#and these fics obv

[frownyalfred]

Batfamily/Superfamily angst fic where one of the Supes (Jon? Kon?) takes off too quickly/recklessly next to one of the Batkids and accidentally ruptures their eardrum and Bruce goes on the warpath for Clark about it.

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Four.

Clark stood up and positioned himself between the door and his injured teammate before it even opened, though not much before. His own delayed reaction made sense when it opened to show one of Batman’s teammates. While for the longest the League had thought Batman ‘worked alone’, they were now aware of there being a variety of heroes in Gotham, even if they were far from sure how many there might be or who those heroes were.

Nightingale was a notable exception what with his influence on the newest generation of heroes.

The young man flashed Clark a cheery smile and a little two finger wave. The motion almost distracting with the bright blue that marked the fingers.

“Hey Supes, I got notified that B was laid up.”

Clark paused. “You did?”

“Yep, I’m down as B’s emergency contact for Justice League matters. Feel free to confirm it if you want,” Nightingale said and leaned against the door frame with an easy shrug. “That’s exactly the sort of paranoia that B would approve of.”

It really was was, Clark thought. He grabbed the tablet that he had been using and pulled up Batman’s personnel file. It was a sparse file, of course, but clear as day Nightingale listed was next to ‘emergency contact’. Under his name as an alternative was ‘Condor’.

“Who’s Condor?”

“Me,” rumbled the man who stepped up behind Nightingale. He wasn’t as tall as the other hero, but he was broad. His lower face was covered in some sort of sleek gas mask, though Clark’s focus was pulled to the red lenses of the domino mask.

He certainly made for an intimidating figure.

Nightingale rolled his eyes. “Dramatic.”

Condor just shrugged. “I’m here to be the muscle.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “For… what?”

“Oh, we’re taking B home!” Nightingale, well, chirped and pushed himself off the doorway.

Clark stepped in the way. “Batman needs to stay under medical supervision.”

“We know. We’re taking him to the Batcave. There’s a full medical set up there and we already have Batman’s personal doctor on hand to look him over,” Nightingale said as he smoothly edged his way around Clark. “Not that we don’t think you all have done your best! Just that way we’ll have his status for our files and he can recover at home.”

“Besides, you don’t want you-know-who to get wind that B is laid up like this and come storming the castle,” Condor said and came to take the other end of the medical bed.

Nightingale gave an over-the-top shudder. “Yeah, best to avoid that, he’s not having a good week already.”

“I, no, I don’t know who,” Clark said with a frown, though he did finally step out of their way. He couldn’t really tell them no, they did have control over Batman’s care. Still, he carefully watched them undo the clasps that would let them take off the top of the bed like a stretcher.

Condor lifted his end of the bed. “B’s husband, of course. Guy’s a little protective.”

“A little?” Nightingale asked as he pivoted with his end of the bed so they could start walking. “Calling him ‘a little’ protective is like calling what happened on Monday a ‘little’ multidimensional incident.”

Condor shrugged, the bed shifting a little with the motion, though it barely rocked Batman. “Okay, so maybe he’d rewrite the world for B if it came to it. That’s exactly why we’re getting B back to the Cave where he can be safe and settled before his paramour gets back from dealing with that ‘little’ multidimensional incident.”

“Right,” agreed Nightingale. “Thanks for looking after him, Supes!”

“You’re welcome?” Clark replied as the two heroes left the room, Batman carried between them.

[pidgydraws]

🐎 the trail that leads me to you 🐎

vis dev for Cardine's western AU (it's like~ Oregon Trail but make it jayvik!) that i was so kindly commissioned to do artwork for. <3 i am very, VERY excited to have a good excuse to draw horses! <3 <3 <3

i've already read the first 40 chapters and have so many parts i want to draw that it'll be hard to pick which to do first! hahaha! if you like cowboy shit, angst, and AUs that make use of the majority of the cast i'd definitely recommend it!!!

(bonus: more cowboy!jayvik art >here< now! and also >here< <3)

[megamindsupremacy]

So like, y'all know that popular Star Wars fic trope of Time Traveling Obi-Wan Kenobi where he dies and then wakes up in his 11ish year old body back in the Jedi Temple? You know how usually he wakes up, has a few minutes/hours of confusion, and then goes about trying to act like he was at age 11 while slowly fixing everything wrong with the Jedi Order? Personally I think he would not do that.

I think that Ben "Lived As A Wizard Hermit For Two Decades On Tattooine, Left, And Then Died Immediately" Kenobi would wake up as an eleven-year-old, have a panic attack, attack the nearest adult Jedi while accusing them of Doing Weird Sith Shit To His Brain, fucking flee, only then realize he has time traveled, steal someone's ship, go flying out of the temple to god knows where, continue panicking, crash into a random moon while distracted, nearly die, build a survival camp out of his broken ass ship and eat whatever bugs he can find, get kidnapped by pirates, overthrow said pirates, steal their ship, and then very calmly return to the Jedi temple like nothing happened.

Then and only then do I think he would start trying to act like a normal human person (while also dodging questions such as "what the fuck was that" and "where were you" and "is that a pirate's ship?"), except he'd be bad at it due to having lived as an Insane Wizard Desert Hermit for the past twenty years who has experienced enough trauma and time that he doesn't super well remember the details of his childhood, what with all of the wars and death and wars and such.

His acting convinces nobody, but nobody is sure what exactly to do about All Of That so he's for the most part left alone (after very vehemently refusing sptherapy), all the way up until he catches a glimpse of palpatine out of the corner of his eye and then its On Sight

[densewentz]

The Duality of Dad

A silly little quickie thing because I'm going to the beach today and I'm obsessed with my boys

[foxika]

the fox and the hound everyone… does anyone see the vision. they’re friends, we’re going to be friends forever right, fox? hello??

(my personal hc of hound and fox being pals has taken over my fox lives on tantiss au)

+++++++++++++

“He’s killed brothers!” Howzer snarls, gesturing wildly at Fox. His burning red face and furious gaze magnified in comparison to Fox’s cool, unbothered demeanour. Rex wouldn’t be surprised if Fox started to examine his nails to complete the look. “Fuck’s sake— he worked under Palpatine for 3 years, he had to have known what was coming!”

One brother, Fox signs. I killed one brother.

Thankfully, Howzer doesn’t see what Fox says, more than happy to speak over him and ignore any motions Fox makes. Rex gives Fox a wry look anyway.

Not helping.

Fox shrugs back.

“Palpatine fooled us all,” Echo speaks up, voice level. He’s been handling Fox’s arrival well enough. Sad, not quite angry, but not quite neutral either. Rex has been meaning to talk to him about Fox and Crosshair. “Even his closest confidants, like General Skywalker. We don’t know for sure what Fox was told.”

A sharp snap interrupts Howzer’s intake of breath. Fox leans forward with a raised brow, hands moving deftly.

Speaking of, why aren’t we interrogating Rex and every other 501st member here? Skywalker was just as complicit.

Time stands still, the temperature drops several degrees. Rex can feel his mouth is hanging open, but can’t drag his eyes away from Fox to clock everyone’s reaction to such a blatant lie.

“What?”

Rex isn’t sure if that was him or another clone.

Fox leans back with a frown, looking around the room. Darth Vader?

No reaction.

Fox continues. Tall, black armour, insane helmet asthma, helped Palpatine fight off the Jedi Order and led the 501st and Coruscant Guard march on the temple?

Like they needed a description—

“Anakin Skywalker died defending the temple you lying sleemo!” Howzer bursts out, slamming his fists on a crate. Rex can hear murmuring just outside the room they’ve commandeered.

Fox remains unfazed. Thire dragged his overdone body out of a volcano. I watched him stab that Windu guy in the back.

“That can’t be right,” Rex manages to get out, his voice weak. He looks helplessly at Echo for support, but his friend seemed far away. “I knew him. We knew him. The General would never—“

He’s interrupted by the mechanical whir of the door sliding open and familiar footsteps. “They sounded pretty upset, I don’t think they want to us to interrupt them!” Omega fretted, her blonde head coming into view as she trailed behind another trooper; Batcher on her heels and Crosshair continuing to be Omega’s shadow everywhere she goes.

He hadn’t let her out of his sight, Rex absently notes, focusing on the new trooper in the room. He’d seen him around, heard he mostly kept to himself and hadn’t given a name to anyone yet, but he was a valuable asset on recovery missions. Especially on Coruscant. Rex had a sneaking suspicion he was a former Corrie.

And the way he was looking at Fox and how Fox was looking at him all but confirmed it.

“Fox?” The trooper breathed out. He took a hesitant step towards the commander.

Omega crossed her arms and frowned, grumbling under her breath to Crosshair. “It took me months to learn his name.” Her voice quiet enough that Rex barely heard it.

“Hound,” Fox’s voice was rough and low, more air than tone and words. The pain of speaking is evident on Fox’s face but that doesn’t deter him from whispering again, his voice cutting out prematurely. “Hound.”

That’s all Hound needs to hear before he’s rushing forward with a choked sob, strong arms wrapping around Fox’s waist and lifting the commander off his feet.

Chest wracking sobs and his face buried in Fox’s chest muffle Hound’s voice as he struggles to choke out coherent sentences. “I saw- I found you. He dropped you out of the aircraft and I looked and looked and I found you so far down and you were gone-“

Through his wet rambling, Hound continues to hold Fox up, and while Fox looked equally heartbroken as Hound(minus the tears, but Rex knew this was about as expressive Fox would get surrounded by strangers), Fox was ready to be put down.

A light tap on the shoulder has Hound inhaling one last rattling breath before setting Fox on his feet. “Sorry,” Hound sniffs but doesn’t let go of his hand. Fox doesn’t seem to mind.

With one hand available Fox awkwardly signs. You brought me to the Chancellor?

Hound huffs wetly. “No, I left you in the alley I found you in. For the tookas. I know you liked to feed them.” He scrubs his face in an attempt to clear his teary eyes, though it only serves to make him look more miserable leaving splotchy marks on his skin.

You left my corpse to be eaten by tookas? Fox looked incredulous and mildly offended, ducking his head to meet Hound’s gaze. What the hell.

Hound nods solemnly. “It’s what you would’ve wanted— ow!”

Fox forgoes speaking to smack the backside of Hound’s head.

[ahappydnp]

i've never actually posted this bc it felt weird but whatever it's been 7 years now. basically years ago when i was doing research for a fic i was looking at pics of this costa next to phil's old tesco in rawtenstall (as you do)

ANYWAY found this pic from taken january 2018 of who i was 99% sure is dan in his gray jumper

[isasweetie]

this photo is sooo landlord!rafe. you rent out a little house near figure eight, showed to you by rose cameron, and her step-son is your cute landlord who you absolutely have to call whenever something’s up with the house. whether it be you wanting to paint a certain wall pink, or the doorknob on your bathroom is broken, he’s there. he struts in with his baseball cap and grown out mullet, insisting on checking in before you hire anyone for anything. saying something along the lines of, “hey sugar, what’s up this time?” and awing at your little pout as you explain that your closet door hinges are squeaky. without a word, he’s going to your kitchen and grabbing some vegetable oil. you say oh, because who knew that that worked to fix the squeaks? he opens your door and pours some on your hinges. you sit on the edge of your bed and watch, noticing shamelessly the way that when he reaches up to get the top hinge, you can see his grey boxers. and you’re too focused on that to notice the pair of lace panties he stole from your closet hamper, which will definitely help him out later.

[darling-stardust]

[ethosiab]

[25] IM BACK. here is a messy team canada for beef day

The fundraiser for Gamer's Outreach is still ongoing! Don't forget to donate and get in on some of the incentives before it's too late :D

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 146

series masterlist

"ollie! come here, boy!"

luke's voice was followed by the distinct sound of nails scratching against the hardwood floor – and just a second later, he was attacked by a big, golden bullet.

jack had landed on the name oliver the exact moment he saw the golden retriever pup at the foster home. he felt it deep in his soul, he had told you, and just like that, it had been settled. he needed to get a dog.

you hadn't even been at the foster home to adopt, just to check it out. but you can't stop fate, jack had said. whatever that meant.

luke had been just as, if not more, enthusiastic about the decision. ever since the adoption, luke had spent half his time just lounging around jack's apartment and playing with the dog – which was especially appreciated while jack was away for his national team duties.

jack came home with you from the four nations tournament yesterday, and today, he was back playing for the devils again. you didn't understand how he could do it, fly between games like that, but you supposed that such was the life of a sportsman. needing to be cheered up after the loss against dalas, luke tagged along back to jack's apartment to – again – hang out with ollie. and that's how you found yourself here, slipping onto the couch in jack's living room, bowl of popcorn in your hands as the two brothers argued about which movie to watch.

just like they had for the last hour.

"no way are we watching 'fight club' again," jack complained, slinging an arm across your shoulders.

bored out of your mind and having no other ideas of what to do, you threw a popcorn towards oliver, who caught it mid-air without any issues. "i thought you loved it," luke answered, leaning back slightly as you tossed more popcorn his way – the dog had no control of his excitement, jumping all over the place to catch whatever you threw at him, and luke was in no mood to loose an eye due to a wild dog.

"i do love it," jack started, picking up a handful of popcorn for himself. "but we've already watched it three times this year. pick something else."

the room went silent as luke scrolled through his brother's netflix library. when you stood up from the couch after having dropped a popcorn to the floor, the retriever flew over to your side, apparently scared that this would be the last time he would ever see the bowl. "aren't you the most energetic thing ever?" you asked, bending down a little to pick up the trash and scratch his head as he jumped up and down along your leg.

"he's going to love coming to michigan," jack hummed. "running around in the grass, playing fetch..."

"you think he's going to like swimming?" luke asked with a chuckle once oliver threw himself up into jack's embrace this time.

"i bet he's going to like it so much that he'll try swimming across the entire lake," jack groaned, playfully trying to wrestle the dog to lie still in his lap. "i feel like we won't be able to look away from him for even a second."

you shook your head at the sight, though unable to hold back your smile, before sitting down again. "you like swimming, don't you?" the younger brother asked, gaze meeting yours. "you seem like the kind of girl to enjoy swimming and sunbathing and all that stuff."

"you're going to love the lake house," jack agreed.

right, the house in michigan. jack had mentioned it once or twice, but never in relation to you or the future. yet here he was, talking about it as if there wasn't even a question that you'd tag along.

"let me just take a leak and then we can watch any movie you two want," luke said, already making his way to the bathroom. "i'm tired of searching, just pick whatever."

yet another silence fell over the room, but this one felt... different. oliver had finally calmed down and jack stroked his golden back, though his gaze – and mind – was on something else. to be fair, he had been in a bit of a slump ever since the tournament ended, and you weren't sure how to pull him out of it.

when he didn't speak up, you felt like you had to. "what are you thinking about?"

it didn't take long for him to answer. "the other night."

oh. was he thinking about the game again? that was no good. "jack-"

"i said too much, didn't i?" he said, voice low as a whisper.

during our talk? "of course not."

"yeah, i did." he laughed, but there was no actual joy in it. "i don't really know why i said it. 'i need you', that was silly."

it was easy to tell from the tone of his voice what this was – a defense mechanism. a way to take back his vulnerability, to make sure he looked strong again.

instead of just allowing him to take it back, you spoke again, voice calm as ever. "was it true?"

he froze. you could tell it from the way he stared at you, in the way he swallowed; he couldn't hide from it now, and he knew it just as well as you. "yeah."

he was terrified. terrified of what it means, terrified of having seemed weak, terrified of no longer being in control of his emotions. he's always been able to keep his feelings in check and distance himself from them when needed.

but not with you. something about you makes him feel... weak. something about you makes him open up without thinking it through.

you placed a hand on his cheek, leaning in to brush your nose against his. "i'm here, jack."

and with that, he closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "thank you," he whispered.

and when your lips slotted against his, you weren't worried anymore. you could feel it deep in your soul – everything would be alright.

[lyshasgf]

I need more of the Brozone being SO protective of Branch pls

Someone even look at him the wrong way? His brothers will start throwing hands.

I love this kind of sibling relationship sm, it's so cute.

Branch who would usually fight back but doesn't do it anymore after getting his colours and his brothers who will do the fighting for him!!

When anything bad happens/there's a threat, the Brozone is always infront of Branch to protect/shield him or smt

I've seen a few fics of this idea and it's so adorable 😭

"Why is there blood on you?"

"Remember that guy that insulted you?"

I like to think there's an internal club of just "Protect Baby. Protect. Baby"

(Off-topic but does anyone have good trolls fics recommendations??)

[saintstars]

Devotion and Desertion @russingon-week day two

Plus (Gen Rated) drabble below. Or read it on Ao3

Sanskrit: Svayaṃvara -> english: self choice -> Quenya: self - immo, choice - cilmë, wedding - vestalë -> imcilmë vestalë

---

It comes as no surprise to anyone that Turukáno garlands Elenwë of the Vanyar at the Imcilmë Vestalë. They have been courting for several years, a slow pace by the reckoning of the Eldar.

Russandol wanders the hall, his garland of needleflower and hibiscus almost invisible against his red attire. It does not invite speculation. Still, the speculation is inevitable for any noble of age, even some not yet of age are eyed as viable prospects for an alliance.

His brothers are similarly attempting to blend in, except for Kanafinwë who, of course, has fashioned a garland entirely of jasmine and gold beads, as though he intends to make a match of a Vanya himself. It is a bold statement, even for him.

Fëanáro destains the tradition, despite choosing Nerdanel at his very first Imcilmë Vestalë and causing a massive argument among the suitors by avoiding all the appropriate selections. Tales of him veering past the many assembled nobles to place his garland over the head of a simple smith’s daughter still inspire songs, as do tales of Nerdanel weaving a magic gown to enchant him, or answering Manwë’s riddles to attend the Imcilmë Vestalë.

Within her own household it is well known that Fëanáro invited her there himself and was perfectly clear with his intentions, but that does not make for entertaining songs.

Fëanáro's sons have grown all too used to hearing a familiar tune hummed by hopeful maidens as they pass by, as the Valimar guards have grown all too used to plucking the uninvited from the high walls of the great hall during a festival.

Findekáno finds him in the crowd, his arm slipping around Russo’s waist, his head falling against his shoulder. He brings with him a strong scent of flowers, almost enough to cloak his own honey-wax and leather scent.

How Maitimo wishes they could be in the stables instead, saddling the horses for a long ride over Túna’s low hills, to sleep on bedrolls under the light of Telperion away from courtly rules and taboos. Instead it will be feasting and singing and every cousin and sibling wandering in and out of each other’s rooms in the Vanyarin palace with no space for smuggled kisses and hidden caresses. Not to begin to speak of Ainur lingering around every corner.

‘No one catch your eye, cousin?’ Findekáno jests. He might have been taken for sincere by anyone else but his bedmate.

‘Alas, my heart remains with my family,’ Russandol dares to laugh and loops his own arm over Findekáno’s shoulder. ‘Are you so weary already?’

His garland is plush with hydrangeas and delphiniums, dotted with striking passionflowers and beaded with lapis lazuli at the back. Russo plucks at a bead and Finno swats his hand away before he can crush the delicate flowers further.

‘Turukáno has absorbed all the energy for his own celebration.’

‘My congratulations to your household.’

‘Oh yes, thank you, we receive them very gladly indeed.’ Findekáno fakes a yawn. ‘Is it over with yet? I need a drink.’

Intoxicants are not allowed at the Imcilmë Vestalë, as the choice is meant to be uninfluenced. As though that stops families from forcing together a desired match until they cave to the pressure.

‘Soon enough now.’ Russo presses a kiss to the side of his forehead and reaches out his free hand to spin Írissë as she passes in a smiling blur of white and blue.

‘You know, I heard talk of matching the pair of you.’ Finno looks up at him slyly.

‘Me? With Írissë? Ridiculous.’

‘I’m quite serious; I believe the reasoning was an alliance to soothe the warring Noldor families.’

‘Turcafinwë will be glad to hear the attention has lifted from him.’

‘Not all; they want him with young Artanis.’

Russo chokes on air, and has to let go Findekáno entirely for how hard he is laughing, doubled over with mirth, tears in his eyes.

Recognising his brother drawing near he straightens and gestures him over to join the nonsense.

‘Makalaurë, come here, you must know of the awful scheming Finno has overheard!’

———

After the Imcilmë Vestalë the attendees walk out to Ezellohar to sing by the Trees and get, very necessarily, drunk.

Findaráto and Kanafinwë have already managed to procure several bottles and try to entourage him to join taunting the newly engaged couple with the bawdiest songs they can invent.

But Russandol demurs, though he steals a bottle from them, and goes to seek out Findekáno, who was parted from him in the merriment.

The bright lights of Valimar fade away into the peace of Lorien, the long tresses of the willow trees blowing in a gentle breeze, the tranquil lake beyond.

Findekáno stands looking out over the water, braids hanging black and gold down his back. Under the silver light he glows with warmth.

His garland lies discarded on a nearby bench.

‘You knew to find me here,’ Findekáno says, the smile obvious in his voice before he turns and casts its full radiance upon Russo.

‘You know I dislike the crowds.’

He uncorks the purloined bottle and refills the empty goblet Finno holds out to him.

They sit and share the miruvórë as they have a hundred times before.

Findekáno’s fingers are warm, the wine cool and Russandol feels himself suddenly overwhelmed with affection.

His garland is off his neck and in his hands, held out to garland Finno, before he has fully thought it through.

‘I may not yet declare it before the gods and our families, but know that my heart’s choice is and always will be you.’ He confesses, more earnest than he means to be.

‘Oh, Russo, I’m devastated,’ But Findekáno’s eyes shine with affection and with mirth. ‘You beat me to it!’

He lifts his own garland from beside him and offers it out haplessly.

Russo scoffs at his antics.

He garlands Finno and ducks his head in return and to his surprise feels a tear trace his cheek.

On close examination he realises that nestled in the all the blue flowers, in the joints of the garland are uncut rubies. Ah, so Findekáno had planned it as he made it, and Russo simply stumbled upon the idea in the moment. How unlike each of them.

‘I’m not so upset as that!’ Finno laughs, his hands cupping Russo’s face.

‘It’s happiness, fool.’ Russo growls, unable to sound as harsh as he wishes when his chest is so full of love.

‘Fool you’d wed.’ Finno grins and kisses him.

[miasmaghoul]

Miasma my beloved please give us high horny obscenely sensitive wet Rain thoughts 🙏🩵

i can do that

contains: extra wet, stoned, desperate trans rain (use of cunt/clit for him), group sex, oral (two ways), fingering, squirting, bodyshots (also two ways), one reference to breeding but it's more of a joke than anything (aka mountain gives his homebrewed strains very stupid names and suffers the consequences) but no actual breeding

"What do you mean by 'fountain', exactly?"

"I mean," a frustrated voice says on speakerphone, "he found your 'Babymaker' stash and now Dew's under threat of drowning."

A thud and a grunt of Fuck! through the phone tells Aether that Mountain's still in the greenhouse, and probably just dropped a 50 pound bag of fertilizer on his foot. Metal clanks on metal, fabric rustles.

"That's not...how did he find those, I -"

"Not the time, Mount!" Swiss calls out, and Aether is inclined to agree. He steps closer to the bed so Swiss doesn't have to shout over the lovely sounds permeating the room.

Rain is a disaster where he lies in Dewdrop's bed, flushed from his sweat-matted hairline to the tips of his splayed toes. Equally red are his unfocused eyes, a result of both the weed and relentless pleasure. Aether catches glimpses of them whenever Rain's heavy lids flutter. Sees them roll back as Dew works between his legs, as Swiss' cock hits the back of his throat. Aether groans deep in his chest when Rain's hand drifts up to his own half-hard cock, long fingers trembling against his shaft. His last load sits splattered across Rain's chest, decorating his nipples and the sweat-slick hair along his sternum.

Aether doesn't know how Rain found Mountain's secret stash, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the consequences.

A constant stream of gurgling, unholy noises pour from Rain's throat every time Swiss gives him the space, and the sound of Dew working his cunt is the only thing louder. Aether licks his lips and tastes Rain on them, the last to devour him, and as Dew bobs his head along the length of Rain's clit his own mouth waters. The sound of three of Dew's fingers deep in Rain's cunt nearly makes him drool.

Not that the extra lubrication would be needed. Dew pulls back to take a breath and Aether can see slick everywhere from the tip of his nose to the hollow of his throat. Rain makes a sad little sound as Dew stretches his jaw, the stiff, red length of him throbbing, but Swiss is kind enough to reach down and give him a stroke. Dew curls his fingers just right then, Rain arches like the whore he is, and with a strangled shout he squirts...well, like a fountain. It splashes over Dew's arm, his throat, soaks into already drenched sheets and Aether's balls ache.

"I fucking heard that."

Mountain sounds like he's been kicked in the crotch, wheezy and strained, and some quick shuffling on the other end of the line is followed by the creak of the greenhouse door.

"Should've seen it," Aether breathes, stunned, reaching down to swipe a few droplets from Dew's chin. He feeds the cunt drunk little ghoul two of his fingers, relishing the hot swipe of his tired tongue. Swiss rests his hand against Rain's mound, spreading swollen lips so they can all watch him dribble into Dew's palm, and Aether's cock leaks down Rain's elegant wrist. "Get here for the next one."

"Yeah, big guy." Swiss rasps, stroking Rain's hair and sliding deeper into his lax throat. Watching his gills flare. "You can't name something Babymaker and not make good on it."

Swiss strokes two fingers down Rain's damp cheek, a mixture of sweat and the best kind of tears coating heated skin, down his throat, until he can give Rain's nipple a tweak. Rain makes a sound that Mountain must really enjoy then, because his footsteps go from a quick walk to a heavy jog.

"Two minutes."

The line goes dead, and when Mountain bursts through the door he's so hard Aether can't believe his pants haven't ripped. Rain doesn't seem to notice he's arrived - not until Dew's slight shoulders are replaced by a set much broader.

"Hope you're thirsty," Swiss quips, shallowly fucking Rain's mouth now. "Think we're in - oh, fuck - flood territory here."

Dew molds himself to Aether's side, reaches up to get a handful of his hair, and the taste of Rain on his tongue nearly makes Aether shoot again. Swiss lets out a low groan as he watches Dew rut his little dick against Aether's thigh, and Aether opens one eye just in time to watch the other ghoul pull out and his fat load stripe Rain's proud nose.

Mountain clamps Rain's thighs around his ears and buries his nose in his bush, breathing deep.

"If I drown, I drown," he says, impossibly serious. "Don't try to save me, I'll die happy."

Aether and Swiss share grave nods of understanding, and as Rain turns his head to take Aether into his mouth the cycle begins again.

[aloonaram]

This artwork (link below) is giving me sooo many ideas for jayvik x hp crossovers, especially post s2 …. I used to be SUCH A FIEND for harry potter crossover fics (still a fiend for crossover fics in gen) and it would be so cool if like after jayvik get zapped away by the stone they come out the other side in the hp universe and then have to learn how to navigate this world where magic exists?? But in a different form from the arcane and its revered in a way?? and an entire secret society and school exists just to teach kids magic?? And in this school theres no tech, no engineering?? Plus not to mention all the political bs as well omg

And how would they get involved with the school in first place…maybe they pop right into the school? I wish i remembered more from the books bc i feel like theres totally an event i could use but I just can’t remember much outside from like the first two books 😭

If anyone wants to brainstorm with me feel free bc like i said i loooooveee crossovers and now that im finally on break (and i have adderall now) I think i might actually start some fics

Art is here btw

[pjs-everyday]

“can we leave now” lookin’ ass lmao >> read below to see how he got THE hero gala fit ❤️‍🔥

lol The Bakugo’s adopted this 30 yr old man just to dress him up 🤓❤️‍🔥