#so you give them your blessing to go and fuck it out of their systems somewhere else

[zhoudadudugongjin]

'For Xuande and Zilong parting was difficult, and they held onto one another tearfully in their reluctance to be separated. "I thought Gongsun Zan was a true hero," Zilong sighed, "but now I see I was wrong. His conduct today befits a Yuan Shao!" "Bear up and serve him well for now," Xuande said. "Time will bring us together again."'

Romance of the Three Kingdoms - Luo Guanzhong

[wriokitty]

The heater’s out. December’s cold is unforgiving as it seeps between the cracks of your doors and through the windows, forcing you to huddle closer.

Sukuna grunts as your freezing, icy feet press against his calves. “Your feet are fuckin’ cold. Get’em off.”

“No,” you whine, “You’re warm.”

Just to prove your point, you press them harder against his skin, making him hiss in irritation. “Quit it! It’s fucking freezing.”

“Yeah? Why are you wearing nothing but boxers in this cold, then?” You challenge, raising a brow as if you’ve sufficiently turned the tables on him. He glares at you—a bit cutely at that, given that his tussled hair and the blanket tucked beneath his chin both make him look far less intimidating than he hopes.

He pulls his legs away as he mutters, “Because I’m too used to sleeping like this.”

Your feet follow them as they move away from you, pressing them against his heated skin once more stubbornly. “To used to what, sleeping half naked? I wonder what that says about you.”

Money has been tighter. Enough that when you and Sukuna shower together, it really is to save water and not as an excuse for…well, other things. You don’t buy your little goods from the bakery on your way home sometimes anymore. He doesn’t go through his cigarette packs as quickly when stocking up on more isn’t as simple as it used to be. Things aren’t as easy as they used to be, but never hard.

It’s never hard with Sukuna.

Sure, the heater’s out. And December feels like a harsh, unrelenting reminder of that. The apartment is cold, but Sukuna is warmer, so maybe, when you count your blessings, you’re not doing all too bad.

“We should get the damn heating system fixed,” you say softly, smiling as he curls under the blanket further. He glowers over the edge of the comforter, just the tip of his nose peeking out as his muffled reply comes.

“Yeah, as if I hadn’t already thought of that. We ain’t got the funds, idiot.”

“Maybe I can pick up a few more shifts,” you murmur. He frowns at that—because really, that means more late nights where you’re not home where you should be. Safe and sound and not out there.

“Nah,” he mutters, clicking his teeth. You fight back a grin as he pulls you closer and tangles his legs with yours, grimacing when your painfully icy toes torment his poor legs again. This time he lets you, though. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s okay. You should use your money to get some clothes, or something. Sleeping naked in winter is not doing you any favors,” you giggle cheekily.

He raises a brow—that familiar, smug, almost nauseatingly handsome smile erupts across his lips as he chuckles lowly. “Yeah? You’re sayin’ you don’t appreciate the view?”

“Well, I guess that would be a pretty harsh loss,” you sigh deeply, pretending to wipe a tear. He rolls his eyes. You wink slyly. Heat trickles along your body from under your ribcage where the heating system could never reach.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” He says gruffly, and a large hand comes to grab your face gently and press your cheeks together. Your puffed up lips make him crack a small smile.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning (as much as you can through squeezed cheeks) before offering a muffled reply of, “I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“More like on my deathbed,” he snorts.

You don’t answer—it’s too cold to think of a reply right away.

You let out an involuntary shiver as a small wave of frigid, chilly air breezes through the room. You shuffle closer, and his arms are wide and open and waiting. He smells like cologne and coming home. Feels like warm flesh and your favorite place. You lean in and kiss him to share your body heat, pressing your lips against his and letting his tongue invade your mouth briefly. He tastes like mint mingled with cigarette smoke and oddly enough, that’s all you need.

“We kind of suck at this adulting thing,” you whisper as you pull away.

“What gives you that idea?” He hums as rough, callused fingers stroke the skin of your back under your shirt. You shiver again—this time from heat igniting your skin instead of the cold, though.

“We can hardly afford to stay warm,” you shake your head, “What does that say about us?”

“That we’re victims of this stupid fuckin’ economy. They should compensate us for our suffering.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You’re cold, but not devoid of heat. Sukuna is warm, and so are your toes against his calves, and so is that place in your chest that happens to do a squeeze here and there. You think it might be your heart—think he may have found his way to that weird, necessary organ in your body that keeps you going. But the difference is now that he’s here, you’re alive and not just living.

And yeah, the heater’s out. December is as cold as it is every year, and nothing’s going to change that. You can’t make yourself warmer, but you can be cold with Sukuna. That’s more than enough to make things bearable.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you offer, batting your lashes sweetly. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his cheeks in a flurry of kisses.

His face does a small, red flush.

“Quit it,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean it because his arms grip your hips tighter as if to keep you firmly in place. Right there where you are and where you belong and where he needs you to be.

You shouldn’t be anywhere else but here, keeping his body warm in this sorely harsh weather.

“Why? It’s already working—you’re overheating,” you tease.

He pulls the blanket up and between your faces to create a barrier as you come in for the next kiss, and when you laugh, bright and warm, he forgets he was ever cold.

————————————

Wrote this bc my place is freezing. Not because the heater is broken though it’s just because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and turn the heat up so I am suffering the same problem yes, but I do have a solution. That doesn’t mean the solution will be used though. I fear I am but just a girl

[themultifanshipper]

Hi there! I just found your blog and I’ve been binge reading everything 😅 it’s soooo good!

Could I request a Charlos x pregnant!reader threesome fic? Maybe she’s about 5 months along and insatiably horny lol 🫣 and at some point Charles eats her out while she cockwarms Carlos and they just tease her a lot and overstimulate her. Thanks!!❤️

Charles and Carlos categorically refused to fuck you, because they were terrified (bless them) of somehow harming the baby.  

This lasted almost five whole months before they cracked. 

Warnings: smut, fluff, cock warming, oral, face sitting, mention of sex-tapes, anal (mxm) bottom carlos, top charles, some pregnancy jargon cus I added a load of fluffy plot, not proofread

You were coming up to your 18 week check up, and despite the doctor telling you that sex was fine as long as it wasn’t too rough or exhausting, they were adamant. Paranoid even. 

No sex until after the baby comes. You were spiteful, and assured them they wouldn’t last nine months, and they were stubborn, countering with the fact that they could get each other off if they got needy. 

So that’s how it went, when you were out, they’d fuck.  

And you thought it was only fair that when you were alone in the house, you got to have some fun on your own. 

That system worked perfectly well for four months. 

Carlos had come back early and found you like that, spread out and exposed on the couch. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your fingers pumping in and out of you obscenely. 

That is, until Carlos accidentally walked in on you one day, getting off to something on your phone while they were supposed to be out on errands. 

You didn’t even care at this point, you just looked at him meanly and said something along the lines of “Well how am I supposed to get off if you and Charles refuse to do it, hmm?” 

So he leaned against the doorframe and watched you, with a sly smirk. If you’d been doing this the whole time, then maybe it wasn’t harmful after all. 

He watched you writhe in pleasure, back arching and fingers rubbing harsh circles on your clit as you reached your peak. 

“Want to know what I was watching?” your devilish smile drew him in, he was intrigued for sure. 

Carlos had to admit, it was intoxicating. 

He knew what it was as soon as he caught a glimpse of the screen. He groaned and rolled his eyes, sitting next to you on the couch. 

“Our sex tape? You are going to kill me, amor” he smiled, giving you a sweet peck on the cheek as you giggled. 

“I’m barely half way through you know...” you purred, leaning into him “Do you want to watch the rest with me?” 

He bit his lip, thinking about the rest of the video and how he riled up he knew would get if he did watch it with you. 

“Okay, but I want you on my lap and my cock inside you, no moving” 

Your breath hitched, surprised that he gave in so quickly, and you quickly got into position. The feeling of his cock sliding into you for the first time in nearly five months was insane. You whimpered, leaning your head back on his shoulder as you slumped into his chest. 

“Come on, baby. Let’s watch it.” he teased, fingers running along your inner thighs and teasing your folds “or are you too distracted now?” 

You could hear the satisfied smirk in his voice. 

That’s how Charles found you. 

You grabbed your phone and clenched purposefully around him, making him grunt. “We’ll see who’s fucking distracted...” 

You’d managed to connect your phone to the TV, and it was playing a different sex-tape to the one before. This one was on Charles’ yacht and he recognised the noises instantly all the way down the hall, which led him to almost trip up in his haste to get to the source of the sound. 

That’s when he saw you, writhing on Carlos’s cock while the older man played with your clit lazily. 

“Well this is a surprise” he laughed “what is the occasion?” 

“Our girl was feeling needy” Carlos responded smoothly, “I caught her watching our tapes. We seem to have been neglecting her” 

Charles came over to you, kneeling between your legs and batted Carlos' hand away. 

“Well we'd better make it up to you” he muttered breathlessly, looking up at you with that infuriating smirk. 

He leaned in and licked over the base of Carlos' cock, up to your clit and you let out a choked moan. 

“So sensitive” he swirled his tongue around your clit teasingly and Carlos tensed when he felt you flutter around him. 

“I think she's close, Charles” he gasped. 

Charles could hear the strain in his voice, and he didn't blame him. 

His cock was buried in your cunt after being denied it for months, so it was understandable that he would be just as much on edge as you were. 

So Charles took it upon himself to make you both come with his mouth. 

And he knew exactly how to unravel you both. 

He focused on you first, getting you right to the edge, tightening around Carlos as he squirmed under you. 

He then went lower, flattening his tongue to stimulate Carlos' cock before running it over the older man's balls. 

That got a reaction out of him. 

His hips jolted as he moaned, tightening his hold on your hips and that made you whimper and buck your own. 

The two of you were so sensitive it only took a few more passes of his tongue before you were coming around Carlos, and while you milked him, Charles sucked a finger into his mouth and slipped it into Carlos' exposed hole. 

The pornographic moans coming from both you and Carlos were music to his ears as he carried on until you were trembling in overstimulation. 

He got to two fingers inside Carlos before the older man had regained enough brain cells to ask him what he was doing. 

“You are going to clean your cum out of her, while I come inside you” he declared nonchalantly. 

“Charles…” you panted “I don't know if I can do another one” 

He chuckled “Of course you can, Carlos needs to make up for the last few months” 

He pulled his fingers out and helped you reposition yourselves, with Carlos laying down and you hovering over his face, his cum already dripping down your thighs. 

Carlos wasted no time devouring you, and given that you were facing Charles, you could see the hunger in his eyes as he stared right at you while thrusting into Carlos. 

You leaned in to kiss him, and it quickly turned sloppy when he lost himself in feeling of Carlos clenching around him. 

You whined in overstimulation as you approached your third orgasm, and you reached up to pull Charles' head back by his hair roughly. 

You could see the arousal in his expression as he growled at the rough treatment (that you knew he loved). 

“Fuck him harder” you muttered against his lips and he smirked before slamming into Carlos even harder than before. 

The older man groaned between your thighs, the vibration getting you even closer, so you glanced down at his leaking cock, and took it into your hand to help him along. 

It didn't take long for any of you to come. 

Later, while you all cuddled in bed after a nice long shower, Carlos stroked your growing belly and asked “When is your next check up?” 

You hadn't been in this kind of situation for months and you realised you had missed it more than you thought as you all groaned and moaned into each other as the waves of your respective highs crashed over you. 

You squeezed his hand and giggled at Charles's face, which was squished into the pillows next to you while he snored gently. 

“In a few days, why?” 

Early on in the pregnancy they announced that they didn’t want to know the sex of the baby. Which was fine. 

But you did. So you just agreed with them that you would always go alone, or at least until you weren’t able to do so anymore. 

“Just wondering” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your cheek “Will you finally get to know what the baby will be?” 

You bit your lip nervously. 

A little secret had been eating away at you for some time now. 

You didn't know the sex yet, because at your last check up the doctor couldn't tell yet. 

But what they could tell, and what you had known for a while, was that there was more than one baby inside you. 

You were having twins. 

And with all three of you having busy schedules, you'd never really found the time or energy to sit them down and tell them about it. 

But after this check up, it was time. You could always bullshit and say that you didn't know before, given that they'd never been with you and they probably didn't know much about pregnancy dates anyway. 

“Yeah, I will. Do you want me to tell you, then?” 

“No… I want it to be a surprise” 

You huffed out a giggle.  

Yeah… he was going to get a surprise on Friday no matter what. 

Friday came, and the sex was revealed. 

… 

Or rather… sexes. 

You cried (of happiness) when the doctor told you. You already knew you were having fraternal twins, but… 

A boy and a girl. You were elated. 

And as if that wasn't enough news. There was something else. 

The doctor told you about something called heteropaternal superfecundation. 

It all sounded greek to you, but apparently with fraternal twins, it was possible for them to have two different fathers. 

The doctor knew about your… relationship situation, and told you it was rare, but possible, and that you might like to know and maybe tell Charles and Carlos about it. 

You were so excited, you rushed home and waited. You sat on the couch patiently and sent a text in your three-way group chat. 

“I have some (good) news for you when you get home” 

Charles got home first, and sat down next to you, leg bouncing as he tried to contain his excitement. 

“Do you know the sex?” 

“Yup” you teased. 

“And that's not the big news?” 

“Nope” you took a sip of water. 

Carlos arrived, slightly less excited because he was confused about your message. 

“How can you have news that's not the sex? Is something wrong with the baby?” 

You shushed him before he could go any further, and beckoned him over to sit next to Charles on the couch. 

“That's the first piece of news” you started calmly “There's nothing wrong with the baby, but… it's not a baby. It's two babies” 

Their jaws dropped and they screeched. 

“TWINS?”  

“OH MY GOD”  

“WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?!” 

“WE ARE HAVING FUCKING TWINS?!” 

“TWO BABIES!!!” 

You laughed as they jumped off the couch to hug you tightly. 

“But what's the second piece of news?” Charles asked once they had calmed down a bit. 

“Well… first of all, they are fraternal twins. So there's that”  

They blinked and you giggled at their clueless expressions. 

“You know, like they're not real twins. Not identical” 

They nodded slowly. You could feel the tension as they waited for your next sentence. 

“Which means there is a tiny, miniscule chance…” 

Charles eyes widened a fraction as he understood what you were about to say. 

“That they could be from different fathers” 

Carlos gasped. 

Charles just slumped backwards on the couch in shock. 

They were at a loss for words. 

You took a deep breath. 

“Charles, Carlos. Do you want to know the sex?” 

You knew Charles did, but was holding back because Carlos thought it was bad luck to know before the birth. 

But you'd softened them up with the previous news so Charles caved immediately, and Carlos took a minute to mull it over before the excitement got to him, and he agreed. 

You took their hands in yours and smiled at them, biting your lip in excitement. 

“It's a boy and a girl” you rushed out and they both started screaming again with tears in their eyes. 

They jumped up and started hugging as they bounced around the room, yelling in excitement. 

You watched them, giggling at their antics as they essentially got the zoomies for 5 good minutes before you could get another word in. 

A few years later, you thought back to that night, and the reaction that the two men had had. The pure joy and excitement.

… 

You were at the beach during summer break, having a cocktail on a sun lounger while the kids played in the water, supervised by their dads. 

After a while you called them over for a snack, and watched as each of your boyfriends picked up a child and carried them over. 

Even during the pregnancy, you knew in your heart that you were carrying both of their kids even though it couldn’t be confirmed at the time. 

But now as you looked at them it was painfully obvious. 

In Charles' arms was a little boy, with tanned skin and deep brown eyes, that always giggled at all of his dad's silly jokes. 

You'd carried them in your womb for nine months, making you suffer, and they turned out to be the spitting images of their fucking fathers. 

And in Carlos' arms, a little girl with lighter hair, and the most beautiful ocean eyes you'd ever seen. 

[makeyoumine69]

Daddy Patrick going down on us, pretty please!🤭

Daddy Knows Best 3.0

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Patrick wakes you up in the best possible way (in his opinion, hehe).

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Smut, Daddy kink, oral sex (pussy eating and a bit of rimming), body worship, mild somnophilia, established relationships, fingering, Patrick is obsessed af, finger sucking, nipple play, hair pulling (Patrick receiving), dirty talk, pet names.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 1.7k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: London Boys—I’m Gonna Give My Heart

𝐀/𝐍: Hey guys! This was supposed to be a drabble, but then…well, I guess I went back to my Daddy Kink era, lmao. I hope you enjoy it! I have several drabbles in my drafts related to Daddy kink, so I will probably spam with them in the near future!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [Daddy Knows Best 1.0]; [Daddy Knows Best 2.0].

The last day at work was pure hell, you were so tired and exhausted that when you got back to Bateman's apartment you blacked out too fast. You didn't even remember if you had sex or not.

Maybe you did, maybe you didn't, but knowing Patrick, you wouldn't be surprised if he used your exhausted state to his advantage, since he was definitely into things like Somnophilia. And what about that night when you suddenly felt dizzy after the glass of wine he gave you?

Too many questions without answers, but that's how it worked when you were involved with a man like Patrick Bateman—he kept you on your toes almost all the time and somehow you even started to love it, but it wasn't really easy to admit that.

The first rays of sunlight of that Saturday morning pierced through the blinders and cast soft shadows over your sleeping form. Bateman's bedroom looked immaculate as always, everything in its place, the white walls now painted a golden hue by the sun. You were deep in sleep, wrapped in a blanket, unaware that Patrick, who had been awake for a long time and you hadn't even heard his alarm, had already finished his morning routine, including his workout and a brisk shower. Now his attention was all on you, on the way your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the curve of your hips so fucking alluring that he couldn't resist touching them through the blanket.

A soft purr escaped your parted lips, but you were still asleep. Even when he slowly pulled the blanket down, exposing your barely covered form, you didn't wake up, which only made things more exciting for him. With a mischievous grin, the man watched as you involuntarily rolled onto your back and that was the perfect opportunity for him to dive between your legs as he lay at your feet, stroking your ankles and then your shins as gently as he could. Bateman didn't really want to wake you—not yet. Inflamed, he carefully made you spread your thighs wider, as if you were doing it on your own, without his help. Patrick wanted to believe that even in your sleep you belonged only to him, that every little fiber of you was his to crave, to possess, to ruin. He wanted to believe that, no matter how delusional his fantasies were.

"Mmm..." You suddenly gasped, your hands sliding along the smooth sheets beneath you, his eyes already fixed on your still relaxed face.

Fuck, you looked so sexy. 

Bateman could enjoy just watching you sleeping like this, but the nagging sensation in his gut was something he couldn't ignore—he had to feed it to keep himself from burning out from the fire blazing in his system. At a certain point, the man noticed that his own breathing was getting faster and faster, his control was still there, but the urge to just rip that transparent nightgown you were wearing was threatening to overwhelm him. 

Shit. This wasn't as easy as it was with other women. You were different and he hated himself for letting you affect him in such a way that he was now really nervous of doing something that would ruin his perfectly crafted façade of a gentleman. A boy-next-door vibe that was both his curse and his blessing.

But here he was, lying between your legs, his hands slowly caressing your thighs until he finally leaned down to plant a lingering kiss on your mound, then bending lower until he had to pull up the hem of your nightgown so he could feel your warm skin. The moment his tongue touched your delicate petals, you arched your back like a bowstring and somehow your hands found their way to his head between your thighs. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes and took a deep breath before looking down to see him pressing his face into you, breathing in your scent. At first you couldn't believe what you had just seen. Perhaps you were still dreaming?

"Patrick," you whispered his name and he kissed your sensitive clit in response. "Am I dreaming?"

Patrick smirked smugly, barely holding back a titter. "And what if you are?" His hot breath tickled your skin whenever he spoke. "Shall I wake you up?"

"No," you replied faster than you could think. "Please, go on."

"Please...?"

You smiled shyly and closed your eyes again. "Please, Daddy."

The second Bateman was about to call you his good girl, he stopped, thinking he had used that nickname too often. Instead, he decided to use the language of action. Without further ado, he plunged his tongue into your lascivious pussy, the taste hitting him hard— it sent shock waves through his body, he could feel the tension forming at the base of his balls. But right now he couldn't concentrate on anything but you.

As he lapped at your now wet cunt, Patrick had to hold your legs open as you convulsed, literally writhing on the bed at how masterfully he was eating you out. Knowing when to lick, when to suck, when to kiss, when to nip.

"A-ahhh-Daddy," your voice was about to burst from the excitement. Bateman didn't hesitate and only intensified his actions, taking your little nub into his hot mouth and sucking it rhythmically with that slurping sound that set you ablaze. "More... I need more..."

What an insatiable little whore you were, he thought, but complied, little did he know that your desperation was just the perfect tool to manipulate him. Bateman might be a good manipulator, using his charm to get what he wanted, but you were no different. For you knew that YOU were his weakest point. Whether he denied it or not didn't matter.

When he suddenly pulled away from you, only to lift your hips a little to give your asshole a quick lick, you wiggled in his grasp, feeling embarrassed, and the man didn't press further, returning to his previous position to continue playing with your throbbing clit. As he huffed against your slit, his face became more flushed than ever, his brown hair was nothing but a mess and he didn't even care if you pulled too hard at times, knowing you were so close to exploding right in his face. He could also read it from the way your legs were shaking, and when he decided to put them on his shoulders, you moaned even louder, prompting him to use one of his thumbs as a pacifier as he pushed it into your mouth. 

Whimpering around his finger, you sucked on it with all your might, feeling the coil in your core about to snap as your hands were busy tugging at his disheveled hair. You didn't even realize you were bucking your hips against his face, desperately anticipating the release that was about to wash over you like a waterfall. 

It was exhilarating and terrifying. Like an unstable element that could not be controlled.

"Fuck, you're so hot," the man murmured into your soaped pussy, now using his fingers to make you cum. First he pushed one finger in, then added another, curling them to massage the spongy spot. "So wet, mhm-mm you make Daddy so proud," oh God, his raspy voice was your personal turn-on. The depth of it, the velvety timbre, the vibration cursing through your bundle of nerves, it was getting too much. "But now... I want you to gimme everything you've got, sweetcheeks. Everything! Will you do it for Daddy?"

Damn, Bateman could be so persuasive sometimes. So demanding. Especially when he used his mouth like this, his digits knuckled deep into your pulsating cleft as he massaged you from the inside, lifting his hazel eyes to your tensed face from time to time as he wanted to witness you unraveling for him. 

Trembling, you almost bit his thumb as he cupped the soft mound of your breast, twisting your hard nipple between his wet fingers with calculated precision. After giving your blushing bud several wet strokes with his tongue, he suddenly pressed his perfectly shaped nose against it to nuzzle it. And that friction eventually helped you fall over the edge, and as you climaxed you froze in a silent scream, your head tilted back, your toes curled, and you had to claw at your own skin from the surging waves of pleasure. 

In fact, you just died and came back to life.

Patrick stopped only after he had cleaned every last ounce of your cum, savoring its taste and licking it off his fingers. Gasping for air, you tried to catch the sight of him with your disoriented gaze. The red tint that painted his cheeks, neck, shoulders and chest looked so sexy on him. 

In the blink of an eye, you sat down on the bed to get closer to him. Bateman didn't flinch, intrigued by your sudden audacity, and you didn't hesitate to trace a wet line across his rapidly rising chest. A lick, then another more tantalizing one that started between his toned pecs and went down to his happy trail, but then he stopped you.

"Uh, uh," he urged, pressing a finger to your lips. "I'm not playing these games with you."

Smirking, you gave him your most innocent look as you peered at him from under your lashes. "I just want to return the favor...you made me feel so good, Daddy. So, so good!"

The sly, fox-like smile that played across your face was both provocative and sophisticated, but it compelled the man to let you have your way only out of interest—he reassured himself. Nothing serious, he could swear. 

Wait, was he losing it already?

"Oh, that's really sweet of you," Bateman crooned, grinning brightly. "And how exactly do you want to do it?"

"Just lie down," you pointed to the spot next to you. "And I will take care of you."

Squinting, the man took a moment to assess the situation, for something was gnawing at him. Not that he thought you were capable of anything...anything of HIS style, but your sudden boldness was something new. Or maybe he just hadn't noticed that this boldness had always been there?

[To be continued...]

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[chvoswxtch]

like a prayer

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: you want matt for dessert.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: I haven't written for our favorite dumbass in awhile, and after finishing another rewatch of dd, he was heavy on the brain (pun intended). this song came on the other day and I immediately thought of matty, so here we are.

word count: 1k

i’m down on my knees / i can take you there

Matt hadn’t even had a chance to shut the front door to his apartment behind himself before you were pushing him up against the wall, claiming his mouth in a deeply sensual kiss, blindly fumbling with the buckle of his belt. His cane slipped from his right hand, falling to the floor with a loud clatter that echoed in his silent apartment, and the dessert you’d gotten to go was also long forgotten, haphazardly tossed onto the side table in the entryway so Matt’s hands could find their home on your waist instead.

Before Matt’s brain could even catch up to what was happening, you’d pushed his pants and briefs halfway down his muscular thighs and sank down to your knees below him. The second the warmth of your mouth enveloped the sensitive head of his cock, Matt’s jaw went slack, and his head fell back against the wall behind him with a soft thud.

Instantly, every single one of his senses was completely overwhelmed. Your soft hands grasped onto his thighs and he shivered feeling a chilled raindrop that had been lingering on your knuckle slip down onto his heated skin. The bold scent of espresso in the tiramisu that had been abandoned on the side table was overpowered by the fragrance of arousal seeping through the thin cotton material of your panties. That combined with the aroma of your warm spicy perfume intermingled with remnants of fresh rain, and the natural scent of your skin that was just uniquely you, was knocking Matt out of equilibrium.

Matt’s fingers slipped into your roots, tangling into your tresses to give them a gentle tug while a soft grunt tore from his throat. Your tongue felt like velvet gliding along the underside of his cock, flicking over a pulsating vein, swirling around the tip in a slow and seductive manner. Matt was a giver, but God, so were you. The way you took your time and savored the taste of him and the feeling of his heavy cock against your eager tongue was torturous in the most tantalizing way. Your mouth was just as warm and wet as your cunt, and sometimes Matt struggled to decide which one he preferred being inside of.

He couldn’t stop himself from tenuously shifting his hips forward, slipping a few more inches of himself past your welcoming lips. The way you moaned around him had him shuddering, and he whimpered at the way the vibrations of your own pleasure traveled throughout his entire nervous system, causing his toes to curl in his shoes. He gripped harder at your roots, earning another erotic moan from deep within your chest, and even though Catholic guilt was practically embedded in his DNA, the raw hedonistic desire he felt was far more powerful, and you didn’t seem to mind that he was taking over to subtly fuck your mouth. 

God, your mouth felt like pure heaven. Matt knew he didn’t deserve to be let through the pearly gates of your soft lips. He was a sinner, and he didn’t deserve to be blessed and absolved by the saliva coating his cock and dribbling down your chin. Only an angel as sweet as you would welcome the Devil somewhere he had been banished from. Matt’s moans were growing in volume the closer he got to gratification. He was being selfish, God he was being so fucking selfish right now, taking complete advantage of your selflessness, but your pussy was practically dripping onto the floorboards beneath you, and he could taste just how much you enjoyed having his cock in your mouth on his own tongue. 

You wanted this. You wanted him. And Matt couldn’t deny you if he tried. If you wanted the moon and Saturn, and every single star in the sky, he’d find a way to get them for you. 

Matt’s mind was blank. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own labored breathing and racing heartbeat, your soft moans of raw enjoyment, and the way the material of your soaked panties rubbed along your wet folds when you shuffled closer on your knees. Feeling his tip reach the back of your throat and your nose flush against his pubic bone, he began to recite a prayer of your name, loud enough for the entire building to hear. The muscles in his lower abdomen tightened and contracted, and if the wall behind him hadn’t been supporting the burden of his body weight, he would’ve collapsed and joined you on his own knees right then.

His hips stuttered as wave after wave of his gratitude coated the back of your throat, which you were all too eager to welcome, swallowing every drop of his generous offering. Matt let go of your hair, opting to hold the back of your head gently instead, using you as an anchor to tether himself to avoid getting lost in sensory overload. He let out a desperate whimper when your warm mouth escaped him, exposing his softened cock to the drastic change in temperature in his apartment that had goosebumps spreading along his bare flesh. He was panting heavily, like he’d been trapped under a current and had finally breached the surface in search of oxygen.

With his senses so overwhelmed, he didn’t notice that you’d risen from your knees, and his body jolted in surprise when he felt your soft hands caressing his scruffy cheeks. He immediately encircled his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, burying his face into your neck to inhale your scent deeply. He needed to ground himself. He needed you. A soft noise of appreciation sounded in the back of his throat when your fingers slipped into his hair, your nails faintly scratching at his scalp in a way that had him faintly moaning into the juncture of your neck where your throat met your collarbone. Your breath was warm against the shell of his ear, and despite how heated his skin was at the moment, your sultry whisper sent a shiver down his spine.

“Ready for dessert now, baby?”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover  @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejloveb0t @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts @starsm00n @mentallyunstablebish @spiritofthewriter @merleisapartygod @powellssaturn @geeksareunique @urlocalgeek

[k0nanharv3y]

OKAY I CANNOT LET THIS DIE

Robin Hood AU

Part 1 of this bullshit

"Hero? Villain? or misunderstood mind?", "Has he done more good for Gotham than its own inhabitants? What Wayne has to say about it", "The reality of the situation; Statistics of the recent attacks on Wayne Enterprise and Gotham City"

Tim didn't read the newspaper, it was boring, he didn't like it and he didn't have time to read the latest gossip from Gotham when he was most likely there. And he didn't need a piece of paper for that, that was contamination, he could get all the information he needed with just one search. So, yeah, Tim didn't read the newspaper

But then Riddle was imprisoned without even knowing it thanks to the newspaper and so Tim set himself the task of checking every single newspaper that ever mentioned him. And damn... Reddit was a thing when it came to twisting things, but this? This is blatant show-telling

Some called him a villain who didn't know how to do his job (in the first cases, really understandable, Tim barely knew what he was doing), but he had never set out to harm Gotham and apparently some people got angry...? Because... because he didn't kill anyone? (Joker doesn't count, he wasn't anybody) ...???. Others dared to lump him in with the Bats (And God bless the spilled coffee he spat out while choking reading that) saying how come; Apparently Tim was seen as a good guy and the explosions and cyber attacks on Wayne Enterprises had not been him but another rogue who was defeated by Tim???. But the others called it "The Evolution of Batman" and refuted his statistics. Batman's way was to go out and beat them until they calmed down, Tim's way was to cut them off at the root (Joker exploding in a building was nothing more than poetry. But the trafficking networks were eradicated by giving legal and stable jobs to those who distributed it, Tim didn't take their lives, not the literal ones at least, Tim changed them)

He finished high school early and dedicated himself to helping Gotham. It wasn't even illegal (stealing from the rich isn't illegal, their mere existence is illegal and unjust) Tim wasn't a villain, the citizens of Gotham seemed to love him just like they loved Batman; and if some building had to be blown up, at least nobody lived there and it was only to piss off the Bats

Batman's attempts to stop him seemed to cease... But Tim was greedy once... just once, and that led him to mess with forces he couldn't control. And then there was a price on his head, and Shiva and Deathstroke were after him. Because Ra's doesn't find it funny that a 14-year-old kid hacks into his systems and steals money to give to the poor. Shiva ended up being kind of... weird? She didn't kill him, but she threatened him that she would sooner or later, when Tim is a real threat to her (Tim learned to fight, thanks Shiva, but fuck it, it hurt) and Slade let him live because...??? I mean, he slit his throat and gave him enough trauma to last a lifetime, but he let him live... Tim doesn't think he's that lucky, this was already playing god

And then Ra's killed his mother

///

The irony is that Tim didn't WANT his mother, of course, she was his mother and he loved her deeply, but... it was like, a love out of responsibility, Tim was a child who was presented with, look, these are your parents and you must love them and respect them because they are your parents. That Janet's death hurt him so much... it was more a matter of pride, Tim didn't want revenge because Ra's killed his mother, he wanted revenge because Ra's killed his mother

And now he wasn't going to stop Gotham from burning. He was going to create the fire for Ra's to burn with whatever it took

If Batman stopped him, he didn't care, Tim had nothing to lose. His mother was dead and Ra's would pay for it

///

This is... actually before Batman's death, but after Damian became Robin, I'm working on this as I write, I don't have anything planned so...

Someone: Oh! Plot Hole!

I throw a brick at them and make sure they don't move anymore

Me: You didn't see anything.

Part 3 because i forgot to mention it

Part 4 i just did it

Part 5 wth am I doing?

[tessasturns]

DIAL DRUNK

pairing... bsf!matt x fem!reader

summary... when you drunk call matt, he helps you get home safe.

warnings... swearing, fluff, drunk reader, tension, use of y/n, jealous bsf matt, throwing up (brief), slight cat calling, bsfs cuddling

divider credits… @issysh3ll

blessings and riches, tessa

(masterlist) (taglist)

“nah, i wont be drinking tonight.” you said to your friend who had offered you a drink.

that was you two hours ago, yet somehow you ended up completely wasted at some party.

you usually go everywhere with matt, the two of you have been attached at the hip since grade school.

however he’s not big on parties. otherwise, he would’ve been here with you, monitoring how much alcohol was in your system.

but he wasn’t, so you went out with your girls. the group was completely wasted, including you.

so what do you do? call matt, obviously. he picks up after a few rings.

“heyyy matt” you babble.

“hey, y’havin’ fun at your girls night?” he asks, knowing you’re probably drunk.

“mhm yeah… you should totallyyy be here matty, i miss you” you say. you were sitting on some random couch, your best friend next to you.

“kid, are you drunk?” he questions, knowing the outcome.

“noooo…” you say, not fooling anyone.

“alright, where are you? i’ll come pick you up” he tells you.

“uhhh somewhere downtown… you don’t need to pick me up! this really hot guy said he could take me home!” you say, too drunk to know his real intentions.

“absolutely not. drop your location, i’m coming.” he commands.

“ughhh you’re no fun!” you giggle. “fineee see you soon” you hang up the call and somehow manage to give matt your location.

matt walks into the party and sees you laying on the couch with your friend and some guy.

“y/n. we’re leaving.” he tells you, his voice raised to be coherent over the blasting music.

“oh, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend sugar” the guy says, standing up.

“no, he’s not my boyfriend” you babble, trying to repeat the guy’s motion of standing up but almost falling.

matt catches you and grabs your hand. “we’re goin’ back to mine, i’ll give you some extra clothes.”

“but i wanna stay here! i need some more drinks matttt” you whine.

“c’mon, let’s go back to mine pretty girl” the guy states, reaching out for your hand.

matt immediately slaps his hand away. some random guy flirting with his best friend? he hardly knew anything about her! he couldn’t let that slide.

“y’stay the fuck away from her, ‘ight? let’s go.” he takes you out of the party and into his car.

he opens the passenger door for you as you sit down. he leans over you to buckle your seatbelt, and man, do you love him.

you just stare at him as he does this, in complete awe.

“y’got a staring problem?” he chuckles as he ruffles his hand through your hair and closes the car door.

he walks over to the drivers side, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.

“how much have you had to drink?” he asks you. “uhhh like…” you didn’t actually know how much you had. “maybeee like six drinks?”

“six? and you’re this wasted? fuckin’ lightweight” he jokes. “shut up” you mumble, quietly laughing.

his hand lays on the center console, and you reach out and grab it. you trace your finger around his hand as if he were some antique painting.

he notices the small gesture, but just smiles and looks over at the road.

“matt” you say, breaking the silence.

“hm?”

“has anyone told you that you’re reallyyy good looking?” you giggle.

“ah thank you” he knew you were drunk and didn’t question the comment.

“no like you’re sooo pretty” you say. “do you have a girlfriend?”

his eyebrows raise at the bold question.

“you’re drunk, so im not answering that” you both chuckle at his response.

the rest of the car ride is drunk conversations and your random questions. once you get to matt’s place, he quietly walks you in, careful not to wake his brothers.

after a painful walk in the door and to matt’s room, he handed you clothes to change into.

“thanks” you say, taking them gratefully. an awkward tension rises in the room, the both of you unsure what to say. “can you like… uh leave so i can change please?”

“oh- oh right sorry” matt apologizes, leaving the room. you change into his clothes, stumbling into his bathroom.

you feel it- the alcohol, buzzing through your body at an uncomfortable pace. you feel it rush to your head, saliva filling your mouth.

you kneel in front of the toilet, matt rushing in and holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail while you puked.

he helped wipe your face after, lending you an extra toothbrush. he took you back to his room, leaving to get a glass of water and some makeup wipes.

he watches you as you’re sprawled out on the bed, giggling at something you said to yourself.

he smiles at you, his clothes against your figure making him unusually attracted to you. sure, he might’ve liked you more than a friend, but he loved seeing you in his clothes.

“drink some of this” he tells you, as you sit up against his headboard. you take a small sip, placing the glass on his nightstand.

“thank you matt, really. i love you” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and laying against his chest.

you slump into his grasp, being tired from the party prior to this. he grabs a makeup wipe, carefully swiping your makeup off.

he cautiously lifts your face, making sure you didn’t sleep in your makeup. he knew you were probably asleep, so he laid your head down on the pillow as he turned for the door.

“matt” you call out to the mere silhouette of the boy ahead of you.

“what’s up?” he turns to you.

“can you sleep here with me? pleaseee?” you beg as he hesitates.

“i-i don’t know-” ���please matt?” you say again. your friendship with matt was a little flirty, and cuddling wasn’t a first with the two of you.

“fine, but you better not throw up on me” he reluctantly agreed, climbing into bed. “promise i won’t” you smile, placing your head onto his chest.

his hand thoughtfully rubs your back, comforting you. although the two of you were ‘just friends’ he knew he shouldn’t feel this way about a friend. he knew he loved you, he just didn’t know how to tell you.

tessa’s notes… sorry this took like forever i’ve been sick😞 wanted to take a break from smut lowkey, feel free send me some reqs !!

taglist… @emely9274 @baileysturnz @sllutty-sturniolo @chrisspussygang

comment to be added or removed.

[shaisuki]

"fuck, princess. you will be the death of me."

the scar on the corner of his mouth moves as his lips twitches into a smirk. involuntarily licking his scar.

'hm?" you hum, looking at him with such curiosity. making your head tilt sideways like kittens do when trying to comprehend something.

"you're wearing my shirt, princess."

"yeah." you breath out. grabbing the hem of his white shirt. fully emphasizing that it is his what you are wearing. although a little bit tight to you.

he can see the your stomach stretching out his shirt and squished in between the rolls of your stomach. hardened nipples peeking through the confines of clothing. his dark emerald eyes drinking in the sight of you.

reaching the peak of domesticity and homely feeling running in his system.

his gorgeous, chubby wife. dressed in his clothes.

"i miss you so much and i thought wearing it would me feel less lonely." you explained, innocently fluttering your eyelashes at him with a gentle smile in your lips.

"miss me?" he asks, grabbing your soft jaw with his hands, squishing the flesh in them.

"yeah."

legs raised, your soft thick thighs pressing in your stomach while toji roughly drills his cock into your sopping wet cunt. his hands splayed besides you. gripping in the sheet while he got you pinned under him.

"t-toji..." you called his name. your whole body taking the blow of his desperate thrusts. every pound you take got your body shaking. toes curling, legs going numb. that call seem to fuel him more. grunting at the sound of his name coming from your pretty mouth.

he's insatiable. every thing you do drives him into an uncontrollable habit of fucking your brains out. he can't help but to think how an asshole like him bagging a woman like you. soft and sweet. so adoring to a scum like him and fuck you got the best pussy he ever had.

tightly wrapped around his huge cock. making every vein and skin drag throughout your velvety walls. sending you in the most numbing pleasure and him into overdrive.

you look so divine under him. the flesh in your stomach, creasing as it folded under toji's touch. the soft, pliable flesh jiggling at the rhythm of his thrusts. your breasts bouncing and your face. twisted into the euphoric feeling of him being inside you.

holding your cheek in his large hand while looking at your eyes. beautiful and full of life staring right back at him. lost in each others gaze while he truly makes love with you.

creamy, white liquid gushing around his length. making an obscene noise. the squelch and the "plap" sound continuously ringing in the room. skin hitting to each other.

"you going to cum, princess?" he whispers, in between licking your cheek and sucking your tongue.

"yes! make me cum, toji. please..." you beg, your fat cunt clenching around him tightly and toji gives in to you. pressing your thighs in your stomach before changing into an animalistic phase. so much, that it leave you breathless and mind hazy.

your cunt spasms around him. milking him for all it's worth and toji gave in. his balls tightening before exploding inside you. thick, hot spurts of his cum pumping inside you. making sure you will take it all and stays inside you. your cunt throbbing around him while he pumps you full of seed.

toji growls seeing your post-fucked out face. glowing so ethereal that he feels guilty leaving you alone in this home you created for him. a safe haven for a man like him.

"i love you, toji." you said. grabbing his face and pulling him closer to you. kissing his lips with such tenderness and toji returns it with such want and neediness.

"i love you too." kissing your nose and you giggle. the sound of your laughter making his cock hardening again and your cunt clenching. toji moves your thighs, placing it beside his torso and he's into it again.

worshipping his blessing who have taken in the shape of you.

[adilynnyuri]

Hello yuri! I'm the one who asked you about revising my father's death. First of all, Thankyou so much for answering me and supporting me! I feel much better than earlier when I affirm for his aliveness but still I get triggered sometimes by circumstances and start to miss him again. But I think I should not supress my emotions too whenever I feel emotionally weak, I cry out so much, feel my emotions, miss him talk to him with his picture and again come back to my imagination, I think this doesn't affect my manifestation, right? Okay, so the final question is, that I always try to fullfill in my imagination and most of the time I do so, I don't care what other people say also my belief system has become stronger but the thing is I always affirm that " I always wake up and see my father alive, healthy and happy and while affirming this I go to sleep and expect that next morning I'll see my father again, but when I don't see him next morning; it triggers me so much that I don't want to even wake up and thoughts like I should suicide come into my minds and then It takes 2 or 3 hours to come back to my normal routine affirmation, how should I deal with this? Is it okay to feel like this? Please help me. Thankyou! Lots of love to you! 💕♥️

Hii love! 🤍

I am once again saying that I completely understand your situation!

But if you want your dad back, you can't take "no" As an answer. If your "3d" Reflects something you don't want it, it is just some bullshit. It is not real. It is real, if you accept the fact it is real.

I understand you are doing everything right but when you wake up, your dad isn't with you and it is triggering you.

AND NEVER EVER TALK ABOUT SUICIDAL THOUGHTS EVER!! YOU ARE MEANT TO BE HAPPY AND BLESSED EVERY SECOND OF YOUR LIFE!! NEVER EVER THINK OF SUICIDING MY LOVE, YOU ARE PRECIOUS AND A GEM FOR THIS WORLD!

I am always there in case of any problems! And also our community people are there for you!! Feel free to share your problems! We will respect you and your feelings totally ♡

Let me give you the same example,

if you write numbers from 1-10 in a note book as homework and you sleep at night being satisfied that you finished your homework and the next day when you wake up will the numbers you wrote in the notebook disappear and will you worry waking up thinking that if you wrote those numbers or not? I mean, it will disappear if you say it disappears. And of course sitting and worrying about something which is already done is also your decision. So if the homework (your desires) are already done, why are you "expecting" Or "worrying" That your desire hasn't yet come to you??

"But revising someone back alive is A BIG THING"

It's a big thing only if you say it's a big thing. "Revising anyone back to life is a piece of cake to me" Say this affirmation repeatedly even though YOU don't feel it/see any changes in your 3d. Affirm back against the "3d" If it "shows" You the complete opposite of what you wanted. If it triggers you, fuck that. It doesn't exist.

Things/people in this world exist only because you let them. THEY ARE EXISTING IN FRONT OF YOU, BECAUSE👏🏻YOU👏🏻ARE👏🏻ALLOWING 👏🏻THEM👏🏻TO👏🏻.

YOUR DESIRES ARE ALREADY THERE. YOU DO NOT NEED TO WORRY FOR ANYTHING. YOU ARE PRECIOUS. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO GET SPOILED BY EVERY LITTLE THING YOU EVER WANTED. DON'T TAKE NO AS AN ANSWER. IT'S ALWAYS YES. YES YOUR DAD IS ALIVE! YES YOUR INCOME IS DOUBLED! YES WHATEVER YOU WANTED IS ALREADY THERE.

Why do you "expect" It to happen??? IT IS ALREADY DONE!!

I don't want to convey it as rude. It's just my reminder to you that,

You already have whatever you ever wanted. If you don't like what you are seeing, affirm, be still within, AND DON'T CHANGE YOURSELVES FOR ANYTHING! IT IS ALREADY DONE. DO NOT WORRY FOR ANYTHING! YOU ARE AN ANGEL! YOU ALREADY GOT WHAT YOU WANTED!!

With lots of love,

ADILYNN YURI🤍🌷

[shotmrmiller]

fwb! ghost brainrot ive officially decided its gotta turn into ghoap x reader or im gonna eat my flextape. hopefully i can connect this one to the first one. team fix your plotholes or else, perra.

Fwb! Simon who just turned exclusive doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you. Can’t say it doesn’t sting but as he said, you asked for a fuck, not a boyfriend. You understand because you aren’t sure Johnny would take too kindly to his best friend being disrespected in bed by someone he knows is a bonafide manwhore. 

So when Johnny pulls a pretty woman at the bar y'all are in, he also brings her friend for Simon, and that makes you prickle with jealousy. With a huff, you turn to face the crowd— away from the bitch putting her manicured hands on Simon. You’d like to believe that he is reciprocating her attention because if he doesn’t, Johnny would find it suspicious. But the way he wraps his arm around her waist, flirting back so effortlessly, reminds you of his ways. Of how he is.

Simon isn’t stupid. He wasn’t a part of the elite force Johnny’s in only because of his brawn. He was also brain. And that infuriates you. Talking to Simon is like dealing with a fucking genie.  Better be specific to the minute detail or anything that’s left to assumption is free game. 

Grabbing Johnny’s forearm to get his attention, he doesn’t look at you— too busy sweet-talking his next conquest, so you dig your nails into his skin. You see him wince and pull away roughly to sneer at the offender, but then his features smooth out instantly, once he realizes it’s you. Ice-blue eyes slightly unfocused from the alcohol in his system, yet it feels like all he can see is you. His reaction makes your heart skip a beat, how quickly he ignores everything around him— puts everything on the backburner if you need something from him. You can't help the pleased smile that curls your lips at the realization.

“Hey, Johnny boy. I’ma go pay the tab,” and then you flick your eyes to the woman, “ do not leave without me.” 

“Dinnae worry, hen, as if I’d ever leave ye anywhere.” Your smile turns gloriously smug when you see the woman look at you in undisguised contempt. Blessed be Johnny, always in your corner. With another squeeze to his forearm, you chuckle when you hear a “Claws in, kitten!” and move to get up when you notice Simon no longer flirting with miss thing, but intently looking at Johnny’s forearm, which still has the half-moon marks of your nails on it. His gaze then snaps to yours, with an almost knowing glint behind them.

You roll your eyes and briskly walk to the bartender, flagging him down. When the bartender gives you the receipt to sign, a voice asks if he can buy you a drink. Sighing, you turn around to tell whoever that you aren’t interested.

“Incredibly generous, but—” and freeze. “Long time no see, eh?” 

It’s your ex. You ended things amicably enough— surprising, for him having been your first boyfriend, first everything, really.  Y’all just outgrew each other emotionally. Hugging him, you exclaim, “Jesus Christ, how’ve you been! It’s been far too long. What’re you doin’ here?” 

He responds, “I was just in town and figured I could get a drink, maybe some company,” you don’t miss the implication of that, but choose to ignore it. 

“How’s that goin’ for ya?”, and then he reaches out to grab your wrist and runs his thumb over your knuckles. “I’ve got you now, don’t I? You look fantastic.” You’re about to let him down lightly when your hand is snatched out of his, and you’re forcibly pulled against someone, strong arm over your shoulders. 

“Whatever ye wan’ with her, the answer is naw. ” Johnny. You smother the slight pang of disappointment in your chest, how silly of you to think it could’ve been Simon. 

“Forever the guard dog, eh, John?” and Johnny’s arm tightens almost painfully and snarls.

“Still around, are ye? Just like a roach, boy.” Johnny and your ex never got along— always a pissing contest.  You have an inkling that it’s because of how close you two were and still are.

Your ex scoffs loudly at him, then looks at you. “It’s your choice, unless you’ve got a boyfriend?” and you shake your head. Johnny pulls you to stand in front of him, both arms holding you close.

“She doesnae. No one’s good enough fer her. Including ye.” 

Sucking your teeth, you sink your nails into Johnny’s forearm, again. “I think that’s for me to decide, no?” and pull at his arms to release you. “You’ve got some nerve, Johnny, bringing me here just to watch you and Ghost—” when you’re roughly pulled to the side,  held down by a much larger body. Simon. Your heart hammers in your chest. How long has he been standing here?

He lowers his mouth to your ear and sternly says, “Behave, pet. The sergeant said no. End of story.” 

When he uses that voice, all you can do is obey. 

“And who’re you?” You can feel Simon stand to his full height, broad shoulders straightening, posturing. Even slouched, he towered over your ex but standing like this, exuding strength and authority, it’s almost comical how large of a difference there is between them two— especially with you in his arms.

“I’m guard dog number two,” and your ex pales slightly. “I’d fuck off,” and Simon points towards the exit with his head, “Now.” He stiffens for a second, eyes bouncing between Johnny and Simon, and bolted—like prey after detecting predators. Not even a goodbye. You don't know if to applaud his sense of self-preservation or curse his cowardice. 

Johnny grabs your hand and leads you out the door, slinging his arm over you as y’all walk towards his home.

“Yer not mad, are ye?” and you keep quiet, he has always hated the silent treatment. “Bonnie—” and Simon cuts him off. 

“Who was that?” and Johnny looks back to answer. “Her ex-boyfriend. Very first one, wasn’t he, hen?” You dig your elbow into his ribcage and hiss out, “Johnny, you dolt! There is no need for you to be sharing that!” 

He laughs and brings your head in to kiss your temple. “I’m jus’ sayin’! Hen, no one out here is worth yer time. Ye cannae be mad at me for speakin’ the truth.” Exhaling, you curl your arm around his waist, going under his shirt to squeeze his waist. 

“Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll just have to fill the void with you,” and Johnny swiftly continues your sentence. “And Ghost.” 

Absentmindedly, you nod. “And Ghost.” 

-

Had you been paying attention, you would’ve seen the way he and Ghost shared a calculated look before Johnny pressed another kiss a little closer to your mouth.

[gallawitchxx]

hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

[theresattrpgforthat]

I've been playing around with the idea of making a trick taking ttrpg. I was looking around to see what people have done with the idea before but couldn't find much, do you have anything up your sleeve?

THEME: Trick-Taking Games

Hello friend, so there’s one particular system that seems to really give you what you’re looking for: The Fight Card System, by Kayla Dice of Rat Wave Game House! That’s not all though, so I hope that whatever the genre, you find something you’re looking for here.

Transgender Deathmach Legend, by Rat Wave Game House

You are a Transgender Deathmatch Legend! You built your legend with a tapestry of broken glass, bloody fists and banging slams. You put the HRT in hurt and put the hurt on anyone who tries you. Tonight you’re going to smash your way across Slamchester cause someone owes you some fucking money! You went through two burning tables for a promoter and they’ve been ducking your calls for months, it’s time to settle things hands on. They heard you’re coming and will try and stack the deck, stop you from getting where you need to be, but just remember who you are, remember what you can to, and go get your fucking money.

Transgender Deathmatch Legend is a hexcrawl beat-em-up designed for two players. You’ll need a deck of cards to play, with combat resolved through a trick-taking game, and this book. The game is aggressively queer, overflowing with trans rage, and inspired by wrestling and fighting games.

Transgender Deathmatch Legend uses a hex crawl and playing cards with different moves assigned to the different numbers of cards. It's raw, it's bloody, and it looks like a ton of fun. If you want to hear it in action, you can catch a listen at Party of One Podcast, where you can hear Jeff Stormer playing the game with the designer!

Hands of Fate, by Halfing Caravan Games

The child was taken to the Oracles, who sat down to understand the fate of the child before them. "She shall grow to be a great warrior, but her fate is to die while protecting her friends and family from a cruel ruler."

With sad hearts, they took the child from the temple and sent her to live in distant lands with her father's cousin to be raised as a farmer.

But as Fate would have it, a cruel ruler came to the land she was raised in, and when the soldiers come to sack her village she took up arms with others. Blessed by the Goddess Athena she led the resistance from the farmers and routed the soldiers. One little act of rebellion turned into a larger rebellion until soon the Cruel Ruler brought his best troops to wage war on the Farm Girl…

A different verison of Trick-Taking, Hands of Fate uses a deck of tarot cards instead of playing cards. This game gives the players hands of cards, so they can choose to play through their scenes strategically. Since not all hands are created equal, you might draw a hand that dooms you to failure, but you still get the power to decide how you fall.

You also have different types of characters that you can play: resilient Warriors, sneaky Rogues, and learned Magicians, all with different strategies that will inform the way you play.

Kingpink: Darkness, by Anthropos Games.

The most substantial divergence Kingpink takes from many popular story games is in the way it constrains the players’ agency in controlling their narrative. In most story games, the fun comes from players deciding what they want to happen next for their characters or for the plot as a whole. In Kingpink, the fun comes from riffing on the Themes in play to figure out what happens next, relying on interpretation and improvisation more than whole-cloth fabrication.

Kingpink is about strategy combined with story, presenting players with conflicts to choose from as they move through the story. Players will also have to make guesses about what the everyone else around the table will do, making choices based on whether or not they think they have a shot at getting what they want out of a round. The store page lists eight variant play styles, so I think Kingpink might give you a lot of mechanics to chew on, and for that reason I think it’s worth checking out.

Forecaster: The Body You Share, by Rat Wave Game House.

You are an apprentice forecaster. Forecasters are responsible for sparring with weather spirits, protecting your world from natural disasters. You’ve been training for years but to physically interact with weather spirits all apprentices must undergo a journey where they will battle many tests and complete an Graduation Ritual, gifting them their true forecasting power. The ritual involves communing with a nature spirit, sharing with them a true understanding of your one self and letting them join in it. You’ve been training for years but you now have cause to suspect the ritual will fail for you. Because you are not one self. You are more than one.

Both a trick-taking fighting game and an exploration of what it means to be a system, I think Forecaster is the first game in the Fight Card system. Like many of Kayla’s games, it’s incredibly personal, and I think that’s what makes it unique. The author also takes a moment to talk about what failure in the game would look like, and how to approach it in a way that feels right for you. This is a form of safety tool that I think really fits the game that’s being written here, and I appreciate that.

Untapped Talent, by Running From Skeletons.

Untapped Talent is a role playing game for one or more players to simulate running a wrestling promotion as well as playing out the matches themselves. It provides simple rules for generating a roster for the promotion, and uses the excellent Fight Card System to resolve matches between wrestlers.

Untapped Talent is also a wrestling ttrpg, but it’s focus is different; you’re not hunting down someone who owes you money, but rather telling the story of a stable of wrestlers, played either solo or GM-less as a group. The card deck is used both to randomly generate the wrestlers and the events of the story, as well as in a match to see which wrestler comes out victorious. Every in-game year, the roster might change up, with some wrestlers leaving, and some new character entering the folds. If you want a story that happens over an extended period of time, you might like Untapped Talent.

BLOOD//RUSH, by Rat Wave Game House.

Every 90 years the orbit of Enyo’s Comet casts a bloody shadow on the Earth. The greatest warriors, all over the world, can empower themselves with dangerous elements. The shadow has been cast once again. L Redbreaker has invited you to the BLOOD//RUSH tournament, held on their mysterious private island. The prize of victory would be life-changing. Get ready to battle!

BLOOD//RUSH is a fighting game ttrpg for two or three players using a deck of cards as a trick-taking game. You play the game as a series of rounds in the tournament, moving through characters and exploring the epic highs and lows of combat sport. 

A hack of Transgender Deathmatch Legend, BLOOD//RUSH expands the base rules into a game for two or three. If you want a game of high stakes, high adrenaline, and super-powered combat, you might want BLOOD//RUSH.

Some Other Thoughts…

Tarot Games Recommendation Post

Deckbuilding Games Recommendation Post

Trading Cards Combat Recommendation Post

Dice and Card Alternatives Recommendation Post

Cootie Catcher Recommendation Post

Classic Games - Remixed Recommendation Post

You can also give me a tip by donating to my Ko-fi!

[snail-migraine]

oh !! my !! i’m the first requester ?? that’s crazy !!

be expecting more platonic yandere asks :3

Mayhaps .. Platonic Yan ! Riddle Rosehearts & Younger brother / sibling ! MC ?

Except they are really anxious n paranoid .. about EVERYTHING !!

“Riddle, How does this school system work ?”

“Riddle, why is there furries here ? — oh they’re a beastmen?!”

“Riddle, why is everyone talking to me ?”

“Riddle, why are the teachers so scary ?!”

“Riddle, why did mother send me here ? I wanna go home ….”

and the list goes on !!

please n thank uu !

—Call Me ; Yàng Anon ! Or Anon Yàng ? Or Maybe ☀️ Anon ? whatever fits you !

Ooh, okay! Well first of all, hello Yàng-Anon. Second thank you for the asks! So long as asks are open (and you aren't spamming my inbox) you're free to send in as many asks as you like...only one at time tho. I can't do two at once lol. Anyway thanks for the love and support! <3

-

Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Riddle

Riddle as a sibling would be a little controlling in general.

Partly due to his own perfectionism, something he can't quite shake even after his overblot.

However as a yandere? It gets waaaay fucking worse.

He views the object of his "affections" less like a person and more like some kind of ragdoll that he pose and dress however he wants.

He thinks he's helping but in reality it actually worsens their mental state until they are exactly like the doll Riddle wants them to be.

But in the context of ask I think it play out a little differently.

Riddle would develop his yandere tendencies as a young child, given that you were the only person Riddle was allowed to even speak to (aside from his parents)

So it's no wonder why he quickly fell in love with your sweet and nice nature.

He couldn't help but want to shield you from all the hurt he experienced as a child. Given that you were probably the only good thing allowed to stay in his life.

You grew up babied by him, with him constantly holding your hand and helping carry you every step of the way.

Even if sometimes he was a little invasive about it.

"You're doing it wrong. Here give me the pencil. Let me show you how to do it. Can't have you getting a bad grade on such an easy assignment now can I?"

When it came time for his first year at NRC he was absolutely pissed that you couldn't come with him.

He knew that eventually Mother would try to tear you two apart, but it doesn't make him happy either way.

God bless everyone in Heartslabyul during his first year because without you around he's fucking merciless.

When he comes back home for the breaks he spends as much time as possible with you, from teaching you different spells and potions as well as all the history he was taught at NRC.

When it comes time for his second year, you finally get a visit from the Ebony Carriage. And he's absolutely overjoyed.

He doesn't have to spend most of the year alone again.

He finds a joy in your innocence and naivety.

Like when you cling to his robe at the ceremony, scared and afraid of the things happening around you or during the first unbirthday party when you tug at his sleeves and beg him to take it easy on those poor freshman.

Oh how cute his little sibling is. His cute, naive, and utterly helpless little sibling.

Don't worry, so long as you stay in line and keep being your adorable-self your head will stay attached.

The same can't be said for those troublemakers that tried to concert you into one of their own...

"Those unabashed fools! Trying to make you into one of their own..Idiots the lot of them! Oh, I'm sorry for scaring you dear. Don't worry about me, so long as you're with me everything will be alright. Just smile and nod, alright dear?"

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Like a Hostage | Prologue

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

“They hate me, don’t they?” you sigh in defeat, hesitant to look back at your boyfriend whose fingers have gently intertwined with yours. Standing outside his childhood home you hoped for tonight to end differently, preferably with less undertones of passive judgement. 

“They hate everyone, so I wouldn’t give it much thought,” Jungkook assures with a sly grin, wrapping his arm over your shoulders as the two of you walk down to his car. 

“But they’re your parents, Koo. Don’t you want them to like me?” you turn to face his lowered gaze, hands on his chest as your back presses against the door frame. 

“Trust me, y/n. I’ve been fighting for their love my whole life. So, no. I don’t really care what they think.” he snickers before noticing the pout on your lips. 

“And anyways, isn’t my love enough for you?” whispers of his voice touch your skin as he leans closer, broad shoulders towering over your form. 

“You know it is. But, it would be less nerve-racking if we had their blessings as well,” your furrowed gaze looks up at Jungkook’s honey-brown eyes that softened at the sight of your flushed cheeks. 

“Just give them some time, sweetpea. Okay?” he places a soft kiss on your forehead before tucking a few curls behind your ear. 

“Mmhm,” 

“Now please get in, I'm starving,” 

“What? Are you serious? We just ate,” you laugh from disbelief, eyes glued on the boy as he sprints to his seat. 

“Y/n, baby, you're too nice. My mother can't cook to save her life. Everything you saw on that table was bought and reheated an hour ago,” Jungkook huffs impatiently, turning on the engine before glancing back at your puzzled expression. 

“It wasn't that bad. I'm sure she tried her best, Koo. You gotta be more grateful,” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, love. Now please buckle up,” he replied with a dimpled grin before finally driving off, his free hand intertwined with yours. 

To be honest, you never understood how someone could show disinterest in their parents. Growing up in foster care, you were deprived of every childhood memory. Reaching for your mother’s arms as you took your first steps, feeling the warmth of your father’s embrace as he comforted your tears after a boy broke your heart. None of that was ever real. Nothing more than a constant reminder of the void in your heart. The shattering pieces of your younger self who cried every night, carving the blame deeper into her tiny wrists for not being good enough. Not worth the trouble of being in your life. So you grew paranoid of being viewed as an inconvenience, craving that lack of parental love from anyone who has shown even a glimpse of affection. 

Meeting Jungkook saved you from your breaking point, the night you thought you would go to sleep forever. Sitting on the rails of the Han River Bridge, you thought about the people whose life would be impacted by the loss of yours. In the moment, it was like your mind went blank, consciousness completely obscured by the lack of significance you brought to the world. Unable to fold even one pathetic finger, you felt the tears run down your face as your body shivered in fear. Losing sight of how deep the water went, your breaths became irregular, chest heaving up from the rush of adrenaline in your system. Knowing that this would be your last jump, made it all go away. In the end, nothing ever matters because we all die anyway. Some of us just choose to push their luck and see the afterlife faster than others. 

Closing your eyes you whispered a silent goodbye to your parents, wherever and whoever they were. Thanking them for the opportunity to experience life, however shitty it turned out to be. And as you felt your fingers slowly let go of the metal pillars, you took in your last breath before finally finding peace. 

“Are you out of your mind?” a male voice pierces through your senseless state as you feel your arm being yanked back. 

“What the fuck man? Let go,” you snap, body dangling midair as his other arm latches onto you. 

“Hold on for fuck’s sake,” he growls in frustration, digging his fingers deeper into your blue-ish skin as you fight back the friction. 

“I don’t need your saving.” you cry out, unable to control the stream of mixed emotions. 

“I’m not doing this for you.” his gaze furrows, clenching his jaw as his hand cushions the back of your head before your back hits the cement pavement.  

It’s true. In the moment, he wasn’t saving you. While holding onto your dangling body, all he could see was the sadness in his sister’s hollow eyes. He could feel the fear that rushed through her veins as she jumped off of their apartment complex. Alone. Consumed by the darkness of the cold winter night. No one heard her screams, and no one rushed to ease the pain. Unable to swallow down his antidepressants, Jungkook decided to stay the night at his friend’s house in hopes of muting the sound of his parent’s endless fights. Clueless to the reality of it all, his selfish act of leaving behind the only person who shared his misery. His sweet girl, Jieun. Now, they only see each other in his nightmares. The ones in which he begs for her forgiveness, wishing he could hold her one last time. Hear the laughter coming out of her room as he walks down their shared corridor, only to find it buried with white sheets of dust. 

“I was so close …” you whispered under your breath, bloodshot eyes filled with tears. 

“What’s the point? The pain never ends,” he sighs, resting his head on one of the pillars with his arms around his knees. 

“I have no one else. Who do I live for now?” you cry out with a trembling chin.

“Live for me,” he whispers, tears running down his cheek as he pictures Jieun in the back of his mind.

[ctimenefic]

Just another anon popping in to say that gr63 gets rule 63’d AU is a borderline religious revelation to me 😵‍💫😳 ur a genius

This snippet does not have George in it, blessed anon, but it does, crucially, have tiny baby Lance Stroll

“You should hear what the British guys have to say about her,” Kieran Rivers is saying, as Alex makes his way back to the group from the hotel bar. There’s about a dozen of them, sprawled around four tables they dragged together, blithely ignoring the glares from the barstaff. It’s not like it’s a nice hotel, and they’re all guests, and some of them just won the Eurocup Formula 2.0 championship, actually, so who gives a shit if they��re loud and young. At least they’re drinking. 

And talking about George, of course. She’s yet to join them - thanks to his sisters, Alex has better insights than most into the dark rituals of girls getting ready, and he reckons it’ll be another half hour - but it’s pretty obvious why she’d be the subject of conversation. 

Winning as a wildcard. It’s mad. It’s brilliant. He’s so fucking proud. 

“The F4?” he asks, sliding back into his seat. “She’s smashing it.”

Three of the boys at the far end of the table snort. Boys- men, technically. Most of them. There’s a couple of prodigies, like George, racing as well as any of them at sixteen. Alex doesn’t feel grown up. Ordering a beer without worrying someone will spot the dodgy photoshop on his licence still feels novel. 

Jez Valdo grins too widely for a guy who binned it into the wall at what is technically his home race. “Smashing is one way of putting it.”

“More like they’re the ones smashing it,” Rivers chimes in, and Alex frowns. It’ll be close, sure, but if George drives as well as she did today, the championship’s in the bag. Rivers starts counting off names on his fingers: Braithwaite, Carter, Jones, and that doesn’t make any sense, because they’re nowhere near the top of the standings-

“It’s like they’ve worked out a system to stop her getting clingy, it’s genius. Wish I’d known after Moscow, I’d’ve lined one of you guys up to take her off my hands when she got all mopey.” 

The group around Rivers laughs again. Something cold steals up Alex’s spine. Moscow hadn’t been great for George. He’d got third on the Sunday but still had to coax her out, and she’d vanished off back to the hotel after only an hour or so.

He places the image of George on the plane home, swamped in her giant Lewis Hamilton hoodie, next to Rivers’ face now, his lips pulled back in a smirk that shows his incisors. “No, really, she’s kinda tame but, you know, easy for it.”

“Eh,” Jez Valdo is saying, and it’s like slow motion, the way Alex can see it coming, a shit comment as obvious as debris on the track, “she’s not hot enough to take your sloppy seconds.”

Alex’s end of the table is silent. When he looks up, Lance Stroll is staring him dead in the eye. Alex isn’t even sure why Lance is here - he’s not raced in Eurocup, he’s doing F4 in Italy this year. But his dad owns half the boys at the table, so Stroll Jr must go where he wants. 

It doesn’t matter - the point is, Alex meets his eyes, huddled under stormcloud brows, and has a single moment of pure, instinctive connection. He and Lance Stroll are as one for this bright, shining moment of their shared existence. It’ll never happen again; it’s a miracle it happens once. But as Alex’s grip on his pint turns white-knuckled, and he slides his glass to soak Valdo’s fucking stupid face, Lance knocks his wrist casually against River’s stein and sends it over the pair of them. 

“Oh,” Lance says, flatly. “My bad.”

[illarian-rambling]

Consider me bamboozled :)

🚫 - What are some things that one of the species in your world cannot do that humans (or a different species they resemble) cannot?

Happy WBW!

Oh so many things lol

It'd probably be easier to start with what humans can do that's special. Among all the folk of Illaros, humans are the best suited for travel. They're by-and-large a seafaring folk, with the ability to subsist off of fewer nutrients and survive for long periods of time without food or water. An elf or a dwarf will starve to death within a week, while a human can last for nearly three times that long. They're also one of the physically bigger folk. In general though, the stand-out trait among humans is their sorcerers. All folk on Illaros can have sorcerers, but humans by far have the most and are more likely to pass the genes on to their children.

Okay now onto cool abilities other folk have. I'm just gonna focus on the lineage of non-human characters otherwise we'd be here all day (skipping over the fae because they aren't biological, really) (;

The standout ability of the sirens is the Voice. Technically, this isn't a genetic thing, it's a divine blessing given by Lamsara Hedandros to all his people, but a siren would really have to fuck up to have that blessing rescinded. They have two keys; the mental and physical. Both can excite the emotions and weather, respectively. With training, these can be honed into very specific effects, such as a stun charm or a lightning strike, or flesh carving to assume a land-based form. Other than that, they're fish people who live at great depths, and they have a sense of hearing far sharper than a human's.

Halawemavira, or selkies, are made up of two groups; the halawemavar (freshwater, fish-like) and halawemavish (saltwater, seal-like). Both are known for their quick form-shifting. Unlike sirens, who have to put in a lot of effort to assume a land form, halawemavira are quite quick to move between water and land. They're also known for their ability to stomach almost anything - from rotten meat to mild poisons - as well as their keen sense of smell and sharp teeth.

Physiologically, there aren't too many differences between Nabafyrian and Skysheerian elves. Skysheerians are slightly better acclimated to their mountain climate, while Nabafyrians have better low-light vision. As for differences between elves and humans, elves tend to be both shorter and lighter. They live for much longer, up to five-hundred years (they stop aging at about 25-30 and only start again in their 300s, then go slowly from there). There are the long ears, which give them a better sense of hearing, but are generally used for expression more than anything (an elf will use their ears far more than their eyebrows). I guess elves also have slightly sharper teeth, that's about it.

Changelings... Boy, where to start. Changelings are prokaryotic, person-sized organisms similar to amoebas, but, you know, prokaryotic and person-sized. They have a very flexible membrane and chromatophore organelles that allow them to mimic the appearances of others. Originally, they were manufactured by the fae, but many have escaped onto Illaros. They can switch between a solid and more liquid form, making them very slippery. There are so many other weird quirks of their biology - they do gas exchange through their skin, they excrete bodily waste in the form of a mucous membrane, they have a decentralized 'nervous'-system - but if I get into it, I'll be here forever lol.

Daramakti, similarly to elves, are divided between Darain and Makti. There isn't much physiological difference between these two - Makti tend to have curlier hair, while Darains have longer horns. But in terms of differences from humans, Daramakti all have blue skin and blood, white hair, long double-pointed ears, and opalescent horns. Daramakti women often have a second set of horns protruding from their cheekbones as well, but not always. Daramakti also all have the divinely granted ability to levitate. It's not quite true flight, more like switching off gravity for a bit, but they make use of it in combination with gliders and kites. Also, as a side note, the blue blood gene is incredibly dominant, so anyone with a drop of Daramakti heritage will probably have blue blood.

And finally, the uradowish. They are one of the three peoples of Halah and probably the most numerous. They are very short of stature, generally never breaking four feet. They're reptilian but bipedal, sort of like dnd kobolds, with blue/green/gray scales. They do not have horns, but they do have very sensitive whiskers and tails used for sensing nearby objects in dark confines. Indeed, the uradowish have overdeveloped senses of touch due to their subterranean environment. (In case you were wondering, Faalgun is mostly uradowish with some Daramakti mixed in)

Thanks for the ask!