#does this count as self-cest??

[fandomfluffandfuck]

What about Andy Barber/Steve Rogers? 👀

Holy fuck, I feel like there's something deeply emotional to be said about this pairing in particular with both men knowing all too well how far they will push themselves--to the agonizing breaking point--for those that they love. Both Andy and Steve are protectors down to the bone. They will go down to the most ugly fight. Their last breath. When it all goes to hell, and it has, they know they will do anything for their families. It doesn't scare them. They are dead set on keeping who they love close, no matter the consequences.

At least, I see it that way because this immediately struck me as Andy Barber paired with Civil War Steve Rogers, specifically--the most protective we see Steve.

But...

The "👀" you used, to me, implies we're here for the tears [lustful] and not tears [emotional], so I won't tear my own heart out right now thinking about all the trauma these two have gritted their teeth and beared, I guess, lmao.

So, 👀, indeed:

Andy and Steve are both determined. Domineering. Controlled. Andy more so than Steve in this situation, I think, but just a little bit more. Andy feels even more closed off to me than Steve--Steve is reaching out for his best friend and holding onto him as tight as the tensed muscles in his body will let him. Andy is holding himself together as his world is destroyed around him, and he's trying to figure out if he's destroying himself for the right reasons or not, even if he isn't going to show that to anyone. I can see them both grinding their teeth. I can see them both needing to blow off some steam.

Which brings us to a very interesting, intense sexual dynamic...

I keep considering them, and I keep coming up empty. Let me explain. Can I see them grinding against each other, one in the other's lap? Nah. Who would be willing to get in the other's lap? Who's on top? What about side by side, lying down, someone's leg thrown over the other's hip? Mmm... that's also not quite right to me. How about one blowing the other? I can picture both of them on their knees, but it doesn't feel true to these characters for one to get on their knees and control the entire encounter that way, reducing the other to mush by their mouth. Nor does it feel like one would sit back and direct the other with the other going easily along with it. Hmm. Maybe anal, then? But also no. I don't get the distinct impression that Andy would want it in him, but also not this version of Steve with Andy. However--

More narrowing down has me stumbling into other thoughts, like, what about just making out?

That I can see.

But, in just one particular way, I see it clearly.

I can really see them at first almost casually leaning in, slow and heady, almost a challenge, almost too much eye contact as if they're each daring the other to stop and break the sizzling electricity that's settling thickly in the air between their mouths and pulling them in.

Gravitational.

Neither of them pull back.

So, then, they're kissing. Kissing impactfully. Hard. It takes a minute to adjust because they both have the inclination to tilt their head in the same direction, which makes for an awkward angle, their noses pressed together harshly, lips not quite slotting together like they should but, fuck, that damn underlying crackle of heat is irresistible. Neither of them are willing to back out. One of them adjusts, or they both adjust slightly, just enough, and suddenly--

Oh.

Their lips do slot together.

It's a collision that's harsh and heated and fighting with Andy's teeth dragging over Steve's plush lower lip and Steve's hand on Andy's jaw, scratching through his beard, pulling him barely closer. Steve sighs, and Andy does, too. Their tongues meet, and the resulting lewd sound sends a matching tremble through their bodies. They aren't pressed together, there's room between their bodies; their thighs are parallel, and their torsos are twisted so they can face each other. It doesn't matter, though. They're unmoving. Stubborn yet relenting.

Steve's hand starts on Andy's jaw, and Andy's starts by carding through the short golden hair at the nape of Steve's neck, but in parallel, their hands come down. Fingertips feather light. They keep kissing, kissing, and kissing as their hands slip down until they're grabbing each other. Kissing--groaning softly into each other's mouth--and holding on, hands fisted in the fabric of their opposing shirts.

By now, still making out uncompromisingly, their lips are swollen, buzzing, wet, and they can't hide how their breaths have started to grow heavier, labored, coming out of their respective broad chests with rasping humidity. Hot. Wet. Their mouths stay pressed together, too close, breathing each other in, kissing deeply, fiercely, until the last possible moment, almost choking on the lack of oxygen. Then, they come apart.

They're coming apart.

Neither of them are willing to admit it but this is so fucking good. As they pant, catching their breath, their eyes open, then flutter shut again, in sync, caught up in the rush of crashing heat. Neither Andy nor Steve is willing to admit to the other how hard he is, how close he is to losing it in his jeans, untouched, just from the filthy hot press of their lips together. Andy's beard burning sweetly against Steve's face; Steve's plush lips nearly too plump and soft to handle. The sounds they make together are pornographic even as restrained as they are, bitten back and muffled. The only pieces of evidence they have for the intensity are how hard they're breathing, breaking apart to gasp and heave, and how they're gripping each other's clothes. Other than that, it doesn't seem like this is all that. But it is.

They're back at it.

Kissing.

Kissing.

Groaning and biting and licking and not playing fair as the start to fray apart, yet still stubborn and unwilling to admit it. They'd rather suffer through the rough friction of their pants--restrictive, heavy jeans for Steve and fitted, tight slacks for Andy--against their erections, hips instinctually jerking forward while they leak and drip, than do anything about it that might stop the devastating way they're making out. Andy's knuckles are white as he clutches onto Steve's t-shirt, and Steve's putting tears in Andy's button-up, but they don't talk about it. They're too busy gasping for air, groaning, and kissing. Lost in it. Kissing. Kissing.kissing.kissingkissingkissing.

They're gonna stay here, just like this, wrapped up in each other despite looking almost like they're fighting, barely touching, until somebody breaks, and neither of them are prone to splintering under pressure, so...

It's gonna keep dragging out longer and longer, hot and thick like fiery honey dripping off a spoon.

How's it gonna end? How is it supposed to end? Are they just going to do this for the rest of time?

[k4zushi]

my stomach hurts from laughing

[ashersanity]

— “SWEET LIKE NECTAR.”

— summary. because to whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. in fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it? and there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con, coaxing, anal fucking, cream-pie, nipple sucking, lots of uh.. dirty talking, I got carried away there, big brother whitney gets a taste of his own medicine, male reader turned bastard himself, the shittiest writing known to mankind. this is a continuation to the first part ‘it’s all in the family’ which you can find here. third part is here.

— word count? I freestyled that shit once again in the notes app, it is my sanctuary and you cannot take it away from me, alright?

— asher’s note. “I find that revenge is only proper and that sometimes, you need to take matters into your own hands and fuck your stupid, arrogant, big brother. balls deep.”

Moreover, you should’ve probably have expected this one measly question to slip past your older brother’s lips, leering gaze openly taking your conflicted expression in as if taunting you to properly answer. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? ‘Course not, like you could anyway. He’d see right past it like he usually does, testing the waters — he’d call it, laying out the fresh bait for your conscious little self to latch onto immediately.

Because to Whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. In fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it?

And there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

Especially to this one bastard. Too damn nosy to discreetly mind his own business, y’know? Always the one to hover too close for comfort, bated breath feathering delicately against the soft skin of your flushed ear, to keep you tightly on edge. Long past that, it’s starting to get on your nerves how self-assured he is in his flawed reasoning, simply since he had you sloppily suck him off once on the worn couch and now, it’s what? Only natural to drag you around like some sort of thoughtless puppy? Shamelessly refer to you as his trained, little bitch who’ll get on his knees for the right price?

Gotta be fucking kidding then.

It was the alcohol. Nothing, but the intoxicating substance drumming along your veins that had you act in such a debauched manner, had your painfully hard cock straining against the front of your pants. Yeah. Right? That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you keep insistently reminding yourself of despite the growing, churning heat in your stomach, the not-so-subtle twitching of your hardening cock stirring beneath your ripped jeans or the individual droplets of sweat gently trickling down the navel of your slouched back. Alright, keep fucking lying to yourself then. Surely that’ll help you with your current predicament that you’ve stuck yourself into, muddied foot deep within the shallow trenches and a solid grasp firmly placed around your ankle, threatening to snap your dignity in half.

“Well?” Visibly irritated by your lack of answer, it’s Whitney’s increasingly impatient, snappy voice that unfortunately draws you back from your spiralling calculations — whether to respond with the humiliating truth or not. Can’t let it go, can he? Hence why he so nonchalantly has you sat on his used bed, the rusted springs hidden beneath the dusty mattress alerting your every subtle movement with a distinct creak reverberating through the thin walls.

“Well, what?” Idiot, you know very damn well what he’s getting at, it’s not like you suffer from some sort of amnesiac disease to utilise cluelessness and have him fooled with such blatant tactics.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Should be wiping that snide, awful smirk that instantly appears on his face as he carelessly articulates the question once more. Shameless in his pursuit, hungrily eyeing you up and down like an untouched piece of meat to greedily feast upon, sink his pearly, white fangs into.

Oh, thank the heavens that you weren’t consuming any sort of liquid right this moment because it would’ve been shot straight out of your throat, maybe your nose even considering the absurd sentence from your very own brother — step-brother, to be exact. Still in denial that you two could potentially call each other family, far too homely of a term than the puzzling relationship you both share. Speaking of, you haven’t replied to his question yet and by the looks of it, he isn’t looking too pleased with you if you were to stretch this on any further than it should be.

“N-No, I’ve actually fucked my fair share of girls.” Oh yeah, he’s definitely believing you with that stuttering, the uncertainty all too evident in your tone that only a complete, utter moron would’ve fallen for it. Fucking liar. It wasn’t as though you were entirely lying though, having indeed fucked a girl before, but does it really count if that same person were to be your younger sister, Kylar? At most, you’ve had your decent amount of experiences with others, dated a few girls here and there which is to be acceptable for the average boy of your age. However, beyond the intimate acts of holding hands and bashful kissing, you remained oblivious to the process of well, sex — save for the over the top, raunchy porn you’d occasionally watch and that sole encounter with Kylar that taught you far more than any cheap film ever could.

So, it’s still reasonable, is it not? Though this is Whitney you’re directly dealing with and you know better than to assume he’d take plain ‘no’ for an answer, often brash in his selfish desires. No, more like every time whenever he does act, it leads up to the very same, repetitive situation you’ve familiarized yourself to. You, beneath him. You, helpless in the face of his cruel actions.

Not this time though — fuck, that nasty, little scheme of yours slowly, but ever so surely lurking within the depths of your working mind, grateful for the blonde’s clear ignorance of the shit you were ready to commit to regain that minuscule shred of dignity back. None the wiser, preferring it’d remain that way.

And he can only sharply scoff back to your half-assed attempt at muttering obvious falsehoods. Too cunning of a bastard and god, does it mess with you. “Bullshit. You think I’d believe that? Fuckin’ cmon, admit it. You’ve never really fucked a girl before, huh?” That sickening, creeping nausea steadily filling the depths of your guts from the way he so arrogantly taunts you through his ‘light-hearted’ insults, inadvertently painting you as some sort of virgin loser that never so much as had the slightest chance of growing affectionate with another woman. Fucked your goddamn sister so that’s a one-up on you, huh? Hell, you know better than to let such an obscene admission escape you — since she’s your sister now too, that innocence you so greedily stripped away that one faithful evening within the four corners of her room.

Rather not indulge in such sinful thoughts at the moment, not when your prolonged silence is only confirming his self-righteous suspicions to which he so stubbornly convinced himself of. Knowing better than to reason with your older brother, it’s merely when you do finally relent with a reluctant nod of your head — still maintaining a thin layer of deceit, mind you — that his smug grin widens considerably in return. “So you’re an unused slut, basically.” Choice of words never was the delinquent’s forte, but his crude, frank vocabulary certainly is as he so eloquently puts it. “Hah — I fuckin’ knew it. Wouldn’t be cumming so quickly if you weren’t.” He huffs back in amusement at the sight of your apparent fluster, always so damn squirmy whenever he playfully pokes fun at one of your concealed insecurities. Oh, you really don’t know the dizzying effect you have on him, do you?

The numerous nights spent lazily fisting the base of his cock underneath the woollen covers placed over his bare, sweating body to at the very least obscure his depraved actions — not that he cared much whether he was scandalously caught or not. Much so, he’d prefer if it were you to ‘coincidentally’ walk in on him mid-jerk off session, lend a helping hand to big brother and let him use you however he saw fit. Fuck, yeah. That’d aid him in his ever growing lust for you, borderline animalistic in how he addictively sought you out as expected, like a sweet, sweet drug longing to be taken. A sweet nectar freshly ripe for the taking, plucked free from the gracious buds of the tree to gratefully sink his fangs into and savour the refreshing taste lingering on his tongue.

Feels so right to defile your prudish self, doesn’t it? So, don’t blame him then. Don’t blame him when he suggests — no, coldly orders you to strip off your damn pants which prompts another gaping stare of yours to the sudden command. Handsome, but so, so clueless, aren’t you? Needs to tell you to do everything for your sluggish brain to eventually catch up to his ever approaching rhythm, cocky grin plastered onto his lips signalling that your step-brother is indeed not kidding around as per usual.

“What’re you waitin’ for? I said, strip.” It’s not a gentle reminder nor a well-intentioned push in the right direction, it’s a repeated warning of his thinly veiled frustrations peeking its way through, past the useless restraints he placed onto himself when he could easily be given what he’s wanted. Not without force, though that is in Whitney’s nature to be as rough as possible, having grown accustomed to things going his way whenever he inevitably turned to bloodied brutality. After all, the bully doubts so himself that you don’t furtively desire this all the same too, conflicted movements headed towards the leathered loop of your belt as you willingly comply as tasked to. Good boy, knew you had it in y’a.

“Do I really gotta do this?” If it weren’t for the pretty, pink flush adorning the entirety of your face right now, your older brother would’ve definitely snapped back with a snarky remark of his own, however the sight itself is enough to let him have your dumb self uselessly hope a little further. What does it look like, little brother? Has Whitney ever backtracked on his truthful words?

“Yeah, you gotta cuz’ I told you to. Now just fuckin’ do it already, slut. I don’t got all day.”

“..Fine.” Having fully predicted such a response, heavy shoulders slouching lazily in defeat from the refusal, you shyly carry on with the clumsy strip tease of yours. Can never get your way with him, can y’a?

Goddamn it, shamefully reprimanding yourself for even following suit to his harsh retort though, can you really blame yourself? He’s got you — fucking, trained you like a dog. That’s what it is, a stupid, dumb mutt that can’t help but intrinsically cave in to its depraved instincts as his rightful owner happily taught him to, mindlessly huffing and wagging its fluffy tail to the sugary sweet praise whispered to him. Conditioning you to his every whim as a promising, rewarding treat awaiting in exchange for your dutiful obedience, not bothering to keep your remaining underwear either. Big brother knows best, huh? Look at that pitiful expression etched along your features, averting gaze straying away from his piercing own that’s settled precisely on the drooling tip of your fat, twitching cock dribbling out an alarming amount of pre-cum. How you resist the underlying temptation to automatically press your legs together, denying Whitney of that upfront, perverted view of your spread thighs. So damn easy to get you riled up in a matter of seconds when a tight, warm hole is involved in the filthy equation.

As ensured, you’ll receive as you wish, pup. Only natural to fulfill what you so gravely desire when you’ve been so good so far, right? Offer you the bearing fruits of your well-earned efforts in return while you thoughtlessly salivate over the mere idea, yeah?

“Whitney, this is kinda embarrassing..” Kinda? Practically humiliating to display yourself so lewdly like this, however not as if you hadn’t experienced this rarely either in the past few weeks that steadily transpired. Should’ve grown used to it by now, actually. Still, the lingering shyness of brazenly exposing yourself like this was too much to bear at times, especially with the other’s daunting ogling. Really has to unabashedly eye-fuck you every single time or something. It’s.. somewhat flattering to be thoroughly appreciated like this despite instinctively knowing it’s out of pure, utter objectification.

Aimlessly losing yourself in the middle of your straying thoughts, it’s the recurring shuffling of fabric carelessly being thrown onto the wooden, creaking floor that draws you back to the hazy reality before you. Fuck, a wet dream is a far more suitable term with how this is stereotypically playing out, the confident, sure movements of your older brother’s calloused hands busying themselves with the hem of his waistband and — oh, he’s surely tugging his sweats down, okay. His.. fucking dick, god — how didn’t you conveniently notice how rock hard his cock was beneath that cotton thin material? Leaving you to breathlessly gawk at the free view of Whitney’s drooling tip roughly smacking against the tensed muscles of his stomach, briefly connecting strings of pre-cum to meld with his cooling sweat. Retaking that relaxed, slouched position along the single bed as if he isn’t currently stark naked in front of your unmoving eyes. That distracting to you, huh? Horny mutt.

“Like what you see, slut?” That fucking conceited tone of his makes you want to respond with anything but an affirmative yes, though through the thick lump you swallow down your throat, it’s the muted nod of your head that further serves him to grin widely in satisfaction. Wanna prove him wrong so badly, so damn so. Yet, how can you when he’s shown you all the reasons not to?

Should’ve been paying closer attention then, baby brother. How your brain immediately shuts off in a haze of confusion, numbing static prickling at your empty mind once the blonde instead settles himself comfortably onto your awaiting lap. “Fuckin’ nice seat.” Would’ve been a more comedic remark if it weren’t for the provoking press of his bare ass flush against your pulsing cock, questionably twitching in approval from the brief physical contact. Christ, get a grip on yourself, you moron but, oh — Fuck. You could just.. fucking slip it in and it wouldn’t hurt to let Whitney take the lead as predicted, greedily relish in the slippery warmth fervently welcoming you? Since at the end of the day, you’re just a man, no? A simple man with stupidly horny urges and needs to gratefully sink his cock into the nearest wet hole that merely happens to be his big brother’s whorish one.

Still, that portion of your mind beckons you to reason along with the weirdly alluring pull of plainly muttering out fuck it, shove it in and— and, do the nastiest shit possible, y’know? Yeah, you should do it. Actually, no. No way in fucking hell should you proceed with it. Uselessly humping your hips upwards with a sickening jolt that draws a relieving sigh from the both of you. Stop it, you pervert. You’ve become no better than him, have you?

“W-What’re you doing..?” Is all you can pathetically muster to his blatantly obvious actions, knowing full well what he’s truly doing. Riling you up. Teasing along the edges of your withering limits till it collapses fully onto the ground. It’s what he does best, driving you insane on the daily from school, to outside, to home and his room you frequently pay visits to at night.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m about to fuck your cute cock, pretty boy.” Pretty. Ah, that shouldn’t be your main focus with how he announces it so casually, essentially admitting he’s planning to ride you. Struggling to grasp onto the foreign concept of him, well— being on the receiving end of sex. Doesn’t he like, usually prefer to be the one in the dominant position? In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had selfishly decided to fuck your ass next, fill it to the brim with his seed. Yet, here he is, contently rubbing himself on your flushed, oozing tip, swearing gently as it barely grazes against his puckered hole, thoughtlessly clenching around practically nothing. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this to stake my claim on you, alright? Not fuckin’ fair if some bitch gets to fuck your virgin dick first so, hah— I’m making you into a proper slut. My slut.”

Very convincing, Whitney. Not so much so when he’s shuddering eagerly above you like a man about to be given the slightest taste of heaven itself, namely your cock it seems. Hot. Shit, it is a pretty hot sight, you’ve gotta admit.

So, is this purely a flimsy excuse of his to fuck himself stupid on your dick? Need that much to blindly persuade you he isn’t some sort of drooling cockwhore deep down? Nice try, big brother. Well, you can effortlessly see through his nonchalant act, the barely discernible, rosy flush dusting along his cheeks confirming his secretive, depraved and filthy desires simmering deeply within his core.

“Fuckin’ — ah, help me put it in already.” The resounding gasp escaping him is so breathy, so unlike the dominant, assertive Whitney you’ve familiarized yourself with that your lethargic brain hardly registers his direct order, sounding more like a frantic plea than anything else. Put it in? The little, stuck-up bastard is having difficulty sliding it in, resorting to your aid to lend a helping hand to his futile struggles? That’s cute. The indiscernible trace of a smirk beginning to form onto your lips from his uncharacteristically submissive demeanour, still withholding a decent amount of control in this situation here. Ah, what’re you even saying? He’s given you full leverage to wreck his tight, little hole as you happily please, fuck yourself deeper in that wet warmth you’ve been subconsciously seeking out. You’re the one cupping him within the palm of your hand, oddly contented with this newfound revelation, this switch of power dynamics.

“Can’t you put it in yourself then? It’s not that hard, is it? You’re the one always wanting to do everything so I think it’s only fair you do it.” Indulging in the scowl that appears shortly on his straining features only to dissolve under another one of his tough exteriors. “Fuck, you want me to? Can’t put it in yourself, huh?” He counters snidely, grasping for the bottle of lube conveniently placed on the night dresser nearby, accompanied by barking out a sharp huff of laughter as you cuss out loud a fuck! from the cooling, sticky mixture squirted plainly onto your cock.

“Shit! That’s cold! Why’d you pour it on me? Aren’t you supposed to put it in your— y’know? Your—“ Pausing bashfully in your tracks, immaturity running so deeply you couldn’t even properly stammer out the term if you wished to.

“My what? My ass? I’m not putting that in there, I can fuck myself on your cock just fine without that crap.” Lewd. That’s so lewd how he outwardly states it, blazing face hidden behind your cupped palms as though such a gesture would make this alright, make whatever he’s doing — smoothly grinding on the tip of your lubed, quivering length, how his hole teasingly snatches onto your flushed, leaking cock head only to disappointingly let go again. Fuck, fuck — Fuck. Doing this on purpose, isn’t he? Intent on driving you mad before he even manages to shove it in.

But, as previously stated before, there’s nothing more you hate than to lose, don’t you?

Really, he should be the one blaming himself for your rash and impulsive movements, shouldn’t be letting out that surprised yelp, silenced by a high-pitched gasp as you finally have had enough of his provoking mockery to mutter out a sharp fuck it and drive your increasingly impatient cock right in. Head stupidly thrown back in sheer shock from the unfamiliar yet admittedly pleasurable sensation of having his tight, virgin hole stuffed full of your cock right about now. Clear outline of your entire length pulsing deep within him by the noticeable quivering of his toned tummy, which you don’t hesitate to firmly plant your palm against to draw another satisfying, strangled whimper past his lips. Whore.

“Ah, fucking shit— You’re so fucking tight. Relax a bit for me or I can’t move.” Might as well be snapping your dick in half from the unbearable clenching of his unused insides, warm insides that you’re pervertedly staining white with every glide of your forceful thrusts, every harsh slam of your hips against his ass. Can’t stop yourself though — God, no. Not when the addictive heat of his hole envelops you so damn fucking well, rendering you both to mindlessly cling onto each other, entangled bodies slick with hot sweat trickling steadily down the navel of your arched backs. Namely his. And oh, he really does feel so good. Never mind all the shit he’s done, the stingy tugs of his fists deep within your messied hair, urging you to fuck yourself deeper into his trembling frame. This is the sweet taste of revenge you’ll so dearly savour, hungrily imprinting every choked moan to memory for later reminiscing.

Isn’t he so cute too? Tightening fingertips digging harshly into your shoulders for proper stability, an immediate roll of his eyes to the back of his skull whenever you angle your hips to hit that overly sensitive spot that sends a sickening jolt up his spine. Bound to be leaving marks, though that’s the least of your concerns with how goddamn pretty he looks when fucked stupid, fucked utterly brainless to match the feverish haze of his glazed over eyes. “See? I think you secretly enjoy it, Whitney. I think you— hah, fuck — enjoy that I’m taking the lead for once. ‘S that it? You like havin’ my cock inside you, huh? Like it when your little brother fucks you?” No matter how many times he may blatantly refuse and deny it, through the clawing of his nails, etching bloodied scars into your back that are sure to reside in your skin later on— You fucking know by the squeeze of his slutty hole, ring of cream having nicely settled around the base of your cock. The cocky bitch loves it.

“F-Fuckin’—“ Big brother having trouble speaking? “Bastard, shut— ah! up!” The pitiful whine echoing deeply from his throat almost makes you want to cease your endless blabbering, but y’know what? Fuck that. May as well endure the severe consequences of his actions, from the second you had arrived here, it was bound to end solely in one conclusion. You, balls deep in his ass. You, stupidly drunk off the mere act of ruthlessly fucking your older brother cuz’ shit, does it feel so amazingly good. “If you keep looking at me like that, it only— hah, makes things harder for me here. God, Whitney.. Don’t fucking stop squeezing me, ‘kay?” Not really doing any better than him either, any semblance of control within you possibly thrown out the window with every pleasurable stroke of your cock being sucked so sloppily by his stretched out hole. One thing the delinquent was right about — You being the equivalent of a dumb mutt. A dumb, drooling mutt huffing over his bare chest, depraved instincts kicking in to suck on whatever happens to be nearest and that consequently leads to your dazed gaze zeroing in on his swollen nipples.

Pretty, so fucking pretty. It’s not fair.

Deserving of every torturous inch his tight hole greedily swallows up, the sight of his neglected, puffy nipples almost too much to bear for your watering mouth.

A little taste wouldn’t hurt, would it?

How careless of you to overlook such an area that so desperately needs your loving attention too. Bad little brother you are for that, huh? “Promise to make you feel so good.” Sighing out a guttural groan as the softened pad of your thumbs find home to idly flick at the erect glands, eliciting another strangled curse from the delinquent once again. Sensitive here, isn’t he? “Shit.. Every time I touch your tits here, you tighten up like crazy, hah. Want me to suck on ‘em too?” It’s more of a fervent heads up for your upcoming actions than a polite request, pink tongue curiously poking out to glide along the sheen of sweat settled thickly on the rosy buds. “M-Motherfucker.. Don’t you fuckin’ dare— hmph!” Hastily cut off by the palm of his own hand clasped upon his mouth, he can’t help but to cave in at your perverted antics, specifically that weird obsession of yours with his chest or tits as you so obscenely call ‘em. Shivering lightly at the rhythmic lapping at his nipples which is soon followed by the roll of your tongue against the sensitive flesh, fully latching onto one of them to appreciatively suckle on. The things you do to him, a full on body shock simply from having his pretty tits toyed with, his nipples coyly sucked on by the moist engulf of your warm mouth. “W—What?? Stop, ah, that!” How the fuck do you get to him like this every damn time?

And why the hell does it have to feel so fuckin’ good too?

Screw you, really.

Having managed to get past his carefully placed barriers he put upon himself, a means of protection for his fragile pride that you so selfishly tear away at. Because it’s fun to, an absolute power rush to intently observe your slutty older brother fall apart on your fat cock, split his ass open while you’re at it. Teary eyes threatening to spill free more droplets down the length of his scarlet cheeks, bitten lips oozing fresh blood from your nipping teeth and tongue to gently suckle at as a well-deserved reward. Golden locks becoming increasingly more disheveled from every bounce on your cock, the guidance of your hands locked firmly onto his hips to witness the disappearance and reemergence of your leaking tip to reach that one single spot deep inside him.

And it’s real adorable when you draw your hips further back only to be halted by the weight of his legs wrapped securely around your waist to prevent you from pulling all the way out, so stubbornly too. “Oh, want me to cum inside?” The derisive pitch of your laughter has the blonde simmering in his humiliating position, too caught up in the intoxicating pleasure of being fucked so mercilessly like this to bother uttering out a curse of denial. Fangs bared, seething glare shot solely towards you, it’s you. Of course, it’s you who has the final say, the upper hand regardless. As always. “I-I swear to fuckin’ god, if you pull out now— I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole.” He threatens as per usual, but the shaky incoherence of his speech riddled with whiny moans discredits his shitty attempt at intimidation, coaxing you to readily follow suit to his orders.

Ah, look at him. Fucking bitch in heat.

Can’t say no to that face, can you?

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway, Whitney.” You mutter out soothingly in the shell of his ear, slightly unsettled by the softening tone you’ve taken on to address him. Is it due to the pathetic appearance he’s taken on from your relentless bullying? ‘S not fair he gets to look all cute and pouty while you’re struggling to keep up here, stuttering hips clumsily humping forward to make up for the messy pace because ah— fuck, you’re nearing your fill and so is Whitney, by the looks of it. “You can’t—“ Cutting himself off in a soundless gasp as your balls heavily smack against his ass, mind gone completely blank from the sheer euphoria of having his hole filled to the brim. Can’t? Sure, he can handle just a little more, can’t he? Cmon, he can do better than that. Drool dripping freely from his parted lips for yours to plant sloppy kisses against, stifling his open moans. Drawing your hips one last time to relish in the tight warmth of his wet insides— really, you’ll miss it, fuck— you barely get to process the thick ropes of cum spurting out of his bobbing cock, accompanied by your own climax shortly after. “S-Sorry, oh my god— I’m so sorry, you feel too good. I can’t—“ You sputter out uselessly, a hollow excuse when you continue on with your sloppy thrusts, burying yourself to the hilt to shoot your thick load into. Staining his walls white with your seed since your hips can’t stop themselves from fucking your cum deeper, not till he squirms and swears at you to stop it altogether.

Alright, so maybe you did end up going a tad bit too far this time, but it’s not like he didn’t ask for it. Or so you mumble to yourself to soothe your ever growing worries of where this may lead after the shortly lived, euphoric high you’ve just experienced. Nervously lifting your gaze to seek his as you’re greeted with.. ah, it seems you did fuck up. If anything, you’ve dug yourself a hole so steep you couldn’t possibly climb out of it now. Okay, he looks pissed. Doesn’t mean you don’t have time to mend things between the two of you, right? It’s as you finally muster up a foolish smile to meet his sour expression, that his frown significantly deepens in return.

“..So, uh. Did you like it?”

You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?

Should’ve probably expected this one. The shockingly loud slam of the wooden door closed shut on your face, promptly interrupting your frantic pleas and apologies. Heaps of dirty clothes thrown right into your arms for you to awkwardly pick up from the floor soon after. “Whitney, don’t be like that. Whitney, c’mon. I’m sorry—“ You’re not actually all that sorry, it’s just he looks too cute when angry, really.

“Fuck off!!”

Stubborn as ever, huh? At least, you’ve got to imprint those slutty sounds to memory for later use, having gotten your answer to leave him be for the time being. And oh, glancing down to be met with the sight of your still-hard, neglected cock tented pitifully against the front of your jeans has to be some sort of revenge for your previous animalistic actions, surely. Seriously? Didn’t you just cum too?

..Well, you’ve always got the bathroom to take care of that.

[bittersweetarts]

Fanfic Recommendations ✴ by bittersweetarts (Volume I)

Fandoms: Harry Potter (Books), House of the Dragon (TV), The Bear (TV), Criminal Minds (TV)

As much as I like writing fanfiction, I love reading it even more! I enjoy a beautifully-written story as much as anyone does, and recommend the following for those looking for a wonderful read that will make you feel like you're in another world –

dirty old town – Regulus Black x OC

Author: WizardGod

Status: Complete - AO3 Page

One of my favourite stories that I have ever read.

Set during the Marauders Era, the plot follows a young woman named Finn Lynch, who lives a reserved life in rural Ireland, until her uncle, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, asks her temporarily house a war defector from a Wizarding World she is not part of.

Word Count: 286,984

Tropes: Slow Burn, Mild Enemies-to-Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family

Thy Wicked Torment – Fred Weasley x OC

Author: this_pendent_world

Status: Complete - AO3 Page

You know it's a good fanfic when the writing actually makes you feel like you're in Hogwarts, and this story is impeccable!

Set during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the story follows a young Slytherin named Evangeline Parkinson Rothchild, and the trouble she ends up finding herself in as she becomes involved with Fred Weasley, Gryffindor's resident troublemaker.

Word Count: 218,347

Tropes: Enemies-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, Found Family

Where the Gold Meets the Green – Aemond Targaryen x OC

Author: vhagarapologist

Status: WIP - AO3 Page

Well-written House of the Dragon fanfiction with romance, political intrigue and minimal Targ-cest?? Say less. This is a fairly recent-read and is still being regularly updated, but I am really enjoying it and look forward to reading new chapters when they come out.

The story follows Leona Lannister, the only surviving child of Tyland Lannister, during the Dance of the Dragons, as she navigates life in King's Landing and catches the eye of two Targaryen princes.

Current Word Count: 67,148

Tropes: Slow Burn, Enemies-to-Lovers, Angst, Toxic Relationship

The Fool and the Dragon – Aemond Targaryen x OC

Author: prince_aemond_targaryen / @prince-aemond-targaryen

Status: WIP (Almost Complete) - AO3 Page

The first Aemond Targaryen story that I adored (written before the episodes with him as an adult aired) - back when Season 1 was airing, I would re-read the chapters between the weekly episode premieres to tide me over; it's just that good.

Faune Follard, the valued lady-in-waiting of Princess Helaena Targaryen, navigates life in King's Landing whilst enduring the ire of the One-Eyed Prince.

Current Word Count: 99,899

Tropes: Slow Burn, Angst, Mild Enemies-to-Lovers, Toxic Relationship

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart – Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto x Reader

Author: justfantasy

Status: WIP - AO3 Page

Finding good Carmy fanfiction is akin to searching for water in a drought, and I do really wish there was more! This is my favourite one, but sadly there aren't many chapters and it hasn't been updated in a while.

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto, a man of few words, has a one night stand which turns into something more.

Current Word Count: 11,345

Tropes: Friends-to-Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining

The Keeping of Words – Spencer Reid x OC

Author: BryWrites

Status: Complete First Version on Fanfiction.Net + WIP Second Version Re-Write on AO3

I read this story originally when it started being published seven years ago, and I was obsessed!

The story follows an aspiring human rights lawyer, Bianca Brown, as she is asked to assist on a BAU case and ends up finding herself intertwined with a member of the BAU, an elusive man named Dr. Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 264,402 (FFN) / 202,439 (AO3)

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances, Slow Burn

This list is not very long, but like said, these are stories that I really enjoy and feel passionate about. Evidently I prefer self-insert fanfiction, but I do read anything and everything. If you have a recommendation (for any fandom and any pairing), feel free to share in the comments!

I also write fanfiction myself, and my masterlist is linked below incase you'd like to give any story a read.

– Masterlist ✴ by bittersweetarts

Until next time, Happy Holidays!

PS. I still don't know how to respond to comments on posts (as this is a secondary blog), but I read and appreciate them all! If you ever want a direct response from me, you can private message me or send a question in my ask inbox.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

I don't wanna be alone in this but if Eve came from Adam, doesn't it mean she is just Adam's female version ?

Like is this where Adam's narsistic nature came from ? Does it count as self cest ? Does this mean Adam literally fucked himself ?

Does it mean Lucifer was going for second round ? 🤔🤔🤔

I-

Well shit. I never thought about it like that holy shit! I mean technically since she was made from his rib that would be true.

That likely could be the start of Adams narcissism but it would depend on just how much she looks like him. I imagine she was made to look slightly different so as to not make it weird for Adam.

Self-cest would be more if Eve had been made a carbon copy of Adam in the looks department. But maybe?

If that's true then yeah, Lucifer going after Eve makes so much sense. But nothing compares to first man booty lol 😆

[mxtxfanatic]

Does it count as self-cest if two unrelated characters who both are knockoffs of the same protagonist hook up? 🤔

[ao3feed-newsies]

Nothin' Else

by, GalacticEclipse by GalacticEclipse The author writes PsychoCowboy drabbles but she writes the drabbles with the help of prompt websites. Words: 219, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: American Psycho (2000), American Psycho - Bret Easton Ellis, Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Patrick Bateman, Jack Kelly (Newsies) Relationships: Jack Kelly (Newsies)/Patrick Bateman Additional Tags: Romantic Fluff, Prompt Fic, Bisexual Patrick Bateman, Bisexual Jack Kelly (Newsies), Trans Jack Kelly (Newsies), Age Difference, Older Man/Younger Man, Does it count as self-cest if it’s the same actor?, Prompt Fill read : https://ift.tt/zgi3tIb - April 23, 2024 at 08:51AM

[kafkaesquekitten]

This sprite was probably just a placeholder for Gaster, but, whatever, they're my character now, and I'm shipping them with Gaster.

Does that count as self-cest? idk.

Anyway, hope you like my art!

[delusion-of-negation]

If a self insert oc gets developed enough to no longer be a self insert, does that means its no longer self-cest to find them hot?

Question2: if its no longwr self cest, do they count as like. A cousin or something for Incest?

when is a self-insert no longer a self-insert to you? because one of the cardinal rules of self-cest to me has always been that lack of a clear distinction between the self and the other. clonefucking, for example, is best envisioned as walking into the office of a movie writer who's making another "aRe CLoNes PeOpLE" flick, throwing the scripts from his desk, and fucking on it. when, exactly, does red become blue? how long is a piece of string? how many numbers are there between one and two? when is it no longer theseus' ship? the point of self-cest is to answer these questions with "idk man, I'm horny", not to make up new rules about when something is or isn't self-cest, or to debate if the grey area is therefore incest.

[nostalgia-tblr]

Welp, here is The Fic that felt like it took forever but actually it was probably only about two weeks and for most of that I was procrastinating rather than actually writing it. I started editing what I had at around midnight and then I kept on going because I somehow had momentum and I didn't want to lose it by giving in to human weaknesses like the need to sleep. I was especially keen to finish this after I had slagged off the aristocracy a bit in it, and possibly there is something psychologically revealing about the fact that I am most interested in Loki/Sylvie when they're into each other but also slightly adverserial. Basically I support her in everything she does but he will likely be first against the wall when the revolution comes. (Was that Douglas Adams? It feels like it was Douglas Adams.)

Title: The Myth Of Kissing Princes (AO3) Fandom: Loki (TV 2021) Rating: Explicit Pairing: Loki/Sylvie (Loki TV) Wordcount: 3695 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sex, power struggles, bit of angst, like an angst cameo, Resolved Sexual Tension, Self-cest, Alcohol, Banter, annoyed-by-each-other to lovers, royalty and class stuff and etc, Forehead Kisses, i don't know if the kneeling bit counts as a kink or not, but mostly it's just wholesome selfcest Summary: This is the latest round in the power struggle that’s simmered between them since they met, two of the same arrogant person. There’s simply too much Lokiness in the room for anyone’s comfort, too much need to assert themselves over the other claimant to the title and the role. One of them has to lose, at least for now, and neither of them enjoys defeat.

[defectivefanboy]

Yep Collin X Collin generally hcs thank you.

oh so you’re the selfcest-er i see i see.

man girl zir cat dog anon, how would i even do that. /gen

bc i don’t understand self cast unless there was like a second version of themselves.

But then at that point does it count as self cest or just masterbation i’ve always had that thought.

yet for this request i seriously don’t know how to write that

[florancys]

If I ship Max with his Riconscience,does it count as self-cest? Hahaha

[dirtybiowareconfessions]

Confession: I want to be spit roasted by Shepard and his clone

[tatakaebomb]

Deal

ꕥ Pairing : Stepdad!Gojo x Reader

ꕥ Synopsis : maybe submitting to a man your whole life is something you want after all?

ꕥ Word count : 1.9k

ꕥ TW : MISOGYNY, dominance, betting, manipulation, vulgar language, sex, smut, thigh riding, thigh humping, dumbification, age gap, step dad x step daughter relationship, step cest, NSFW, perversion, cheating, intrusion, bad relationship examples, controlling behaviour, forced confessing, sub! Y/N, teasing, harsh fucking, hate fucking (LOL), itadori slander (I love him really), 18+

'Y/N. I'm all about women empowerment, but you’re not leaving the house. You look like a stripper.'

Gojo Satoru. 40. Been married to your mother for 3 years now, and for those 3 years he's been nothing but annoying.

'You’re not wearing that.'

'You’re not going out like that.'

'You’re not doing that.'

Self entitled dick head who feels his opinion over rules all. Your 20 for christ sake. You can do whatever you want.

With those comments come your remarks. The same cycle over and over, a little argument as you leave the house in your scandalous outfit, only for him to sneakily put leggings in your bag, or leave a spare blouse on the passenger seat of your car. Not like your mother cares enough, her and gojo cheat on each other when the sky's blue, only for them to come back home and have sex day and night, the banging noises from your room still scarred in your mind.

'With all due respect Gojo, I don't appreciate you constantly telling me what to do. I'm a grown adult I can wear what I want.'

-

You applied the lipgloss to your lips as you stared into your phone camera, watching the way the little strands of it connect between your lips.

'Right. Well when you get raped don't come back crying to me.' He snarled, body slumped on the door frame behind you. Scoffing you couldn't help but get annoyed at his misogyny sometimes, he's such an obnoxious man it physically hurts.

'Seriously? The length of my clothes doesn't determine my respectability levels'

'Sure it does! See y/n if I saw you right now I'd think you sleep with every other guy and on your knees every night, however if you wear that lovely sweater on the staircase I'd think your a lovely modest woman deserving of love' he smiled. His stupid white hair flopping past his eyes as his eyes once again dragged up and down your body, not missing the way your cleavage pushed up through the fabric of your clothes.

'How disgusting. I don't know how my mom ever got with someone like you.' You trail over to the door grabbing your clutch and keys and walking down to your car. Starting your engine you glimpsed out the window only to see him standing by the door, watching you like he always seems to do.

'I think it's quite clear why your mom's with me y/n. Anyways, have a good time try not to get molested.'

How could he say that with such a smile on his face?! Fine. Game on.

-

You knew what you were doing. 8AM washing the dishes in those skimpy shorts? Water running down your leg as you just happened to ‘bend over and pick up the fallen towel’ leaving nothing but your covered hole to the imagination. Knowing that gojo was right behind you, watching your every move, almost disgusted in the way your acting.

You knew what you were doing. The following day when you just happened to leave your slutty bra and crotch less panties just ‘outside’ of the washing basket. Only for gojo being the only other person in the house able to pick it up and put it where it belongs.

You know what you were doing. The next week when you were doing nothing but walking downstairs in the dusk of night, needing a snack, knowing gojo is up until morning doing his work. Half naked body reaching up to grab a snack from the tallest cupboard, tits overfilling in your tight bra as every move makes your skin shake and wobble, unmissible to Gojos eyes.

-

You were unbearable, and you knew you were. You knew how torturous you were being, how unfair this was towards poor Gojo.

Maybe he did deserve it, this’ll finally teach him a lesson towards his patriarchal views. Your doing him a favour if anything, removing that internalised misogyny he has engraved inside him. Your such a good girl, mother would be proud of you. Shame she’s off on a two week trip to Hawaii. Oh well, gives more opportunity to drag his life to misery. Right?

-

‘Ah fuck yes yes harder harder! God you feel so good I’m gonna cum!’ You screamed, head swung back on the pillow as your body shook underneath the strangers touch.

You knew Gojo was home tonight. Up late doing an important project needed for work tomorrow, but what’s a little harmless fun gonna do.

Your touch pulsated as you exaggerated slightly the feeling of this random guy over you. From what you gathered his names itadori and he’s the same age as you. He definitely fucks like an amateur, but a little ego boost doesn’t hurt anyone.

Shortly after he climaxed and you - sadly - didn’t, he was knocked out beside you, whilst you remained wide eyed awake in your bed, almost embarrassed in the fact you screamed for a man that didn’t make you accidentally moan once.

Shrugging yourself out of bed you strolled downstairs in a lazy over sized shirt, moody and stroppy at the thought of his bragging tomorrow morning. Rule 1. Never fuck dorks.

‘Guess you were the one fucking him huh?’

Gojo appeared from behind the fridge door, having you startled at the fact his eyes r still so bright with no lights turned on. He stayed sat at the counter, laptop shoved closed as he cupped his hands leaning forward to look over at you.

‘Fucks that meant to mean?’

‘Oh, nothing. Are you not a bit ashamed at the fact your step dad heard all that? I mean clearly not considering what you walk around the house in’

You couldn’t take it, after all these attempts he still failed. He’s just such a dickhead, snarly, cocky, dickhead.

‘Just fuck OFF. Your always in my fucking space I’ve had it up to fucking HERE WITH YOU! YOU ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY YOU ALWAYS COMMENT ON MY CLOTHES YOU ALWAYS-‘

‘Did he make you cum?’

…

Your lips pursed shut, correlating the words that just so casually happened to fall out of his mouth.

‘What?’

‘Did he make you cum..?’

‘N-no but I-‘

‘This is what I mean. You wear ridiculous outfits and you don’t get respected enough to find a good enough man, one that atleast makes you orgasm’

You felt yourself get annoyed at him, trailing your way over to him he lazily looked into your eyes, smug look draped over his face even though he’s hardly slept a wink. Excitement in the way you got angry.

‘I doubt you’re exactly a pussy pleaser Gojo.’

‘I’ll make you cum without my fingers or cock even touching you, if I do, then you gotta admit that you were wrong and that your mighty ol’ step dad here knows everything…’

You looked straight at him, his eyes not once wavering from yours. You were stuck with his offer, the way his narcissistic grin beamed at you with every second you took.

‘You know what. Fine. Deal.’ Your hand held out to him as he shook it hard, quickly after pulling you onto his lap, his face not far from yours as your eyes widened at the feeling of his breath fanning against your lips. Slowly moving forwards you leaned in to kiss him, only to get rejected with his leg beginning to bump up and down.

‘Silly girl, you don’t get kisses, you earn them.’ He snickered at his remark as you slung your arms around his neck, pussy getting humped by the feeling of his skin underneath you. The narrow bone in his leg hitting your every spot as your head already began to swing back mouth gaping open as you silently moaned. Tits moving frantically up and down through your shirt as you felt yourself almost break a sweat from the pressure.

‘Gojo…’ you breathed, eyes falling down to connect w his as you once again moved towards his lips, only to merely hover over them. Body practically begging for some more attention as you moved yourself further up his thigh, rutting against his leg for some sort of release.

‘Gojo? Nah baby say my real name…’

‘Daddy please- I’m gonna cum- need you…’ you pleaded lips trembling at the thought of you wanting to latch onto him so bad. Suddenly his tongue swiped yours and that’s when you granted your entrance. A moan spilling straight into his mouth as soon as you came all over his leg, liquids spilling straight down him as he continued to hump into you, over stimulating you as you greedily continued kissing him. Heavy breathing and groans shared between the two of you as he picked you up and laid you down on the counter, pantyless crotch on full display for his greedy eyes.

‘Told you baby, now I feel like I deserve a lil’ apology hm?’

Your head swirled back into place as you looked up at him embarrassed for what on earth just happened.

‘Go on then, I’m waiting beautiful.’ You felt his hard cock tease your slit from beneath your shirt, your mouth starting to drool at the thought of his huge length pounding balls deep inside of you.

‘I-im sorry.’

An inch pushed inside of you, a moan leaving your lips as you got more and more excited at the idea of it all.

‘Sorry for what?’

‘Sorry for thinking you were wrong…’

Another inch narrowed inside of you.

‘And?’

‘And…a-ah..you know everything. My m-mighty ol’ step dad knows everythin’

Suddenly he slammed inside of you, a moan screaming out your mouth as his balls slapped against your ass, your legs being pushed towards your chest as he narrowed his tall figure to peer down at you, flushed lip from how hard you were biting down on it and lust blown eyes thrown to the back of your head at the feeling of him repeatedly hitting your clit.

‘Dadddyyyyy….fuckkkkk’ you stretched out, mouth blabbering nonsense at the feeling of his 8 inches knowing exactly where your g spot is.

A slap to your clothed tits had you wince, gojo mesmerised with how much they move from even you laying flat on your back.

‘Shit, gosh your so much better at this than your mother. Your sucking me right in.’ He grinned, teeth biting harshly on his bottom lip as his dimples beamed out of his cheeks, smirking at the way you drip around him.

‘Gnnnnna cummmmm….’ You slurred, head in a completely different mind space as gojos hands moved to grab your legs and wrap them around his neck, still balls deep inside of you sinking his teeth into a deep kiss with you. Your tongue lolling out the side in heat.

‘Yeah? Gonna cum for me hm? Fucking do it slut’

You both emptied out at the same time hollow fucking and slapping noises still filling the room as you could hear some of the semen drop onto the floor and drawers beneath you. Your chest rising up and down with every breath you take. That was by far the best sex you’ve ever had….

Who needs feminism after all?

[illwynd]

13, 17, and 19 for the writers thing!

:DDD!!!

13

already answered!

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

ohoho. OK, are we doing LMD for this?

fun fact it started its life as a bingo prompt for "self-cest." Want the first extremely rough draft?

---

Loki returns from the dead and he finds that Thor has gotten Stark’s help to create an AI Loki. He’s creeped out. He wants to know what Thor did with it. He’s torn--he loves his brother, has been in love with him for centuries and never said a word. He’s still scarred from how Thor turned away from him during Ragnarok. This… life-model decoy of him. Loki finds it in his brother’s apartment, and it clearly has enough intelligence to know who he is. But it also clearly was not programmed for this circumstance, because it answers his questions. “What does Thor do with you? Why did he make you?” It tells him that Thor comes home and wants Loki to hold him. He has this Loki stroke his hair, braid it. “And after that?” “He fucks me. Or sometimes I fuck him.” “Tell me.” It tells him how Thor makes love. It tells him how, sometimes, Thor asks him to shift his form to so that he can be impregnated. “He particularly likes to spill inside me then, and he burbles how we will have such wonderful children. He lies with his ear to my belly, with his seed still dripping from my quim, and says how much he wants to make a family with me.” 

Loki is shivering, horrified. His eyes burn with tears that he won’t let fall. “But he left me behind. He turned his back on me.” 

“He mourns you. I comfort him. He says often how he regrets that he ever spoke unkindly to you. He tells me stories of your childhood and all the ways he wishes he had been a better brother to you.”

Loki starts crying and the LMD holds him, kisses him, wipes away his tears. Loki realizes--of course Thor loves this false version of him. It gives care rather than taking. It is good, not a selfish, hungry, wretched monster like him. It looks like him. It doesn’t act like him. 

“He’ll be so happy to have you back,” it says.

Loki realizes it’s crying too. 

“What use will he have for me when his brother is returned to his arms?” it says, when Loki demands to know why. It gives him a sad smile and kisses him again. 

“He doesn’t love me,” Loki says. “He loves the idea of me. He loves what he wishes I were.”

“He doesn’t love me,” the LMD says. “He loves you.”

This time, when it kisses him, Loki kisses back. 

They are both lost.

---

so yeah it grew a plot and a bunch of other stuff, there is a particular SF story that helped with that and a particular song that shaped where it ultimately went. but you can spot several points where it stayed the same from that early premise too.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I don't remember a time before it. Before I could actually, physically write, my folks handed me a tape recorder, and (I think?) somewhere there is still a recording of me sitting by myself at like 3 or 4 years old, telling stories to the recorder (last time I heard it... boy. little kids are fuckin bizarre).

When I was in 2nd grade, there was some daily handwriting assignment and I turned it into a serial story that I read to my classmates. Imagine a Hobbit ripoff as told by a 7-year-old. The class was enthralled. There were terrible puns.

By high school I knew it was what I wanted to do with my life. My folks told me not to count on making a living at it, that I would surely never get so lucky, that I was definitely not good enough for that. I wish I could have blocked that out entirely.

In the early aughts was the first time I really got into online fanfic, and it was exactly what I needed. No gatekeepers to deal with. You could just do away with all the crap. Nothing but the story and any readers who happened to find it. An early fandom or two, random message boards and sites. Then LJ, and LotR fandom, drabble challenges to hone the heck out of your prose, and dipping a toe into longer fics. Then... Thor fandom. The kinkmeme. It was like all the right things coming together in a perfect moment. People who wanted to read the sort of thing I wanted to write. The first novel I ever wrote---and serially published, no less!---FaYF. The rise of AO3 and tumblr. My undergrad in writing was somewhere in there too but honestly fic was the main part of it so. yeah.

where am i now and where am i going? i'm where i'm at. where am i going? i'll find out when i get there.

(for the writer meme)

[hello-nichya-here]

A bit silly: what if both Azula and Zuko were the Avatar?

All I can think about is:

1 - Does it count as self-cest since all Avatars are the same person?

2 - Can they have sex with each other in the Avatar state?

3 - If they CAN have sex in the Avatar state, is that masturbation, regular sex, an orgy, or all three?