#Unexp

[claimbo]

I will not go into 2024 #sidehustlers #affiliatemarketing #funny #perfec...

#youtube #ReflectingOn2023 🌪️ This year felt like navigating a stormy sea ⛈️ each wave hitting harder than the last. 🌊 Challenges emerged from unexp

[asamiontop]

“Bea.”

“Hm?” Beatrice grumbles, too close to sleep to keep from sounding grumpy.

“I’m cold.”

Ava sounds sheepish, unsure of herself in a way that Beatrice immediately aches to soothe. She turns to regard her bedmate.

(The singular bed in their Switzerland apartment had starred in many of their disagreements during their first week. Both of them refused to relegate the other to the narrow futon across the room—Beatrice because self-sacrifice was hammered into her cellular makeup and Ava because she couldn’t abide the idea of a too-tall Beatrice unable to fully lay flat on the lumpy cushion. In the end, stubbornness won and they agreed to share the bed, leaving a tenuous twenty centimeters of empty mattress between them. Twenty centimeters of which Beatrice was constantly and acutely aware.)

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Ava continues after a brief silence, “I know we have training early, I just… I can’t sleep. It’s too cold.”

The nervousness in Ava’s voice is unacceptable. Self-doubt in the Warrior Nun is unacceptable, Beatrice corrects. One of those truths urges her into alertness.

“It’s alright, Ava,” she offers with a yawn, “I understand.”

Working from memory, Beatrice calls up an image of their budget. She projects their next paychecks and expenses, factors in the potential for extra tips during the holiday weekend influx, and concludes they can afford to purchase an extra blanket at the flea market tomorrow. She had watched Ava steal the last available one—the scratchy wool thing thrown over the back of the couch—earlier this evening before bed.

“If we’re careful for the next week, tomorrow we can—”

“Canwemaybecuddle,” Ava blurts, interrupting Beatrice’s half-formed explanation. It’s supposed to be a question, Beatrice thinks, but the words sputter into the quiet midnight air like some sort of manic exclamation.

Sister Beatrice blinks. She breathes through the uncomfortably pleasant fluttering in her chest until she can consider the request rationally. Ava isn’t patient enough to await the deliberation.

“It’s just,” she begins, sounding increasingly panicked, “we don’t have any more blankets and my warm clothes are in the laundry and you’re always so hot—I mean, shit. I mean, that’s a survival tactic right? Huddling together for warmth? I saw it on a penguin documentary once.”

Ava’s logic is sound but Beatrice is too busy stifling a fond smile to say much of anything. Her silence drags on long enough that her bedmate whips her head over, wide-eyed and apologetic. Ava opens her mouth to backtrack, but in the diffuse lamplight her eyes catch on Beatrice’s lips wrapped tight around a swell of affection.

The worry slips away and a knowing grin transforms Ava’s expression. Ava doesn’t smother her fondness the way Beatrice does. No; it shines plain as day in her eyes as she mutters, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Letting me talk in circles?”

Beatrice’s mouth pulls to one side and she allows a small chuckle to slip through her control. “Just a bit. You have quite a talent for it.”

Ava snorts and nudges Bea with her elbow. “Well sometimes I can’t help it. You’re silent brooding can be pretty intimidating, you know.”

“Brooding?” Beatrice frowns, affronted. “I wouldn’t call it—”

Ava’s laugh tinkles in the room and Beatrice’s mouth snaps shut.

“Don’t worry, Bea. It’s cute brooding.”

Beatrice’s cheeks heat and she’s grateful for the dim lighting as her eyes seek neutral territory on the ceiling.

Maybe I only run hot around you.

The thought catches Beatrice entirely by surprise and she’s wrestling madly with it when Ava’s hand brushes hers, a small but meaningful breach of the no-man’s-land between them. It’s immediately comforting.

“Hey, don’t worry about it if it makes you uncomfortable,” Ava entreats, all teasing gone from her voice. “We don’t need to—uh, touch or anything. I’ll be okay.”

“No,” Beatrice latches into Ava’s fingers before she can pull away. Her brain catches up to her and she clears her throat, loosens her unexpectedly urgent grip on Ava’s hand. “I mean. You’re right. Increased proximity is an effective tactic to maintain body temperature.”

Stupidly, she adds, “And yes, Emperor Penguins do it.”

She can practically hear Ava’s smirk. “Oh my god, Bea.” The smirk grows into a laugh and Beatrice lets the small blasphemy slide.

“Did you just tell me that I’m right?” Ava’s delight practically glows as Beatrice rolls her eyes. Maybe the Halo is enjoying this too. “I can’t believe it. Wow, that’s like—”

“Shut up and turn over so I can spoon you.”

Ava goes absolutely still at the interruption.

“Uh—wh—” Ava chokes a bit, clears her throat of it eventually. “What?” She finally manages, barely above a whisper.

Calmly, which is an effort all on its own, Beatrice explains.

“The most efficient way to exchange body heat between two people is to maximize physical contact.” Her face burns at the words, which Beatrice will dismiss as productive, all things considered. “Therefore, spooning is the optimal, ahem, position.”

Beatrice makes no mention of the other ways to enhance the exchange of body heat that decide to flash across her pure, untainted mind.

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” Ava agrees and quickly does as she’s told, turning away from Bea and onto her side.

Beatrice follows, muttering a thoughtless “good, just like that” before it occurs to her not to. Ava makes a muffled squeak that Beatrice furiously ignores.

Faced with the planes of Ava’s shoulders, a commonplace sight made extraordinary by the offer hanging between them, Beatrice pauses to take a breath.

There’s no denying the acute eagerness with which her body prepares to scoot closer. The pull towards Ava is magnetic and steady—stronger the closer Beatrice gets. But it’s also honest and peaceful—right in a way that threatens to drag Beatrice’s entire value system into the blinding harshness of questioning light.

Beatrice struggles against the ease with which she slides forward. She finds her soul and her faith with no foes to fight. It’s jarring to spend a lifetime steeling oneself for resistance only to encounter nothing to oppose. Nothing but love, pure and unassuming, seeping through every crevice in the weakening constructs of Beatrice’s life.

(Love is the twist that Sister Beatrice never expected, undeniably holy and propelling her towards Ava, centimeter by broken centimeter.)

Her hand hovers above Ava’s waist, hesitant to initiate a contact that seems liable to shatter everything. She sucks in a fortifying breath and begins to count backwards from ten.

“Bea?” Ava’s gentle concern slices through her at seven and something settles in her chest.

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs and drops her palm over the dip of Ava’s side with a decisive exhale. Ava breathes along with her and somehow that small synchronicity is what erases all remaining doubt. “I’m going to move closer now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ava confirms.

Beatrice smiles and shuffles forward, aligning her front to Ava’s back before settling into the mattress behind her. She stops breathing completely as Ava shifts to accommodate their closeness. Not because of friction or anything so untoward, but because the perfection with which Ava’s body slots against hers has the power to break her.

There’s a debilitating effortlessness in the way Ava fits, backside nestled benignly in the cradle of Beatrice’s hips and shoulder blades pressed evenly to the expanse of her chest. Beatrice’s legs jerk forward and settle completely against the length of Ava’s.

Ava sinks languidly into the curve of Beatrice’s body. Her smaller frame makes it so Beatrice is wrapped around her in every way but one.

Beatrice’s hand still hovers, debating whether it can go where it wants and maintain plausible deniability. Ava decides for her, reaching swiftly for Beatrice’s wrist and bringing it to her chest before either of them can question it.

Her arm falls around Ava’s middle, snaking up through the Halo Bearer’s and into a tangle of their hands. In the spaces between her fingers, Beatrice feels the faint thump of Ava’s heart.

Ava twitches once and tucks her frigid toes between Beatrice’s feet with a huff. The sting of cold draws Beatrice’s attention to the gooseflesh prickling the skin of Ava’s arms.

“You are cold,” she breathes, unsure why she’s surprised. It’s absolutely involuntary how her hold on Ava tightens at the observation.

“Mm,” Ava answers. She wriggles, making herself small, and settles deeper in Beatrice’s arms. “Better now, though.”

Beatrice finds herself beaming, haloed in a warmth that’s a different kind of divine than the ring burning in Ava’s back. She takes stock of the moment, each sound and each breath, and discovers nothing at all out of place. She reaches for every point of contact between them, extending her awareness into her body, and finds it balanced, utterly relaxed.

Here with Ava, there is peace. Peace for every unsettled part of her. And that… that is something new indeed.

Beatrice lets herself tip forward, rests her forehead against the crown of Ava’s head.

“Glad I could help,” she whispers, tugging Ava closer as her heart lurches with the piercing truth of that statement.

“You always help, Bea,” Ava mumbles sleepily. “You’re the best. ‘S why I love you.”

Beatrice inhales sharply, inadvertently fills her lungs with the simple cleanliness of Ava’s shampoo. It calms her unsettlingly fast.

Her shaky exhale ruffles the ends of Ava’s hair.

“Goodnight Ava,” Beatrice says in place of the emotion that’s taking hold of her windpipe.

“Night,” comes the barely intelligible response.

In one more breath, Ava’s asleep.

Slowly, Beatrice lifts her chin. Carefully, carefully, her lips make contact with the softness of Ava’s hair. Beatrice sighs, pressing the slightest of kisses where she rests.

“I love you, too,” she mouths inaudibly in the safety of her hiding place. “More than you know.”

Ava shifts, sighs, and sinks into Beatrice once more.

#Avatrice #warrior nun #ficlet #cuddling in Switzerland #many exist but add it to the list #couldn’t get this out of my head

[gayerthanevertbh]

infidelity | futile devices pt. 1

pairings: fuckboy!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

summary: you and wanda have been best friends ever since you were little babies, and you’ve went through a lot with her. in august 2019 when you met wanda’s girlfriend, natasha, you completely fell in love with her. what happens when the three of you create a love triangle that could possibly ruin everything?

warnings: intense staring, infidelity, and nothing much since it’s only the start of the story.

author’s note: enjoy the first part of the story! what do you want to happen in the next part? let me know!

Years ago, before I knew what futile devices were, I met Wanda at kindergarten in our small town in New England. She started out as a bully, but after we ate lunch together, I knew we would become more than just a bully and a victim. Since then, she has protected me, especially from those who didn't like me very much. I may have had a crush on her at first, but I was aware that if I said anything inappropriate, our friendship would end. I couldn't stop myself from having a crush on Wanda Maximoff at the time. She was a tall brunette with big green eyes who always tried to protect me. We've been through so much together as best friends, and we even shared our first kiss because no one would dare to kiss me. Wanda, on the other hand, always saved her first mind-blowing kiss for me, and it was surprisingly good when we did it. I recall her saying, "There you go, now you can kiss anyone in this room," but that never happened. I was too afraid to be in a relationship after witnessing Wanda's, which was not particularly good.

She told me the meaning of futile devices while we were in the park together. “Beyond words,” she says. “Futile means vain, pointless. In other words, if you want to say your love for them, you can’t. It’s just too much.”

“Is that supposed to be romantic?” I asked, she only lets out a controlled chuckle before drinking from her flask.

“Sure, if you want it to be.”

Since then, I knew that I could never describe my love for Wanda – because it was too much, too impotent, and vain. If I say it out loud, what would she do? Perhaps she would leave me in the air, possibly never speaking to me again. But knowing her so well, I knew she wouldn’t do that to me. It was still scary to say it out loud, and I’m sure that I could never say how much I love her – no matter how painful it could be.

We stayed friends until we graduated from high school together. Wanda had a boyfriend named Chucky, and I was with Brandon, my date because he was the only boy I could find. Brandon was with me the majority of the time because I didn't want to be alone this summer. I suppose you could say he was my first boyfriend with whom I never lost my virginity. We split up when our first semester began. When he left me, I didn't feel too much emotion; in fact, I was relieved that he did. Wanda asked why I was always smiling when she brought me chocolates after my breakup.

“Aren’t you sad that Brandon left you?” I shook my head, eating the last piece of chocolate bar in the wrapper. “You’re so weird, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your weirdo.”

She only laughs, agreeing with a nod.

“Yes you are,” she said. “Let’s just watch a movie, yeah? We still have to study tomorrow.”

Months later, I was working at a bakery shop while Wanda was trying to learn to be a bartender since it’s always been her first dream job. I did like my life for a little while, working at a bakery shop was the best thing that ever happened to me. Wanda did like hers since she came home with a drunk look on her face. When August came along, we started to become distant from each other. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve gotten so busy with my job and my school work, and she was always out since she has a new girlfriend. I never expected that from her, dating a girl. I mean, I always knew that she was bisexual, but it was unexpected when she told me that she was truly in love with this college girl from a different university.

I was a little jealous because Wanda had been spending too much time with her instead of with me, and if I had to lie to myself, I'd say I was happy for her - but I wasn't. How could you choose someone you met two months ago and decide to leave me hanging? What happened to both of us? This isn't going to last, I tell myself. That was something I had to tell myself in order not to get hurt. But every time she comes home, I get the impression that I'm no longer number one in her heart.

In the third week of September, Wanda decided to bring her girlfriend over to our apartment, with our two friends from the university. While I was preparing for dinner, our friend Peter and Kate was at the door. I opened it slowly and gave them a big smile on my face since I don’t know what other emotions I should use.

“Did you only invite us because Wanda has this amazing hot girlfriend?” Kate giggled, which I nodded in response. She knew that I was joking, I never thought I have humor.

“Are you also excited to meet her?”

“Hey, maybe she’s nice!” Peter exclaimed happily, walking towards the dining area as he sits beside Kate. “It’s only the right time for Wanda, I mean she always has this boyfriend or girlfriend until she’ll break up with them two weeks later.”

“She seems like a green flag,” Kate said. “Aren’t you happy for her? You guys have been best friends ever since you came out from your mother’s vagina.”

I chuckled, “We met at kindergarten.”

“The point is, you should be happy for her. I know you’re still in love with her–”

“We don’t talk about that.”

“-But maybe you should start moving on,” she finishes herself, sighing deeply. “I have a dude for you, his name is Steve. He’s in my class.”

Will this guy help me move on from Wanda Maximoff?

“Oh yeah? What does he do?”

“He’s apparently taking medicine, which means he’s also not available. People who take medicine are always busy, like extremely busy.”

I turned around, shrugging my shoulders. “So what’s the point of me dating this guy then if he’s not available?”

She mimicked my shrug, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know, I was just suggesting–”

“Thanks for the suggestion but, I’m good being on my own.”

I’ve always been on my own, even though Wanda was always around.

30 minutes later, I heard murmuring from the other room, and I realized Wanda had brought her girlfriend, who had caught my eye. She was tall - but not too tall - and had her hair tied in the back of her head; she also had green eyes like Wanda, but hers were darker, so I couldn't see the details of her pupils. When the woman caught my eye, I turned away and hugged Wanda briefly, asking, "So this is her?"

“Yeah,” she replied. “This is Natasha, my girlfriend for a month.”

I cast a quick glance at Natasha and shook her hand; it was calloused but not too rough on my skin. She smiled warmly and said, "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. Wanda has told me lots of stories about you.”

“Like how I’m such a bad friend?” I said in a joking matter, watching as Wanda playfully rolls her eyes. “I’m glad you can make it, how about you sit down? The food is ready.”

I returned to my table and sat beside Wanda while Natasha was in the opposite direction, her eyes roaming all over the place. I assumed that she was enticed by our home since it was full of framed paintings and a telephone from the corner of the room – it wasn’t working, we just decided that it looked nice in our apartment.

“So where do you study, Romanoff?” Kate asked while drinking from the wine glass that I bought from a dollar store. Natasha sighed and placed her fork on the plate, slowly chewing the food.

“I study at Columbia,” she responded quietly. “I met Wanda at my university, and we hit it off right away.”

“But aren’t you from NYU, Wanda?”

“I just had a quick visit at the university, to see if I still had other options.”

“Were you ever going to tell me that you’ll be studying at Columbia?” I asked, trying my best not to show defectiveness about this conversation. “I thought we agreed to study together and graduate in the same school together.”

“That was the plan, and I want to study with you,” Wanda said, sighing through her nose. “I was just looking at my options. If I didn’t end up studying at NYU, then I’d study at Columbia.”

“But if you ever did study in Columbia, were you going to tell me?”

I was hurt by this information since Wanda knows that she was my only friend, and will always be my best friend. Before we even started college, we both agreed that attending the same school was the best option. I guess she changed her mind after meeting Natasha, who appears to be my nemesis. It’s not like I didn’t want the best for her, but her going to the same school as I made me feel like I was important to her. I would say I’m a little self-centered.

“Of course,” said Wanda with a small smile on her face, holding hands with Natasha. “We still live together, you know? What would be a harm studying in at another university?”

She was right, she has always been right.

I caught Natasha's gaze while we were eating and talking about physics, which I dislike talking about because I despise science. Her eyes appeared... hungry. But I couldn't assume she wanted me that way because she had Wanda, so I shifted my gaze to Kate's. But I could still feel her eyes on me as if they were glued to me only. When I returned my gaze to her, she was staring at Wanda. As strange as it may sound, I liked how she gave me those stares in her eyes because no one would ever stare at me like that.

“What do you study, Y/n?” Natasha asked, eating a forkful of meat that I had just baked in the oven.

“Literature,” I replied quietly, placing my foot on top of the other since I feel like I’m having anxiety talking to this woman who looks like a senior. “You? You seem like a person who doesn’t study.”

“And she speaks,” Wanda giggled, causing everyone to laugh too. “Who taught you how to talk back, missy?”

I shrugged, “Just myself.”

"Photography, in case you were wondering," the redhead replied, wiping her mouth with a tissue as she drank a bottle of beer that I had opened for her. "I photograph places, people, and a variety of other subjects. That’s why me and Wanda are a match, she likes photography.”

There was no way I'd ever match this obnoxious, self-centered, narcissistic individual. I wouldn't call her a narcissist, but she certainly has the appearance of one. Plus, why am I thinking that I could ever get with her? She clearly has those lovey-dovey eyes on Wanda; not me.

“What year are you in?” Kate chimes in, looking at Natasha with curiosity in her eyes.

“Fourth year,” she said. “This is my last year, actually. After that, I might move back to Ohio.”

“Why Ohio?” Peter suddenly asked. Natasha only sighs in response and takes another drink from her beer, smacking her lips together, as if she doesn’t know what to say next or do. Yet, she still replies in that husk tone.

“I have a family there,” she slowly responded, looking briefly at Wanda and then towards me. “Wanda says you’re from Ohio too, that’s where you two met.”

“That’s true,” I said. “But we moved to New York shortly after high school, I’m not technically from here.”

“It seems like it, you don’t have that New Yorker accent.”

"But Peter does," Wanda laughs as she pours herself another cheap red wine and swirls it in her glass. "How do you like living in New York?" It's as if we're in our thirties, but half of us are only in our twenties, and Natasha is almost in her late twenties because Wanda told me her age.

“It’s great,” he says in a positive tone and clasped his hands together on his lap. “The rent is expensive, but it’s all good. I still like the smell of the air here, it never gets old.”

“New York isn’t the most ideal city,” Kate chimed in again. “But you know, they have good schools here. My parents are billionaires, so like I don’t really have to worry about rent.”

“I wish I lived in your life,” I murmured, smirking at her playfully, which Wanda saw and felt uncomfortable in her seat. Was she jealous? “You have billionaire parents and live that rich life, I’m just a girl from Ohio who is incredibly in love with her job.”

“Didn’t you say you work at the bakery?” now, Natasha’s eyes were on me as she spoke. I slowly nodded my head before taking a sip from my wine glass, licking it between my lips. “Do you like working there?”

“It pays the rent, so yeah.”

After dinner, Peter and Kate said their goodbyes and returned home, leaving just me, Wanda, and Natasha on the couch. I was scrolling through Tinder on my phone when I noticed Natasha giving Wanda a head massage and kissing her on the forehead. When I see them do this, especially right in front of me, it makes my stomach churn. How did Wanda find someone so quickly and not me? Why isn't she head over heels in love with me? Why can't I be the one? But if I keep comparing myself to this woman, I know I'll end up feeling terrible.

“You guys should get a room, you’re making me want to vomit," I muttered under my breath, turning off my phone to get a better look at them - but that turned out to be the most sickening thing I've ever done because I was watching them kissing sweetly right in front of me, causing me to stand up and walk back to my room. I went to bed with my lights turned off after a quick warm shower and skincare routine. They were either going to kill me or that girlfriend Wanda had brought into this apartment. Throughout this eventful evening, her eyes were on me instead of Wanda’s – which is kind of suspicious.

I took a deep breath and rolled over on my back, clasping my hands together as my palms sweat. I'm not sure what was wrong with me; I just had this strange feeling about Natasha. Something thumped inside of me when I met her. I sighed and whispered, “Futile devices, how ridiculous that sounds.”

And it truly does if you think about your best friend’s girlfriend.

it gets real in the next part lol

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x you #black widow x reader #futile devices series by anne

[suhjihanma]

▧𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒆...

▧Word count: 1,149 words ▧Pairing: Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru / Female-Reader ▧Warnings/Content: drug use, usage of marijuana, foreplay, college!au, stoner!au, frat!boy Geto and Gojo-possibility, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pussy-drunk!Gojo, threesome, mild threesome implications, overstimulation, sharing is caring, cunnilingus can cause a drop in intelligence? ▧Author's Note: Minors DNI. Had this idea on the back burner. Also, I miss smoking weed, man, but it's fun to reminisce on the good days. Got to love applying for nursing school. I would honestly live for some more frat!boy AU from this duo. My inbox is open, but please read the rules first. Thanks, guys.

You couldn't find both of the men to be smokers but, all it took was for you to proudly announce that you were celebrating the end of finals.

Like lost children, they followed in your footsteps to go celebrate. In your apartment, that is. The thought of going out to hit the town seemed to be a good idea for the books, yet the funds in your bank account say otherwise. Who would have thought that being in the same company of your closest friends that you've known well since high school was more than enough for a celebration?

The dimly lit bedroom lingered with the excess clouds of marijuana. Decorations of the room were barely seen. The sounds of music was faintly playing in the background as the rowdy banter became more silent by each drag from the poorly-made blunt. Everyone was occupied in their own spacious world and you couldn't help but to bring Geto and Gojo out of it.

Marijuana couldn't be an anaphrodisiac, yet with how you were acting around them, it sure as hell could be labeled as one.

Yet, everything soon fell into place.

With half-closed eyes, your attention was focused on the white-hair man who became engulfed between your thighs. Hands nestled at the top, his fingers lazily dances across the smooth skin, giving you a sensualized shiver in response.

Having Gojo eating you out from as you routinely pass the rolled plant, along with Geto watching among the sidelines, was something you didn't plan on. An intimate moment, then again sharing a poorly rolled blunt while dealing with the stresses that came from the turmoil of school, work, and other conflicting moments, was not all too sexy.

Now, here you are sitting in the present with being eaten out while drifting to another atmosphere, barely keeping conscious.

Senses were now driving into a sea of nirvana as the feeling of his warm tongue lapping against your folds, while the strong taste of smoke lingers around the inside of your mouth, it was a gift to be under him-to be treated like fine delicacy. Geto quietly watched as he walked over to Gojo, hand gestures to him with the blunt in hand. Turning over to face you, a faint smile was shown to greet your face that read nothing but pure bliss. His eyes continued to study your body that was escaping from the tongue underneath. The sensations of Gojo feeding off your drenched core, his hunger and high amplified every motion of collecting every drop. A nectar that every man yearns for, Gojo was determined to lick every nook from you, even it meant leaving you dry.

"Fuck, she's beautiful." Sighed Geto as he takes a drag. He stoops to your resting level as he slowly blows smoke into your mouth. This technique was old as day, yet you couldn't imagine Geto doing something like that. Sharing smoke that was encircled with mint, your mind wanted to overthrow itself from your soul. Being under the influence didn't help your situation at all as you continued to look at Geto with dazed, honey-ridden eyes.

You wanted more.

You then felt the work of Gojo's mouth that continued to unravel you. A damning mouth like his brought more pleasure to the nerves that screamed for more underneath. Arching your back to glide yourself closer to his mouth, you heed no mind to the bits of escaped smoke that came from Geto's mouth as he brought you in with an unexpected kiss. If you could get on your knees and pray that this will continue on throughout the night, you would have right now. The sensations of having both men taking care of you while riding personal highs of euphoric bliss seemed too surreal. Anticipating seemed to arrive early as the nerves inside your core couldn't take it anymore. Cursing your sensual body, you want out of this early. The tongue that was desperately lapping at your sensitive core became too much, the affectionate kisses wrapped in smoke, the fondling of your breasts and nipples, the warmth of two bodies pressing against you grew too much to bear.

Then it happened.

You screamed out an endless stream of "fucks" and "shits" before a familiar stream came trickling down on the face underneath you. You couldn't control the amount, nor could you stop it. Ruffles of white hair tickle underneath you ever so slightly. Gojo's head buried deep, he didn't want to let go. Orgasm after orgasm, he desperately wanted to catch every convulsion that came from your fragile body. The sounds that were underneath could suggest that this man was on the brink of death if he couldn't taste everything that came down. Geto looked at the man buried underneath and then looked at you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Make him fucking drown in it." Geto chuckled. The crudeness of his language threw'd you as you looked at him with your continuous gaze. The snide comment made Gojo lift from his occupance, drenched in nothing but dampened, sticky saliva and the secretions that could make a man like him become feral.

"Fuck." Gojo breathes out before swiping one of his fingers, faintly tracing across your sensitive lips, which made you squirm from the oversensitivity. "How many times did you come?"

"More than enough." You cried out, then asking Geto to pass the blunt that was sitting in one of his hands. The fine drag eased the racing thoughts that were circling through your head, and you couldn't help but to stiffen a giggle.

"What's so funny?" Geto questions you, resting his chin on your stomach, facing you front and center with a smirk on his face. Every question that he can get out your blissfully high state was nothing more but entertaining in a sense.

“Fuck. Can we do another round?” The words dripped in a sensual tone as you playfully traced a nipple with one of your fingers. Raised eyebrows, Geto looked over at Gojo knew you enjoyed the tongue work and smacked the side of your thighs with acknowledgement. Geto silently questions your stamina as he mindlessly plays with your hair.

“More of what?” Propping himself up from his resting position, he brings one of his hands to your folds, idling, stroking the glistening parts. A helpless whine came from the raspy voice as you tried to suppress the moans that were dying to come out. “Getting fucked by my mouth?”

"Maybe she wants more. Do you, baby?" Geto suggestively mentions as he slowly brings one of his hands to play with one of your breasts, sighing out a dragged "fuck" as the warm weight filled the palm of his hands. It was now Geto's turn. He wanted more than just his mouth ravaging at your core. Legs holstered in the air, positioned on all fours, begging for a release, sounded all too good. The opportunities for you getting slutted into a highly impaired whore was endless. Gojo placed an amazing performance, but Geto grew tired of the watching. As the eyes grew hungry, so did the desire.

Questions became aroused while both men were toying with you in your impaired state. Every pulse in your body starting to fire as you helplessly squirm underneath the two men. You wanted more of them, even though it felt like you were about to pass out. Basking in the feeling of being stoned out of your mind was more pleasing than getting fucked by two men, but the feeling of wanting more grew as you continued to drawl puffs from the blunt.

You were about to voice your answer until Geto made another snide comment that made you feel you were still under his touch. A voice stricken by the sultriness of being stoned along with a hint of being dumbed down by being in between your thighs.

“Pass that shit and I’ll think about it. You’ve been holding on it for too long.”

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #saturo gojo #satoru gojo #gojo sensei #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto smut #satosugu #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x gojo satoru #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

[quitesins]

Hair as Pink as his Cheeks

Masterlist

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Tags: Sfw, fluff, drabble, early stages of the relationship tings, disgustingly sappy, Kirishima is there- at the start I mean, I’ll come back and edit dis later

A short drabble- that I’ll probably recycle for an actual fic I’m writing- where Bakugou accidentally dyes his hair pink!

“What the fuck shitty hair?!” Bakugou emerges from the bathroom, a bottle gripped tightly in his hands. And his hair. It’s pink.

“Holy shit.” Kirishima looks at him, wide eyed and evidently about to laugh. “What did you do man?”

Bakugou just dashes the bottle towards Kirishima- which the red head narrowly misses- and stomps over. “This is your doing, why the fuck is the shampoo full of dye.”

Kirishima just shrugs and pushes his hands through the wet hair, looking closely. Even at the roots, where his hair darkens, it’s pink.

“Wow, you really got it in there.” Kirishima notes, going to study another section of hair, before Bakugou pulls back and shoves at him lightly.

“Will this shit wash out,” Bakugou grumbles, glaring at his roommate. Kirishima looks sheepish and Bakugou already knows his answer. He groans.

“Hey, man, it looks good on you.” Kirishima tries to comfort. “Plus your hair grows fast, no? Give it a few weeks, you’ll be fine.”

Bakugou almost decks his- soon to be ex- best friend, best friend in question noticing and raising his hands in playful surrender.

“I need it gone now!” He huffs.

“Like now-now?” Kirishima inquires, looking at him suspiciously. “What for?”

“I have a fucking date with [Name]!” Bakugou finally shouts, sighing heavily as the words leave him.

The relationship is new. Still soft and stuttered. In its early stages of romance. It’s warm with the need to take the love in his hands, hold it gentle and nurture it. There’s a pressure to keep it close, nerves that force perfection. But most of all, it’s a simple childish urge. He wants to impress you. He wants you to like him.

Kirishima nods his head, looking solemn as he thinks. Then he finally speaks.

“Maybe a hat will do-” But before he can finish, Bakugou is on him like a rabid dog…

He’s nervous. Hat tucked over his hair and hoodie atop that for good measure. The air is hot and it only serves to make him dizzy. He dislikes the stickiness of his own skin and how his quirk threatens to go off. He waits for you in the shade but doesn’t spot you in the crowd.

“Kats’?” Your voice comes from behind, startling him, and he whips around quickly.

There you stand, in a flowing, summery dress, looking pretty in the sun.

“Yeah.” He turns, letting you greet him with a hug. The smell of your perfume is familiar and settles his nerves a little.

“What’s with the disguise,” you joke, and his nerves return.

“It’s not a fuckin’- it’s not a disguise.” He pulls off the hoodie but keeps the hat on. The pink of his hair does not stay hidden.

When he sees you and the way your eyes go wide, he groans, wanting the ground to swallow him whole.

“Wow,” you speak, almost like a question. “You’re pink?”

He isn’t quite sure how to respond, instead shoving the hood back on and grabbing your hand. He ignores your light protests and pulls you along with him to take seat at a cafe nearby.

With orders placed, he finally lets the hood and cap fall off, showing off the entirety of his now pink mane. He mumbles out a quick explanation, something about stupid roommates and ex best friends, and waits for you to react. You don’t respond immediately, so he prompts you, wanting to get it over with.

“So? What do you think?”

Your face shows you’re thinking, and after a moment you speak, “Well, it’s not quite Dynamight-”

He cuts you off. “I fucking know.” It’s like his walls draw up without his order. Ready to fight rejection before it arrives.

You bend over the table slightly, to sift your hands through his hair. You words are light, soft, and hold a sincerity even he can’t deny. “But I like it.”

That’s unexpected.

That’s really unexpected. So unexpected that his walls drop with a sudden thud and his face heats instantly.

“You’re as pink as your hair, Kats’” You laugh, moving back to you seat. He almost instinctively reaches out to keep your hands in his hair, but stops himself at the last second.

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, trying hard to keep his lips from tugging. He knows he probably looks a little insane, the way his teeth are bared, but he’s too embarrassed to let the smile free.

“Like candy floss.” You look at him dreamily. And God, he wants to squish the expression off your face.

“Are you just hungry.” He retorts, with an even more dramatic eye roll.

“A little bit.” You smile cheekily and he regrets his tease for he can see your next words coming clearly. “Maybe I should just eat you up.”

You’re unbelievable.

“Shut the fuck uppp.” He groans with his head turned. This time the he can’t keep the smile to himself, so he doesn’t.

Even you have a slight sickly grimace on your face. “Okay yeah, that was bad, even for me.”

The food arrives shortly, your half is mainly cakes and treats while he chooses something more nutritious. Doesn’t matter as he finds himself giving you half his meal anyways, liking the way you’re so free with how you express your delight. He frowns when you raise a cupcake with icing of an annoyingly familiar colour to him and snap a picture. He lets you keep the picture of course, playfully threatening that of it gets anywhere, that’d be your head. You reply with your own light hearted jabs, and the quick back and forth becomes something that could only be considered flirting.

“I really like it you know.” The sun sets on the two of you nicely. You speak to keep the day longer.

“I won’t keep it.” He establishes. “But I’m glad.”

“Aww not even for me.” You joke, smiling at him, like you’re trying to replace the sun. To him, you do.

If you asked seriously, he probably would. Anything even. He’d give it to you in a heartbeat.

“Nah.” To accept would have the discussion taper. So he lies, although he knows you know otherwise. “Not even you.”

Defo gonna snag bits and pieces of this for an actual fic. A pick n mix of my own writing with the sentences as sweets. Anyways I wasn’t sure how to end this at all and was tempted to simply go “the end” but i somewhat pulled through, hopefully… also also sorry for the random pacing and pov switching. Also also also, I used the word even too much. Okay long and drawn out authors note OVER! GOODBYE!

#fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bnha x reader #fluff #quite shorts #quitesins bkg

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi Lumine! First I just wanted to let you know I love your fics so much!!! Especially This Eldritch Delight, it makes me grin like a lunatic everytime I read it!

For the prompt, I was wondering something in the Eldritch Delight AU where Alec is in Alicante for some meeting or something and forgot his parasol and he's just chatting on the phone with Magnus, glaring at the sun when Magnus makes it rain acid in Alicante for his darling's not so delicate skin. All nephilim running around because 'wtf acid rain!? Did the demon towers fail!?' and Alec's just standing in the street blushing because Magnus is so sweet to him.

hey!!! thank you so much!! also I'm so glad to hear that because i grin like a lunatic while i'm writing it

here we go! i hope you enjoy how i went with it

^_^

lumine

-

A fire message flickers into existence and Alexander catches it, letting the flames flicker at his skin with a dreamy sigh before he blows away the embers and reads the message.

“My mother needs me to come help her with the menagerie. It seems the runes are wearing off and a few of them wandered out and into the woods. Mother is a bit worried about that, considering the werewolf pack out there.” Alexander sighs, “she says she’d miss the song of their howls if they get eaten.”

Magnus frowns, because they’d had plans and he hates the thought of losing even a second of time with his fiancé. It’s quite the hindrance how carefully Alexander’s Institute keeps track of him. They always seem to know where he’s supposed to be, which means Magnus can rarely steal him away. The last time he did, Alexander was inundated with frantic fire messages and calls, begging him not to go exploring on his own unless it was in a rift.

Which Alexander has promised to no longer do, unless of course he wants to take a picnic. Magnus wouldn’t mind rift-diving for a few hours, but it gets terribly tedious and he has much better ways to help Alexander avoid the clave.

“Well, that is a terrible pity, why such a pout my love?” Alexander pouts even more at being called out for his sulk and it’s so ghoulishly sweet that Magnus has to pepper kisses to his pouting lips. Alexander finally relents, sighing against Magnus’ caresses.

“It’s midmorning in Alicante, Magnus. It’ll be hot and bright and there will be dozens of them running about.” Magnus blinks for a moment, before he remembers that’s how his love refers to non-shadowhunter nephilim… actually all non-Institute nephilim.

“My heart—” Magnus purrs and he reaches out to pet Alexander’s hair away from his face. “I’ll summon you a portal straight to Alicante and hand you a shade myself before I leave you to your duties.”

The adoring, covetous and hungry look Alexander is giving him is enough that Magnus wishes they could postpone Alexander’s departure, however he doubts that will go over well with Alexander’s mother and Magnus is… trying.

The portal is simple enough but when they step through, Magnus frowns up at the sky. It is rather obscenely bright and not in a fun way. In the kind of way that made you wish your eyes would water to cleanse yourself of the vision.

Alexander looks miserable and it breaks Magnus’ heart, it’s without a thought that he changes his original plan and instead of merely summoning storm clouds to shield his love, he calls up the power of Edom instead.

It’s with a whisper and then a voiceless howl that Magnus realigns the skies themselves, calling the moon back and around as he uses his magic to change the speed of the earth as he demands the moon block the sun.

The entire world screams in agony for a breathless moment of non-understanding and then it’s like nothing happened.

Nothing except for the moon, now blocking the sun.

“A shade for you, beloved.” Magnus murmurs, blood on his tongue and Alexander is staring at him and then he’s being kissed. It’s a delighted, gleeful,

Alicante is panicking around them, unaware that it was Magnus or magic that called the moon into play, only horrified at the unexpected eclipse. There were orders to check on the demon towers and shouts as they tried to organize themselves into something of a defense.

Magnus steps back through his portal, to his lair lacking his fiancé and scowls, glaring at the walls which are suddenly lacking anything truly horrific.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #this eldritch delight #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec

[shipcestuous]

(submission)

Found these. 

F*cked by Natalie Knight (twin brothers x sister)

Warren and Ryker. My delinquent twin brothers from hell.

Our father caught them setting the high school athletic center ablaze and sent them away to rot in jail for six years.

But being locked away did nothing to curb their appetite for sin and debauchery.

Now they’re back with a new agenda—fuck, torment, teach—with one thing on their minds: making up for lost time with their spoiled little sister.

Me.

Obsessions: Part 1 by Lily Black (father x daughter)

I wasn’t supposed to crave him, but I do.The more I try to resist, the more my desire grows.One night changes everything because now he wants me too.What we’re doing is sick, twisted, and wrong,but like addicts, we chase the high,but how long until we fall?

Obsessions: Part 2 by Lily Black (father x daughter)

I swore to protect her from the day she was born,and I intend to keep that promise.What we have is wrong in the eyes of many,but I haven’t felt anything this right in my life.But secrets have a way of getting out.Ours could destroy us both.But if the choice is her or walking away,I’ll choose her every fucking time.And God help anyone who stands in my way.

Crooked Cove by Rory Ireland (brother x sister)

Our parents sent me away because they’re terrified that I’ll corrupt their only daughter.They should be.I’ve returned for summertime on the cove.My restraint is hanging by a thread.All it takes is one taste and I’m hooked.I’m the monster under her bed and her saving grace all rolled into one.And I’ll stop at nothing to claim what’s mine.

And Hell Followed by Beckett Riley (brother x sister)

My parents thought emigrating from Germany to the American frontier was going to be a good thing. But it seems that a darkness is doomed to follow us wherever we go and life can be so harsh and unforgiving in this world, especially for a woman.

Luckily, I have my brother, Thomas, to watch out for me. He can only do so much, though, and after that vile attack, I find myself shrouded in darkness more than ever. It was then I realized that festering gloom came from within.

Although society won’t take kindly to it, we have forsaken God to live an unholy life, and just as things finally began to calm down, the past reared its ugly head and came back to destroy everything we’ve built.

But as Thomas once told me, I would ride my steed through the fires of hell to salvage the only thing worth living for, and if the devil himself gets in my way, he will beg God for mercy.

Stolen Kisses and Secret Promises by Rue Seven (brother x sister)

My sweet Kielyr, we were far too young to understand why our parents decided to go separate ways and keep us apart for so many years. Luckily, we found our way back to each other. Never in a million years would I have ever imagined to hold and kiss you like this, to feel this ever-growing love for you. I’m lucky that I get to call you my love, my girl, my everything, my forever.

From the day we finally met, I promised to protect you. To never let anything happen to you, and to be there for you every second of every day, no matter the circumstances. I also promised to love you no matter what. No matter who’d find out about us, and I like to think that I’ve been able to keep our love protected for longer than we had ever expected. I’ve kept all those promises—and will continue to—but there was one day in our lives I hope to never relive ever again.

That day shattered me. It broke my heart to see you in so much pain, and even when you say to leave it all in the past, I still think back and wonder what I could’ve done to avoid it all. To save you from that cruelty. Sweet girl, you are so incredibly strong, and even after everything you’ve been through, your light still shines bright.

I spend every day admiring your kindness, gentleness, and selflessness.You’re truly one of a kind, and I’m forever thankful for your love. I will love you until infinity runs out. Yours always, Rellian.

Love Unexpected by Q.B. Tyler (stepfather x step daughter)

I’d only wanted one kiss.

One kiss, under the dark of night, in a city where no one knew us.

One kiss fueled by my hormones and alcohol and the blinding grief over losing my mother.

One kiss from the man I told myself was untouchable.

But, it didn’t stop at one kiss.

And now we are running full speed down a road with no intention of stopping.

His touch disarms me.His kiss revives me.But, our love, could destroy me.

Love’s Forbidden Flower by Diane Rinella (brother x sister)

The heart cares not what society forbids.

Lily nurtures a secret love for a flawless man—the one who is her soul mate. Donovan is gorgeous, charismatic, and delights in all of Lily’s talents and quirks. Their innate knowledge of each other is almost telepathic. Together they interlock like fine threads creating luxurious silk.

But society dictates this picture-perfect adoration is the ghastliest of all possibilities.

As Lily embarks on a quest for the romance the heavens intended, her suitor turns reluctant. Desperate to uncover why Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hiding decayed from a tender-hearted gentleman into a ferociously self-serving, cocky bastard, Lily is prepared for battle when it comes to the salvation of her soul mate. However, Donovan traps Lily in a mental game of chess, leaving her to question his sanity. When Lily’s revelations about Donovan’s destructive alter ego lead to an inconceivable truth, can she help Donovan survive fate’s cruel joke?

Time’s Forbidden Flower by Diane Rinella part 2 (brother x sister)

An eternity of passion cannot be quelled by society.

Once upon a time Donovan assured Lily all of her dreams would come true. But how could he keep the promise of a fairy tale when her truest goals could not involve him, though her deepest desires did? Now, Lily has it all—love, passion, a family, and the career of her dreams—with Christopher. But something is lacking. She and Donovan have spent the last ten years living apart, and the soul mates are eager to reunite. Can Donovan keep his promise to give Lily all she desires, even with Christopher in the way?

For Lily and Donovan, the past is a mirror to the future that cannot be shattered.

Donovan is convinced Lily has been his love for all eternity. Determined to unravel the past, they embark on a journey to discover where it all began. For centuries Donovan has stolen Lily’s heart while forced to suffer for his love. How much can a soul endure before the breaking point is reached and a monster emerges? Can the demons of the past be combated to pave the way for happiness in the next life? Or has the abuse suffered in this life already turned Donovan hell bound? Time and again, one woman has destroyed their happiness. It’s time to silence her once and for all.

Off Limits by Astra Rose (step father x step daughter)

Have you ever wanted something you just couldn’t have?

When her mother abandons her, Danica Holland doesn’t want to reach out to her ex-stepfather for help–even though he’s always been the one and only parent she could rely on. But when Social Services intervenes on her behalf, he rushes in with open arms…and broad shoulders, strong hands, and that cleft in his chin that drives women wild.

For Danica, life with Jean-Luc Rochat was always safe and secure. But after a year apart and a lot of growing up, things don’t feel so straightforward anymore. For example: Jean-Luc was always loving and protective, but was he also always…this hot?

While Jean-Luc struggles to resist his inappropriate fixation on his stepdaughter and be the parent she needs, Danica realizes that she can’t settle for anything less than the one man she truly loves–even if he is the one man she can never have.

PIKE: St. Charles Hockey Volume 1 by A. Briar (twincest)

PIKEDevil Incarnate. My fraternal twin brother is back in town and he is hellbent on making my life literal hell.

RHYSDaddy’s Princess. My fraternal twin sister. She’s never lived a day in hell, but I’m here to change that and I’ll be holding her hand as we walk through the fiery gates.

#submission #asks #nr #new canon #first post #list: books #list: canon #r: brosis #r: fd #A TREASURE TROVE #THANKS ANON

[verminsenc]

played wcue again recently and I am genuinely shocked at how horrible people are, especially to newer players

"unexp" being their main insult is absolutely insane. Turning around and saying such and such can't be leader because they're inexperienced, how do they genuinely think they're going to get that experience if they are shit on everytime they want to tryout the role?

Not knowing something isn't something they should be insulted for, neither is not reading the books. What gets me is how no one ever explains it to newer players when they're struggling, or point out there's actually a guide in-game they can look at. How are you going to be so mad but so unhelpful at the same time???

On the topic of new players, whatever the insult Luna is needs to go too. I don't know about anyone else but seeing a 'Luna/girl/wolf cat/pretty' in the wild is my favourite thing ever. It's endearing even. Almost always they're just a kid going through their first stages of oc making and that's lovely.

back to 'unexp' for a second, less importantly too, it pisses me off because it's incorrect too. it would be 'inexp' if anything 😒😒

#i hate this community #RANT!!! #i love complaining #wcue #wcue roblox #warrior cats

[beskarprincessjenny]

https://gofund.me/e44184dc

Ugh. I have to do this. 😔

Please share everywhere you can. ❤️

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

What is your interpretation of Viserys's character? It's amazing how grrm made the man who literally single handedly destroyed his family's legacy and started the bloodiest civil war in Westros a "joyful generous king who wants everyone to get along" it's like grrm wanted the fault of the dance to be on Alicent and Aegon not Vissy for some reason

Thanks anon! This is an excellent question.

So I actually don't think that GRRM meant for Alicent or Aegon to take the full blame for the Dance. If you read F&B and World of Ice and Fire, remembering that those books are not written in GRRM's authorial voice, but by in-world maesters who are compiling histories, you'll see that the authors of those books are not very complimentary about Viserys. However, they are diplomatic about it. He was a king who ruled for several decades, and he was not hated by the people at the time of his death. The scholarship of maesters like Gyldayn and Yandel is also pretty surface level. Still, Yandel all but blames Viserys for the Dance, saying that Viserys "had ruled for six-and-twenty years, reigning over the most prosperous era in the history of the Seven Kingdoms but seeding within it the disastrous decline of his house and the death of the last dragons." He might be called amiable and generous, but weighing against that, he's also called weak-willed, easily influenced, and anxious to please. Those are not really complimentary qualities when discussing kingship. The books stop short of calling Viserys a bad king on the level of Aegon IV or Aerys II, but they're not particularly complimentary towards him either.

And here's the thing. Ensuring a clean succession is one of a king's most important jobs. A smooth transition of power is essential for the stability of the realm, and a disputed succession was to be avoided at all costs. Throughout real life history, you will see examples of kings going out of their way to ensure that there is one clear heir who will inherit upon their death. It is the king's responsibility to ensure that the succession is clear, that the heir is prepared to rule, and that the heir has sufficient support to rule. There is a reason why, although the often repeated "the king's word is law" phrase might have some base truth to it, most kings followed established lines of succession and did not just choose their favorite child, or even the child they believed best suited to rule. Enduring the occasional less than ideal king was the price paid for a peaceful transition of power, and for ensuring that the method by which power was peacefully transferred from one monarch to the next, remained stable.

So in real life feudal monarchies, when succession crises happened, it was usually because of some unexpected event. The Anarchy that the Dance is based on happened because King Henry I lost his only son, William Adelin, in a shipwreck. The boy was already seventeen at the time, and when he died, Henry tried to have more sons with his second wife, but was unsuccessful. His only other legitimate child was a daughter, Matilda, who eventually became his heir following the rules of male preference primogeniture, although his nephews were in consideration at one point. Likewise, Edward the Black Prince, heir to Edward III, died before his father did. Unlike William Adelin, however, Edward the Black Prince had a son, Richard II, who became Edward III's heir. When Richard II became king he was still a child, and had to contend with very powerful adult uncles who became powerful as his regents, and their sons, who did not want to give up power when Richard II came of age. This situation eventually led to the War of the Roses. There are also succession crises in which a king who dies childless is also the last of his direct line, such as Henry III of France, the last Valois king. In this situation the next claimant might come through a female line or a more senior male line, but it's rarely clear cut. But these are generally unusual or unexpected situations rather than the result of a king's willful refusal to do his duty and ensure a clean succession.

Viserys had options for avoiding the Dance, the easiest and most obvious being simply making his eldest son his heir upon his birth. He had every indication that his insistence on keeping Rhaenyra as heir would lead to a succession crisis after his death, and yet he did nothing to avert it. He had no intention of codifying new succession laws to allow daughters to inherit over sons, instead he imagined succession as a free for all, king's choice, which is bound to lead to conflict and is a terrible idea in a kingdom ruled by dragonriders. Viserys inherited a prosperous and stable kingdom and arguably the most important job he had was to keep it stable, and yet he created a succession crisis out of nothing, for no good reason. Neither Rhaenyra nor Aegon turned out to be particularly good rulers in their short reigns, but only one of them could have taken the throne as uncontested heir, and that is Aegon. Had Aegon been named heir from the start, there would have been no one to contest him (Rhaenyra's claim lies solely on being her father's chosen heir, if she's isn't, she has no claim), and no war.

What would compel Viserys to completely trash his own succession? I think in the books, it is left up to interpretation. Was Viserys stupid, willfully ignorant, or a malicious narcissist? Certainly, although he was supposedly a people pleaser, no one in his family was very pleased by his decisions, and it's hard to imagine the Red Keep a happy household when Viserys deliberately drove a wedge between his children and created a situation that everyone knew would one day lead to war. I'm going to tag @aifsaath because she has some good Viserys thoughts regarding the possibility that Viserys wasn't just a bumbling idiot, but actively malicious.

#asks #viserys i targaryen #dance of the dragons #fire and blood #aegon ii targaryen

[shantismurf]

Who are the armies in the Battle of Five Armies anyway? – The Tolkien Society

Tolkien’s conception for the ending of the story changed dramatically in the course of writing the book. Under his initial plan (see Plot Notes B, p. 366), the climactic battle of the story would not have involved dwarves at all, and would have taken place in – what we know as – the Anduin vale as Bilbo travels home from the Lonely Mountain after he (yes, Bilbo) killed Smaug. Here the Goblins and Wargs would have battled the Wood-elves, the Men of the woods and the south, and Beorn leading a host of bears.

Just a friendly reminder that Tolkien originally planned for Thorin to liiiveeeeee!

Oh and Bilbo was always a BAMF. 😘

#its canon #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #thorin x bilbo #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #tolkien

[ampleappleamble]

—

Very few ships operating within the Deadfire bothered to make the long and treacherous trip to the lonely expanse of open sea known colloquially as the Windless Wastes. Traversing the unnaturally still waters was, after all, a task hardly worth the effort– excepting a direct route south to Naasitaq or the White That Wends, the area held little of value. No whaler was mad or foolish enough to brave the icy depths for a prize that could be won far more easily in safer waters, and cartographers had yet to make an offer enticing enough for any sufficiently competent explorer to successfully chart the place. The only known ports in which one might find shelter consisted of an abandoned Vailian fortress surrounded by shipwrecks and shrouded in a malevolent fog, and an inhospitable iceberg populated entirely by fanatical Rymrgandian cultists. Therefore, very few ships passed that way, and fewer still dared to drop anchor at the lone settlement frozen into the crevices of the Dead Floe, lest the burgeoning ice issuing forth from the winds of the glacial cliffs freeze their vessels in place for good.

Still, an unlucky or incompetent captain finding themselves bereft of the trading companies' good graces– if not a crew still to be paid and fed– might sometimes need plunge into very unfriendly waters indeed if they were to make ends meet. And even oblivion-seeking zealots needed tallow and firewood, needed vegetables and fruit and grain, and if they had coin or useful sundries to trade for it, who was a desperate merchant to argue? And so ships still, on occasion, reluctantly docked at Harbinger's Watch, offloading whatever wares they had before they spoiled: to the brewmaster, the fishmonger, the innkeeper.

But despite the dangers and the difficulties, one plucky young entrepreneur visited on a more regular basis, one who treated exclusively– and secretly– with the High Harbinger himself. And on this visit, much to her chagrin, he was proving to be a very difficult client.

—

"This is it?" Vatnir picked at the thin, shabby fare laid out before him, an unimpressed scowl stretched across his lipless face. "This is all you have on offer?"

"Per complancanet, fentre, do not sound so offended." The merchant fussed with a loose strand of ivy sprouting from her shoulder and strode briskly across the tiny hidden room, as though she were trying to physically distance herself from her own pathetic muster. "Di verus, it is nothing personal. My sister and I, we have merely suffered a... a lean quarter, ac? A temporary bout of poor fortune. You, more than anyone, should understand that." She narrowed her goat's eyes at him, somehow managing to pout condescendingly.

The son of Rymrgand shot the daughter of Galawain a withering glare as he roughly placed a jar of corpsefruit preserves back onto the table with a resounding crack. "And you, more than anyone, ought to understand the incredible risk I take in simply meeting here with you every month."

He folded his hands behind his back and lowered his horned head down between his shoulders as he spoke, sounding not unlike a teacher scolding a bright but lazy pupil. "I am the leader of this clan, Bela, the very beating heart of this community. My spare time is both exceedingly scarce and incalculably precious to me. If it should ever be discovered how I choose to spend that time–"

Bela huffed indignantly. She had come here to do business, not to get lectured. "Postenago, of course I know that–"

"Then why," he hissed, whirling sharply on her, "do you think you can convince me to trade the products of my limited time and effort– painstakingly crafted, authentic, invaluable jommydra– for dross and dregs?" He thrust a bony, accusing finger at the pitiful display of substandard goods cluttering his table.

For a moment Bela was shocked into silence, but if her miserable childhood as part of a traveling curiosity show in the Republics had taught her anything, it was how to recover quickly from an unexpected blow. "Well, you seem to have very easily put a value on them, High Harbinger," Bela spat back coolly. "Over the years we've been doing business together, you've traded away quite a few copies of your precious lore. For food, drink, smoke..."

Vatnir snorted derisively, waving a bandaged hand at her as though to waft away her insinuations. "Yes, yes, good food, good drink, good smoke," he barked. "Rare foreign luxuries that might lift away at least some small portion of the burdens I bear. Things worth the hours I pour into reproducing my clan's most sacred scripture for a profane outsider. Not this... detritus."

"There's plenty here that's perfectly good yet!" Bela insisted, stomping back over to the table and casting her hand in a broad arc above the sad little pile of miscellanea, trying to convince herself as much as her customer. "Madiccho, I thought you Glamfellen were more resourceful than that. Look, here. This whiteleaf–"

"—is naught but stems and seeds," he scoffed, "more likely to clog my pipe than to ease my pain." He coughed, as though to make his point.

"Well," she countered brusquely, "perhaps a man in your condition should not be smoking so much anyway." She snatched up a brown glass bottle from the table, waved it enticingly at him. "Drink, I think, would be much better to soothe your poor throat, ac? Rum, fine rum distilled in the heart of Neketaka, fit for a Watershaper– no, for the Queen herself!"

"Half empty," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "And nowhere near as good as anything I can already get from Nyvardir. For free."

Really, the worst part was that he was right– her stock was shit, all of it. But unfortunately for her, shit was all she had, and she couldn't endanger her proprietary arrangement with the only priest of Rymrgand in the Deadfire, and one willing to betray the sacrosanctity of his office for personal gain at that. Desperation crawled up inside her guys like a creeping vine. "Gellarde. Fine. Fine! All of it, then! I will give you all of it, fentre, everything you see here, if you'll only–"

"Maribel," Vatnir snapped. "I don't want any of it."

She turned away from him.

With any other client, she'd have probably called it quits by now and referred him to a peer to whom she owed a favor. Part of being a good saleswoman, after all, was recognizing when one was simply the wrong kith for the job, and networking with contemporaries was just as important as pleasing one's customers. But if Marri was right– and being an Endings godlike herself, her "sister" did possess some unique insight into the matter– having exclusive access to authentic Glamfellen holy lore could mean the difference between dominating the market in the White That Wends, or continuing to drag along the bottom of the mercantile social strata as they did now, barely making enough profit for the next job's expenses, servicing clients with her body when her merchandise would not suffice. And if they were successful in using their godlike status to capture the custom of an entire country (or the communities along the northern coasts that deigned to trade with outsiders, anyway), perhaps they could capture the attention of the Songretta as well, convince them and the ducs that godlikes did have a place in the Republics, that they could run magnificent businesses, fill a niche that no ordinary kith ever could. She couldn't just give up on that dream. In fact, she refused to rest until this repugnant, boorish, creepy little charlatan of a priest gave her what she wanted; what she deserved, really, for putting up with him for so long. So she turned away from him, and she uncorked the vial of oil of allure strung around her neck for just such an occasion.

When she turned back to face Vatnir again, her eyes were downcast, her full, glossy lips parted just slightly. She fluttered her long, dark eyelashes, willed color into her cheeks, made her voice smoky and sultry and sweet. "In that case," she murmured, "I suppose I only have one more thing to offer you, High Harbinger."

The dozens of tiny orange flowers that crawled up her delicate antelope's horns and nestled throughout the tight curls of her mahogany hair all slowly turned toward Vatnir in unison, as though he were the sun. Her lichen-pocked hand drifted slowly across her soft, round belly, then up and across the plunging neckline of her dress, tugging at a leather strap tucked between her shoulder and her ample bosom.

Vatnir stumbled a step backwards, a bruise-colored blush spreading beneath his mask, bad memories rising up inside him like bile. "N-no," he blurted, "no, no. None of that. Never again. I'll not humiliate myself a second time just for you to–"

"Cuè?" Bela purred, pulling the strap harder to bring her satchel around to her front. The oil burned as it clung to her tongue, its intoxicating perfume billowing up around her as she spoke. "Sientere, but I cannot imagine what you might find humiliating about being offered a perfectly innocent book, fentre."

Vatnir blinked, eyeing her suspiciously before stepping closer again, his shame quickly and mercifully forgotten. "A book?" he muttered, his tripartite gaze fixed on her hands as she opened her bag and produced a thick, heavy volume bound in skuldr leather. "What, a new one?"

"New to you. And to me as well," she sighed, trying to suppress a grin. He couldn't smell it, she knew, but her oil was definitely working on him, drawing him in. And it was working on her, too, loosening her up, making the right words come to her as though they were being whispered in her ear. "Di verus, this item is not exactly part of my regular stock– it is a personal possession, a... gift from another client. I am only halfway through it myself, but if you insist on driving such a hard bargain..."

She coyly proffered the book, holding it just out of his reach, and as expected, he grasped for it eagerly. For many reasons, physical travel wasn't feasible for the High Harbinger of Dusk, but reading afforded him a kind of escape anyway. While narcotics and culinary delicacies could bring great pleasure and powerful succor, his enjoyment of them was also agonizingly momentary, and he was at the mercy of the gods to decide when an opportunity to endulge might fall upon him. A good story, however, was something he could escape into whenever he pleased, for as long as he dared: he needed only find the time to read it first, and then his chanter training allowed him to easily recall a particular turn of phrase or a favorite quotation and slip into another world inside his mind, a fantasy where he could hide away from the endless, miserable drudgery of his life. They were good for inspiring new ideas, too, new imagery and experiences and characters to weave into his sermons and his "visions", to make them sound more meaningful, more believable to his ignorant followers. If he were to be completely honest, a good, thick book was probably his very favorite thing to find among the vendor's wares when she visited– although, in the interests of trying to lower her prices for the damned things, he'd never admit it to her. Noting with relief that this one was written in a language he could actually read, Vatnir took up the weighty manuscript in his arms and adjusted his eyes and his mind to Aedyran script, drinking in the title.

The New Legends of the Eastern Reach: A True and Thorough Telling of the History of the Dyrwood in Anni Iroccio 2823, Detailing the Animancy Trials, the Assassination of Duc Aevar Wolf-Grin and the Defiance Bay Riots, the Rise of the Watcher of Caed Nua, and the Lifting of the Hollowborn Curse.

He sagged in disappointment.

"What in– for frost's sake, what kind of title is that?" he whined, even as he flipped the cover open and began leafing through the pages.

"One that tells you what the book is about, fentre," Bela deadpanned, smirking. "I know you haven't much use for world news down here in the frozen-over asshole of the southern seas, but let me assure you, the events described therein are as exhilarating and enthralling as any fantasy novel or sprawling epic. And what's more, they actually happened! In fact, if rumors–"

"You said this one was new," Vatnir grumbled, licking his thumb before turning another page. "The title says Anni Iroccio 2823. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the current year in your Vailian calendar is 2828, ja?"

Bela bristled slightly at the priest's constant interruptions, not to mention his choice to smear his stinking slobber all over the book she'd worked so hard to pilfer, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. "I said it was new to you," she reminded him patiently. "And books do take time to scribe and to illustrate, fentre, especially the more comprehensive ones like this. But the really interesting thing about this one is–"

"Ah, so there are pictures," Vatnir mused, happening across one as he rifled through the pages. "And in color, even." Indeed, vivid hues and brilliant goldleaf leapt out at him from the copious marginalia and full-page illustrations, charming and intriguing him despite himself: a Dyrwoodan city district teeming with what looked like the undead, a cluster of adra pillars surrounded by armed kith with painted faces, a bearded meadow folk man in an opulent cloak. He turned another page, and another, searching for more.

He stopped.

There on the page before him was a portrait of an orlan woman in a shining silver breastplate, her bright red hair cascading over her sturdy shoulders, her golden fur glittering against her tawny skin, her long, slender ears arcing gracefully toward the heavens, her violet eyes fixed on a point beyond the edge of the page, piercing and determined.

Vatnir stared, stupefied, powerless to look away. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

Bela, peeking over his shoulder, had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. Oh, she had him now. "Careful not to drool on the parchment, fentre. You'll make the ink run."

The smitten priest abruptly snapped back to reality, blinking rapidly and sucking air in between his teeth. "W-what?" he gurgled.

Now the merchant allowed herself to laugh. "As I was saying," she continued, "the interesting bit about this book is that it chronicles, in part, the rise of a particular hero of the Dyrwood. One who, if rumors are to be believed, has recently arrived here in the Deadfire. And gellarde! You have found her: the Watcher of Caed Nua!"

"Watcher?" Vatnir looked down at the book again, his gaze lingering on the woman's face for a moment before finally spotting a caption woven into the portrait's intricately detailed border, just beneath her clasped hands.

"Axe," he read, then stopped, perplexed. He squinted at the page. "Ocks-ah–"

"Ah-sha, postenago," Bela laughed. "She is Ixamitec. Ah-sha Ma-la is her name."

"Ah-sha Ma-la," he repeated softly, reverently, his eyes roving hungrily over the portrait again. "Axa Mala, of Ixamitl. Who is she?"

Hook, line, and sinker. Now all Bela had to do was reel him in. "To find out, aimoronet, you will have to buy the book," she teased, lightly running a fingertip along the edge of his ear. "Or trade for it, of course."

"Of course," he echoed absently, completely sincere– and then, too late, he caught himself.

Embarrassed, he gritted his teeth and jerked away from the merchant's touch, slamming the book shut. "Of course," he groused, scurrying to the opposite end of the room, the book still in his arms. "Well. You were right about one thing– I have no use for world news. In truth, no one does. So long as the Floe keeps expanding, there will soon be no world, no news. As it should be." The High Harbinger heaved a heavy sigh. "But..."

Bela's grin broadened. "But...?"

He turned his head to peer at her over his shoulder. "But you have piqued my curiosity. You said this... Watcher was here, in the Deadfire, now? What brought her here? I doubt I'll find that out from a book written five years ago."

Bela's golden-green eyes shone with excitement, and she hurried to his side, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "You have heard of the giant adra man, ac? The one storming across the archipelago, possessed by Eothas, the dead god, devouring souls and luminous adra wherever it treads?"

A giant man made of adra? This was the first he'd heard of anything like that. "I've heard rumors," he lied. "So it's true, then?"

"Oh yes, fentre, it is true," she chirped. "And this Watcher, this Axa Mala? She is here because she is chasing it. It emerged from beneath her castle in the Dyrwood, tearing away her soul with its rising, and Cirono returned her to us from the Beyond to hunt the giant down."

Vatnir rolled his eyes at the mention of Berath, but pressed on regardless. "Hunt it down?" he muttered. "To what end?"

She shrugged. "Who can say? Perhaps Cirono wishes her to reclaim her soul from the dead god, that it might return to the Wheel as is proper. Perhaps she has been tasked with finding a way to stop the giant's rampage, or else destroy it. Whatever her reasons, she has told the Queen of the Kahanga that she intends to sail the seas far and wide, scouring the isles for her runaway god. Who knows? Perhaps one day she'll even pay you a visit, all the way down here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Bela winked at him, laughing again as the priest cringed and blushed.

"D-don't mock me, Vailian," he grumbled. "I've grown weary of your company. Just... take the jommydra and go. A book for a book– that will have to stand in for a fair trade, this time." He set the thick tome carefully on the edge of his table, snatching up a significantly slimmer manuscript and coughing into his free hand as he thrust it in the merchant's general direction.

Bela clapped her hands together, delighted in her victory, and flounced over to him to collect her prize. "Agracima, High Harbinger," she gushed, gathering her hard-won treasure– along with her unsold wares– into her satchel. "Always a pleasure to do business with you."

He grunted dismissively, and then again in alarm as he noticed what she was up to. "H-hey, wait a minute– what are you doing? You said I could have all of it if–"

"–if you'd trade me what you promised me you would when last we met, ac," she explained, cocking a slim green vine of an eyebrow. "I did not say you could have all of this and my personal copy of a rare and expensive book. It's one or the other, fentre. Do not be greedy."

Vatnir narrowed his cold, beady eyes at her. "Fine," he spat. "But you owe me better, much better than this next time. And I intend to hold you to that."

"I'm certain you will," Bela chuckled, latching her now bulging bag shut. "If you should ever wish to trade it back to me, my sister and I will return in a month, as per our arrangement. Corès for now, aimico. Use her portrait for your pleasure all you wish, but do try not to fall in love, ac?"

Vatnir growled, reaching threateningly for an empty bottle of rymsjódda. But before he could even pick it up let alone throw it at her, the woman gave him a cheerful little wave and vanished in a puff of smoke– her favorite rogue's trick, and an excellent way to return to her ship undetected by any of the other harbingers. She always ended their meetings that way. Annoying, but at least he was finally alone.

Alone with his new book. With Axa Mala, hero of the Dyrwood, and the tales of her great and terrible deeds. His hands trembled as he cracked the book open, letting the pages fall to either side, parting to reveal the orlan's portrait once more, every bit as captivating as the first time he'd seen it. He suddenly felt nervous, nauseated even, as though she were about to march into his quarters in person and demand to know what he thought he was doing. So he closed the book and took a few deep breaths before opening it again, this time to the first page.

"Well then," he murmured, "shall we get to know one another, Watcher of Caed Nua?" And he started reading.

—

#pillars of eternity #vatnir #fanfic wip #working title: hero worship #honestly that'll probably be the published title too #kinda bummed i had to change the Lords of the Eastern Reach reference #but unfortunately it just didn't quite work #anyway this is the intro and first half #the rest will come... uh later #thanks for reading ♡

[gammagoop]

my recent fixation has been the wings of fire book series since ive been rereading it, which i feel is not very related to any of my other interests and so i havent posted much about it. but i literally have “post whatever i want” in my bio so i’m not going to let the whims of an audience stop me any longer

all that to say heres some of my series opinions in the form of tierlists

(not including 3rd arc bc i havent gotten there on my reread and i dont remember it very well)

character tierlist! (added the legends: darkstalker characters manually since they weren’t in the tiermaker version)

notes:

mightyclaws is my background character fave. category 10 glup shitto event

i need to do a long post on how much i love whiteout. another day

i realy like clay in the first book and if he retained the same level of depth throughout the series he would be in the top tier-- its just that his writing makes him so shallow in the rest of the books it makes me so sad :[ i was listening (audiobook) to hidden kingdom and like. 90% of his lines/actions were about food and the other 10% were about protecting the other dragonets..... i related so much to his anxiety in the first book and his empathy and his ability to see both sides of things... gah. sad.

jambu is also one of my glup shittos. i love his whimsical ass

foeslayer is a hard one for me because she never did anything wrong she's just..... not as present as i wish she was. she's treated as a very vital character with how many large plot points hinge on her, but she doesnt have much agency herself. its stated a lot that she's extremely important to darkstalker but in the legends book we dont see much of them interacting? idk. i like her but she always feels so uninvolved

the 'beat you to death (funny)' tier is just for characters who i like on some level but are also pathetic and worms. out of that tier i like deathbringer the best and mastermind the worst

tier after that are for characters who i have a positive opinion on but not really a strong one. anemone and sora are more complicated, but i do generally like them. i really just feel bad for them if anything. i think i like clearsight more than the other characters in this tier, but she's not in the 'wonderful :D' tier because i dont think she has a very strong personality

the 'conflicting feelings' tier is kind of a trainwreck because it means a lot of things

obviously riptide is the outlier since he hasnt done anything nearly to the degrees of coral, glacier, and albatross-- but i do have conflicting feelings on him. riptide is completely inoffensive, hasn't done anything wrong, i just dont like him because he has no real reason to be in the story. like you could write him out very easily. his only purpose is to be a love interest for tsunami which is like...... gh. dude. she doesnt need one. if she's gonna have a romance it should come naturally. not "wow this seawing is handsome and also he's the first one ive properly met as well as a guy do im in love with him now" like girl do better

coral and glacier both have done bad things and obviously have bad intentions but also.... theyre not the worst. bad but not the worst.

albatross is a victim of emotional abuse and even though that doesnt justify his actions it does explain how they could have been negated

next 3 tiers are self-explanatory. i forgot to put her on there but queen vigilance goes in 'the grime beneath my shoe'

actually no i wanna talk about scarlet and battlewinner: i think the thing that i like about them is their theatrics. they bot have such a huge presence, like a disney villain. whenever i read scarlet dialogue it almost feels poorly written with how over-the-top she is but. no other character talks like that. its just how scarlet is. and i think thats so good. whereas battlewinner's situation conceptually is just cool as hell. i love how she struggles to speak because of the ice in her throat, her rage, the way she's hinted at but her reveal is completely unexpected...... very very good

no one likes morrowseer

when im in an emotional abuse and classism competition and my opponent is queen lagoon 😧

ship tierlist! (made on ms paint since i couldnt find any good ones on tiermaker. turned out to be nice since i can mess with the placement more)

notes:

top tier is /j i just dont really like how tui writes romance

i was kind of against glorybringer at first for the same reason i dont like tsunami/riptide but honestly it grew on me. their dynamic is so fun

anemome/tamarin is good i just think tamarin could do better if she wanted to. but i understand the "i can fix her" mentality and i do genuinely think tamarin could help anemone

sunny/fatespeaker is kind of a funny concept but also i can totally see it

i genuinely forgot turtlejou was a thing in canon ... it does not make sense to me. who came up with this. in the words of my friend "forced heterosexual on both parts tbh"

i love turtle and peril as friends so so so much if i saw someone romantically shipping them i feel like i could get mad

smolder/thorn is like if glorybringer was bad. mostly just because thorn can do way better than him. smolder and vermilion should kiss each other and bond over being wimp princes who havent actually done anything wrong themselves but bow to tyrant relatives to avoid getting killed

i dont know if this will be an unpopular take but clay and peril is such an awful ship. i like them as friends, i think theyre great as friends, but a romantic relationship between them would be so deeply unhealthy considering their situation. peril would be even more dependent and attached to him than she already is, and clay is not the kind of dragon who has an easy time saying 'no' to things. it would not be a malicious relationship in any way, but it would not be good for them. peril needs to learn how to live for herself, not for the approval of anyone else

okay thats all for today friends. thank you if you read all of my mismatched thoughts if you did ^_^ i love talking

#wings of fire #long post #wof #masontalking

[m0rbidmacabre]

KINKTOBER 2023 – DAY 17 – Heat 

Featuring: Swiss and a Sister of Sin  

Words: 1,600 

WARININGS: Nakedness, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Hot and Sweaty Mess.  

NOTES: I enjoyed this a little too much, I think at some point I might turn this into more than just a one shot.  

BELOW NSFW

***READ HERE ON AO3  ***

Swiss lifted his head up from his pillow; his room was cold, dark, and lonely. Feeling particularly needy he rubbed himself against the mattress trying to fill that ache that had arrived in the pit of his stomach. He got up from his bed and made his way to the door of his room, he opened it slowly and peeked out into the lair that he shared with the other ghouls. They had not long been back from tour with the ghost project. It was almost silent. Touring this time of year was dangerous, Swiss knew the moment he was on stage that the demon inside him was sure to make an appearance. He often let's go on stage, letting his inner beast show for the sisters and brothers they were performing for. He was almost animalistic at times. He knew they loved it, how much it made them horny just watching him grinding himself against his microphone stand in sheer animalistic pleasure.  Sure, Papa was the favourite, but he knew they loved it all the same. Since they had arrived home though, he was lonely feeling the need to have anything between his legs he could. Maybe he had reached his rutting season a little earlier than they had expected. Touring was normally planned around the times the ghouls needed to ghoul.  

He decided to take a walk into the abbey and see if he could find the others but with no luck, he spotted a sister sitting in the gardens. He watched her. He hid, not wanting to be noticed. Ghouls were not supposed to intervene with sisters unless invited to. She had long fiery hair, and bright eyes that glistened in the sunshine. Her body was curvy in all the right places and full of life. She was stunning, he hadn’t noticed her before, maybe it was his heat that brought her to his attention. She was just what Swiss needed between his legs right now. He tilted his head as he watched her, his animalistic nature taking over his body and let out a grunt. By this point, he was sure she should feel his gaze. It was so intense, that he was almost summoning Satan himself through his lust. At that moment she lifted up her head and their gazes met. His eyes glowing just as red as her fiery hair, the depths of hell only matching in colour. She smiled. Swiss melted, feeling his cock twitch and let out a slight grunt. She waved slightly and Swiss took that as an invitation to join her. 

 Walking over to her, he let out a desperate gasp, wanting to hide the lust that had arrived. “Hi Sister” he said as he noticed she was reading and glanced at her book. “Swiss!!” She gleefully expelled. “Urgh” he couldn’t take her saying his name, how was he supposed to hide this?  It was obvious to him that she admired him by the way his name rolled off her sweet tongue. Maybe he could lead her into worship he thought to himself. “Do you mind if we take a walk?” Swiss said to her. “Sure” she replied, a confused look on her face. Swiss led her towards the woods, it was autumn, and you could feel the chill in the air brought by the changing of the season. The sister took the lead as they were edging closer to the clearing between the grounds and the woods. She glanced at him and smiled again. Swiss clearly felt his pants move this time. He needed her... needed her badly. Just that look on her face was enough to make him move. “Here’s fine” Swiss said as they reached an area of the woods that was covered and private enough for no one to hear what was being whispered. The sister looked at him in confusion again and offered him her hand. “What is it Swiss, I saw you watching me. Do you need to talk?” She replied. “No” he grunted his eyes glazing over to fire again. "I want you to submit to me” he said to her. Her eyes widened at his unexpected confession but just hearing those words coming from his mouth was enough to make her clit throb. “What do you need” she replied with that ever so sweet smile, Ever the willing participant.  Swiss just glared at her for a moment, not wanting to give in to his needs. “You!” he whispered his confession. She stepped closer and cupped his face in her hands. “Anything for you Swiss” she answered. He looked down towards her chest “Remove your clothes” he grunted. She bashfully obliged standing there in just her panties. Her nipples hardening at the fresh cool air.  Swiss took in the sight of her for a moment in the fading light, the sky glowing orange cast a light over her that made her even more stunning. It made her skin glow angelically, but she was far from angelic standing in the woods almost naked like a needy animal. Swiss gave in and moved towards her pushing her back into a tree trunk, lifting her hands above her head. He held her arms tight. Not tight enough to cause alarm but tight enough to know she couldn’t just quickly escape his grasp. He pulled himself closer, looking deep into her eyes, that glow was there again. the fire. Satan knows how much he needs her right now and pushing her head to the side he kissed her cheek and proceeded to move down her neck, sucking and nipping as he went. She could feel herself growing wet as he kissed her, and a quiet moan slipped from her mouth. Swiss dropped to his knees “Let’s see how much you need me right now” he said to her. He pulled her panties down using his fangs and lifted her legs onto his shoulders, the tree trunk keeping her lifted enough for him to take in her sex. He smiled “mmh... you're dripping for me already, you need this just as badly as I do, don’t you sister?” he grunted to her as the fresh air hit her open cunt. Swiss kissed her thighs moving closer to her core and then took her into his mouth. Suckling her clit, he could feel her body growing warm in the cold air around them. She looked at him with half-hooded eyes and let out a desperate moan as he devoured her like an animal eating its prey. She could feel herself growing closer to orgasm and Swiss could feel it too as her clit was growing swollen in his mouth. She whispered his name “Swiss....” He looked up at her his eyes burning bright with desire, his face in a twisted smile showing the tip of his fangs and let her legs go from around his neck.  

She stood against the tree not knowing what to expect next, she just knew she needed him. Feeling her stomach circling like a demon surrounding a hearty meal. Swiss stood up, placed a kiss on her neck moved his hands to his pants and opened the buttons agonisingly slowly. He wanted to show the sister just how much he wanted her right now, just like she did for him. The sister started to nibble his ears, needing to feel something close to her as she was growing desperate. A raspy moan escaped Swiss as his cock sprang free from his pants, his need making itself known in the fading light. He lifted her leg up and grunted. Feeling his cock against her wet cunt. This is just what he needed. He moved himself to line up with her dripping core and pushed himself inside. “Fuck, you're so tight sister... so needy” he said as she let out a moan against his ear. Swiss started to move faster, chasing his own pleasure. He pushed deep, thick and fast his breath rasping against her neck in the autumn air, he could almost make out every breath in the cold air. He was fucking her hard, the animal in heat was showing from inside him. The sister didn’t mind though, she was clearly having the time of her life. He rasped as she grew tighter around him and she was reaching her orgasm “Swiss, baby. I’m going to cum” she muttered as her head fell back against the tree. she felt herself reaching her highest of pleasures. “No, you wait for me... I’m close” Swiss demanded. She did that smile again that he loved so much, driving him even more insane as he saw the lust behind her eyes. He let go of one of her hands and placed it on the tree by her neck and let his demonic behaviour free as he fucked her. He could feel himself losing himself in his lust as he whispered “it’s time to let go, sister” under a grunting moan. As she let her pleasure take her, she moaned. Her earth was shattering all over Swiss's hard cock. Swiss moved with one deep thrust hitting her g-spot just the right way as she climaxed. She gasped. Sending her world spilling out of her. Swiss caught his breath as she tightened against him and let himself go, spilling his seed into her as deep as he could. They fell into each other as Swiss held them up against the tree. “Fuck, she was just what I needed” he thought to himself as he wiped his drooling chin on her. 

#ghost #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #the nameless ghouls #kinktober 2023 #smutty smut smut #smutty fanfiction #swiss x sister of sin smutt #ghost bc #ghost kinktober #ghost fanfiction #ghost ghouls #ghost the band

[onippep]

Wish I could help with more than a reblog. How's Romeo?

thanks for asking! He bounced back quick from his last vet visit that almost costed him his life. He declines a lot from stress whenever he has a vet visit so it scares us every time. But he’s on several different meds and needs regular chest taps, that’s all I know for now. Bills adding up pretty quick.

for anyone that wishes to help us out, feel free to donate, and thank you!

#;off the clock #GFM