki mad, lead you on a little, then break up with you. easy peasy right?

wrong.

first off, he did confess in front of katsuki but, katsuki punched him right in the face.

second, when you accepted his confession, katsuki punched him again. this time in the stomach.

but hey— anything for petty revenge… ig…?

anywhooo y’all get into a relationship!! and it’s a dream for you, truly. you’re with the person you’ve been in love with for basically your entire life!! and that person loves you back!!!

literally everyone is jealous because you’re the couple. the blueprint. the outcome. the relationship. (or so you and the others thought….)

the relationship is… healthy? i mean, it is healthy if you ignore the fact that izuku is doing this all to piss off katsuki!!

and oh my god— katsuki is fucking angry. he’s always ‘mean mugging’ izuku. he isn’t doing anything,,, physical because you chewed him out for it. like— you really laid into him when he punched izuku. and you had a very lengthy talk with him. so, he’s keeping his hands to himself— for now.

okay moving on from that??? kaminari doesn’t put two and two together when izuku starts dating you— as much as i love him, he isn’t the brightest bulb in the box! yes he’s smart but c’mon……..

which actually brings me to how you found out!!!

so……. one day you and izuku are just walking down the hall to go to his room, y’all planned a cute movie night!!! (which he was really looking forward to) when the lovely kaminari denki comes strolling up to him.

“hey dude! how’s that revenge thing going? it’s been what?? eight?? months— you piss off the guy yet? is he totally mad that you’re with his sibling?” kaminari had the widest grin— he’s so dumb, bless his heart.

“izuku, what does he mean?” “i— kaminari, i don’t—” “huh? he’s dating some guy’s sibling to piss him off cause the dude’s a total piece of shit and i thought maybe the dude’s sibling was shi—” “kaminari! stop it!” izuku slapped his hand over the blonde’s mouth. all you could say was ‘oh’ then you ran towards katsuki’s room, hoping he’d be in there.

“wait— was— was the guy katsuki and the sibling was them!?” kaminari shouted in surprised (jfc…). izuku sighed with a nod. “dude you fucked up. like really fucked up. they were a total hottie?? and super cool?? plus katsuki is gonna be really pissed.” “i know…”

izuku felt so guilty because he was genuinely beginning to fall for you— like seriously!! he’s in love with you and now everything is ruined. i mean, he knew he’d have to tell you at some point because, no relationship should be built on lies but still !!

when you told your brother— he felt beyond pissed, angry, furious, etc. his emotions were indescribable. katsuki genuinely wanted to kill izuku. yeah, he’s always said ‘i’ll kill you’ but it’s not like he ever actually meant it.

but this time—

he really did mean it. he felt like he could commit murder.

“outside.” katsuki grabbed izuku by the collar of his shirt and dragged him through the dorms.

“wait— kacchan just let me explain!” he panicked, he wanted to tell katsuki that he did love you. that his intentions weren’t good at first but his feelings became real very quickly!

“what dumb ass excuse could you possibly have that would make this fuckin’ situation better!?” katsuki’s left hand sparked as he tossed izuku outside the doors.

“i— i’m not trying to make the situation better! i j-just want to explain!” “you have one minute before i blow your head off.”

“i did it to make you mad at first but— but, i ended up really falling for them! seriously! i w-was going to tell them!” “why the fuck would you even think about doin’ that shit!? even i wouldn’t go that low!” katsuki’s hands grew hot. he was on the verge of becoming a murderer.

“i’m sorry! i really am! i just— i was so mad at you and it was petty revenge!” izuku’s hands were raised in defense. “that shit wasn’t revenge! that was fuckin’ with my blood!” katsuki raised his hand to izuku’s face, getting ready to blast him— but he was stopped. “bakugo, midoriya. nezu’s office, now.” a very tired sounding, aizawa demanded.

while that was going down— you were left in katsuki’s room, crying on his floor.

“uhm— hey, it’s just us…” mina, jirou, and kirishima walked in. you wiped your eyes and nose, you didn’t really like being seen in a vulnerable state. something you and katsuki had in common.

“so we uh… kinda heard about what happened from kaminari.” jirou whispered as her jacks poked together. “i’m sorry, he’s a loud mouth…” “and uhm… your brother isn’t exactly quiet either.” kirishima looked to the ground beside you.

“i kinda heard their conversation… midoriya said he loves you…” mina sat beside you. “so what are you gonna do? are you gonna hear midoriya out..?” you shrugged.

even if he really did begin to love you, how could you ever trust him again? and— what if he was lying to your brother just to get an easy out?

you felt sick— and you felt like a fool. you felt so stupid for thinking that your brother’s enemy could actually have feelings for you. you felt like an idiot.

“i think… i think that, maybe, i could hear his explanation but… i won’t forgive him or give him another chance. i can’t trust him again. plus, i’d look like a fool going back to him…” you mumbled into your arms, your knees were to your chest. the three just gave an understanding nod, then, huddled around you for an awkward but, warm, group hug.

“alright.” you heard your brother’s gruff voice from the doorway. “you three, out. now.” he pointed towards his friends and you watched them leave.

“so… what happened?” you asked, your brother plopped down beside you. sitting in his usual ‘delinquent’ position. “almost murdered him. got stopped by aizawa. got scolded by nezu. now ‘m suspended for 5 weeks. gotta do supplementary classes n’ shit.” “i’m sorry, kats.” he scoffed and gave you an ‘are you fucking serious’ look. “why the fuck are you apologizin’!?” you fiddled your fingers, “i got you in trouble…” he rolled his eyes and lightly smacked the back of your head. “idiot, you didn’t. was all me.”

there was a bit of silence, it was a comfortable one. you and katsuki always shared this sort of quiet.

“did they tell you what happened?” he asked in a hushed tone, referring to his friends. “yeah…” “and…?” “and i’m not gonna forgive him or anything. he lied to me. why would i wanna be with a liar? plus, what if he was lying about actually having feelings for me now? i can’t trust him again.”

katsuki gave you a small, smile. one that said ‘i understand. i’m sorry he did that. i’m here for you. and i love you.’

when it comes to him, words weren’t needed most of the time. looks could tell all. and that look told you everything you needed to hear.

i’ll be so real— i was very a teensy bit drunk writing this… so like if it doesn’t make sense or anything i’m so sorry

[icey--stars]

All Loose

female!reader x Bat boys word count: 4,081

this was requested by an anon! i hope its not too bad, since this took a while to squeeze out because of some weird moods for angst i've been having, but i hope you all enjoy regardless <3 might have to be limiting on smut requests, it takes a while to get these out lmao

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD! 18+ YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

It was a typical night at Rita's to be completely honest. Just chilling at the bar, watching as others got dragged into dances, throwing back shots, and scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone good enough to go talk to. Or at least looked more interesting than the others and usual customers. It'd been almost an hour since I gave up on finding someone good enough looking to take home with me, or go home with. It was still early in the night, but most people were here already. The sky outside was almost completely dark.

I leaned back into my chair more, scanning the fae dancing. The door to Rita's opened and I looked over curiously, sipping on my bourbon a bit. A golden haired female came in, dressed nicely in red which made her look gorgeous, but the males who entered after her took my eye almost immediately.

They all had black hair and a tan skin tone. The first to enter had violet eyes, and was dressed in finery even I wondered what the hell it cost. A brutish looking Illyrian warrior was next, two red stones glowing lightly on the back of his hands and his wings intimidatingly dark. The third to follow after everyone was also Illyrian, though I noticed quickly that swirls of darkness were floating around him, settling around his shoulders, twisting around his wings and just hovering in the air near him as well.

All, however, looked insanely good looking. I swallowed, throwing back the rest of my bourbon as I tried to mask the flash of heat that had shot through me as the violet-eyed one caught my eyes. Fucking hell, I swore.

Then quickly realized something as I saw a small dagger sheathe on the shadow Illyrian's thigh.

The violet-eyed one was probably Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court, and the damned two warriors next to him were Cassian, general of the armies and Azriel, the spymaster. Why the hell did they catch my eye? Why Y/N? Just why?

I turned back to the bar, ordering a red wine, and tried to ignore the males behind me.

As the bartender came back with my wine, I jumped at a soft, sultry voice to my left. "Could I please get that bourbon?" The High Lord, beside me, pointed to something on the list covering the higher end of the wall across the counter.

He took a seat beside me. The other two warriors, the brutish one, Cassian, sat next to me and Azriel took his other side. I sipped my wine, swallowing quickly. I'd been going pretty light on alcohol all night, drinking a lot of water. But at this moment, I was regretting that. I seriously needed to be completely knock-me-on-my-ass drunk to deal with three extremely good-looking males who happened to be apart of the Inner Circle who had sat themselves right beside me. I glanced down at what I was wearing. A nicer dress I owned. This one had a low neckline.

"Hello darling, how are you doing tonight?" Rhysand asked beside me, his fingers making a slight contact with my hand that lay on the counter.

I swallowed, nervous, but responded in kind. "Doing just fine, and yourself?"

"I'm doing well." A beat passed. "You here alone?"

I nodded. "I find it easier to talk to people when my obnoxious friends aren't cataloguing everyone I talk to and trying to find out which ones are worth my time."

The general chuckled beside me. "Sounds to me like you might need some new friends."

I scoffed. "Nah, they're not too bad," I amended.

"What's your name sweetheart?" Cassian questioned, nudging me slightly with his shoulder.

I smirked into my wine. "Y/N, and yours?"

"Cassian. Say- could I buy your next drink?" The warrior asked.

I smiled faintly. "Yeah I suppose I could go for another I suppose."

Rhysand chuckled lowly beside me. "Cass, your beating me at my own game."

"Snooze you lose brother," Cassian retorted.

Azriel leaned onto the counter, smirking at me. "I'm here too idiots. We all saw the beautiful female and came running. But I'll be the first to ask her to a dance."

"Perhaps you could all have a turn," I suggested. "Could be fun. I'll dance, as long as you don't mind me being a clumsy idiot."

Azriel smirked. "I'd catch you angel, even if you are falling for me."

I rolled my eyes. "Smooth pun, smooth."

The Illyrian stood gracefully, and offered out a hand. "Take your drink, Cassian can have his fun after me," Azriel said. I grinned and picked up my wine glass and meeting both Cassian's and Rhysand's eyes for a split moment before Azriel whisked me away into the dancing.

Azriel was smooth, keeping me up even as I tripped. I got more and more tipsy with each spin of the music. I tipped my head back to drink the rest of my wine and met Azriel's eyes with a smirk. We'd been dancing for probably around 30 minutes.

"Time to give your friends a bit of attention handsome," I said.

"I suppose they do deserve a turn at your stunning beauty. Are you sure I can't hog you all to myself? We could have fun," he said suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. "Give them a chance to seduce me too Azzy. Like I said... you could take turns."

Azriel dipped me one last time, whispering in my ear. "As long as you get down on your pretty little knees for me."

I could barely breathe as he brought me up. Goddamn he was hot. I could always just go with Azriel... but if I could... I would rather have more than one tonight. I typically ended up with a pair of males, or a male and female, but they rarely knew each other. But, when they did know each other, it was at least ten times better. Whether couples, or some relaxed family... they just moved so seamlessly with each other.

Cassian had stood up to meet me as I wandered over, shaking my head clear of a bit of the dizziness.

"You alright sweetheart? Or did Az spin you too much?" He teased.

I rolled my eyes. "You try being spun like a doll with a shit ton of alcohol in your system," I retorted.

Azriel laughed. "I was wondering where the fiery part of you was."

"Oh it's there," I chuckled. "I just didn't want to scare off you pretty males before catching you in my net."

"Oh you caught us as soon as we walked in the door," Rhysand assured. "So now its our turn to catch you darling."

I rolled my eyes, sitting down between the two males again.

"What would you like to drink beautiful?" Cassian asked, putting a hand around my shoulder as he leaned over.

"Get me a margarita. I'm wanting something fruity. Get me all loose."

"Gotcha."

Cassian moved to order for me as Rhys leaned in closer to talk into my ear. I shivered as his warm breath made contact with my outer ear, making me buzz with energy. "I'll get you all loose darling."

I blushed, lowering my face to hide in my arms. "You idiot," I groaned.

"Aww, are you embarrassed?" Rhys teased with a cocky smile.

I lifted my head. "Yes, I am. What did you expect with that comment High Lord?"

Rhys chuckled, the tone deep. "You want to come back to my place then? I'll make good on my promise."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure you will. But I'm rather enjoying this. And I already promised Azriel you can take turns. So be patient. Lest you finish too quick off the mark."

The High Lord tipped his head back and laughed. Cassian turned back with a cocky smile as well, handing me my margarita. Assumingly, he'd heard most of that conversation.

"I'll prove to you darling, I can indeed hold myself back," Rhys answered, grinning.

Cassian chuckled. "Yeah sure you will Rhys. Poor lady won't even be close when you finish."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "As if you're any better Cass."

I sipped my drink, raising a brow in amusement as they continued bickering. I met Azriel's eyes with a little smirk.

The shadowsinger rolled his eyes. "Bickering fools," he commented.

I spoke loud enough for Rhys and Cassian to hear me over their own voices. "Just for this, Azriel gets first dibs."

They paused immediately, looking at me with shocked faces.

"What?" I asked, chuckling. "You two keep arguing. Azriel is sitting there all perfect looking and handsome."

Rhys scoffed. "I call next."

Cassian immediately barked in protest.

I laughed. "Let me finish this drink Cassian so graciously bought for me and then we can go. But you two keep arguing, it's entertaining."

They stopped arguing after that, as if the thought of them bickering being entertaining was so utterly wrong that they just came to an agree-to-disagree vantage point silently.

I'll admit, I took longer than necessary to finish my drink, enjoying seeing the males glance over at my glass in anticipation.

When I finally tipped back the last drops, I let out a satisfied sigh.

"Alright, you all want to show me what you got?" I prompted.

Immediately, they all stood. I laughed. Rhys smirked and offered out a hand to me.

I took it. Cassian took Rhys's other hand, while Azriel held Cassian's.

I felt that familar whir of winnowing, and then we stood in an empty bedroom Cauldron knows where. I rolled my eyes and faced them down. Then I met Azriel's eyes and marched forward, moving my hands up his chest to his shoulders and the back of his neck as I moved in to kiss him.

He leaned forward immediately, hands going to my waist to pull me closer. I groaned, opening up for him immediately as he licked my bottom lip.

Our tongues clashed together, but I eagerly let him explore my mouth all he wants. When he pulled back, he simply smirked and pecked my lips and then started to move down my jaw to my neck. I gasped at the first nip of his teeth, looking around the room.

Rhys came up from the side, leaning over to kiss me as well with a hand on my chin to lift it while Azriel sucked a mark into the base of my neck.

Cassian's hands trailed up my back and I groaned appreciatively.

When I pulled away from Rhys, I was panting hard. "Goddamn," I groaned when Azriel licked up the side of my neck, pausing at my pulse point.

Azriel's hands moved up my sides, pausing. His thumbs nudged at my breasts and my breath caught as I was forced to meet Rhys' eyes.

"Look at you, you already looked so fucked out," The High Lord crooned, rubbing his thumb along my swollen lips before kissing me again.

Azriel's hands moved to my shoulder straps.

I gasped, pulling away from Rhys. I felt Cassian unzipping my dress from the back, drawing the zipper all the way down to where it stopped at the small of my back.

Azriel pulled away, admiring his work as he pulled the shoulder straps off, letting the dress drop to the floor.

I wasn't wearing anything underneath. I'd normally forgo undergarments when I went to Rita's, and I could tell these males were very appreciative of that fact as they all appraised my body.

"Well? Aren't you all going to get undressed?" I asked, cocking a brow in a challenge.

Rhys snapped his fingers, and suddenly, he was in nothing but his under shorts, and I could see a very obvious bulge.

Azriel reached behind him, undoing some strap around his wings before tearing off his own shirt. I whistled as I beheld the muscle on them. Warriors, I thought, were fucking hot. So strong.

I traced my hand down Azriel's pectoral, snagging my thumb on his nipple just to hear his breath hitch. I grinned wildly.

"Get this off," I demanded as I grabbed his belt.

He smirked, quickly leaning down and undoing his boots and taking off his pants until he too, was only in his undershorts.

Cassian turned me so I could see all three of them. All three strong, impossibly sexy warriors.

"Fuck," I swore as I beheld every bit of them. I moved toward Rhys, unable to help myself. I leaned my head back to kiss him. He let me openly, placing his hands on my shoulders. I skillfully moved a hand between our bodies and cupped his bulge. He groaned into the kiss, pulling back to pant as I continued. When he started panting heavier, I pulled away and turned to Cassian.

I pulled at the hem of his undershorts, dipping into them to grab a hold of his erection. He moaned, leaning to seal a crushing kiss between us. I felt hands wander to my ass, grabbing two handfuls and squeezing. I groaned. Another pair of hands came up to cup my breasts, teasing the peaked nipples there.

I grabbed the hem of Cassian's undershorts, yanking them down to have more access.

He smirked and pushed my hand back. "Be patient darling," the brute purred. The hands around my breasts retreated.

Azriel dragged me to his front, his wings casting shadows in the room. His actual shadows also trailed across my body, and I whimpered when they suddenly tugged at the peaks of my breasts.

"I want to taste you," the male growled and pushed me toward the bed. "Lay down, hands above your head."

I smirked and did as I was told, settling with my head on the pillows and stretched my hands up toward the headboard. Rhys approached, pinning my hands as Azriel crawled up to me across the bed, grabbing my thighs in his hands- gods, they might be scarred, but I couldn't help but think that made them more attractive. He lifted my knees over his shoulders, those wings flaring up. I was mesmerized by the movement, my breath caught in my throat.

But Azriel's mouth on my inner thigh soon distracted me.

I whined, straining against the grip Rhys had on my hands as Azriel moved closer and closer to my center. Finally, I felt the male in between my legs lick into my folds, groaning against my center. I moaned, throwing my head back with my eyes closed as the feeling.

"Well aren't you excited sweetheart," Cassian chuckled, having come up on the other side of me from Rhys, watching as his brother got to work between my legs.

"Fuck," I groaned, looking down at Azriel. The male met my gaze, smirking and suckling gently at the apex in between my thighs. Whimpers and sighs escaped me as I neared my peak. I moaned when Cassian dived down to suck at my breast, biting gently before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"You close darling?" Rhys asked, voice a bit rougher than I last remembered. I nodded, throwing my head back into the pillow as Azriel redoubled his efforts between my legs.

I moaned loudly as the pleasure overwhelmed me as I reached my climax. Azriel's tongue worked to prolong my pleasure and when I became oversensitive, he pulled away with a smirk, licking his lips of the evidence of my pleasure. I slumped uselessly to the bed, sighing.

"Was that good enough for you angel?" Azriel asked, lowering my legs back to the bed with a satisfied male smile.

I rolled my eyes, not responding. Rhys chuckled, releasing my hands, allowing them to lay back down at my sides. "My turn," he growled and moved into Azriel's position, who took a seat beside me where Rhys previously was.

"I said I'd get you all loose," Rhys drawled, smirking as my breath caught. He settled between my thighs, reaching forward with his hand toward my center. The first brush sent me right back to whimpering. Cassian leaned down to suck a bruise into my throat with a satisfied groan. Rhys took advantage of my distraction and pressed two fingers up inside me.

I moaned, clenching down around those fingers. Rhys chuckled, smoothing his other hand around my thigh while he curled those digits inside of me, thrusting them slowly into me.

It felt so impossibly good. It'd been a long time since I'd felt so good, and this probably wasn't even the end. I'd yet to even barely touch them. That gave me an idea.

I reached for Cassian. "Cassian-" I begged. "Cassian." I couldn't convey what I wanted as Rhys sped up, causing me to moan and break off from my thoughts.

Luckily, he seemed to understand, shucking off his undershorts finally.

Through some silent language between the brothers or something, I was turned onto my my front, with my knees pressed to the bed. Cassian sat in front of me, lightly stroking himself. I moved forward, mouthing at the tip. Cassian moved his hand to the back of my head, fisting my hair lightly as I finally pulled him into my mouth. He was already by far one of the largest I'd taken into my mouth for a long time. I had a feeling it had something to do with those big wings he had.

I looked up, meeting Cassian's gaze as I went farther, holding back my gag reflex. He groaned. Rhys started what he was doing behind me again, adding a third finger and I moaned, my eyes falling closed. I choked around the shaft in my throat, pulling back to breathe for a moment before going back down.

I bobbed more on Cassian, moaning at Rhys's actions inside, as the pleasure began to meet a peak. I flew over the edge, just managing to remember to swallow as Cassian followed me over the edge with a groan.

When I pulled away, Rhys had removed his fingers, I was panting hard. I looked at the males around me with a hazy sated gaze.

"Oh we're not done yet darling," Rhys purred, slapping my behind lightly, causing me to jump slightly. I felt a slithering sensation come into my mind, wrapping around it gently.

You're going to get Azriel under you, me in front of you and Cassian behind you darling, Rhysand's voice played in my head. I raised my brows in surprise. I knew of my High Lord's mind abilities, but I didn't it expect to feel like that.

A snap went by, and Rhys handed something to Cassian. I finally got to admire the other two male's cocks, moaning lowly as I saw the precum gathering at their tips. It would only take a few more minutes before Cassian was the exact same.

Azriel settled down on the bed, half-spreading those magnificent wings below him. I settled on top of him, straddling his hips. Azriel smirked at me as my breath hitched as he grabbed onto my hips, squeezing lightly.

"What do you want angel?" He teased, brushing his tip against my center. "Tell me what you need."

I groaned at his rough, animalistic tone. "Fuck me, please," I begged, not embarrassed in the slightest.

"The lady knows what she wants," Rhys mused. "Give it to her Az, don't be cruel."

Azriel rolled his eyes, then reached to angle himself in. I moaned, slowly lowering myself down. It was a stretch, fucking hell, it was a damn stretch I hadn't felt in a long time. Where did Illyrians come from? And how the hell did they get such big damn cocks?

I groaned, catching myself on my elbows as I fell down. Finally, Azriel seemed to be all the way in and I stayed right where I was, needing a second for that adjustment.

"Good, you're doing so good," Azriel praised, wringing a whimper out from the bottom of my soul. "So good angel, you feel so amazing. Gods-" he swore. "So warm and perfect."

I ground my hips down at the dirty talk, groaning when he caught a particularly sensitive spot inside of me.

I felt an oiled finger poke at my rear entrance and I jumped, turning my head to find Cassian who smirked, motioning with his head toward me. I looked back, finding Rhys who had settled himself beside Azriel's head.

"Come on darling," Rhys purred. I lifted myself up immediately, sitting down on Azriel's hips. Rhys settled himself over his brother's chest, somehow managing to fit his knees somewhere with those wings. Cassian pushed in a finger, thrusting it gently. I groaned, pushing back, causing Azriel to groan in the process.

Everything was so much, but it was perfect.

Azriel began gently thrusting up into me as I attempted to buck my hips for more and more pleasure. I leaned forward onto my hands to take Rhys into my mouth.

The High Lord let out a pleasured groan, grabbing onto my hair with one hand.

My eyes caught on Azriel's wing, and curiously, I moved to support myself with one hand and brush against that strange membrane with a palm.

Azriel let out a punched out moan, thrusting up into me with more force. The shadows came to wrap around my wrist, pulling my hand away.

Rhys chuckled with amusement. I met his eyes, just as Cassian added a second finger, taking his sweet damn time preparing me.

"Illyrian wings as especially sensitive darling, I'd be wary," Rhys explained. I pulled back from his cock, licking my lips.

"That's interesting," I mused and immediately went back to trying to reach for Azriel's wing, but the shadows stopped me.

Azriel spoke up, "Not yet angel, not yet. If you want to touch my wings, you might be able to do it in a bit."

I grinned. Rhys pulled me back to himself, and Cassian pulled his fingers out, soon replacing it with his tip. He wrapped his arms around me as he slowly pushed in.

Soon, I was completely filled from all sides, and enjoying every damn second of it. Azriel and Cassian thrust in at the same time and I moaned around Rhys, closing my eyes against the intense pleasure.

Within a couple thrusts from all three males, I was nearing my peak, and went over it, clenching hard. Rhys pulled back to let me breathe, and the others barely slowed their pace.

After only a few seconds, I was back to my previous position, overcome with the intense pleasure across every single nerve ending in my body. Rhys was the first to show signs of getting close, groaning and clenching his fist more with my hair. The others soon showed signs as well, letting out moans and holding onto wherever they'd settled their hands on my body, harder.

"Come on darling, one more," Rhys purred. "Come once more for us..."

I moaned, and soared for my peak after only a few moment. I choked around Rhys, who pulled back and painted my face with come after only a second. I felt heat fill me up from the inside as Azriel and Cassian met their ends. In the throes of my fourth climax for the night, I hurtled for a fifth as Cassian circled his fingers on my clit, making me scream out in pleasure yet again.

As I came down, I was aware I was being moved gently from across Azriel to beside him. Cassian came up on my other side while Rhys gently pet my hair from the head of the bed.

"Fuck," I swore, utterly exhausted, but so impossibly sated from these perfect males.

Azriel chuckled, gently running his hand along the swell of my hip while Cassian opted for massaging my shoulders.

"You alright sweetheart?" Cassian asked.

I nodded, smiling. "So good," I answered.

Rhys hummed, chuckling a bit in amusement as I slumped to the bed, practically melting into the sheets, not caring for anything at the moment. Not the come on my face, or the juices spilling out from between my thighs.

"Come on," Azriel hummed, grabbing my hip gently. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I still want to touch your wings after," I said.

Cassian laughed. "Maybe you can coax Rhys to bring out his too."

I lifted a brow in challenge. "I think I could handle that."

"We'll see darling," Rhys hummed and pulled me with him off the bed toward the bathroom.

[jingledbells]

I’m sorry if you’re sick of the Bi//frd asks but I feel like I need to add on to some of the asks you responded to.

I feel like besides how people talk about Bi//frd (uwu ing their relationship and wanting them to be a cute couple ect), the reason why I hate bi//frd so much is just HOW present it is even before the book came out.

The first few months I used tumblr I didn’t have any filtered tags just because I didn’t feel like I needed to. But eventually I filtered out the ship then would come to realize that a couple of people I followed were actually reblogging it. I just didn’t know because the type of pictures that would go through would just be ford and bill existing within the same proximity. Nothing overtly shippy, but when I’d look at the original post it was tagged as that so it definitely was intended to be bi//ford.

I knew once the book was announced that this problem would only get worse and I was right unfortunately 😭. Most posts that have come across my dash about TBoB have the filter on them and I’ve had to unfollow people I actually liked because of it. Even if they don’t know, if they reblog a lot of it becomes this weird game of do you actually like it or did you pick this up on accident since it’s so prevalent rn. Some of my mutuals even reblogged something that got caught in the filter today and I’ve bashed bi//ford with them before so I know they’re not into it. It just gets everywhere for some reason.

Idk there’s obviously a lot of gross ships people come up with that I have problems with but just the treatment of bi//frd so casually and it being so prevalent it just makes me so frustrated.

nah ur good anon and yeah I just hate how it’s fucking everywhere and how I literally cannot escape it and just how normalized it’s being yk

[thottyimagines]

Suigetsu simp reporting in:

Can we get a hc for Suigetsu on one or more of the following:

Pregnant s/o - maybe even reaction to finding out

Helicopter dad or nah?

Taking care of a sick s/o who is stubborn asf

I thirst for him 🫠

And if you’re really feeling it you can apply the same ones to Shisui since he’s such a babe.

Always feeling Shisui, anon.

Finding out S/O is pregnant

Suigetsu

Laughs. Good one, s/o! Don't tell that joke again!

When he realizes they aren't telling him some fucked up joke, he very seriously asks them what they want to do about it.

The switch flipping from "gleeful menace" to "concerned partner" is jarring, honestly.

If his s/o chooses to terminate the pregnancy, he will be there for them for whatever they need. He doesn't voice an opinion one way or the other - it's not his body, and he doesn't really have a stable life to give to a kid. It's one thing to drag around his consenting adult s/o into his nonsense, but he's a bit relieved to not have to figure out adding a kid in the mix.

However, if his s/o decides to go through with the pregnancy, he's there for that, too.

For all that he could have been fine with not dealing with the responsibilities of fathering a kid, he's kind of jazzed to have the opportunity. God, that thing is going to love swords.

Suigetsu is absolutely not a helicopter dad before or after the birth. He's more of the mindset that the strong survive. He'd actually delight in finding out he has one kid, but they ate their twin in the womb.

Shisui

Gets weird immediately.

Weird and intensely intense.

He's up in there wanting his s/o to know he supports whatever they choose to do with their body, but by god, he'd raise a kid. He'd do it alone, if that's what his s/o wanted.

It's not that he's super confident about being a stellar father, but rather, he's really romanticizing the idea of putting something good into the world.

Let's hope the s/o wants to raise the kid with him, or else there's some serious idolatry and complexes coming at them real fast.

Shisui takes out every parenting book he can get his hands on and compares the parenting methods in order to find the optimal child-rearing situation.

His ideal scenario is that he retires, or at least takes a few years off, and becomes a house husband.

Shisui helicopters from the shadows. The kid won't even realize it until they can sense a jonin like Shisui suppressing his chakra, so...given that they're a spawn of his, it'll be a sweet 8 years or so of Shisui being able to lurk behind his child.

Shisui wants more. Like, now.

[writers-vlogx]

Rafa x male reader

ohhh rafa would be a fucking mess if he found himself crushing and obsessing over another man

(Rafa is a Latino man in the 80s, and he is also involved in one of the most violent businesses that exist, he is not the best dealing with liking your own sex)i can see rafa going throw a rollercoaster of emotions while feeding his obsession , yeah he doesn't understand why he wants you but hell he is not gonna let that get in his way

rafa is usually very upfront about what he wants but this is new as fuck for him so i can see him trying to persue you in an akwardly defensive way,you would need to make some moves towards him

hear me once he wrapped his head about being into men he

would kneel for you, my man can't fight how in love he is.

I see him shutting down any kind of hateful comment you get "haber pinches pendejos que vergas dijeron" he would not let anyone, including felix, give him shit he is ready to shoot anyone in the face if they disrespect you

OMFG ANON REVEAL YOURSELF TO ME WITH THAT AMAZING BRAIN YOU HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH, BEING A MAN WHO LOVED RAFA FROM THE MOMENT I SAW HIM WAS A STRUGGLE THERE WAS NO CONTENT FOR HIM LOVING MEN, BUT ITS OKAY YOU AND I HAVE THE SAME VISION SO ILL DO IT MYSELF 😌😌

Imagine Rafael caro quintero finding out he's gay

Okay mf's strap in because I could and will write multiple parts if I have too, also side note and I mean it, you have any idea you want me to create? Send it! I don't care how weird or stupid, funny, sad scary you might think it is send it to me! Because when I get requests like these I know that people want to see the same content I want to write, it was something I never planned to post because I thought no one wanted to see it, just goes to show if you communicate with me I'll answer back so PLEASE don't be shy, we need more representation everywhere!!

I am so sorry that was suppose to be short but now for what yall are REALLY here for

Rafael caro quintero liking men? Oh the poor man is confused, like these are the 80's and he's in the most fucking dangerous business to just wake up one day and realize "oh sh*t I like men"

He meets you through the cartel of course, working with you always leaves him feeling something...strange, he thought he just liked who you were, after all you were funny, nice company and you could get the job well done

He thought that was it for a long time, I mean you were a great business partner and a great friend too, you would always listen to him when he had any sort of problem, and would stop him from GETTING into a problem more times than he could have counted. You were always up to drink but always stopped him whether he liked it or not so he could still be coherent enough to not be absolutely wasted, and on the rare occasion he was? You always made sure he got home safe, either sending him home or taking him yourself

When he needed a place to stay your doors were always open and when he fucked up really bad, like the type of bad you don't come back from? Somehow you always found it in yourself to let him back in

You were a best friend to him, someone he could truly rely on no matter what, so why did he still feel so sad everytime you had to leave? Or angry when you wouldn't contact him for days, and absolutely enraged when he saw girls trying to hit on you at social events?

He thought he was just watching out for you, for the longest time he made the excuses of "es que quiero lo mejor para ti compadre" or "No guey es que créeme que me lo vas a agradecer luego" and "Yo sabré quien es bueno para ti, porque aquí no hay nada más que pinches zorras"

He always had a weird warm feeling in his chest when you would place your hand on his shoulder, or when you hugged him after a favor or a really tough time and god the things he did so that he could feel that touch again

I think the changing point in his feelings would hit him like a train...nah nah more like a yacht because man when he does, he just...absolutely looses his mind like I'm talking physically you can see him age like 20 years

The point of no return happened in a very drastic way and unexpected too, like I can see him just finding out about a new girl who your "messing" around with and just absolutely exploding with rage and betrayal

Let's say your over at his house, you guys are alone a couple of beers in the table and the music playing in the background when you start talking about this really pretty girl your seeing lately, nothing to serious but it's the way you talk about her and how pretty her smile is and how perfect she looks he can just feel the anger bubbling up inside him because when he sees the smile in your face he just can't stand it.

you should be talking about him that way telling HIM how handsome he is, how much you love him, and he can't stand it anymore he feels like if he sits for just one more minute he's gonna die

So he yells out something he didn't mean to say, something that only he knew. The things he wish he could say to you "Pues ya guey ya esta bueno!" No rafa shut up " "Ya no chinges guey!" No don't say anything you'll regret "No necesito estar escuchando tanta chingadera de tu parte" Shut the fuck up now don't go any further he felt so angry he grabbed at your neck slowly tightening it as he kept talking

And then it stops, all of his anger turns into dread, because he realized what he said to you honestly it would shock you, to find that he felt about you that way and it would take a lot of talking, and feeling vulnerable emotions for yall to work it out

But when he has wrapped his head around the whole ordeal and he's finally established what yall are, no one and I mean absolutely no one disrespects yall

When he first comes to Felix and explains it, he leaves very clear the fact that he will not take bullshit from anyone. Not even Felix, he talks and makes his point very clear, absolutely no one is brave enough to say anything, those that do end up dead within seconds.

His love for you however would be so gentle, having been through so much, and living with such a dangerous life he's happy to have found someone who he can rely on, and honestly if he finds that anyone said anything to you, oh he's looking for blood.

You can have the man at the palm of your hand, but please remember he's been through so much, he really needs someone who will be ever so gentle with him, and will deal with all the shit he brings along with him. It's not easy especially while being gay but your love for each other and the fact that yall are in one if not the most dangerous fields ever makes yall unstoppable. A little extra story- Rafa almost killed Felix the day he decided to call you the F slur as a "joke"

Like just imagine angry rafa being like "FELIX HIJO DE TU CHINGADA MADRE AHORA SI YA VALISTE VERGA CABRON" also "NO SE TE VUELVA A OCCURIR DECIRLE HACI A EL OH ESTA VEZ SI TE MATO GUEY" and let me tell you he never made such mistake again, when I tell you rafa is dangerous I MEAN IT.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

ok wait I actually do want to address this anon I got after thinking about it for a second. I deleted it because 99.9% of the time when somebody says "it's super funny how you talk nonstop about..." that person is writing some bullshit in your inbox, and this is no exception, however I do think I should address it anyway because it seems like a former follower, so let me talk about my fic: Ed, 19, Never Fucking Learned How To Blackbeard, because this person is wildly misrepresenting the premise of the fic.

So first of all, I'm not writing that fic because I'm horny about the age gap, I'm writing that fic because I think it's an interesting character study to strip away the years of repression that Ed went through and throw him into the situation he's currently in. It's interesting for me to hypothesize where he started and how he got to where he is.

Second of all, he's not being groomed. I think that fics like the one I'm writing are fics where you have to tread carefully, because I'm very fucking aware of how fics like this can be done wrong. I've seen it done wrong in this fandom. As I'm writing this fic I'm being hyper vigilant of the power dynamics that that Ed being a young adult creates and I am making sure that Stede doesn't do anything shitty, because I don't want to represent romanticized abuse in my silly little fic and I don't want to portray gay men as groomers. I do want to do an Ed character study with this premise and Ed's character is sort of attached to Stede and vise versa owing to them being romcom protags.

and finally, I'm 22 years old and I've been open about being a sex worker on here, and also about having a body count higher than 50, and about fucking old men. How do you think I got here buddy? by waiting until I was 21? Nah I got on grindr when I turned 18. I am young and fast. I'm writing a fic about a character that I like who I've also turned young and fast. Weird how that works. I don't believe that every sexual relationship between young adults and full adults is sexually exploitative because I've been in a sexual relationship with that sort of age gap that was exploitative and I've been in several that were not and they feel different when you're in them. That's not #groomercore to say unless you think that 19 year olds or 20 year olds or 21 year olds are still too young to make decisions like that in which case I would challenge you to give me a line that makes sense. It's a gradient. Adults of that age are more susceptible to abuse because they're naive but we are not so susceptible to it that every single relationship we enter with someone older is inherently that way and I find it to be quite demeaning to actual victims of grooming and csa as well as quite demeaning to the autonomy of young adults to imply that it is. As with all things coming of age is a gradient and being 18-25 is a very weird age bracket, an age bracket which my coauthor is also in.

I understand if you're uncomfortable with the fic, it's fine to be uncomfortable with age gaps, but I need you to realize that your discomfort does not mean that I am promoting grooming and that my writing of this fic doesn't contradict my other beliefs about abuse. I have never cynically said something to defend a fictional character. my beliefs come first and my analysis of media follows from those beliefs, not the other way around. I'm a victim of CSA. I have close friends who are victims of abuse. I care about this subject, which is why I talk about it.

[uncle-dusknoir]

You're the one with the "incomprehensible" opinions, are you? Ohohoho! You should know, you caused Bede quite the stir with that one!

Of course, fairies can't be for everyone. Eventually, he's going to have to realize that. How boring the world would be if they were! I find you to be a very green individual... not pink, not pink at all. A dollop of purple, though, perhaps? Oho, quite complex shades!

...All this to say, I hope Bede hasn't given you any trouble. Has he been bothering you, dear?

@ballonleastadiumofficial

one second i feel like I'm missing some context here

{blog backscrolling interlude...}

... Arc, I'm glad my anons stay normal. What the hell. Who sends stuff like that to teenagers on the Internet?? Normal and hinged behavior. anyway.

Nah, he's alright. Someone's gotta handle the fairy types, anyway. I fuck with him a little bit but honestly if someone did the same thing in reverse I'd probably fistfight them LMAO.

I didn't realize you knew how to... uh. Use the internet. Hopefully people aren't being weird to you, too.

I feel like every time I say that I'm jinxing myself.

{thank you for the ask ms opal. ms basil's watching very scary movies and i got scared and she paused the movie to answer}

... you don't have to watch with me, Porypory. I know Toothy and Deckard are here but I don't think they can comprehend what a Saw trap is.

[thousand-winters]

Soren hater anon again

Again, Soren is given a pass to be awful to fucking everyone and he's codependent on Ike because he's a sad pretty boy. If he was a woman or ugly, people would hate him

You have no idea how delighted I genuinelly was, but I'm still yet to figure out why you took issue with me specifically 😭

See, the thing is there might be people who do that, but I think Soren is very much one of those cases in which his fans are very much aware that explanation isn't the same thing as an excuse, so did he have motives to be an asshole? He did. Does that mean he gets forgiveness just like that? Of course not.

And here's the thing as well: The narrative doesn't give him the easy way either, he gets called out by people close to him and while it takes him a while, he learns and grows. By Radiant Dawn he's annoyed by Skrimir because he thinks Skrimir is kinda dumb, not because Skrimir is a laguz. And the beautiful thing about that is that even then, Titania is like "Soren, please, can you behave, that's a literal prince."

Even when the instances are kinda light and funny, it's hardly as if even the characters themselves don't acknowledge them, but I think there's also a factor of them realizing his reactions are due to trauma, so they don't exactly give him a pass, but they understand where he's coming from.

I think his reasons to be codependent to Ike, which I will give you that, he is, are deeper than just saying he's a sad pretty boy, but you know, you are allowed to dislike aspects of his character like that, it works as far as the story goes and it's consistent with what we have been presented. Ike relies on him as well, so it's not as if it were a matter of Soren being weird and making Ike uncomfortable, they are pretty much in the same tune in that sense.

Now, I hear what you're saying, people in fandom definitely do give more of a pass to characters that are pretty and yes, more frequently is to men, specifically white men, but that's neither here nor there, we're not going there. I can't speak for everyone, but frankly, it wouldn't change much for me if Soren were different physically or had another gender because what I liked about him was his story, I do like his personality and how he develops through the games so do I need him to be a pretty guy? Nah. I don't even care that he's pretty, it's not as if I'm interested in his character like that.

Quite frankly, I think people would tolerate him more if he were a woman, because something I have noticed is a very frequent thing that makes people recoil away from Soren is that closeness to Ike, because gods forbid that we have a bond that deep between two men in a game like this. He's a threat to Ike's perceived heterosexuality for a big part of the fandom, I guess, so people despise him, which wouldn't happen if he were a woman.

As for me, personally, I like my fair share of female characters and non conventionally pretty ones that aren't exactly nice and innocent, because I just like it a lot when characters get to lash out and express the ugly sides of trauma. I don't believe in the perfect victim idea that only those who act nicely and sad deserve the chance to heal and change and become better. I think Soren is wonderful because of how he was written, and it would work regardless of gender or appearance (well, it does depend on appearance specifically on the case of his brand, but you know what I mean).

[beatriceeverytuesday-old]

🌹

Hi, anon! I don't know what your personal preferences are as far as fics go since you're anon so I did my best! Considering you like my stuff (I assume at least haha) I chose you something from a future chapter of my current WIP "He Slays Monsters." For context: Faith and Buffy are carving a pumpkin and discussing what they want to be for Halloween. I hope you enjoy :)

Buffy finally speaks, “What if we did a couple’s costume but like…A straight couple’s costume?” Buffy’s face gets progressively redder as she speaks. “I mean, like, where you’d be the girl and I’d be—” she cuts herself off, swallowing nervously.

Buffy’s playing with the knife they were using to carve, bouncing it against her palm, faster and faster. Faith reaches out and stops Buffy’s hands, gently prying the knife from her fingers before she hurts herself. She scoots the bowl of pumpkin guts closer to give Buffy something else to toy with. Buffy looks surprised at her own hands, like she didn’t even realize she was fidgeting with a knife. She accepts the nasty pumpkin innards, squeezing them between her fingers before she keeps talking.

“It’s just that I’m getting really nervous about my role in the play and maybe, you know, Halloween could be a chance for me to be…A chance to practice. Fo–for the play, I mean. Or is that, like, totally weird?”

Why is Buffy so nervous about this? “Nah. That’s sort of the point of Halloween, getting to be something you’re not.”

Buffy nods, but her shoulders tense further, like Faith managed to say the exact wrong thing. “Right. I said something like that to Willow once.”

Faith’s confused. She validated Buffy’s suggestion, but B doesn’t look any less stressed. Faith doesn’t know what else to say to reassure her but she tries anyway. “Don’t worry so much. This whole thing’s supposed to be fun, remember? And you’re gonna kick ass onstage,” Faith promises, leaning over to kiss Buffy. If there was anything Faith had the power to change for Buffy, it would be this: she’d relieve the intense anxiety Buffy carries around with her at all times about what others may think of her. She’s perfect in every way and people who disagree can fuck off as far as Faith is concerned.

If anyone is interested, the first five chapters are already posted on AO3. You can read them here :)