shadowlord420sgf

[shadowlord420sgf]

i am going to eat him

Here's the colored version of my recent parker (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

Want him bad..

[shadowlord420sgf]

Volt with his hair tied into a ponytail! :)

Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure he’d let you borrow his hair tie if you asked nicely

[shadowlord420sgf]

PLEASE MAKE MORE STEPFORD NSFW I NEED THIS MAN SO BAD IM GONNA PASS OUT

wait!! i wrote this just for you so don’t pass out!!! nsfw warning obvi ,, anyways i hope you enjoy

“Ohh, you are soaked, aren’t you?”

Stepford cooed the words against your inner thigh, his plush lips brushing where they shouldn’t yet be, just to make you twitch. He was already kneeling, perfectly posed between your legs, hands stroking slowly up your thighs.

He wasn’t trying to make you come—not yet. He was just looking, admiring. Breathing you in like it was enough to get him off.

“Mmh… you’re always so sweet when I get you like this,” he murmured, eyes fluttering half-shut. “Warm, soft, just dripping for me…”

You sighed, hips shifting closer. “You gonna keep talking, or are you gonna—”

“Manners,” he scolded lightly, though his voice was thick with arousal. “If you want me to put my mouth where it belongs, you’ve gotta say please…”

He looked up at you through those fluttery lashes, lips just barely brushing your folds now. “Come on… say it. You know you like it when I beg.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Please, Stepford,” you breathed, curling your fingers in his hair. “…Be good and eat me out.”

That was all it took.

He groaned before his tongue was on you, slow and warm and deliberate, licking through your cunt with such focus it made your head fall back. One hand tangled in his gold locks, tugging slightly.

“Ohh, there,” he whimpered, rutting slightly into the bed like he was getting off on it. “That’s it, that’s the taste I missed…”

You whined as he moaned into you again, open-mouthed, noisy, messy. He wasn’t shy with it—he never was—tongue gliding in deep strokes, nose bumping against your clit as he mouthed and kissed and devoured.

You barely had to guide him. He knew your body too well. Every flick of his tongue had purpose, every whimper he let out only made you wetter. When he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you cried out, and he smiled against you.

“So good,” he whispered, voice sticky with praise and slick with your arousal. “So perfect for me. You always taste so good when I make you melt like this…”

You whimpered as your thighs trembled around his head.

“You gonna come for me?” he cooed, barely pulling back. His lips were soaked, face slick with spit and your arousal. “Come on… Give it to me. Let me taste it, let me feel you come on my tongue—I’ll be so good—”

You came with a gasp, voice breaking, legs clamping around his head as your fingers yanked him closer. He moaned like he’d been waiting for that—like he had climaxed from it—and he didn’t stop. His tongue kept working you through it, slow, greedy, savoring you like a reward.

When you finally relaxed, breathless, thighs trembling, Stepford kissed the inside of your thigh, a proud little grin curling on his lips.

“There she is,” he purred. “You came so pretty for me… You always do.”

Then, he whispered,

“…Think I could make you do it again?”

[shadowlord420sgf]

My first ever fanart of Miss Beautiful Gorgeous. 💖 I headcanon that she wears a cute white bow at the back of her hair to match her top and socks. 🥰 Too lazy to draw her basket 😪

[shadowlord420sgf]

have you got any fic recs for de? (like fics that arent your own if that makes sense)

recommendations? god yes. okay i was gonna link separate fics on here but all of these writers’ works are just amazing 100/10: @saosinn @barleyo @pocketprncess @pervoshi

my favorite date everything writers on ao3 are seregios, yikestm17, and SarcasticSpace my all time favorite might have to be prissyplastique ( @prissyplastique ) tho, their work was some of the first date everything fics i read!

like please check them all out trust me

[shadowlord420sgf]

hi uhm, jean loo sexually overstimulated

i havent written jean loo in days you all better kill me now LOL nsfw warning

He had hand fisted in your hair, the other resting over his stomach as he purred down at you, smug and sweet and so sure of himself.

“Oui, just like that… Jean Loo is very, very proud of you, chérie.”

But you didn’t stop.

You didn’t pause to collect praise, didn’t slow when his thighs began to squirm beneath your palms. You just kept going—your mouth soft, your tongue eager, your rhythm relentless. He was already overstimulated by the time he came the first time, moaning something filthy in French as his hips bucked up into your throat.

And then you just… didn’t stop.

“Ahh—chérie, Jean Loo—Jean Loo has already…” His voice faltered, cracking around your name. “Mon Dieu, tu veux me tuer…”

He could pull you off. You both know he could. But he doesn’t.

Not even when his hips began to writhe helplessly, not when his breath caught in his throat, not when his fingers tangled and tugged on your hair. He was far too proud to beg for mercy.

You looked up and saw it: the flutter in his lashes, the panic in his half-lidded eyes. He was trembling now, fighting to hold on, whispering your name like a confession.

Still, he didn’t dare stop you.

Because the feeling of your lips still wrapped around him, your tongue still worshiping him, your throat still open for him—it was too good. Too much. He was sweating, panting, shivering like you’d kissed something vulnerable out of him.

“Please…” he gasped, somewhere between a whine and a sob. “You—you must slow down, s’il te plaît, Jean Loo cannot—he will—mon amour—”

Another orgasm hit him like a wave. He choked on it, thighs clenching, mouth open in a desperate, silent cry. You swallowed around him and kept going, and that was what shattered him.

Jean Loo, naked and trembling, cock twitching in your throat, pupils blown wide, gasping merci like he’d never been touched in his life.

He gasps when your mouth doesn’t stop.

Now you’re still going. And Jean Loo is unraveling.

He’s panting when you finally let him go—soft, flushed, trembling.

[shadowlord420sgf]

ur Doug angst(ish) short fic had me thinking,,, I feel like he's the type of guy to try and be all nonchalant during the first couple times you guys have sex but then one time he'll start crying bc he loves you sm and you feel so good :( and he's trying so hard to hide it from you too (sorry for the paragraph I'm so passionate about this loser)

i can’t believe you guys made me like doug LOL… nsfw warning

You don’t notice it at first.

Doug’s doing what Doug always does — running his mouth, kissing you hard like he’s got something to prove, holding your hips just tight enough to bruise. You’re on your back, flushed and open, moaning into his neck while he pounds you slow but deep, breathing like he’s pacing himself through a sprint. That sharp, teasing rhythm. His stupid hot confidence. All heat and bite and no feelings, right?

Except his hands are shaking.

Not at first. Not when he started. But now — now, they tremble against your skin like he’s barely holding himself up. Like the moment you tighten around him again he’s going to fall apart.

And then you hear it.

Not a moan. Not a word. Just the softest, tiniest gasp. The kind that sounds like it slipped out on accident. Almost like a sob.

Your brows furrow, and you blink up at him — just in time to catch it.

Doug’s eyes squeeze shut. His throat tightens. His breath goes ragged and too fast. Like he’s trying to get control of it. Like he’s trying to hide it.

“Doug?” you whisper, soft and startled.

He shakes his head before you’ve even finished the syllable.

“Don’t,” he rasps, thrust stuttering. “Don’t look at me—fuck.”

“Doug, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” His voice cracks. “Shut up. Just—just shut up. You feel so fucking good—”

You lift your hand to his cheek.

His whole body jolts like you hit him. He chokes back another noise, one he can’t quite smother this time — the broken kind. Wet. Gutted. Full of something too deep for words. You stroke your thumb across his skin, and feel it. A tear.

“Oh, Doug—”

“Don’t say my name like that,” he gasps. “Please, don’t—I can’t—fuck, I love you—”

The words fall out like a confession he’s been holding in for years.

You stare up at him, heart lurching, lips parting to answer — but he kisses you too fast. Desperate. Scared.

“I’m sorry,” he says against your mouth, still moving in you slow and hard. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to cry—shit, I’m such a freak—”

“Doug,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him, dragging him down to your chest. “I love you too.”

He makes another sound then — halfway between a whimper and a laugh — and buries his face in your neck.

You let him cry it out. Let him fuck you through it. Let him cling like you’re the only thing keeping him together.

And for the first time, Doug doesn’t try to hide any of it.

[shadowlord420sgf]

I don't know if you still take requests but can you do a fic of pegging skips

damn I haven’t written skips in ages… revoke my username now.. srry this is short but nsfw warning!!

You had him on his stomach, squirming beneath you, fists clenched in the sheets. The stretch was too much, and not enough. He choked on a sob when you pressed in deeper.

“Nngh—oh my god—” he panted.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you murmured, leaning over his back, palm splayed between his shoulder blades. “So fuckin’ good. You like getting fucked like this?”

Skips whimpered and nodded against the pillow, tears catching in his lashes.

“I d-didn’t think it’d feel like this,” he babbled, voice cracking. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to take…this feels so good I can’t—!”

You snapped your hips just a little harder, and he cried out, loud and needy, ass bouncing back like he didn’t even mean to.

“Aw, look at you,” you cooed, brushing his hair off his damp forehead. “You were nervous, huh? But you’re takin’ it so good. Taking all of me.”

“‘Hah—yeah,” he gasped. “It’s s-so good, please…”

His legs were shaking. He was gripping the sheets so hard you thought they might tear. You reached under him, wrapped a hand around his cock, and that’s when he broke—hips jolting, tears slipping hot and fast, voice cracking with every ragged moan.

“I l-love you,” he sobbed again, helpless. “Love you so much—I love you—I wanna stay like this, please—”

You kissed the back of his neck, then thrust a little deeper—slow and steady this time, letting him feel everything.

“I know,” you whispered. “I love you too.”

You kissed the edge of his shoulder and started to stroke him slowly, carefully in time with the rhythm of your hips. He was leaking already, wet and heavy in your hand, his thighs twitching when your thrusts pushed deeper, grinding right into that sweet spot inside him.

“Oh fuck, I’m not gonna—” His voice cracked into a sob, caught on the edge of something raw. “You’re gonna make me come—”

“Awh, I know,” you whispered, pace steady and teasing, pressure just right as you thrust into him and twisted your hand in time. “Come on, let me feel it, Skips.”

His answer was a muffled cry into the pillow. His body clenched tight around you, legs kicking weakly, every line of him shaking as he spilled over your hand—hot, twitching, helpless, his breath shuddering out of him like a wave.

You didn’t stop until he sagged beneath you, hips softening under your grip, little gasps still escaping him as the last tremors wracked through his body. You kissed down his spine slowly, soothing him through it, and smiled when his hand found yours and squeezed.

[shadowlord420sgf]

HELLO

hank 4 (diff username cuz i posted this on my twt alt)

[shadowlord420sgf]

one of my sillier ships

[shadowlord420sgf]

GAWD ur doug thing was so good.

i honestly imagine him being such a biggg baby asking reader for sex but as soon as reader says yes he gets all dominant and mean. shoving their head down and making them gag, if reader wears mascara/eyeliner or just any eye makeup then he makes it his mission to make it smear or drip.

woah I should write dacryphilia more… explicit nsfw warning

Your eyeliner was sharp, mascara fluffed. You’d done it for you, not even him, but Doug saw it and snapped.

Your knees hit the floor before you even processed it. Doug didn’t bother with praise. Didn’t bother with warming you up. Just unzipped and shoved your face straight down, the tip of his cock hot and heavy against your lips.

“Dolled yourself up real nice,” he sneered, thumb swiping under your eye before you even realized you were tearing up. “Little slut knew I’d do this, huh?”

“Open up,” he said, voice low. Then meaner: “Use that mouth for something useful.”

You barely got your lips parted before he forced his cock past them, hissing a breath between his teeth.

He was mean. Hands rough in your hair, unforgiving at the back of your head as he shoved you down on his cock. Fast and deep, barely letting you adjust. The first gag made him grunt, the second made him laugh.

“You love it,” he growled, watching your lip tremble around him. “Fuckin’ look at you—look at the mess already. Didn’t even last a minute, poor baby.”

You could barely breathe, spit running down your chin and stringing between your lips and his skin when he dragged you off again, just to see what he’d done.

“Eyes up,” Doug demanded.

Tears clung to your lashes. One smeared drop of mascara clung to your cheek.

Doug groaned, hand tightening in your hair. “You look so fucking good like this. That pretty face covered in spit and makeup running down your cheeks—shit. You crying for real?”

He pulled back just long enough for you to suck in a breath—then pushed back in, even deeper. You gagged hard, throat convulsing around him.

The slick sounds were obscene. You cried more from the pressure than anything, hot streams running down your cheeks and pooling under your jaw. Mascara beading, smudging, until Doug was holding your face again and groaning like it turned him on more than anything.

“Fuck, look at you. You are the filthiest little crybaby, huh?” His voice dipped low, sick with love for how small and ruined you looked. “God, I could live like this. Fuck your throat and watch you sob. Make you beg for air through that messy little mouth.”

You moaned, wet and choked. It only egged him on.

“Don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for anymore, do you?” Doug dragged you down again and held you there—shaking with control as your eyes welled all over again. “Nah, you just wanna cry. Pretty bitch wants her makeup smeared and her throat fucked ‘til she can’t see straight.”

He pulled back just enough to let you cough—then gripped your chin tight and smirked at the wreckage.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Let’s see how much prettier you can get.”

[shadowlord420sgf]

Hi! If you know enough about him.. Stefan x Lazy! MC? I see super little about him and there's only one fic of him :')

this guy has some serious anger issues… he’s just like me fr! anyway yes ofc here’s something fluffy

“Do we have to cook something?” you groaned from the stool, arms flopped over the counter dramatically. “Can’t we just order in? Again?”

Across from you, Stefan stood tall—arms crossed, apron on, a whisk in hand like a scepter of culinary authority. “Yes,” he said firmly. “We do. Food is the foundation of joy, and you haven’t eaten a real meal today.”

You groaned again.

“You can sit there if you want,” he said, nodding to your position. “But I’m cooking. And if you happen to lift a finger somewhere in the middle of that… I wouldn’t complain.”

He’d already pulled ingredients from the fridge—tomatoes, garlic, fresh herbs, something simmering already on the stove. It smelled like comfort.

He moved with purpose, like he was trying to coax the warmth out of every ingredient. You watched him for a while before quietly muttering, “…Do you want help with something?”

Stefan didn’t look at you, but he pushed a cutting board your way. “Basil, chiffonade.”

“Sure..? Whatever that means.” You gave him a puzzled look.

That got a low chuckle from him. “Just roll the leaves up and slice them thin.”

You took the board and set to work, shoulders still a little heavy but your mind starting to settle. The sound of the knife against wood, the rhythm of it—slow, almost meditative. Stefan didn’t hover or correct you. He just kept cooking beside you, occasionally brushing past to grab something, every movement deliberate and calm.

After a few minutes, you sighed, “Okay, this is kinda nice.”

“You think I do all this just to be dramatic in an apron?” he asked without missing a beat.

“Maybe,” you replied, and he surprisingly laughed.

By the time you were plating everything together, you weren’t tired anymore. Just… content. Full in a way that wasn’t just about food. You sat beside him at the island, bumping your knee against his, and nudged your plate toward him.

“I think mine looks better,” you said proudly.

He gave you a look that was all fondness and no patience. “You barely did anything.”

“And yet,” you said, poking at your perfect basil garnish, “I brought balance to the meal.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple—brief, but steady.

“You brought yourself. That’s enough.”

[shadowlord420sgf]

anyone else think about jean loo when they’re high or just me. Like. Ok.

[shadowlord420sgf]

A Team Effort

the hanks x fem reader

⌗ summary: It started out as a joke, but didn't end that way. word count is 4.8k

⌗ warnings: cheerleader/football team roleplay, smut, p in v, creampie, sixsome, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise

⌗ a/n: hey! this idea is from someone in my inbox, hope you like it!

You weren’t sure whose idea it was.

Maybe it started as a joke—just another afternoon with the Hanks spiraling into barely contained chaos. Someone had found an old football helmet in your closet, someone else got snacks and Gatorade, and next thing you knew, jerseys were being passed around like party favors, and someone, likely Hank 3, said, “We should do a whole-ass championship.”

And for reasons beyond understanding, you didn’t say no.

So now you were here: sitting pretty in a makeshift cheer outfit, legs curled beneath you on a threadbare picnic blanket in the backyard, watching five grown men tackle each other in what seemed to be the worst football game ever played..

The sun was low. The sky streaked with pink-orange gold.

And you were the only thing on the sidelines worth winning for.

“House Homie!” Hank 1 shouted, grinning as he caught a wobbly pass and spun in place like he’d just made the game-winning play. “That one was for you, baby!”

You clapped cheerfully with a smile. “Are you sure you guys even know the rules?”

“Football’s about heart,” Hank 1 fired back, hand on his chest like he was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “And passion. And body slams.”

“Ya, we’re fine,” Hank 5 said gently, adjusting Hank 4’s shoulder pads while still glancing your way every few seconds. “Let’s just focus, okay? One more play, one more touchdown, and we get the win.”

“I-if we win, we, uh,” Hank 2 stumbled slightly, looking down at his sneakers, “we get the prize, right?”

You blinked. “The prize?”

Five heads turned.

You’d said it once, maybe. Offhand. A little promise in the middle of the game to get them fired up—“Maybe there’s a little something waiting if you win.”

And oh, they remembered.

“Uh, yeah,” Hank 3 said quickly, leaning into it, lips curling in a smirk. “The ultimate prize. Our cheerleader.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You guys are really into this whole football fantasy, huh?”

“I—it’s not just a fantasy,” Hank 5 said, stepping forward with quiet conviction. “We’re the dream team, and you’re our biggest fan! Well, our only fan, probably.”

You tilted your head, fingers toying with the hem of your tiny cheer skirt. “Hm… What’s the scoreboard say?”

Hank 4 turned around. “Uhh, I drew it in the dirt with a stick. It says we won!”

“I think it just says HANKS RULE,” Hank 2 pointed out.

“Same thing,” Hank 1 shrugged.

You could play dumb. Could draw it out even longer. But the way they were looking at you—like you were the goal, wrapped in a skirt and pom-poms—it was enough to make your pulse throb in your throat.

“I dunno,” you teased, voice sweet, fingers twirling a lock of your hair between them. “You guys think you earned a prize like that?”

“Come on now,” Hank 1 growled in your ear, his jersey pulled halfway up his sculpted torso, sweat still glistening across his chest from the “game.” His fingers flexed on your hips like he was holding back from just tackling you right there. “You gonna keep starin’ or are you gonna congratulate your MVPs?”

“Yeah, c’mon, baby,” Hank 3 piped up beside him, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips along your neck while whispering, “We won for you. Don’t you wanna show us how proud you are?”

Behind them, Hank 4 stood with his jersey on backward, helmet still on like he forgot it was even there. “We got a hundred touchdowns!” he shouted, clearly making the number up. “Is that like… a world record or something?”

“I think so,” Hank 2 murmured proudly, watching you with wide, flushed cheeks as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of your short top. “You were cheering for us so hard out there. I—I couldn’t stop looking…”

“You’re like our lucky charm,” Hank 5 said, eyes dreamy and devoted. He held your hands in both of his, lifting one to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You got all pretty and dolled up just for us, babe? Those ribbons, your hair, that skirt.” He bit his lip softly. “You look like a dream.”

You smiled bashfully, “Well yeah… Um, what do you guys think?”

“Jesus, babe,” Hank 3 groaned. “You don’t even know what you did to us out there.” He stepped in close, running both hands down your arms in a slow, wandering glide—like he was too overwhelmed to pick a spot and had to touch everything at once.

“Bouncin’ around with those pom-poms? In that skirt?” He blinked hard, like the memory was physically stunning. “You were rooting for us so hard, and fuck. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, babe.”

His fingers slipped into one of the satin ribbons in your hair, tugging it gently, lips parted in awe. “And these? You knew what you were doing, huh?”

“I like those ribbons too, real spirited,” Hank 1 added from behind you. One of his strong arms wrapped around your waist, palm spreading across your stomach, warm and sure. “But babe, that skirt—you were driving us fuckin’ crazy.” He leaned in close, voice lowering. “I almost tripped over my own feet just tryin’ to look at you.”

“I mean…” Hank 4 sighed dreamily, tapping a pom-pom where it dangled from your wrist. “Look at her. She’s so cute I feel like I’m gonna faint, brah.”

“She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hank 2 blurted, wide-eyed and sincere, practically vibrating. “How did we get so lucky, bros?”

You giggled breathlessly, heart skipping as their eyes dragged over you. “Ha…Oh, you guys..”

They had you surrounded now, pressing in close, jerseys brushing against your skin, the scent of sweat and cologne filling your lungs. It was getting hard to tell whose hands were where.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” Hank 1 asked, cocking his head as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Wanna take all five at once?”

Hank 3 chuckled, clearly about to say something worse, but Hank 2 elbowed him before he could. “Guys—wait,” Hank 2 said, breathing a little fast, “shouldn’t we, um, maybe… take her somewhere first? She deserves, like, a real ceremony. Right bros?”

“Ooh,” Hank 4 gasped, clapping his hands. “Award ceremony!! Yeah!!” He exclaimed, taking off his helmet and awkwardly tossing it on the ground. 

Hank 5 tucked his face into your neck, voice close to your ear. “Can we… take you to the locker room, babe? You’ve got no idea how bad we’ve been aching.”

The words sent heat shooting through your stomach. Their hands were still everywhere, trailing along your thighs, brushing up under your skirt, fingers tangled in your cheer ribbons. And behind all the jokes and heat, there was this genuine eagerness—this open adoration. 

“You coming with us?” Hank 3 echoed, tilting your chin up with a smirk. “Or are we gonna have to carry you?”

“Oh, she’s not walkin’ anywhere,” Hank 1 said with a grin, crouching down and scooping you into his arms like it was nothing. “She’s got weak knees after watchin’ us win.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms looped around Hank 1’s neck as he carried you toward the bedroom—the “locker room,” as they were all insisting now.

Hank 2 followed behind more cautiously, cheeks still pink as he watched you carefully. “You okay? We’re not goin’ too fast, are we?”

“I mean,” Hank 5 said quietly as he closed the bedroom door behind him. “She did say we were her favorite team…”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, “Yeah, you guys are the best team ever.”

Hank 1 set you down on the bed, slow and dramatic, treating you like the trophy they’d earned. The second you hit the sheets, five pairs of hands were on you—teasing, touching, undoing your uniform piece by piece.

“You wore our colors,” Hank 3 groaned, slowly pulling off your skirt. “You’re just askin’ to get tackled.”

“She’s askin’ for a celebration,” Hank 5 corrected, pulling your leg gently over his shoulder so he could kiss along your inner thigh, making you shudder. “Let’s make it one she’ll remember.”

Hank 4 leaned over you, warm hands splaying over your hips as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. Hank 2 was clumsily pulling off his jersey, cheeks pink and eyes locked to yours like he didn’t want to miss a single second. Hank 1 and 3 bracketing you on either side like guards, already whispering filthy plays in your ears.

And through it all, they never dropped the act.

“That uniform’s gonna get flagged for excessive temptation,” Hank 1 muttered, dragging your cheer top over your head. “Unsportsmanlike conduct, or something.”

“You can’t work us up like that and expect to stay on the sidelines, babe,” Hank 3 added, breath hot as he peeled your panties down as if they were just one more piece of your game-day uniform. “You knew we were gonna swarm you.”

Your whole body flushed—you were squirming, body shifting, thighs pressing together with a helpless whimper that made all five of them lean in closer.

Hank 1 went first, obviously.

He laid you back and found himself between your legs, hands planted on either side of your shoulders, panting softly as he lined himself up.

“This is it,” he said lowly. “You ready for your touchdown, baby?”

You didn’t have time to answer.

Hank 1 didn’t just take you—he claimed you. He held your thighs wide with both hands, rough palms gripping just hard enough to leave finger-shaped pressure behind. “Don’t squirm, babe,” he murmured, voice thick. “I’m tryin’ to savor my win.”

He wasn’t fast. He sank into you slow, savoring every hot inch of you stretching around him while the rest of the team watched from all sides.

“Fuuuck,” Hank 2 breathed from the side of the bed, one hand shoved down his pants as he watched with wide eyes. “She’s takin’ him so good, bros…”

Hank 3 was at the foot of the bed, on his knees, panting like he was the one getting fucked. He watched every motion of Hank 1’s hips like it was a play he’d have to run next.

“Dude,” he whined, palming himself through his jockstrap. “I can’t fuckin’ wait. She’s—oh my god, she’s squeezin’ you so tight—”

“She’s warm,” Hank 1 grunted, dragging his hips back and thrusting in again, deeper this time. “So wet for us already. And we just got here.”

Next to you, Hank 4 was sprawled out flat on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands like he was watching his favorite movie. His jersey had ridden up just enough to show a hint of his tanned, sculpted back, and his socked feet kicked in the air behind him. He gazed at you with a starry look in his eyes, cheeks flushed and lips parted in a smile.

“Can’t believe this is real,” he said dreamily. “She’s like… the prize and the halftime show and the team mascot all in one.”

“She’s not a mascot, bro,” Hank 5 said softly, kneeling beside the bed and stroking your cheek with one hand. “She’s like, our captain.”

He leaned down, brushing a slow kiss across your jaw as Hank 1 thrust into you harder, groaning as your back arched off the bed with a whimper.

“Look at you,” Hank 5 whispered. “So brave. So good. You’re takin’ it like a champ, babe.”

“Dudes, she’s gonna break,” Hank 3 whined, jerking himself harder now. “She’s gonna be all numb before it’s even my turn—”

“I hope she is bro,” Hank 1 growled, picking up the pace now. “I want her fucked dumb before I pass her off.”

Your thighs shook. Every thrust knocked you further into the mattress. And all around you, they were getting off just watching—moaning, begging, gasping as Hank 1 drove into you rougher, deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room.

“She’s doin’ so good for us,” Hank 2 whispered, getting close now as he knelt near the headboard, cheeks flushed red. “Gonna take all of us like this?”

You tried to answer, but it came out as a broken moan—and they lost it.

“Yeah, she is,” Hank 1 said, fucking into you harder, his rhythm going ragged now. “Look at her, homies. Look at how she begs.”

“I can’t look,” Hank 3 gasped, shuddering as he rutted into his fist. “I’m gonna blow just from watching—fuck—fuck.”

“Hold it, dude!” Hank 4 yelled. “We’re goin’ in order, remember?”

“I’m trying!” Hank 3 cried, rocking back on his heels, flushed and shaking.

And you—fucked open, surrounded by love-drunk himbos, overwhelmed by praise and heat and voices—could only moan out their name. You weren’t even sure what was holding you up anymore.

“Fuck, House homie…” Hank 1 moaned, pushing in deep and holding. “So good…”

You could feel the way he trembled behind you, breath ragged, voice cracking as his hips twitched once—twice—and then stilled with a broken groan.

“Fuck—babe,” he choked, arms tightening around your waist like he was trying to anchor himself to you. “You’re just so—so warm, I couldn’t—” His voice dissolved into a soft, needy sound as he came, buried to the hilt, filling you with heat.

You whimpered, completely limp in his grasp, chest heaving, brain melting under the weight of it—his praise, the stretch, the pulse of him throbbing inside you.

And the others were still watching. Still waiting.

You could still feel Hank 1’s grip fading from your hips, his breath cooling on your skin, when another set of hands touched you—softer this time, tentative.

“…Are you ready, babe?” Hank 2 asked, voice low and a little shaky, as if even asking made his heart race. His face was pink, brow damp from sweat that probably wasn’t just from the game. His jersey was still on, clinging to his chest like he didn’t even notice, and when he nudged your thighs apart with his knee, he looked like he could hardly believe this was happening.

You nodded—dazed, still breathless—and he smiled.

“I’ve been thinking about this forever…” he mumbled, lining himself up like it took every ounce of courage in his body. 

The others watched, not even trying to hide it. Hank 3 had his hand on himself still, eyes glued to your face like he was drinking in every reaction with a greedy kind of hunger. Hank 4 panted in the background, and Hank 5 was rubbing your calf like he couldn’t wait to touch you properly.

Hank 2 pushed inside you with a sharp breath, his forehead pressing against yours.

“God—you feel… you feel so good,” he whispered. “Better than I imagined. Way better. Way better—”

He thrust into you in slow, unsure strokes at first— gasping softly with every movement. You could hear the slick sounds echoing through the “locker room,” the soft curses from Hank 3 as he watched, panting, his hips jerking into his hand with messy need.”

You tightened around Hank 2 with a whimper, your body already trembling from how deep he reached, how sweetly he gasped every time he bottomed out. His pace only made it worse—you were already so sensitive, so stretched and aching and close—and the way he looked at you like he couldn’t believe he was really inside made your whole body heat up.

“Please don’t stop,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Hank—I’m gonna—”

Your climax hit with a cry, your walls clenching hard around him as you came, slick gushing down to coat both of you in a hot, desperate wave. You felt your thighs tremble, your hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto as your body pulsed tight around his cock—milking him, dragging him down with you.

“Oh fuck,” Hank 2 gasped when you clenched around him with a whine. “I—I’m not gonna last—I don’t—”

You tightened again, just to watch him fall apart.

He whined, full and high in his throat, fingers gripping your hips tight like you were the only thing keeping him anchored. He came with a choked gasp, his body collapsing over yours.

You smiled at Hank 2’s desperate form on top of you, but before you could catch your breath—

“Yeah! My turn,” Hank 3 said, already climbing onto the bed with that flushed smirk and his jersey halfway off.

You weren’t sure when he’d finished watching, but the way his cock was still rock-hard told you he wasn’t done by far.

“Hey, babe,” Hank 3 purred, crouched on his knees beside you with a grin and eyes full of fire. “That was real sweet to watch, but I think it’s my time to score.”

He kissed you messily—no warning, no slow buildup, just heat and tongue and a cocky moan when you kissed him back just as hungrily. His lips were softer than expected, but his hand was already sneaking down between your legs like he couldn’t stand another second without touching you.

Hank 4 sat beside you, wide-eyed and already hard, his tongue poking out as he stared like he was watching his favorite part of the game. Hank 1 stayed at the foot of the bed, arms crossed like he was trying to play it cool, but the twitch of his hips said otherwise. And Hank 2, still dazed, stayed pressed against your side, flushed and trembling but watching—like he couldn’t look away. You felt their eyes on you, the heat of them, as Hank 3 leaned in with that look that said he already knew that you were ready. Hank 5’s gaze was low and dreamy, but there was nothing innocent about the way he palmed himself through his pants, watching every one of your reactions like they were sacred.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Hank 3 whispered as he lined himself up, glancing over his shoulder at the others with a cocky little smirk. “Don’t worry—they’ll get their turns. But right now…”

He pushed into you with one slow, deliberate thrust. You gasped the moment he entered—your body jolting, still sore and soaked from everything before. It was too much—too deep, too slow, too thick—and your walls fluttered around him without mercy, every inch dragging over hypersensitive nerves. A soft, broken whine slipped from your lips, your hands twisting in the sheets as your body trembled under him. “T-too much,” you whispered, but he just held your hips still, green eyes locked on yours like he wanted to watch you fall apart.

“Fffuck—yeah, that’s it—look at me while I’m inside you, yeah?” He groaned.

His pace started fast—like he was showing off for the audience. One hand gripped your thigh, the other slid up your body to cup your breast and tweak your nipple, and all the while his mouth stayed close to your ear, whispering praise and filth in the same breath.

“God, you’re so hot like this. Letting the whole team watch you get ruined—lettin’ us take turns like good little players. Makin’ me feel like a damn MVP.”

The sound of skin slapping echoed loud against the backdrop of the others’ breathing. Hank 1’s hand was fisting his cock again like he couldn’t help it. Hank 4 looked dazed, cursing under his breath and panting, eyes glassy with lust. Hank 5 moaned soft, low in his throat, fingers tracing the veins in his own shaft with almost reverent slowness.

Hank 3 rocked his hips faster—harder now, sloppier—his forehead pressed against yours as he rutted deep and fast, breath shuddering.

“Can’t believe how tight you still are—you’re gonna make me cum, fuck!”

You were babbling, too cockdrunk to stop—whining under your breath, body trembling as he fucked you through the overstimulation. When he came with a deep groan, thrusting hard and staying there, you gasped—felt the heat flood your insides, dripping around him, making you clench down even tighter. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” He panted, voice low. “Take it—just like that. God, you’re perfect like this… stuffed full and still shaking.” You moaned, hips twitching under his grip, eyes glassy and unfocused. Your body was wrecked, soaked, needy—and all you could do was moan his name, over and over like it was the only thing keeping you conscious.

And then, without missing a beat…

“Oh man it’s me now right??” Hank 4 blurted, already shimmying out of his pants and scooting close. “I been waitin’ forever. You looked so good gettin’ fucked, baby, I gotta try it next!”

He chuckled as he crawled over you—grinning wide, eyes sparkling, cock hard and bobbing—and the others only groaned in anticipation. Heleaned down to pepper kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your lips. “You okay? You still good? You looked so cute when Hank 3 was making you squeak like that…”

You tried to respond—tried to say yes, or please, or even just more, but it came out as a moan, wrecked and breathless. You were already soaked again, throbbing, your body hot and trembling, skin flushed and sticky with sweat. Your mouth hung open as he settled between your thighs, cock brushing against your entrance, and every little movement sent a jolt of heat through your core.

“Shit,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I—I can’t even think…”

“Aww,” Hank 4 cooed, petting your hair back, gaze dazed and adoring. “That’s okay, you don’t gotta think, baby. We never do! Just feel it, that’s all you gotta do.”

And then he pushed in—fast.

You cried out, arching beneath him, nails digging into the sheets. You were so wet he slid in easily, but the stretch still made your thighs shake, especially after being filled so many times already. You gasped again, a soft, strangled sound, and he giggled at the noise like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, hips starting to thrust clumsily but fast, already obsessed with the way your walls squeezed around him. “You’re so—so warm in here. You makin’ all those little noises just for me?”

“Ah—Hank—” Your voice cracked again, and you had to grip his shoulders to stay grounded as he picked up speed. “Too—too fast, slow down—”

He immediately paused. “Oh—oh no, was that too much? Sorry, I got excited! I’ll go slower, I promise—I just—you’re so hot like this, I couldn’t not.”

He kept his word. His rhythm softened, but the thrusts stayed deep, steady, and he panted like he was trying his best not to lose it too fast.

Behind him, the others kept watching, closer now.

Hank 3 was rubbing his slick, still-hard cock as he knelt beside your head, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. “God, you’re so pretty like this,” he groaned. “You keep makin’ those sweet little whimpers—you wanna let her suck me off while you’re doin’ your thing, bro?”

“Uh—sure!!” Hank 4 answered with a grin, never missing a stroke. “If she wants! Do you want to, babe?”

You nodded desperately, eyes glassy. “P-put it in my mouth—please—”

Hank 3 didn’t need more convincing.

You opened up, already babbling around the thick weight of him on your tongue, the messy, wet sounds of your moaning mouth mixing with the slap of Hank 4’s hips against yours. You couldn’t stop the choked sob that spilled out, your body trembling from how full you were, how used you felt. The stretch, the pressure, the heat—it was dizzying.

“God damn,” Hank 1 muttered somewhere off to your right. “Takin’ two of us at once like that? She’s a fuckin’champ.”

“She’s our cheer champ,” Hank 2 whispered hoarsely, stroking himself again as he leaned on the bed’s edge. “Doing s-so good for us…”

Hank 4 kept moaning, rocking his hips. “Y-you feel so good, I think I’m gonna—I think I’m gonna—!”

He came deep, face scrunched up in bliss, cock pulsing inside you while your mouth stayed stretched around Hank 3. He gasped through it, panting out something that sounded like your name, collapsing forward and letting out a giddy, breathless laugh.

And then—

“Ohh… Finally, babe,” Hank 5 murmured, low and intense from where he’d been waiting his turn with that same, soft-eyed focus. “You ready for me, sweet girl?”

He stepped closer, already peeling his jersey up over his head, his gaze never leaving your face as Hank 3 pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop and a sigh.

“You've been so good for us,” Hank 5 whispered. “Let me make you feel real good now.”

Hank 5 settled between your thighs slowly, his hands warm and sure as they ran up your sides, over your stomach, to cradle your face gently.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered, voice low and husky, barely audible over the breathless rustling of the other Hanks shifting and stroking around you. “You’ve been so good… You need a break?”

You shook your head, eyes half lidded, tears clinging to your lashes. “Want you,” you whispered. “Want you, Hank—please—”

His breath caught. “Oh baby,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your cheek, your forehead, your lips. “You got me. You got all of me.”

He lined up, carefully, and slid into you with a low groan—so deep, thick and stretching and perfect, making your whole body tremble. You clenched around him hard, and the sound he made—a whimper, soft and desperate—sent heat straight to your core.

You sobbed out his name, overwhelmed already. “S’too much—feels so good—I c-can’t—”

“You can,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “You will. Let go for me, okay? Let it happen. Just let it—”

And he rocked his hips slow and deep, grinding in so good you felt like the air was knocked from your lungs.

Every thrust hit your sweet spot dead-on, his hips moving with aching precision—not too rough, not too fast, just intentional, like he knew exactly how to unravel you. And with all the other Hanks moaning and watching, their hands stroking their cocks while they whispered filthy praise—look at her shake, she’s so messy, fuck, she’s clenching around him like crazy—you didn’t stand a chance.

Your orgasm hit like a wave. Your whole body locked up, legs shaking, tears spilling over as you cried out.

“Fuck—fuck, that’s it—that’s it,” Hank 5 groaned, his voice trembling with emotion. “You look so pretty like this, baby—look at you, makin’ a mess for me…”

You gasped for air, but it wasn’t over. He kept moving, chasing his own end now, thrusts faster, deeper, as his voice dropped to a thick whisper against your skin.

“You gonna give me one more?” he asked, needy and reverent. “One more—just one more, I know you can. Let me feel you come again. Wanna feel you fall apart while I fill you up…”

You nodded, moaning so loud you startled even yourself. You clung to him, shaking, thighs twitching from how sensitive you were—but he knew just how to fuck you through it, just how to kiss your lips and murmur your name and keep going until—

“Oh fuck—Hank!”

You shattered.

Back arched, mouth open in a moan, whole body trembling as you came hard around him—harder than before, your nails digging into his back as your cunt clenched again and again and again. You sobbed his name, babbling broken praise, and Hank 5 fell apart with you.

“Oh baby—baby—fuck—” he gasped, thrusts stuttering as he spilled inside you, cock twitching deep, face buried in your neck. “So good—you’re so good— love you, love you—”

And around you, the others broke.

Hank 1 came first, hand tight around his cock, groaning loud as he spilled onto your stomach, breath ragged.“Came watching you come—jesus, babe—fuckin’ love you—”

Hank 2 bit his lip and cried out as he followed, painting your thigh, his eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t believe what he was watching. “You’re perfect, fuck—”

Hank 3 was already on edge—he moaned loud and needy, one hand fisting the sheets as he jerked himself through it.  “She’s so fuckin’ hot like this…”

And Hank 4—sweet, messy Hank 4—let out a soft little groan, cock twitching in his hand as he came again, overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked pinned beneath Hank 5. “D-damn, I didn’t even mean to!”

By the time it was over, you were wrecked.

Stretched open and dripping, your body covered in their release, skin flushed and glistening, your chest heaving as Hank 5 held you close, kissed your temple, and whispered sweet little nothings while the others gathered around.

“Good job, House Homie,” Hank 1 whispered, voice warm and teasing. “You just took five touchdowns in a row.”

“Yeah,” Hank 3 added, breathless and giddy. “You win. You definitely win.”

[shadowlord420sgf]

Who are your fave DE characters?

HIII hello what a LOVELY question i could answer this in a billion words but to keep it short: my favorite girl characters are zoey, diana, beverly, holly, and prissy! my fav boys right now are jean loo, parker, skips, and the hanks!!! i also LOVE mac, johnny, lyric, luke, ronaldini, dunk, and miranda, but not as much as the others listed here :P i think farya is super underrated too!

i actually love every character in this game so much hahaha it’s hard for me to pick favorites

thanks for the ask! and don’t worry guys im still working on stuff for u im just . slow..

[shadowlord420sgf]

1,642 words in and no smut has been written yet… this is unlike me

[shadowlord420sgf]

hihi! I was wondering if you could write a fic where you're watching an eclipse with skips? I havent seen anyone done it and I really really need to read about this🥹

this is so sweet!!! can we pretend that he can go outside in this pls and thx :3 no smut btw just a kissy kiss mwa

the sun was sinking into shadow.

you and skips sat close on the blanket he’d brought, nestled at the edge of the clearing where the trees gave way to open sky. it was quiet—birds falling still, air turning hushed and cool.

he sat beside you with his hands braced behind him, legs stretched out in the grass, head tilted up toward the darkening light. every now and then he glanced your way, like he couldn’t help it.

“it’s happening soon,” he said. “you can tell by how the light’s going gold at the edges. see?”

you looked up, squinting. and yeah—everything was a little strange now, a little softer. like sunset and moonrise all at once.

you shifted closer. your shoulder brushed his. he didn’t flinch. just let his arm fall, so his hand landed next to yours, his pinky barely grazing your knuckle.

you didn’t speak. you just laced your fingers through his, and felt him squeeze gently, thumb rubbing a soft stroke against your palm.

“i used to watch these alone,” he murmured after a while, still looking at the sky. “i liked it, but… it’s different with someone. i didn’t realize how much better it could feel.”

you looked at him, your hands still joined, his fingers warm and easy around yours.

“i’m glad i’m here,” you said. “with you.”

he turned toward you. and there it was—something quiet and certain in his gaze. the dark of the eclipse was rolling in above you, slow and soundless, and for a moment you could swear everything else faded away.

he leaned in. close enough for you to feel his breath. close enough to pause there, just a second, to give you a choice.

you closed the distance.

his kiss was soft and steady—no rush, no nerves. his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek, like he wanted to remember this moment forever. the light went gold, then dusky, then dark.

and all the while, he kissed you like the sky could fall and he wouldn’t care.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you quiet, holding hands under the shadow of the moon.

“yeah,” he whispered. “way better with you.”

the moon swallowed the sun behind you. but for skips, everything was bright.

i just realized i use similes a lot. what am i in highschool or smth??? weird 😭