#aph scotire

[aphscotire]

I'm not dead but hear me out.

Female Ireland using male Scotland as a sex toy as his legs and arms are tied to the bed. She may or may not have given him Viagra or an aphrodisiac so his dick can stay erected all night long as she rides him. She loves to make him cum over and over and teasing him.

[kleinzarohe]

British Isles oc 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🇮🇪

[calicomeoww]

Scotire hcs (yes scotire, if you don’t like them romantically just skip)

Scotire singing “all I ask of you” to each other from phantom of the opera.

The way I imagined their romantic relationship is mainly childhood sweethearts at first sights -> parted because Scotland’s own ambitions during the civil war (or Wars in Three Kingdoms in the 17th century). But they are forever good bros/friends/brother-in-arms. They always have a place for each other in their hearts because of the shared cultural ties and compatible personalities. Scotland would probably bail Ireland out of prison during his revolution eras in 18-19th century despite it contradicts with his imperialistic ambitions. In modern days they understand and forgive each other because they are both chill people who would laugh away with a drink and a dance. I honestly also just enjoy thinking how they might go on dates, make food for each other, argue with each other like real couples.

Bonus and mainly as a joke: England is phantom

[breitzbachbea]

Thank you!!! He was a good boy ... I actually just remembered that he also gets mentioned in two scenes I already rewrote for Irish Problems, so fingers crossed I'll incorporate him more in the future.

I think dragons are like. The common denominator for every Wales version out there, but it is also cool that you saw him as the most powerful sorcerer!

girl you ship scotwales?

crying because Kat and Riva are engwales shippers. I know a scoteng shipper and I'm a ScotIre shipper.

shipping the whole uk together,

YES, big fan, but specifically with my OC version! My Wales, called Tristan Mattock, is less of an uwu bean and more like. The sporty, friendly, if also dead tired UK brother. I wanna redesign him to give him more of a rugby player build, too.

Also, he has three mini pet dragons in the hetaverse and three cats in LFLS, who're called Rhew, Ulef and Poki.

[maryeve-the-bitch]

Scotland: I just got off the phone with my doctor and he said I need to eat more ginger. Maybe I can start with you.

Ireland, failing to hide their blush: Is it because you become nauseous looking at England?

Scotland: Aye. Please I wanna leave.

[bigein]

So awhile ago over on your other blog you answered that ask about Ireland ships, and I personally don't really see any of the characters you mentioned liking with him bottoming 👀👀👀 so like... What're Your Thoughts On That Subject???

Alternatively : Is Sean a switch or is Arthur just such a bottom even other bottoms want to top him?

hello!

I did sketch out a few relationships for Ireland a while back (you've no idea how long it took me to find this with a broken search function).

How I decide to write sex in fic is situational so save for a few examples i don't have a set position in mind-- sex can be so many things! So my thoughts on the subject are going to be a little winded:

DenIre

Mathias has broad, calloused hands and they span the width of Sean's thighs easily. He parts them for him, lets him close, and then parts his lips to swallow Mathias' deep laughter. If there is a taste to him that Sean might like to recall later it is lost to the tang of cider on their tongues and the hazy desire that heats the air between them. It is not often that Sean will bring a man into his bed but Mathias is all at once a body and a smoke-dream; something brought forth from the rowan branches turned to ashen coals over the grates that warm their tent. He will be gone with the Sprig thaw, him and his kin, but tonight he is Sean's to rut against. A warm, slick mouth to kiss and fuck; a voice to whisper into his ear about the things he has seen beyond the known seas that span between them.

When morning comes, Mathias is a warm body still but when their eyes meet it is sea-salt and wind, and a world beyond the horizon waking to a new age of wanderlust.

ScotIre

For a moment, Sean is sure they will kiss.

They do not.

Alasdair's forearm is like iron where it pins him against the rough-hewn walls that keep from them their enemies but ward them not against the biting chill of winter or the acrid stench of war. Last summer it was just them, silent and familiar, sharing a single cup and the glow of firelight. Alasdair had carved him a fine stag out of the pale wood of a Holly tree and come the harvest Sean had seen in that an omen.

It will be centuries before Sean learns of Alasdair's pleasure; how he unspools with it, grows slack and soft where Sean has only ever known him to be unshakable.

SpIre

Honey should not taste so rich as it does now, licked from the pad of Antonio's thumb almost unthinkingly.

He is being seduced, Sean realises, and almost starts. Antonio laughs like he expected it and boldly, good-naturedly, cups Sean where he is hottest; hums like it's his pleasure when he twitches and thrusts up, helpless against this kind of pleasure and wanting.

Sean closes his eyes and surrenders like a fool; like he is young and fresh rather than scarred and aching, a body grown abstemious and ascetic by violence, by hunger. These rooms are strewn in sunlight and silk; fresh linen and fine leather. The air scents like a hothouse and with every roll of his hips, for every sigh he pulls from Sean's lips, Antonio whispers a name. Jasmine and lemon balm; orange blossom, geranium. He draws their pleasure out, withdrawing like the tide to ask questions and bid Sean speak hoarsely in the language of his poets only to steal every syllable from his lips with sucking kisses that taste of foreign spices Sean cannot name. Antonio's fingertips are tinged golden and fragrant with saffron. Sean's thighs are slick with cypress oil and pre-spend, pressed tight for the cock that fucks between them in steady, languid thrusts. His own cock aches, denied and weeping in Antonio's firm hold, past the point of what he thought endurable.

When he spills it is at Antonio's mercy, once, twice— thrice, and Sean's last delirious thought is of flesh and the divine.

PrussIre

Gilbert bites Sean's neck where he has already left his mark, a scar long-healed but crooked and keloided. He kisses the sting of his teeth away only to bite down harder a second time. Sean grips him so hard that it must hurt, strips Gilbert's cock like a man that has never known mercy and feels nothing but heat. They meet on battlefields and fuck when they will not be missed, where they will not be seen. Violence breeds passion, breeds anger, breeds exhaustion and leaves little room for shame. It is not love but it is relief to fall into each other's arms and that is what they find in bitten-back moans shaped like other people's names.

Still, when it is over, they linger.

Gilbert's bandages have come undone. Sean puts them to rights and keeps his comments to himself, knowing what Gil already can guess—that his wound will scar, another mar of silver on his moonlit skin. Sean's only coat has lost three of its buttons in the fray. Gilbert gestures wordlessly for it and replaces one of them, squinting in the dim light of the oil lamp they share, having for once found themselves on the same side of the war.

That night, despite the hum of foreign land beneath their threadbare bedding, they find a dreamless sleep.

[lumierew]

🍂🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🍃🇮🇪

By @kyuukancorbie

[a-luran]

Now that Ireland is canon, I'd like to submit some potential pairings to the council for review: Denmark, Scotland, Spain, Belgium, S.Italy, Normandy, Sweden, and Prussia (I just think the last one would be funny, smartass4smartass / Dumbasses to Lovers) I also think a ScotEng OR ScotFra, 'This is my boyfriend Alisdair, and this is Alisdair's boyfriend Sean.' would be comedy gold.

ksksk I am honoured to have made it onto the council. My thoughts are as follows:

DenIre

The scent of sea brine and brisk, cutting winds on early sails. The grey shores of winter giving way to the deep greens of spring. A tentative alliance built on a love for starlight and music. Easy laughter and stories shared over the sound of waves cashing onto shore. Love that is woven in silver, carried in myth. That endures in song.

ScotIre

It is the burnished scent of firewood breathed into fine wool and the amber warmth of morning. A shared reverence for nature and a rare kind of steadfast resilience in the face of adversity. It is coarse affection that goes uncontested; ordinary and practical. A common language that grows apart but will forever share the same roots and traditions, and the weight of poetry on their tongues.

SpIre

It begins with a smile. A kiss tinged with zaffron warmth and cold fingers slipping under loose linen. Hearts beating fast and matched to the beat of music as they dance, sure-footed and bold. Joy comes to them both as easily as breathing and it is dazzling to see them burn so brightly with it.

PrussIre

moronsexual smartarse4smartase rights

Knee-deep in mud and chilled to the bone; torn from every comfort to fight in foreign wars, called to duty and pledged to value the weight of gold over life. It is a comfort, feeling warmth after so long. Reaching out in the dark to feel a heartbeat, steady and growing familiar over the long nights spent on foreign shores.

-

I have a few scoteng + Ire fics in the works! No scotfra + Ire wips as of yet but Alasdair has two hands, and strong arms. And broad shoulders. And—

Therefore, I posit:

This Alasdair fiancé, Arthur. And this is Alasdair's husband and Arthur's ex-husband, Francis. And then this is Alasdair's boyfriend, Arthur's competition for this year's Garden of the Year award, and Francis' happened-once-in-a-dream, Seán.

[cdesu]

ever thought about scotire upkilt shots or kilt nsfw?

Not so nsfw

My gay drawing always feel so lesbian I’m not sure if it’s good or not ( ˙-˙)

[ask-aph-daithi-and-alasdair-blog]

Alasdair why does Daithi have that weird ass haircut

[kyuukancorbie]

Drew a quick pic for my friend Glen’s birthday! 

OC Scotland and Ireland in the Order of the Thistle and Order of St. Patrick mantles, with some alteration. I drew the second piece a long while ago as part of the ScotIre booklet.

[aphscotire]

Scotire with the rest of the British isles

[calicomeoww]

Scot is actually the only extrovert among his siblings. If you are counting ire he is another extrovert. So when those two are together they get amplify the extroverted-partying energy to a great extent. Their love language is literally love fight over the smallest things possible, kissing each other and then said, “yo it’s disgusting let’s do more of that.”

[mrsirpyjama]

Please, just imagine Scotland and Ireland drunkenly singing songs in a bar and get everyone to tag along...:3 The song 'Drunken Lullubies' is btw by 'Flogging Molly'.

[maryeve-the-bitch]

ScotIre both bonding over their hatred for England and fighting over who hate England more.

[awesomerevolutionarytomato]

Asking the big questions now, are we?