#AFAB reader

[rawme-price]

Soap who hears youve never been eaten out and takes it as a personal offense.

It was honestly just a throwaway comment while gaz was describing an insane blowjob he once got. You sighed dramatically with "man, I wish i could find guys half as willing to eat box as the girls you somehow get."

Soap wasnt even in the conversation. Hell, he wasnt even at the table! How the hell he heard you, you have no idea. But as soon as the words leave your mouth hes leaning over your shoulder, voice low against your ear "Aye, heard you were looking for an eager mouth, lass?"

At first you think hes fucking with you. You glance at gaz, trying to gauge a reaction, and the man just shrugs. You decide to bite the bullet.

Which is how you end up on soaps matress that night, voice raw from how hes had you moaning for the past four hours. Ur body is covered in sweat, muscles exhausted from how youve been jerking and squirming. All the while soap has a forearm pressed over ur lower stomach, keeping you pinned right against his mouth. He hasn't moved from his position once. Ur pretty sure hes cum in his boxers multiple times but he makes no move to let up.

When it becomes obvious he has no plans to stop and you feel like you might actually pass out from exhaustion, you have to drag the man from between ur thighs by his 'hawk. Soap whines as if you've just taken a delicious meal from him and oh god- he looks downright sinful. Lower face completely drenched, clear liquid dripping down his chin and face flushed red from lack of oxygen.

The worst (best) part? While u two are cuddling after a shower you had to bully him into -cmon lass, just lay down. Ah want my bed to reek of yer cunt- soap hooks his chin over ur shoulder and asks if he can do it all again tomorrow.

[tojisun]

i feel like simon loses it when you murmur, “like this?” every time you ride him.

it’s not even the first time that you’ve ridden him—and he sure as hell would make sure that it wouldn’t be the last—but there’s always something so sweet at the shy curl of your question, your watery eyes peering up at him like simon isn’t ravenous for every inch of you; your scent, your taste, your touch—he’s hungry for everything that you are.

so when you ask him—

like this? timid and achingly soft;

like this? heart stutteringly quiet and meek;

like this? overwhelmingly intoxicating—

simon buckles and wraps his arms around you because, “yeah,” simon replies, voice rumbling in a ragged rasp. “jus’ like that, love.”

his cock twitches, pulsing, and he has to bite down at the inside of his lip to stop himself from reaching his euphoria. it’s too soon, almost embarrassingly so, but he can’t help himself. it’s like your meek question is a trigger for him, unravelling his body until he feels like he is left as mere threads of his ecstasy, stroked to its tipping completion.

yeah, simon repeats to himself, his thick hands planted on the fat of your ass, squeezing greedily, before hoisting you up to feel the delicious press of your walls drag along his cock. it is such an enveloping warmth; all feverish and soft.

how could you even ask him anything like he isn’t being unmade?

you hiccup, breathy and hitching, as you curl close to him. simon chuckles.

“that’s right,” he says, fucking you back down his length. “s’good, huh?”

all he gets is that familiar thrum of your muffled hum, and simon coos because he knows he’s hit that threshold that renders you nonverbal.

see? such a sweetheart for him.

[chrrybbye]

Yandere Batfam x Twin! Reader

[Previous] ☆ [Next]

CW: nothing triggering i think, reader can speak multiple languages and so can her twin, longer than my average chapter so very long for me, secret identities ig, manipulative tendencies, straight up gaslighting

TITLE: Mellifera Serpentes

You and your family⸺in reference to the Wayne family⸺aren’t close. It’s not that you don’t get along. No, it has nothing to do with getting along. You’re just not close. This is factual.

And, well, perhaps you do not get along. Maybe just a little.

(That time when Damian attempted to kill you and Diana smashed an entire cake on his face.)

So when you walk in from school, your junior year of highschool, your face fixed into a mask of indifference, the type of indifference that should radiate the idea: Please let me disappear into my room.

The stares are an unaccounted variable.

It’s unusually packed. The manor is mostly cold, rarely ever lively, and never welcoming. But today, for one reason or another, is different. All the bat girls⸺who are more often or not at the Clock Tower⸺are in the living room, excluding Barbara. But you’re more than willing to guess Barbara is somewhere in the manor, whether in her own room or the batcave.

Dick is in there, too, cuddling up to Damian on the couch. Or trying to, at least. Damian looks like a ruffled, very unwilling kitten. It’s no surprise that Jason is nowhere in sight, either probably working or at his own apartment, like a grown man should be.

And the strangest thing. Bruce, making himself some drink in the kitchenette. A half-formed joke about Bruce needing caffeine or alcohol at three in the afternoon floats into your mind, but It’s nothing but a bare wisp that’s quickly extinguished with the need to get to your room as quickly as possible without coming off as suspicious. You can’t melt into the shadows like you usually would, as much as you’d like to⸺that would just be giving your secret talent for being a sneak completely away.

You decide you are going to walk in and up the stairs to your room, in an completely orderly and ordinary fashion, in the way a completely ordinary person would.

Tap.

Tap.

You sling your backpack off your shoulders, sighing at the release of pressure on your back, only to hide your wince at the loud sound it makes when it dips lower than expected and makes contact with the floor. Nice going, [Name], you scold yourself. Their utter lack of attention to you has made you lax in your efforts to be stealthy around them.

Tap.

Tap.

You’re hurrying across the hardwood floors now. Anything to get away from all the gazes that are suddenly attached to you. Was one tiny noise all it took to get them to notice you? It had never been like that before. Why now? Why must they choose the most inopportune time? You regret your decision to hide the silence of your footsteps⸺anything to avoid the situation right now, you think a little humorously. Even if they did find it suspicious how sneaky you were. What were they gonna do? Investigate you? [Name], how come you’re silent when you walk?

Tap.

Tap.

“[Name].”

It takes everything in you to slow to a stop, just a step away from the staircase. You’d almost made it. You had been so close. Bruce clears his throat.

“[Name], how come the school called to say you were absent from one of your classes?”

Everyone is staring. You’re not anxious, not yet. It’s embarrassing, but what is something as little as missing one class in the grand scheme of life? Mostly, irritation prickles at your skin underneath your uniform. Of course Bruce has no consideration for your privacy. The whole family probably knew before you even got home from school.

You’re stranded with two choices: quickly apologize and put up a genuine front and then hope it blows over, or put on your best puppy eyes and tell him you’ve got no idea what he could ever mean. Which one will hit your dignity harder?

But then a brilliant idea comes to you.

“Wrong person,” you grunt, and then begin stomping up the stairs. The bluntness, the hard tone, the eagerly leaving footsteps; it’s all Diana. A near perfect imitation of her.

“[Name]. I know It’s you.”

You try to pretend as if you don’t see Dick and Cass nodding. Damn Cass for her freaky hyperfixation on body language⸺as for Dick? You’re not sure whether he’s bluffing or trying to play up into the idea that he knows anything, anything at all, about you.

You close your eyes, releasing a terse sigh before looking down at Bruce. “Father, you must be mistaken. Can’t you tell us apart?”

You won’t give up the act until it’s pried from your cold, dead hands.

You don’t miss the flash of hurt on his face. One, because it’s as clear as day, but also because it means it’s working. He’s beginning to believe he wrongly identified you. You press your palm to your mouth, hiding your smile, grateful for the way the shadows fall over the joyous lines of your face.

You would chide yourself for sloppy acting, but it’s hard because it’s so damn easy to trick them. It makes you want to laugh. It worked out better than you thought it would. Diana could fulfill her part of your play⸺come home, act clueless, smile a little and leave. She was more than used to pretending to be you. You two were two sides of the same coin, as both people and bodies.

The knowledge each of you had of the other was intimate, more than biggest dreams or deepest fears. It was a complete understanding of each other.

You feign a yawn. “[Name] stayed behind to study with some friends,” It’s a quick lie you made up. In actuality, it was Diana who stayed behind so she could take part in the art club. She’s probably putting on a smile, pretending to be you, and wishing she were dead right now. Or maybe that you were dead, so she wouldn’t have to put up with all your intricate schemes.

It’s hard to feel bad, though; you act friendly with your fellow students all the time. Diana can handle pretending to be you for an hour. “If that’s all, then I’ll also go to my room. To study.”

You level a glare at Bruce, before stomping the rest of the way upstairs. And you go to Diana’s room, too, just in case any of them come after you. You could always play it off as wanting to sleep in your twin’s bed if you were desperate to sleep on your own, but to you, it just seems more trouble than It’s worth. Besides, the opportunity to sleep on Diana’s bed⸺without prompting⸺doesn’t come every day. Just on the days where she needs help handling her nightmares.

You’re familiar with Diana’s room. Cozy, even. You don’t look around, just close the door behind you and flip the lights off. You said you were gonna study⸺but what self-respecting person actually studies after getting home? Not a chemistry genius like you.

You dive onto her bed face-first. The wrinkled sheets and haphazardly placed blankets⸺as if a wild boar had slept on the bed and then ran away⸺don’t bother you in the slightest. You and Diana share a lot of habits, after all, but if there is one thing different about the two of you, it’s scents.

Diana’s scent is sweet, like the nectar of a fruit, and you’re completely happy to breathe in her scent of honeydew drops and freshly sliced apples. Her scent of sugar is so sweet and calming, it completely lulls you to sleep.

You wake up to a cat sitting on your face.

You sputter, removing the cat with a quickness.

“Oh, good afternoon. You’re awake.” Diana’s sitting near her TV, scrolling through her Netflix catalog.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t wake up ever again if I was more unfortunate than I happened to be,” You cough up a few hairs. Being out done by an overly fluffy cat would be quite the humiliating way to go. “You were complicit to just allow the cat to choke me to death?”

“It is not my cat,” Diana shrugs.

“You’re so cruel.”

“She cried when I attempted to move her!”

“Get my backpack for me? Because, you know, you did just almost let me die on your bed…”

“You could have just asked,” Diana huffs, grabbing your bag and tossing it at you. You don’t miss the way her eyebrows raise. “Why’s your backpack so heavy?”

You grin, unzipping it. “Just wait and see, sister,” you pull out a metal case. “You know where I was, right?”

“Yes. With Jake’s dad.” She scrunches her nose, “He didn’t do anything to you, did he? That man is a creep. Unfaithful and unfilial. He didn’t?” And then she’s grabbing your wrist, crowding you as she moves closer, her presence becoming oppressive. Her grip is tight enough to break your wrist. It’s hard to breathe at the sight of her dark, threatening expression. “Did he?”

You smile at your sister’s overprotectiveness. It’s one thing that hasn’t changed over the years. Sometimes, you forget she’s just as trained in combat as you. You twist your arm out of her grip, “No, I’m alright. We were in public the whole time.” You push the case to her chest, “Here. Take a look.”

Diana takes it with a healthy dose of suspicion, still glancing at you as if to quickly check for physical evidence of a misdeed against you. She doesn’t find anything, of course, and so she obediently opens up the metal case⸺only to gape at all the trinkets that fall out.

“Is that a golden valve? And metal gears? A crankshaft⸺fuck, is that a motor?” Her eyes are positively sparkling. You think you’re allowed to take credit for the heartwarming sight. Or the feeling, at least. Making your sister happy is nothing short of an achievement for you.

Her excitement comes to an end eventually, of course, and she narrows her eyes as she scoffs.

“I didn’t know he was willingly giving away all his shit. If I had known, I would’ve staged a break in a long time ago,” beneath her sharp words, there’s a curl of satisfaction⸺and she wolf-whistles right after, so it’s no mystery how she feels. Diana is pleased with your gift.

You laugh, short and quick. “I wouldn’t say for free. I had to pull a lot more strings than I thought I would in order to accumulate these.”

(He may not know just how many parts are missing from his collection⸺but It’s not thievery. No, it was all willingly given to you! Even if you had coerced Jake into giving you some spare parts.)

“How did you get these?” Diana asks, though you can tell she’s only half listening, immersed in observing her motor.

“Horse racing,” you answer. “Jake’s father was surprisingly into it. We placed bets on the horses. If I won, he would give me machine parts.”

“Rich men,” Diana sighed, then smirked. “I bet you beat him by a long shot.”

A matching smirk curves your lips. “You bet I did.” You leaned a little closer, “And I had Clevian rig the whole thing. Mr. Leron didn’t see a single penny.”

Diana shakes her head and laughs gleefully. “How much money did you win?”

You whistle, then pout, “You’re asking the good questions, but I wanted to surprise you with it, my good sister.” You say, tone sulky.

Diana rolls her eyes. “You can keep all the money if you wish,” she says, dryly, “But that fucker better have reimbursed you properly for your time.”

“Language, love,” you sigh wistfully, but dutifully pop open another case, watching as Diana’s eyes widen in wonder.

“So I guess he wasn’t a complete waste of time. This is more than I expected,” she relents. “But not enough to forgive a fool like him for hanging out with a schoolgirl.”

Seemingly over your sin of throwing him off Diana’s bed, Mr.Cuddles brushes up against your leg.

“Is that what you’re angry about?” you muse, smiling, “Say, do you think you could pretend to be me and go out with Jake’s dad this Thursday?”

“What?” Diana shrieks, appalled. She crosses her arms, one eyebrow delicate raised, jaw slack.

“Please? All you must do is laugh at his bad jokes. I can give you which bets to place.”

You already knew you had Diana, even without the please. But you still slip in a little incentive⸺it’ll be a slice of cake for Diana. You let her know that, eagerly. Lord knows she’s pretended to be you in higher stake situations.

“Ugh, for one afternoon, I suppose I could.” But Diana’s begrudging acceptance is quickly replaced by anger, “That man wants to take you out again this Thursday? Shouldn’t he focus on his own wife? Or is even his own son too much to ask for?” She’s practically vibrating in place, “I should remove his fingers one by one and then sodomize him with it. He is undoubtedly lacking in the department of both father and husband⸺or even human decency.”

You withhold your laugh with such an ability that it is impressive, even for you. You don’t wish to enable this behavior, but you don’t wish to squash it, either. You know that the only place Diana can dump the burden that is her emotions off her chest is with you, in private. Even if it’s anger or comments too inappropriate to share in public spaces. Only with you can she be the girl with a glass heart and clumsy feet. Only with you can she be the lost girl who is stuck in the shadows while everyone else is found.

To others, she may be judgemental and cold. Jaded and cruel. But to you she has always been your little sister, the small thing bruised and crying as she tucked herself into a little ball, the missing part of your rib. Diana is your own. And you’ve always protected your own with the fierceness befitting the heiress of the Rhodendron family.

To others, Diana Wayne she may be, but she has always been Diana Rhodendron to you.

Your one and only twin sister, bound by both blood and flames.

“Hey,” you click the case shut, smiling⸺her quip had been funny, after all, and you are not immune to humor, despite your aunt’s best efforts⸺and set it to the side. “Why don’t we take down all your new parts to your workshop?”

“But you’ll get bored there,” Diana murmurs after a moment. “You don’t know the first thing about machines. And I need to finish an old project first.”

“Rude,” you tut, “And I can sit there long enough. I’ve got new ballet shoes to break in. They’re in here, aren’t they?”

Diana gestures toward her dresser, where a pair of hard vermillion ballet shoes, still laced together, sit prettily.

“Perfect,” you hum, sweeping them up by the laces. “I knew I had forgotten something here yesterday. Let’s go.”

The whirr of machines scraping hardly cracks your concentration. It doesn’t even chip it. Instead, it serves as background music⸺you’re completely zoned in on your shoes, which you bend over your knee and slap against the floor with all your might before you slip them on and begin to slowly bend your feet to different degrees.

Diana doesn’t say anything, also focused on her work, where she’s elbow deep in a car engine. Car grease streaks her arms and practically paints her hands. She’s wearing a jumper and some bright camp t-shirt, which you know she isn’t scared to get dirty because it already is.

Finally, when you begin hesitant pliés, Diana’s eyes flicker over to you. “You’re going to get your pointe shoes dirty, you know. You should go to the studio Bruce built for Cass’s ballet.”

“I know. But this corner is kind of clean⸺you haven’t gotten your robot juices on it. And it cannot be worse than when Clevian bled all over my white heels,” you wrinkled your nose. “Nothing can be worse than that. I had to throw those away in a dumpster and come home barefoot. I had to say I got mugged and wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unsupervised for a month...,” you took a breath, “do you wonder if Bruce knows about your little workshop?”

“I don’t think he cares,” Diana answered flippantly. “Beyond maybe that I received one of his cars that he thought was too old to work anymore. He probably thinks I keep it sitting here to look pretty.”

You smile. “I remember having to beg Alfred for that car⸺he had looked at me as if I had lost my head. It took all my charm and more to get him to agree.”

“Yes well, he probably doesn’t know you handed it off to me the second he turned around.”

“Yes, well, what’s mine is yours,” you shrugged with a chuckle, before moving your arms for balance. The shoes were a little stiff, but that was a problem that could only be solved with time. You guided your feet in the familiar pattern, ignoring the itchy tightness on your feet.

There was a grunt from Diana, the growly, frustrated one.

The kind you were familiar with, that didn’t mean any good. You stopped dancing and removed your pointe flats⸺not wanting to actually dirty your shoes⸺and opened one of the cabinets, the one not filled with metal, and grabbed a black towel, clothes, a water bottle, and an energy bar out.

“Alright, Einstein,” you said, a dry humor in your tone, “Time for a break. You’ll end up breaking your delicate pieces if you keep working with so much anger. You know how it is, for us. An unfortunate side-effect. Tone it down a little. You are aware the pieces are expensive to replace.”

Diana exhaled. The pent up tension in her frame leaving with it. You watched as she calmed down from her angry state, deflating. “You’re right,” she let her wrench drop to the ground. “Yeah.”

“Having difficulties?” You asked, already wiping her down without asking. She would still need to change, but at least after washing her down with the bottled water, she wouldn’t be stained a dark muddy gray. Still a little gray until she showered, but still.

“Yep…” Diana huffed, “A lot of this engine is obsolete if i modify it, and I just⸺why didn’t he take better care of it? No wonder it broke down. Of course, he’s a billionaire, so he can get a new car whenever he pleases, should he please⸺but still. If he had cared about it, even at all, it’d be a lot easier to modify. As it is, the old engine won’t work with modified parts. Ugh.” She scrubbed at her face, leaving a dark streak, “It’s annoying, but I can figure it out. Maybe I can modify the old parts, too⸺but I might need to switch out the gas tank and the tubes…yeah.”

You waited a beat once she finished. “Wanna go fire guns?” You asked, smiling.

Diana smirked at you sideways. “I remember archery to be more up your alley,” she jabbed.

“I’m proficient at both,” you huff, wiping her face. “C’mon. We have an emergency stash of clothes for this reason⸺look at your mess,” you chide.

“Sorry,” Diana says, sheepish. “I can shower before we go.”

You consider it. “Don’t worry about it, sister.” you reply, “No one goes down there besides Alfred. No one will notice.”

Diana nods mutely. You smile, finished wiping her face.

“Yeodongsaeng, gin-jang pul-eo.”

(Sister, at ease.)

Diana huffs a little. “Ce n’est pas un problème,” a beat, “Sœur.”

(It’s not a problem…sister.)

You laugh.

“Hold steady.”

Diana huffs, short, a little exasperated. “I know, sister.”

Your lips curl, cheesy, unrepentant. “I know, too. But each time still feels like the first time.”

Diana looks up to the sky; probably praying for patience. “Well, it is far from my first time. I’ve come a long way since then. Many years have passed.”

“They have,” you agree, easy, narrowing your eyes onto the sight of your gun. You align the sights with your target, and after a moment, you fire.

“Bullseye,” you declare. Not a boast, but definitely not humble. Pride simmers beneath your nonchalant facade. It’s what you’ve been trained for since you can remember⸺you’d be a disappointment if you weren’t good at it. Your eyes flicker to your gun, just freshly fired, and a sense of nostalgia itches at the edges of your skull. There used to be a sense of excitement about it⸺firing a gun, hitting the bullseye⸺underneath the pressure to be perfect, to be the best. Now, it’s a necessity⸺this is something you need to survive. It’s not a class you can ace or get praise for.

But still, it’s something, and you’re fucking good at it. What isn’t fun when you’re good at it?

Diana doesn’t even blink. She fires her gun, once, thrice, all shots landing exactly in the Bullseye territory. Your pride comes back threefold. You beam at Diana, almost dropping your gun to hug her. She’s come so far from the little girl who couldn’t hold her gun longer than thirty minutes or line her sights up to aim. “Tu as un grand talent, sœur.”

(You have great talent, sister.)

Diana blushes, the delicate color crawling from her cheeks to her forehead. “Danke.”

(Thank you.)

You roll your eyes, equally peeved as you are amused. Diana has always had this unwritten rule where if you speak to her in a foreign language, she will always reply in a different one, no matter which language you speak to her in⸺so you switch to her favorite one. It’s fair game: after all, she already switched to your favorite, German. “Como siempre has hecho, hermanita.”

(As you always have, sister.)

“Grac⸺Bedankt,” Diana’s soft voice takes a sharp curve, nearly tripping over her words. She glances at you, as if checking to see If you know that she knows that you know, before going back to her gun with fumbling fingers. Cute.

You’re about speak again, not quite formed or thought-out words on the tip of your tongue, when the tell-tale hiss of the elevator⸺the secret elevator that leads to the underground firing range⸺nearly shocks your soul out of your body.

Someone is coming. Someone was going to be here, in a matter of seconds, going to stumble upon Diana and you each with a gun in hand.

Fuck.

You chuck your gun towards Diana, who catches it with something a little less than grace and ducks behind the display case. The not glass one.

“Young Master Diana?” Alfred’s polished shoes click across the floor. “Pray tell: what’re you doing here?” He sounds a cross of confused and concerned. He doesn’t know you were firing guns down here just a second ago.

“I’m so sorry, Alfred!” It bursts out your mouth, like a bubbling shame finally popping. “I got lost by my own accidental mistake. I, um, meant to grab Diana something while she was in the shower⸺but I… lost my way? I’m really sorry, I thought I should just leave, but then I got distracted and came in here, I⸺I never meant to snoop! But what is this place anyway, Alfred? Wait, no, you don’t have to tell me. I deeply apologize, Alfred! I had no intention of ending up here…” Forced tears spring to your eyes as you blink at Alfred.

“Please calm yourself, Young Master [Name],” replies Alfred, having realized which twin he was talking to, a mixed expression of exasperation and relief⸺which sets off your red flags⸺as he retrieves a handkerchief from his suit. “I understand you got lost. I am not mad. I won’t say anything. Here, do not cry,” he hands you the handkerchief with the gentlemanliness expected from a butler. Truly, it almost makes you smile: had he been born into your family or hired as a servant, he would’ve made a stellar confidant. A shame, really.

You dab at the fake tears in your eyes. You could stop crying in as little time as 1.37 milliseconds, and it took around 8.157 seconds for your face to lose the signature flush of someone freshly sobbing. “Thank you, Alfred,” you sniffle anyway, because to stop crying suddenly would put your whole act in jeopardy. You need to get Alfred out of here, and as soon as possible. Alfred nods. “I only came to search for you. Young Master [Name], there is a gala invitation addressed to you. There’s one for Young Master Diana as well.”

Fuuuuuuuck.

Your eye twitches, despite your best efforts. Galas are a waste of time. Time is not something that has ever been on your side, not now and not for the foreseeable future.

Net-working potential, you try to remind yourself as you smile. “Oh, how splendid! I’ll make sure to attend. I will give Diana hers, as well.”

The cards have a showy font and are trimmed in gold. Kind of tacky.

“Shall I escort you out?” asks Alfred, ¾ away from the elevator. You remember to smile as you shake your head.

“Oh, no, Alfred. Give me a moment to read these, please. You can tell father we will both attend⸺and oh, please, Alfred. Do not mention anything to father, I would simply die!”

Not really. You don’t care what the old man thinks of you firing a gun⸺It’s just that he isn’t supposed to know. Alfred doesn’t know you were firing a gun, which is a relief, but you’ll explode in anger if Bruce somehow connects the dots. He was already too close to seeing through your disguise as Diana earlier.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” replies Alfred before boarding the elevator. Whatever the hell that means. But you take it as meaning he’ll keep his trap shut.

“Good grief, finally,” groans Diana, voice laden with irritation.

A/N: im soooo sorry it took me this long to get this out, I really have no excuse other than me not liking it and obsessing over for it for weeks before I js told myself fuck it. I just write for fun so im gonna put it out even if the timeline is sloppy and the characters have no depth and inconsistent writing. The good thing is that the next part should come out fairly soon🫡 and yes I did change the header, because i wasn’t being completely unproductive during my away time

love, chrrybbye

taglist: @gluttonousriceflour @1abi @d4rkf10w3r @jjopees @jsprien213 @alishii

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝗷𝗷𝗸 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 + 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀❞

a/n: i'm going insane guys anyway love u all mwah <333333 afab body but no gendered language btw!

part two.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ GOJO SATORU

▸ creampies. please just let this man cum inside of you omg he'll go insane. seeing the way his release leaks out of you afterward has him ready for another round almost immediately.

▸ dacryphilia. "you crying'?" says it all right there. he'll coo, a bit mocking, and wipe at the tears running down your cheeks.

▸ size difference. he's so big compared to you. his height, his hands, his dick. he gets off on it so hard seeing you have to look up at him :(

▸ praise (giving + receiving). he'll charm your panties off if you really want, just make sure to let him know how good he's fucking you, too.

▸ overstimulation. hand in hand with dacryphilia. he's not done with you until he's shooting blanks and you're a weeping mess below him.

▸ breeding. listen.. he needs an heir for the gojo clan. he'll fuck you into the mattress for hours on end- he just wants to make sure his baby takes, that's all.

▸ orgasm denial. he's a cocky man, and he knows it. he loves the exhilaration he gets controlling your orgasm, making you beg for it before he gives you any satisfaction.

▸ pussy/thigh/boob jobs. he wants to put good use to all of your body.

. *. ⋆ GETO SUGURU

▸ choking. the feeling of you swallowing as his large hands cusp at your neck is like a drug to him.

▸ begging. seeing you so compliant under him as you plead and cry for his touch... those pretty little eyes and wobbling lip. it's mean, he knows that. he just couldn't care less.

▸ sense deprivation. tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him all that power? he goes crazy for it.

▸ degradation. you wanna be fucked like a slut, he's gonna treat you like one.

▸ edging. when he's feeling really mean, he'll edge you for hours. until you're shaking and whining and the only word you can get out is a broken moan of his name.

▸ impact play. he loves waking up and seeing the red imprint of his hand on your ass oh my godddd don't get him started.

▸ hair pulling (receiving). he wants you to tug at his hair, card your fingers through it, pull it as you're riding his face!!!

▸ sadism. pretty much hand in hand with everything above. he's such a mean boyfriend but he knows how much you love it.

. *. ⋆ CHOSO KAMO

▸ biting. your shoulders, neck, and thighs are full of his teeth marks, almost perpetually. and of course he's not gonna complain if you leave a few bites, too.

▸ begging. show him how much you want him, how badly you need him, and he'll fuck you as much as you want. you just gotta put in a little work first.

▸ worship (giving + receiving). seriously this man worships the ground you walk on from the moment you wake up to the second you fall asleep. he just asks you worship his cock the same

▸ overstimulation. he's fuckin you until his legs are giving out from under him and you're nothing but a fucked out, drooling mess being pressed into the bed.

▸ blood play. i mean... i think this is a given.. will purposefully bite down too hard just to lick the blood clean as an apology.

▸ orgasm denial. he knows once you cum, it's over, and he just wants to stay sat in your pretty pussy a little bit longer- you understand that, right?

▸ somnophilia. his favorite breakfast is in between your thighs. besides, you don't think there's any better way to wake up, anyway.

▸ voyeurism. pleaseeee pleaseee pleaseee let him watch you masturbate it's all he needs in this world !!!!!

. *. ⋆ SUKUNA RYOMEN

▸ anal. he needs to claim every hole your body has to offer. plus true form sukuna is a slut for his double penetration just saying

▸ choking. hearing your choked gasps as he squeezes your throat could make him cum on the damn spot. watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as each second passes on.

▸ exhibitionism. no, he doesn't care that there are other curses around and no, he doesn't care if they can see. you're his, and he'll fuck you anywhere he wants to.

▸ extreme bondage. watching your poor, writhing little human body tug at your restraints uselessly is something he'll never get tired of.

▸ collaring. he'll even get his name custom engraved, just so everyone who looks at you know exactly who you belong to.

▸ degradation. he's a mean thing, but you seem to enjoy that for some reason. he savors in the way you clench around him every time he calls you a whore.

▸ edging. you're not allowed to cum until he's says so, and anything before that? you're in for one hell of a night.

▸ predator/prey. let him chase you through the woods as foreplay. he'll inevitably catch up, of course, but seeing you attempt to get away is so cute to him. especially when he's had enough of the teasing and is pinning you against the nearest tree.

[uumiuyu]

warning : smut (18+)

you’re on top of yunho, your ass facing towards him.

he rubs himself back and forth between your folds, your fluids coating his tip. his softly gasps, ready to fill you.

his hands found their way to your waist, slowly pushing you down onto his cock. you hiss at the stretch, a blissful pain that you’ve grown to love.

once you reach the base, you clench tightly around him.

“ffuck..” yunho grunted.

with no hesitation, he starts to bounce you on his cock.

yunho watched in awe as his hands left your waist, making their way to your plump ass.

you let him to use you like one of his sex toys he fills up when youre not around.

you have no control over your body.

he loves the way your pussy swallows him whole, watching his dick disappear inside of you.

you’re a whimpering mess, the veins of his cock etched your pretty walls so well. your clit swelling up from the friction against his body.

he gives your ass a hearty slap, the recoil making him fuck into you harder.

you yelp in pleasure, your pussy twitching around him vigorously.

you never last long when he fucks you like this.

steady and firm, making you weak and sensitive.

“i love when you surrender to me baby..” he starts.

“mmm.. you let me do what i want with this pretty pussy.”

he palms your body with a hunger, his touch scorching your skin.

“feels s-so good baby~” you blabber out, your mind filled with static.

no silicone could ever replace the pleasure you gave him.

no lube can mimic your wetness.

no toy can replicate your warmth and grip.

yunho knows nothing could ever be better than you.

you’ll always be the favorite toy in his collection.

[hellinistical]

10:38

Pirate! Enjin x Fairy! Reader

Pirate! Enjin bickers with you constantly. calls you "glow bug", "pest", "sparkle-ass" and you counter with “moss brain” and “walking barnacle.” The crew knows it’s flirting. You just refuse to admit it.

He leans in one night while you’re sitting on the railing under moonlight. You're glowing faintly and humming a fairy tune. His eyes flick down to your lips. “You ever shut up?”

You often sit on his shoulder or hat during voyages. The crew treats you like a good luck charm.

When you have the actual first kiss, it happens when you're arguing. Maybe you shrunk him by accident. Maybe he accused you of flirting with some bard. Maybe you yelled at him for throwing himself into danger again. You’re glowing like wildfire, wings fluttering madly, and he’s flushed with frustration. His hands are suddenly on your waist. One rough, calloused palm cups the back of your neck. He leans down, tilts his head, and you stop glowing—for the first time in days—when his lips finally touch yours.

He built you a tiny fairy-sized hammock in his quarters next to his bed, lined with scraps of velvet and lace stolen from some noble’s ship. “Y’can sleep here if you get tired of curlin’ up in my damn pocket.” Hands are rough and calloused, but he always cups your face gently before squishing your cheeks and puckering your lips to give you a wet kiss.

You punch his shoulder. “You’re such a bastard.” “A bastard you kissed.”

You leave little flowers or shiny pebbles in his coat pocket like offerings. He keeps every single one in a little chest by his bedside. thinks they're cute and even makes earrings out of them sometimes. He carves a tiny nameplate into the ship’s wheel for you. You catch him running his fingers over it sometimes when he thinks you’re asleep.

When you're in danger, your wings flutter in distress. Enjin’s learned to spot it instantly and will shove his way through an entire tavern to get to you.

At night, he sleeps like a log. You curl against his chest and glow just enough to keep the room warm. Sometimes he murmurs in his sleep, reaching for you even in dreams.

When you wanna be more "convenient", you drink a potion. You only use the potion sparingly—it’s hard to make, requires moonstone dust, dew from a rose that bloomed during a storm, and one of Enjin’s eyelashes (which he hates plucking). He watches speechless every time. The magic has side effects—your skin glows with runes, your voice hums like a harp, and your wings shimmer uncontrollably. Enjin lives for it.

He gets weirdly shy the first few times. You’re eye-level with him now. You can pin him to the wall. You find it delightful. You can finally dance with him properly. He spins you around the deck under starlight and mumbles, “Never thought I’d get to hold you like this.”

And sometimes, you reverse it- where he shrinks and you grow. He hates it.

“I’m the size of a spoon.” “You’re adorable.” “I’M BADASS.” “Sure, honey.”

He once got stuck at that size for three days. You made him a little cloak and sword out of bark and string. The crew never let him live it down. Enjin, when he’s shrunk, ends up flustered when you start teasing him. “Glowbug—glowbug, you’re not gonna—oh shit, you are—” He does not win when you’re bigger than him.

want more aus?

[earlgreylatte]

Hello, You

(Invincible Variants x Reader) Of course he would come to see you. You’re the reason he’s here, after all.

After hearing the news to stay inside as the attack of Invincible copycats decimated cities across the globe, you hid under your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face as you watched the broadcast for any sign of your Mark.

You could only hope that he was alright, that he wasn’t blaming himself, that he knew you were waiting for him to come back safe. He already has enough problems as is.

Your distress is momentarily tempered when you hear your window slide open and your floorboards creek. When you don’t hear Mark immediately greet you or tease you for being bundled up, any concern you felt for Mark becomes overshadowed by fear for yourself as you hear footsteps near your prone form.

You can only tremble, clutching your blanket close to your body until the room goes silent. You shakily exhale, becoming confused when another quiet beat passes. When your breath returns to normal, the blanket is ripped off of you, eliciting a scared yelp.

For a moment you only stare in confusion at the sight of your boyfriend’s estranged father before realizing it’s not Nolan Grayson that stands before you, but Mark clad in a costume similar to his father’s. His face is impassive, mouth a firm line, so unlike the expressive nature of your Mark.

He calls your name. Quietly, yet there was something heavy in his tone. Something you could almost delude yourself into thinking was longing.

His hand brushes against your cheek, moving down your face before resting on your shoulder, a finger pressed against your pulse.

“You sound healthy,” he comments, deceptively neutral in his delivery, but even behind his goggles, you could feel his gaze burning into your face, “In my world, you had cancer. By the time the Viltrumites reinforcements had arrived, it was too late. All that talk about life changing technology and medicine, but it ended up being utterly useless to me.”

Your breath hitches, but he continues, “But here there’s a me that rebelled and an you that never got sick. That got to live past high school. That’s just the way it goes, I suppose.”

His hand travels lower, brushing past your collarbone before resting on your breast, your heart hammering beneath his palm.

“Do you know why I came here?” He wonders, his free hand planting itself on your bed, as he moves his body to hover above yours until the only thing you can see is him.

“No,” you whisper, staring into black lenses.

“Because even after all these years, the only heart I wish to know, to hold, and to cherish is yours. I was willing to play human for you, to tolerate the presence of the idiots that breathed the same air as us, but then they all had the audacity to outlive you. And I can’t move on. So the selfish man that I am, I’m here to take you. To have you by my side again, no matter how much blood I have to spill,” He declares before pressing his lips against yours, muffling your gasp and cries, gripping your wrist when you try to shove at him.

He only pulls away when you start to feel lighthearted, looking down at you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“You can cry and protest all you want. You loved me once, you can do it again,” he asserts, bring your wrist to his mouth, leaving a kiss against your pulse point. “This world was doomed the moment your Mark decided to rebel. I won’t let you die because of his delusions.”

“…I’m not her,” you speak up. “I don’t know you, not really.”

“I know,” he responds, “but every inch of my body is crying out to you, and I’d rather kill everyone on this planet before I let you go again.”

He releases your wrist, instead sliding both hands under your shirt, gloved hands savouring the feel of your skin, your warmth seeping through the fabric.

“…you’re shaking,” he notes, throwing a glance at your discarded blanket on the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll warm you up. I promise.”

“Mark,” you say, out of instinct more than anything else, your mind coming to a blank.

“Shh,” he hushes you, voice gentle but firm, “Let me take care of you. Like I always do.”

A part of you is relieved that he hasn’t taken off his cowl because you knew you’d crumble under the emotion that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. The same eyes that always held so much love and adoration towards you.

His lips press against yours again, more demanding and heated, as hands travel higher and higher until—

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one that thought to come here,” an amused but familiar voice drawls out, the Mark on top of you pulling away, body covering yours protectively.

Another Invincible sat at your window ledge, black and yellow costume starkly contrasting the rest of your room. He smiles at you when you peak around Mark’s arm.

“Honestly, you were acting so high and mighty earlier, but you’re pretty desperate, huh?” He mocks as the other Mark’s face becomes stonier. “But, really, you should fuck off somewhere else because that’s my girl you’re feeling up right now.”

Before he can respond, another voice interrupts him as you notice yet another Mark, floating behind the one at your window.

“Fucking seriously? How did you even get here before me? I bet you halfassed your locations,” The Mark with a mohawk that has you raising your eyebrow complains, “I literally called dibs on this one! Find someone else!”

Feeling the tension build up, you only hope that Mark checks in and saves you from the bullshit you’re witnessing as they begin to snarl and yap at each other like feral dogs.

Why me, you lament.

Shiesty Mark: hey, babe, it’s Big Dick Friday—why the fuck are you all here??

Why is there no Omni Mark content, he and that shiesty mark were my favourite…

I feel like omni mark is the definition of ‘quite literally hates everyone but you’

Masterlist

[krunchkrunch]

Good Morning

synopsis: You and Nanami try to replenish your intimate time while your child is asleep.

a/n: I’ve always wanted to do this fanfic idea of Nanami being a good yet horny parent who loves his wife very much! also soz this took a while i wanted this to be really good for you guys

pairing: Nanami Kento/Female!Reader

tags: Penis in Vagina Sex, Porn with Some Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Smut, Shameless Smut, Smut and Fluff, Established Relationship, Morning Sex, Female Reader Insert, No Use of Y/N, Dirty Talk, Reader and Kento are Parents, Slice of Life, Nanami Kento loves his Wife

word count: 2.6k

——————————————————————————

A soft and thick cover, a slight chill outside and most importantly your husband laid up behind you. You were peacefully sleeping, for the first time in a while, in a loose yet comfy nightgown that held onto your body throughout the night. You slowly stir awake from your sleep.

You hear Kento wake up behind you, letting out a gentle yawn and letting you know he’s up by nuzzling against your neck. He was comfortable enough in your marriage to show off how secretly clingy he was, he always loved touching you in some way. He didn’t say anything yet just in case you wanted to sit in the comfortable silence of the early morning.

It was times like this you always appreciated and loved, the rare moments of the day where the house was still. There was nothing more serene than this.

You rub your eyelids and put your hand back to caress his cheek, letting out a soft groan of acknowledgment of his presence. “Morning, honey…”

“Is the kid still sleeping?” You ask while he’s currently preoccupied with rubbing his cheekbone against the side of your face.

“Pretty sure. It’s only five am.” He murmurs softly in your ear, his voice deepening by the effect of slumber. His hand that was already wrapped around your stomach moves up and down your side, reacquainting himself with your body like he did every new day.

“Which means, we have maybe an hour or two before she barges into our room and jumps on our bed.” You chuckle sleepily, though you could never be annoyed by your daughter’s silly antics even though a foot to face wasn’t the best sensation to feel after a restful sleep.

But you knew she did it because she loved both of her parents very much. And stomping playfully on your lazy bodies with her tiny feet was the best way your daughter could show it.

“Mm, an hour…that’s plenty of time before our little giant comes stomping in…” He sounds like he had something else on his mind as he casually sprinkles soft kisses down your neck. He can’t help it. Even though you don’t see it, you look most beautiful after waking up to him. Soft and as peaceful as a sweet lullaby. He takes his time, placing some behind your ear that he knows is sensitive.

Oh, he definitely knows what he’s doing.

You chuckle bashfully and turn your head towards the pillow, as his deep hum fills your ear as he kisses the dip in your neck. Even after so long, marriage and even getting you pregnant, you still get shy and surprised at his advances at intimacy. He didn’t always used to be so upfront. Back then when you first started dating, he would break a sweat at you trying to hint at something more physical. So gentlemanly.

Well, he still was but obviously he’s gotten more comfortable let’s say.

You speak between soft gasps and slight giggles from his kisses tickling your skin. “Kento, what are you up to?” You try to scold him but your tone fails to show it.

“Just showing my wife some much needed affection…” He gives your ear a little suckle, mostly because he enjoys showering you in affection dearly but because he also loves to hear your sunny laughter.

“Especially since I didn’t get to yesterday…” He speaks softly into your ear between a little kiss at the shell of your ear.

He was right. He came home quite late and didn’t get to tuck his daughter into bed like they both of you would do together usually. He came home sleeping like a pretty painting, before getting in bed quietly and knocking out next to you.

“I don’t know, honey…She could come in saying she threw up or something…Or that she needs a glass of water.” You weakly try to resist, it seemed like nowadays you were becoming the more sensible parent in the relationship. But you couldn’t lie that you had been very pent up recently too.

You missed the more frequent intimate moments you had with your husband, those moments became more sparse as your little angel grew up. Long nights of endless passion turned into quickies during the night with the door locked, trying to not make enough noise to wake your daughter up.

He lets out a soft sigh as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck, like a silent and whiny puppy. “We should plan a night for ourselves one day…Our baby girl can sleepover at Satoru’s for the night perhaps. Even though I don’t particularly trust that man much.”

You let out a soft chuckle at his dry and half-serious humour, turning your head back to give him a chaste kiss to the forehead.

“Is that how horny you are? You’re willing to leave our kid with a man you can just barely tolerate?” You raise your eyebrows amusedly, waiting for an answer.

He responds with a completely serious and intense look, a look that translates to ‘yes, giving my wife an orgasm is that important to my mental wellbeing.’

“Yes.” He says simply, without a moment of thought.

You can only snicker and shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.” You give him a light kiss and he readily accepts it, emitting a soft hum before giving another few light pecks.

“Hm…what else am I?” He mumbles between kisses that get more lengthy as they go on, pressing against your soft and full lips. He’s starting to hope he’s convinced you to give into your overflowing desires.

And it’s kinda working. A wife can only go so long without making love to her very masterful and passionate husband.

“You’re…dramatic…” You get breathier as he keeps kissing you, you wonder why being a mother made you so easily aroused nowadays. He was making you trail off your thought process.

You continue, “and also…very handsome right now…” You speak honestly, as you can see the need and warmth in those beautiful brown eyes of his. Those eyes are the window to pure love and adoration.

“I know. I could say the same about you.” His calmly suave words slipped from his lips before kissing along your neck again. He knows exactly where you’re sensitive, where you’re most warm, what makes your breath hitch…

“You look so gorgeous right now, honey…You remind me how lucky I am to have you, every second of my being.” His face comes up to nuzzle your nose against his, your eyes closing as his hands travel up and down your sides like a valley of soft sand.

“Kento…You’re trying to talk…your way out of my clothes right now…” Your eyes are closed because you know the moment you open them, you’re gone. You want to be responsible, and save the intimacy from when it’s late at night or when your kid is at kindergarten.

“I am…But I always mean what I say, don’t I?” The warmth of his forehead presses against yours, as he sweetly peppers kisses on the corners of your lips. He had quite the skill of seamlessly transitioning between loving and sultry.

Damn his ever so charming voice and words.

“Especially when I tell you that I want to give my lovely wife a good start to her day.” A hand comes up to your slightly flushed cheek, his thumb wiping back side to side against it. You stop resisting and finally open your eyes.

And unfortunately, you don’t regret it. The tension in his pupils are palpable.

“I have so many things that I need to do to you, honey…Let us indulge for once, hm?” His voice is low and warm, like the ember or a small fire ready to blaze at any moment.

“Just how we used to.” He whispers, the vibrations of the sound kissing your lips.

“Okay then…” You nod softly, tilting your head to readily accept more of his kisses. And more of his kisses does he give to you, slowly easing into more deeper and passionate ones. He gets off on the escalation in things, because he knows the final crescendo is more pleasurable that way.

A steady climb to the pinnacle of bliss is what he has planned for you.

A gentle moan escapes your vocal chords as he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip, before you allow him to enter the sweet cavern that is your mouth.

“There you go…” He praises in the softest voice, it melts you every time. Your tongues start going from simply getting a feel of each other, to swirling around in a hungry dance that you both knew very well.

“Ken…Please touch me…” You disturb that steady climb, already giving into the much more lewd side of you that turns him on like no other. Knowing he could make a motherly and caring wife to others, such a salacious and needy woman with only him, made a tent start to form in his boxers.

“That’s the wife I missed…” His hand makes its way down to under your nightgown and into your soaked panties, his two fingers beginning to rub in firm yet slow motions. It was muscle memory on how to pleasure, he never forgot even after these weeks of neglected lovemaking.

“Right here? Right on your clit? Is that where my wife wants to be touched?” He continues his consistent movements, loving how warm and slick you are for him already. And his voice is gets you so wet every time he speaks in this intimate yet tender tone.

“Mhm…Keep going, honey…” You nod, before letting your head fall on the pillow, as he watches your every expression intently. The soft knit in your brows, down to your puffy lips parted to let soft pants escape. He drank it up, all of it.

“That’s it…Get nice and wet for me, just how I like you…” He crooned. But you’re always so needy for him, so much that your hips have a mind of their own and grind against his fingers. Your empty hole still clenches, begging for touch as well.

“Mm..I know that look very well…” Before you can pant, he inserts two of his thick fingers inside of you, all while using his thumb to rub your clit. You sigh of relief.

“Is this what you want?” His fingers continue doing a come hither motion, making sure to circle his fingers to make you clench around his fingers.

“Ah…yes…” You whimper, knowing the tight knot in your lower stomach is about to snap.

“I know, honey…Your husband’s gonna get you there…” He promises, giving you a kiss on your nose. His thumb on your throbbing clit goes faster.

“Cum on my fingers then I’ll fill you up, I promise…” And as soon as he says that, you let out a choked and shaky gasp as your hips twitch. He can feel your essence coating his fingers, he slides them out and gets a taste of you.

“Kento…pull your shorts down.” You direct, now wanting his dick inside you more than ever. Now that he’s given you a taste, you want to go all the way.He finds it so hot when you get like this, blunt and demanding. He always does anything you want anyway, but this tone you get with him causes a thrill down his spine.

He puts his arm under the crook of your leg, holding it up while it’s bent so he can slip inside your needy hole. His other hand goes around your head to hold your chin, so he can see your pretty eyes flutter as he stretches you out. You suck him in like a long lost lover, accepting him into your warm embrace of your walls.

“Keep looking at me, honey…Look at me while I feel how wet I’ve gotten you…” He says through a soft grunt, feeling the end of you once he’s settled in and stuffed you full. You guys are such a perfect fit, and he’s reminded of that every time he worships your body.

You were meant for him, as he was for you. He knew it from the very first time, and he definitely knows it after all these years together.

“You always make me feel so whole…” You gasp again and again, matching the timing of your sounds of pleasure with his steady thrusts. He makes sure to roll his hips to meet that spongey spot inside. You have to bite your lip to try to keep quiet.

“Says you…No one makes me feel more complete than you…Nobody…” He murmurs with his full chest, his hazy eyes brimming with utmost honesty while he fucks you. He looks almost angry with pleasure, his eyebrows knitted deeply, but he’s just determined.

“Mmph, Kento…Please don’t stop…” Your arm loops around his thick bicep, your nails digging into his skin. Your mouth hangs open as you both watch each other, which only makes you even more aroused.

“Yeah? I…make you feel good? While I’m…this deep inside you, honey…?” He says with a tense jaw, hitting even harder and deeper. It causes your eyes to go unfocused, as he was pistoned your sensitive spot repeatedly.

“God, yes…You make me feel so good…Always, baby…”

“Just like that…” You urge him on, your moans turning more into desperate and wanton whines.

“That’s right…Just let me give you this…Let me give you all my love…”

“Crap…So tight for me, honey…I, ah, love how you feel…” Even though he would love to keep staring out your fucked out face, he was to squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn’t completely burst inside of you this early. He focuses on putting his all into slamming inside your tight walls.

“Ken…” You whimper gently, your hole pulsing around him to let him know of your upcoming climax. He opens his eyes just barely so he can watch your cum all over him. It’s his favourite sight he never tires of.

“I know…you’re so close for me aren’t you…? So close to cumming all over me, just like I promised…” He breathes heavily.

“Please make me cum…I need my husband to make me cum…I wanna cum for you, honey…” You ramble on, as it’s like his dick is stirring not only your insides but your brain to liquid.

“Cover my mouth…Cover my-” You rush out, as you feel your stomach drop. His hand clumsily goes to muffle your final moan of ecstasy and his strangled groan pressed into the head of your shoulder.

“Mn…so good for me…God, I love you so, so much…” His hips stutter as he pushes his cum deeper and deeper into you, coaxing every last bit of your orgasm out from you. He feels like he can’t even see, with how much just came out of him and filled you to the brim.

“I love you too…” You whisper back once he removes his hand from your mouth, and you both seal your love with a lazy kiss.

“You’re right…we needed that.” You admit as you rest your eyes and catch your breath, pressing your forehead against his to ground yourself.

“Indeed we did…See how everything works out?” He has a small smug smile, to which you can only affectionately shake your head. He shifts you around so you’re back to the original position you were both in before he turned you into mush.

“Now we can rest before the little one storms in…” He sighs peacefully, resting his head back in the crook of your neck.

“Mhm…Thank you, honey.” You let your eyelids fall, the bliss from your orgasm slowing your heartbeat and making everything feel serene. It’s the perfect setting to fall back asleep in. You rest your hands on his arms wrapped around your stomach, as you guys snuggle like two peas in a pod.

“No problem.” And with that, you both fall asleep, ready for the relaxing Sunday morning that awaits you with the man you love and the kid you made together.

Everyone is back to sleep in the house, and all is well and good in the home of the Nanamis.

[honeysweet56]

Midnight's Afterglow

Lottie Matthews x Fem Reader

Hi again! Thank you guys so much for the support, I truly appreciate every single one of you guys. This one is interesting to say the least and I kind of got a little carried away.. this is kind of a warning that it gets a little gross at the end... again sorry if this makes no sense. I heart you all! :)

-----

“Oh Fuck.”

You both freeze, every muscle taut as the sharp clang reverberates through the still air—once, then twice—each metallic echo slicing through the quiet like a warning bell. Your heart hammers violently against your ribs, the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching bouncing off the glossy tile walls. Voices follow: casual, easy at first, but growing louder, clearer, sharper—closing in fast.

Lottie’s eyes widen, pupils dilated with sudden panic. Her lips part in a frantic, barely audible whisper, “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—”

Before she can say more, you clamp a gentle, urgent hand over her mouth, muffling the words but not the panic flooding her eyes. “Shh! Don’t panic,” you hiss softly, fighting a smile as your own pulse rockets.

She presses her palm into yours, her breath shaky and warm against your skin, muffled murmurs barely escaping. You peel your hand away slowly and lock eyes with her—wide, terrified, but fierce. The air between you is thick with tension, your breath mingling, your chests rising and falling rapidly. The footsteps grow louder, echoing off the walls, faster now, inevitable.

Without a second thought, you spring into action.

“Where are my fucking underwear?!” Lottie hisses, crawling, sliding with urgency on the slick wet stone, her bare legs trembling but pushing hard against the cool surface. Strands of dark, wet hair cling to her flushed cheeks and neck, droplets trailing down her collarbone like tiny jewels.

Your eyes dart frantically around until you spot a soggy white gown crumpled on the ground. You grab it and toss it to her. “Not underwear, but it’s something!”

“Shit, shit!” she curses under her breath, fumbling to pull it on inside out, the damp fabric clinging to her like a second skin. “Y/n, if I don’t find my underwear, they’ll know. They’ll know we were here!”

“I’m sorry, I really am” you whisper urgently, “but we have to go—now.” You struggle to wriggle into your own wet gown, the fabric heavy and cold against your skin.

Lottie spins quickly, eyes scanning desperately toward the far end of the pool room. Another metallic clang echoes sharply down the hallway. The voices surge closer, laughter now replaced with urgent commands. Sneakers squeak against the tile, sliding almost too close.

You grab her hand, fingers locking tightly, heart slamming against your chest as you pull her away from the pool’s edge. Your bare feet slap the floor in a staccato rhythm, droplets spraying with each step. You don’t slow, pushing forward toward a set of double doors that promise escape into a quieter hallway.

Every step leaves a glistening wet footprint behind—a trace, a mark of your reckless rush. The buzzing fluorescent lights hum overhead, harsh and cold, their flicker highlighting the sheen of water on your skin and the flushed heat rising in your cheeks.

“Go, go, go!” you whisper fiercely, dragging her along, the pounding of your own breath loud in your ears.

Lottie’s breathing hard beside you, teeth chattering even though the adrenaline is keeping most of the chill at bay. “We are going to get caught, there is no way we are getting away with this.”

Another burst of laughter echoes around the corner—someone’s talking, casually, distantly. You both freeze and press your backs to the wall, trying not to wheeze.

“We are so close! We just have to run fast enough to get past them.” You nod at her, acting so sure of yourself.

“What—what are you?”

“Shhh—on three.”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Three!”

You take off again, yanking her after you like a whirlwind of reckless energy. The water squelches with every hurried step, splashing wet footprints down the sterile hallway, echoing softly against the walls. Lottie’s breathless laughter bubbles up suddenly—wild, infectious, a chaotic melody of panic and exhilaration that grips your chest and makes it impossible to catch your own breath.

Her laughter spins through the air, light and uncontrolled, a vivid contrast to the pounding of your heart. You glance at her, cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement, wet hair plastered to her face in tangled strands, eyes sparkling with reckless joy. She stumbles slightly, giggling harder, breath hitching as if she can’t quite believe the madness of the moment either.

You skid sharply around the last bend, adrenaline spiking, your bare feet slipping slightly on the slick tile. Ahead, the nurse on duty disappears back into her office, the soft click of the door sealing your chance. You seize the moment, sprinting forward with everything you have, the pounding of your heart louder than your footsteps.

With a breathless burst, you slide into the room and quietly shut the door shut behind you, Your chest heaves, sweat mixing with the cool dampness still clinging to your skin. You turn to Lottie, a grin pulling at your lips, heart still racing. “Wasn’t that so much fu—”

Before you can finish, Lottie’s hands shoot up, cradling your face with sudden urgency. Her lips crash onto yours—fast, desperate, and fierce. It’s not gentle. It’s messy, soaked with the heat and moisture of the chase, raw and insistent, like all the breath she held back during the sprint is pouring out in this single, overwhelming kiss. Her hands are cold against your cheeks, sharp with contrast to the warmth and fire of her mouth, which claims yours with wild abandon.

You stagger back a step, laughter bubbling up from deep inside as you pull her closer, your arms wrapping around her with equal urgency. Her hands tangle in your damp hair, fingers threading through the strands as if anchoring herself to you. You both laugh against each other’s mouths—soft, breathy sounds mingling with the thrum of desire and relief.

With a gentle shove, she pulls you down beside her on the bed. Your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your skin. You can feel her body pressing against yours, wet curves molding to yours, her breath hot and ragged against your lips.

You pull back slightly, smiling into her mouth and teasing, “You are definitely getting the bed soaked.”

“Don’t care,” she mutters, kissing you again, deeper now. “You risked so much tonight for me, I am kind of obsessed with you.”

You hum, your hands slipping under the edges of her soaking gown grip her waist. “Kind of?”

“Fine. More than kind of.” Lottie gives you a sly smile as she takes off both of your night gowns yet again, flinging them in unknown directions.

You reach for her and she’s already there, straddling your hips, pressing her chest to yours, her wet hair dripping onto your skin. “You really wanna go again?” you whisper, eyes fluttering.

Lottie pulls back just enough to look at you, her expression soft but charged. “I want to be close to you.”

Your chest tightens in the best way. You sit up and kiss her like that—deep and slow, all hands and breath and quiet need. Your hands trail down to her tits, pinching and tugging at her nipples before replacing one of your hands with your mouth. Lottie lets out a deep sigh as she relishes in the pleasure being given to her. She bites down on her lip, moaning your name like a prayer, arching her back, pushing her hips into yours.

She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you up for a bruising kiss, tongue and teeth exploring, a desperate promise of more. Your hips shift, pressing into hers, slow, building, grinding. Lottie steadies herself as if trying to hold back something fierce inside. Your hands glide lower, brushing over the slick heat you crave, teasing just enough to make her gasp. You slide two fingers in slowly, inch by inch, inside her, watching her eyes close and mouth fall open in pure surrender. The warmth spreads through you, pooling low and deep like wildfire.

Lottie shifts on top of you, hips grinding against your hand, desperate for more friction. She runs her hands down your body and she pushes you down onto the bed, taking complete control. Her head tilts back, exposing her throat as she starts to ride on your fingers. She looks mesmerizing, so beautiful that you are taking mental screenshots to remember this moment later. Everything about her is so captivating. Even in the dim light of your shared room, she’s radiant. Her hair—wild and dripping from the pool—curls around her face in wet, tangled strands that make her look unguarded. Her lips are swollen from kissing, parted slightly as she catches her breath, and her eyes… her eyes are dark and glassy, pupils wide, looking down at you with a hunger that borders on reverence.

Your fingers move inside her, curling slow and deep, teasing the tight places that only spurs her on. “Oh Charlotte you are so fucking stunning.” You practically whine at her.

Lottie’s clenches around your fingers at that “Say it again. My name- Say it again.”

Of course you happily oblige “Yeah? Ride those fingers Charlotte.” Then, you get an idea. Another grand one. You start to claw at her thighs, trying to scoot her higher and higher.

Her motions start to get even more irregular “W-what are you doing?”

You tilt your head “I want you to ride my tongue like you ride my fingers. I love how you taste.”

Lottie quickly nods her head and shifts herself all the way to your face to which you take her on your tongue almost immediately. Her body was sure and trembling all at once. You grip her thighs instinctively, grounding yourself in the slick heat of her, the way she pulses under your tongue. Lottie gasps, sharp and high, and her fingers fist the sheets beside your head.

Her hips roll slowly, grinding down, and her breath stutters out in broken pieces.

“God,” she whispers, barely able to hold still, “your tongue is driving me insane.”

You moan softly in response, and she shudders at the vibration—her whole body reacting like it’s too much, and still not enough.

She looks down at you then, eyes half-lidded and burning.

“Just like that,” she breathes. “Please don’t stop. ”

You tease at her clenching hole with the tip of your tongue, making her squirm before sliding it as deep as you can. You follow her hip movements and all you can hear is a muffled “Uh Uh Uh” coming from her pretty mouth as you fuck up into her. You hear the ragged gasps, the quickening pulse in her throat, the shaky edge to her voice as she teeters on the brink, you swear you could die happy right here.

“Oh I’m so close- “ She cries out.

Her thighs tremble around your face, but she stays right there, her hand in your hair, her breath coming faster with every roll of her hips. She’s trying to stay composed—but you feel her unraveling, little by little, right above you.

“You’re so good at that,” she whispers, voice tight with pleasure. “You don’t even know.”

Her hips twitch when your tongue flicks just right. She gasps, sharp, and tightens her grip in your hair—not pulling, just holding. Anchoring.

“Right there,” she breathes, the words catching. “God, stay there—please.”

You moan into her, and her whole body shudders above you. Her other hand grips the wall now, white-knuckled.

“That’s it, baby,” she pants, riding the rhythm now. “You’re making me—fuck—you’re gonna make me come again.”

You feel her muscles flutter against your mouth, feel the way her breath hitches with every movement. She’s close. You can tell.

She looks down at you through heavy lashes, wild hair falling around her flushed face. she whispers, trembling. “Please— Please-”

You hum low against her, and she shudders, the vibration sending her spiraling. Her back arches, her thighs clamp tighter around your ears—and then you pull back.

Just a little. Just enough.

“No—” she whimpers, her voice breaking with disbelief. Her hips chase after you, frantic, desperate. “Why—why’d you stop?”

You kiss the inside of her thigh, licking the sweat from her skin. Your hands grab at her comfortingly but your mouth only ghosts over her clit now — a tease, not a promise. Her whole body tenses again, that tight heat building in her belly like it might explode.

And then you ease off again.

“Fuck!” she sobs, dragging her hand down her face in frustration. You lap at her slowly—agonizingly slow. Not enough. Never enough. Her whole body tenses again, and you can feel it, how close she is. Right there. Just a few seconds more and she’ll be gone.

So you pull back just enough to deny her the release she's desperate for.

Her breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps—shallow and trembling, like sobs barely held in. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, each inhale shaky and desperate. Her hands grip the sheets beside her with white-knuckled intensity, as if the fabric is the only thing anchoring her to reality, the only solid ground she can hold on to in the storm of sensation overwhelming her.

You feel the subtle, frantic jerk of her hips pressing against your mouth—tiny pulses searching, pleading for release—desperate to find the sweet relief she’s aching for but can’t have yet. That desperation, that raw, trembling need? The best parts of edging are when they start to cry, their bodies breaking apart in that exquisite mixture of want and denial.

Lottie's entire body shudders violently again, muscles spasming under your touch, trembling uncontrollably as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside her. You press your tongue deeper this time, slow and deliberate, savoring every flick, every soft swirl that teases the most sensitive folds. Each gentle kiss is a promise and a torment, leaving her wanting more but giving her nothing but exquisite torture.

Her soft whines turn into broken, ragged moans, the sound full of helpless surrender. Her hips buck helplessly, writhing against your face like she’s trying to escape the delicious captivity you’ve woven around her, but your hands clamp firmly on her thighs, fingers digging in just enough to hold her open and vulnerable, making sure she stays exactly where you want her—waiting, aching, undone. You feel Lottie tightening around your mouth, her hips jerking in reflex, trying to chase the edge you keep pulling away from. Her breath is shallow and broken. You smile against her, knowing just how close she is—how much she’s begging without words.

Slowly, you deepen your movements, tongue swirling faster, firmer. You trace patterns over every sensitive ridge, pressing a little harder, coaxing out every little shudder, every involuntary twitch. Lottie starts to chase it again and this time, you finally let her. Her body stiffens, hips bucking wildly as she finally tips over the edge. A strangled cry escapes her lips, breaking into a soft, breathless sob. Waves of release ripple through her, muscles clenching around you in tight, trembling pulses.

Slowly, deliberately, she slides off you, the cool air hitting the wet skin where she was pressed close. She crawls back up the bed until she’s hovering above you again, fingers trailing a lazy path over your collarbone. Her mouth lowers, soft and warm, and she presses a kiss—slow, lingering—right onto your lips. You smile into the kiss, heart still racing, feeling like you’ve both been pulled from the edges of something dark and into this small, fragile space of light.

You break the kiss gently, resting your forehead against hers as the room hums softly around you. Her breathing starts to slow, chest rising and falling with a quiet rhythm, the tension melting away into something warm and safe.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, slipping off the bed carefully so as not to disturb her and over to your side of the room. You tug the blankets off of your bed and trail back over to where Lottie lays and weasel your way back into the bed with her. The blankets over you both provide a soft weight settling like a promise.

She opens her eyes slowly, looking up at you with that quiet, grateful smile.

“Better?” you ask softly.

She nods, and you slide in beside her, pulling her close, giving her kisses here and there.

The world outside feels miles away. Here, with the warmth and the quiet, everything else fades until it’s just the two of you — safe, soft, and close. You hold her close, feeling the slow steady beat of her heart against your chest. Her skin is still warm from everything, and you brush damp strands of hair back from her face, eyes soft with admiration.

She murmured something indistinct, a small smile playing at her lips before her eyes slipped closed.

The two of you melted into the quiet, the kind of silence that feels like a promise.

But sleep didn’t come easy for you.

You’re running barefoot through the wilderness—branches ripping at your skin, your lungs burning with every ragged breath. The sky above is thick with twisted gray clouds, blotting out the sun. The world around you feels suffocating, alive with whispers you can’t quite catch.

Ahead, a flicker of movement in a small clearing. You slow, heart pounding, breath catching in your throat. There she is—Lottie—but not the girl you remember. Your sweet Lottie. The Lottie who seemed like she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

She’s a shadow of something else now. Her gown is gone, replaced by crude furs and scavenged scraps, stained dark and slick. Blood trickles from the corners of her mouth, trailing down her chin in thick rivulets. Her eyes glow unnervingly, cold and void, like twin embers burning in the dark.

She’s hunched over a mangled body, limbs bent at unnatural angles. The smell hits you then—foul and coppery, like a sick nightmare come alive. Flesh torn, muscles ripped, ribs cracked open like an eggshell. Her teeth tear through sinew with a wet, sickening smack, and the sound echoes in the silent forest—wet, sloppy, merciless.

“Lottie? Lottie what are you doing?” You somehow choke out.

Suddenly, she lifts her head, eyes wide and wild—black pupils swallowing what little light remains. Her breath is ragged, warm and heavy in the chilled air, and it carries the sour tang of blood and death. She stares straight at you, unblinking, with a smile that’s sharp, twisted—too wide to be innocent. As if she is happy to see you here.

She drags the corpse’s face up, sticky fingers trembling, revealing a face frozen in terror—eyes wide, lips torn, skin mottled and cold. You hear the wet crunch of her teeth biting through sinew and bone, the echo vibrating deep in your chest, rattling your nerves.

Around you, the shadows move. Figures emerge from the underbrush—hulking, skeletal shapes with sunken eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. Faces you have never seen before. Their breaths are shallow and ragged, mouths stained dark red, lips curled in silent hunger. In the middle of them, an antler crown hung from a tree.

Lottie steps forward, dragging her blood-slick fingers down her chin, crimson smears left in her wake. Her grin spreads, malicious and triumphant, glinting with madness. “Aren’t you hungry? “ She lets out a laugh with tears streaming down her face.

Your throat tightens, your skin prickles with cold sweat and primal fear. You try to scream, but only a strangled, wet sound escapes, swallowed quickly by the oppressive darkness and the stench of death closing in around you.

You jolt awake, heart hammering like it’s trying to escape your chest. The cold sweat clings to your skin, your breath ragged and shallow as the echoes of that nightmare still claw at your mind. For a moment, you’re trapped in the suffocating weight of the dream—blood, shadows, hunger—but then your eyes adjust to the soft darkness of the room. There she is—Lottie. Right next to you, peaceful and serene, completely unaware of the twisted vision that tore through your mind. Her chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths, the faintest smile ghosting at the corners of her lips. Her hair fans around her face like a halo, soft and gentle against the pillow.

The quiet rhythm of her breathing pulls you back, soothing the storm inside your chest. You reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin under your fingertips. The sharp edges of fear begin to dull, replaced by the steady comfort of her presence. You settle back down beside her, the steady beat of her heart anchoring you, not trusting sleep to comfort you.

Lottie’s hand finds yours and for now, that is enough.

-----

THANKS SO MUCH READING!! I have some more fics in store already for you guys don't worry! If you guys want them of course!

[rawme-price]

Gaz starts showing up to base tired.

Like, doze off during a meeting tired. Gaz is usually pretty on top of things after a coffee, but soap watched him drink his third one and still nap later that day. Maybe is a one time thing?

Except, it keeps happening. After the third consecutive day, price pulls gaz aside. "Garrick," Price has his arms crossed, head titled down in that do not lie to me look "there a reason you been so tired lately? Should I be concerned?"

Gaz clears his throat, looks away. "Yes sir, there's a reason. No sir, you dont need to worry."

Price narrows his eyes at gazs short response. "Then im sure youd feel fine explaining why you feel asleep during the safety brief that you inspired?"

Shit. Gaz feels his face heat, but knows price wont drop it. Hes never been good at lying to his captain. "Uh well, its my bird," he grins half-embarrassed and half-proud "it that time o' the month and shes, well, a bit insatiable. Keeps me up damn late and wakes me up early begging for more. Poor lass acts like shes dying without me in her-"

Price holds up a hand, face beet red. "Thats quite enough sergeant. I uh- understand. Youre dismissed."

[lazy4honey]

Faun Vs Satyr

Contains: present tense, head canon, m!faun (part goat) x afab thief reader x m!satyr (part horse), dub-con, oral, unprotected, anal, p in v, big 🍆, lots of 💦, belly bulge, fae assimilation i guess?, NSFW & MDNI

✧ Good to know: originally fauns of Roman mythology were ghosts of rustic places, lesser versions of their chief the god Faunus. … Later fauns became copies of the satyrs of Greek mythology, wild and orgiastic drunken followers of Dionysus, who themselves were originally shown as part-horse rather than part-goat.

You are running. Each breath burns in your throat and lungs, and you have to pay great attention so as to not trip over the tree roots sticking out of the earth.

At this moment, you somewhat regret having stolen that set of jewelry from the city lord. Who could’ve known that the guy would immediately notify the city guards and chase you into the wilderness in the middle of the night?? Looking at all the swaying torches in the distance, one might as well think they’re chasing a witch instead of a little thief.

Just as you’re silently complaining, you suddenly misstep and fall. You roll down a slope and hit your head on a tree, knocking you into a daze. When you come back to your senses, you find yourself gazing into a pair of golden eyes with horizontal pupils and overwhelmed by the smell of animalistic musk.

Looking at the man’s thin face with high cheekbones and goatee, short goat horns sprouting amidst his short hair, furry legs and pointed ears, you are stunned. “A faun?"

“A human."

The corner of your mouth twitches. Right, stating the obvious.

“You have trespassed the Holy Boundary,” the faun says. “How are you going to pay for this crime?"

Thinking of the set of jewelry hidden in an inner pocket of your clothing, you lie through your teeth with a practiced pitiful expression, “I’m just a poor thief with nothing of value."

“You have to pay."

“Can’t you just let me go?"

“You have to pay."

“I have nothing but my body!"

“Then pay with your body."

Your breath catches in your throat, going neither up nor down. This wild ghost can’t be serious!

The faun looks at your expression and doesn’t understand what’s so bad about paying with your body. “If you refuse to pay, payment will be forcefully collected."

You feel like you were about to explode. Leaving means running into the stupid city guards and staying means giving this foolish faun his stupid payment for trespassing. One is a dead end and one is just a difficult situation. The choice is obvious, yet you’re still more than unhappy about it.

Finally, you just lie on the ground and cross your arms. “Ugh, fine! Do what you want!!"

The faun stares at your crossed arms squeezing your breasts and swallows. It would have really been a pity if you’d decided to buy yourself free. Fortunately, you are greedy...

He tugs and pulls on your clothes, and before you know it you are lying stark naked on a layer of thick moss.

Your anger barely managed to flare up when it is doused again. The faun keels between your legs, furry ass sticking up and little tail wagging as he kisses your pussy. He takes your clit in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, then opens his mouth to let his tongue slide between your lips and dip into your entrance before moving up to your clit again.

You gasp, hands fumbling and finally grasping the audacious faun’s little horns, incidentally shoving his face further into your crotch. His teeth scrape over your clit, eliciting a moan from you, and when his tongue once again sinks into your entrance, he wickedly curls it up. He holds your thighs as he laps up your slick, sucking and slurping and swallowing with the greed of a man dying of thirst.

With a gentle bite to your clit, the faun has you coming for him, pussy fluttering around nothing while yearning for more and blurring your sight with tears.

The faun kisses your pussy in satisfaction and sits up. Yet just as he aligns his long, slightly thin cock with your entrance, he is suddenly kicked away.

You blink, startled at the commotion, and look up to see a rather hideous guy standing next to you. His upper half is that of a man with a too long, strangely flushed face, while his lower half is that of a horse’s bottom, sporting hooves and an erection so big it dangles from his crotch like a swinging pendulum.

The faun unhappily frowns at the newcomer, “Satyr, what are you doing here?”

“Hehe,” the satyr laughs, sounding drunk, “I’m just joining in on the fun.”

In the next moment, the satyr is already holding your legs and setting the large flared tip of his monstrous erection against your pussy. Folds are pressed together and the musky scent in the air thickens, mingling with the scent of wine.

“Up for a round, little nymph?”

You frown, “I’m not— ah!”

He doesn’t allow you to finish your words as he forces himself inside you. The broad tip stretches your entrance so wide open it feels like he is tearing your apart, the ruthless thrust carrying so much momentum that he directly bottoms out inside you with his long, fat horse cock.

Amidst residual tears of pleasure and new tears of pain, you strain your neck to look down and are shocked by what you see.

The satyr’s cock is so thick and stretches you so much you can clearly see its outline through your stomach, the flared tip almost reaching your ribs, and it still isn’t fully in!

He laughs at your wide eyes and shallowly thrusts, “Great size, right, little nymph? Makes you feel real good when I fuck you with my big fat cock, doesn’t it? Wanna feel what it’s like when I pump my seed into your womb and make you bear little satyrs for me? Pump you full till your little belly bulges!"

“Damn you—!"

“Hahaha!"

Then he rolls his hips, first pulling back till his flared tip tugs at your pussy before slamming back in. He drags along your soft inner walls, filling you to the brim, forcing you to bear his lust as he repeatedly pounds into you.

The pain of entry is quickly replaced by the pleasure he brings you, making you go from struggling in resistance to shamefully writhing on the forest floor with the desire for more. Moss and leaves stick to your sweaty skin and sweet moans spill from your lips, and you tug on your nipples as every plunge into your depths make your body shake.

You feel like you are going insane. The faun was at least nice and gentle when he tongue fucked you, but this drunk maniac?! And yet, the satyr’s fat horse cock makes you feel so good your mouth hangs open and your entire abdomen throbs.

His flare, his size, his weight; shit, even the filthy smell is making you feel good! Your pussy flutters, your limbs twitch, and you come hard as his flare drags over your g-spot.

You tear up with a cry.

The stimulation is so intense you feel your arms and legs go weak while the satyr is still relentlessly ramming into you, clearly enjoying how you just keep twitching around his monstrous length like a broken toy.

He fucks your pussy until his cock throbs, getting even harder before his cum erupts and shoots against your cervix. The satyr groans and his eyes roll. His cock quickly softens and slips out, allowing his viscous, stinky cum to gush from your gaping wide open hole like water from a spring.

Thoroughly exhausted, you have no strength to even pretend to resist when the faun grabs you. He reaches beneath your arms and pulls you up, letting your back rest against his naked chest and your butt on his furry thighs, his thin goat dick squeezing between your buttocks and getting coated in the sticky satyr cum dripping from your pussy.

You strenuously look up.

“Human,” he says, horizontal pupils unsettlingly focused on you, “you have to pay."

With that, he moves his hips. His dick slides past your pussy and the tip pokes at your puckered asshole.

Your face turns green, “You can’t be serious...!"

Yet despite your disbelief, he dips his fingers into your pussy to get some of the sticky fluids and smear it onto your back entrance. He completely disregards the dirtiness of the dirtiness of the matter, just tightly holding your waist as he works his fingers into your tight ass.

It is a different discomfort from having something too big shoved up your pussy. The faun’s fingers give you the feeling that they should not be up your ass, making you reflexively tighten in a futile attempt to force them out.

Before you can get used to the strange sensation, he pulls his fingers out and positions his dick. He slips in more easily than the satyr as he isn’t thicker than his fingers, yet the fullness still feels incomparably strange. It makes you subconsciously wriggle your ass a little, and then you hear a breathy moan from behind you. Your ass tightens, sucking his dick further in, and he moans again, satisfying some kind of desire you didn’t even know you had.

The faun moves slowly and gently. His stained fingers leisurely make their way down your bells to your crotch, massaging with circular motions just above your pussy and helping you relax. Then his fingers go even further and start fiddling with your clit, lightly rubbing and pressing it.

Thanks to his patience, you feel aroused again, and even start enjoying him slowly fucking your asshole and his moans every time you clench your ass.

Just as you are about to lose yourself to this comfort, the satyr approaches again. His cock is once more erect, heavily hanging down and twitching as he drags it down your chest, over your abdomen and to your pussy. There, he settles his flared tip against your entrance.

You feel your insides tingle at the sight of the monstrous thing, the memory of being pounded by it still fresh in your mind. Reluctant as you are to admit it, the fat satyr cock turns you on.

The satyr smirks at you, and enters your pussy in one swift stroke.

You scream and tense and clutch backwards at the faun’s little horns to find a hold on reality amidst it all.

Their two cocks bottom out inside you at the same time. The horse cock in your pussy and the goat cock in your ass, tightly enveloped by your slick walls and steeped in filth, are rock hard and hot as they press into your tender flesh. Even worse, they are both fully buried within you, forcing your legs uncomfortably far apart to accommodate both of them.

You feel them press against each other through your stretched thin walls, feel them throb and pulse as if in communication with each other. And then they start to move.

Bouncing on their cocks, you can’t tell who’s thrusting harder, more desperate to cram their length into your hole and stuff you with their seed. You moan and whimper as the satyr’s fat cock ruts into your pussy and the flared tip slams into your cervix, and you gasp and sob as the faun pistons his hips to drive his thin dick deep into you and makes your asshole burn.

Yet sweet friction overwhelms all pain and makes your abdomen throb. A flood of ecstasy washes over you as you come, your entire body twitching and fluttering.

Behind you, the faun grunts and speeds up, rutting into your clenched ass until cum spurts into your intestines. Meanwhile, the satyr in front of you slows down to patiently pull back, only to slam back into you so hard you feel like he might break you, before he finally cums with a shudder.

Your eyes roll back and for a while, you have no idea what is happening. By the time you recover, the faun and satyr are back at it again, frenziedly thrusting into you and cumming until your belly is bulging with their seed. You feel full and slightly nauseous, your pussy and asshole plagued by a strange itch that only the two fae cocks can soothe.

The itch further heightens the pleasure of the rapid friction within and quickly makes you come again and again. You vaguely hear the satyr laugh and tease you, and you tense your muscles in response so he would concentrate on fucking you more.

After an unknown amount of time, as the sky begins to dawn, the faun and satyr are finally unable to get it up anymore. Their cocks are flaccid, crotches drenched in cum, and balls milked dry, bodies so tired they directly pass out.

You are left sitting in a large puddle of viscous cum, more still gushing from your overused holes. Sweaty and exhausted, you only want to fall asleep, yet that maddening itch remains, making you long for more. But your body can’t hold on anymore. You feel yourself fall into the puddle.

However, just before you fully lose consciousness, a smile spreads over your face as you see a group of satyrs approach.

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)❞

a/n: almost four hundred followers omg.. i love all you freaks mwah!! here is part two as promised. included some requests for characters. aged up! megumi and yuji of course. might do a part three maybeeee? afab body w/no gendered language as usual.

part one.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he thinks of it as memorabilia. snatching your panties from the floor before you have the chance to put them back on- just something he keeps to remember you bye.

▸ daddy kink. we all saw this coming, right? you call him daddy once and it's all he needs to fuck you into the bed for the rest of the night.

▸ thigh riding. seeing you frotting against his large thigh, desperate to cum, pussy practically drooling for it... his favorite foreplay 100%.

▸ cum play. this man will cum anywhere and everywhere and he'll love it. let him cum on your face, your ass, your chest, your back, down your throat, etc etc.

▸ hatefucking. angry sex after an argument where he takes out all of the stress you caused him on your poor holes :(

▸ breeding. you can give him another baby, can't you? you can make him a daddy all over again, right? just let him cum inside of you as much as he wants, he'll make it happen, he swears.

▸ exhibitionism. you grind against him once on the bar floor and next thing you know he's dragging out to the empty alleyway and pressing you against the nearest wall.

▸ size difference. he's so large, so big, every single part of him practically overtaking you. and he gets off on that fact so fucking hard!!

. *. ⋆ NANAMI KENTO

▸ cockwarming. seating himself inside your warm pussy while he's stuck doing all kinds of boring paperwork. he'll fuck you, he swears, you just gotta sit pretty on his lap for a little bit, okay?

▸face fucking. he loves taking out all of his stress on you. gripping your hair as he uses your mouth mercilessly, bullying his cock down the back of your tight throat.

▸blindfolding. silk ribbons in a variety of colors that he matches to the underwear you're modeling for him. only the best for his lover <3

▸ thigh riding. there's no better way to put him in the mood than pathetically grinding yourself against his thigh, using his body selfishly for your own pleasure.

▸ hair pulling. y'all know that one scene... he pulls at your hair exactly like that. fingers going white with how tight he's tugging at you, manipulating your position until you're face to face with his scowl.

▸ spanking. makes you count for every slap and if you miscount, he's starting all over again. pay better attention to him next time, yeah?

▸ semi-public. yes, he will bend you right over his desk, no he doesn't care there's a meeting going on next door. or better yet, against the window of the fourth floor, overlooking the busy street below it.

▸ phone sex. it really isn't any problem that he's across the country on a mission. even just the sound of your whines over the phone is enough to get him off.

. *. ⋆ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he would say he feels bad about it, but he doesn't. you looked so good in the lacey little things, he can't help but want to keep them for later. even has his own little drawer for them.

▸ masochism. the stinging pain of your nails running down his back is utterly euphoric. and don't get him started on how harshly you tug at his hair when he's eating you out- he can cum in his boxers just from that alone.

▸ breast play. massaging at the skin, feeling the plumpness under his fingertips. sucking at your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts. he's obsessed.

▸ edging. leaving you just on the brink of release over and over again, until tears are streaming down your face. he'll let you cum eventually, you just look so pretty this worked up for him.

▸ marking. oh my goddd do not get megumi started on this. he doesn't know why it gets him so worked up- seeing you covered in the hickeys and bite marks that he's left on you- but it does.

▸ cunnilingus. eats you out like a man starved, like he'll never eat you out again. pulling him away from your poor pussy is next to impossible if he's not yet done with his meal.

▸ mutual masturbation. sometimes you both just need to relaxation of release and nothing more. sitting across from each other on the bed, or maybe side by side, listening to the moans of the other as you both touch yourselves.

▸ dacryphilia. like adoptive father like adopted son. seeing your eyes brim with tears from how good he's fucking you drives him crazy.

. *. ⋆ YUJI ITADORI

▸ ass play. we all know he's an ass man i mean come on?! doggy style is his favorite position just because of it. seeing how the fat of your ass moves with every slap of his hips is fucking addicting.

▸ praise kink. tell him how good he's fucking you and how much of a good boy he is pleaseeee!!!!

▸ toys. he didn't realize how much he would love bringing toys into the bedroom until he sees how hard you can cum around him while he holds a vibrator to your clit.

▸ raw sex. he knows it's stupid, fucking you with no protection. you're pussy just feels so good, so warm, he needs to fuck you raw.

▸ face riding. please sit on his face, suffocate him, he doesn't care. it's his favorite position to eat you out.

▸ overstimulation. poor baby doesn't even mean to overstimulate you half of the time- he just has so much stamina, you understand that, right? and seeing you so flushed and fucked out under him has him so horny. just one more round, yeah? you can do that for him, right?

▸ dirty talk. yuji is a yapper and that doesn't stop when he's fucking you. the filth that comes out of his mouth has you wet just thinking about it.

▸ dry humping. the tension, the intimacy, the panting, the friction?? all of it, it's like a drug to him.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Wolf hybrid pack that was supposed to eat chubby bunny reader but instead take you in and use you as their little breeding toy.

They just kind of adore you, spoiling you with freshly picked fruits and vegetables, doting on their sweet little bunny as much as possible.

You want snuggles? They’re making a cuddle pile immediately, and you’re at the center. You’re hungry for something sweet? They’re ransacking the nearest village and bringing back every sugary item they can find.

They get into a lot of fights over who gets to breed you first once mating season comes around. You’re a bit afraid, seeing all these tall, needy wolves circling you like you’re a slab of meat.

It’s the first time they’re ever rough with you, pushing your soft body down and holding onto your hips as they rut into your fat pussy until you’re knotted over and over again.

Once they’ve all had a turn, they’re back to purring and cuddling into you, giving you little mating bites and cleaning you up.

You decide it’s worth it to get fucked out of your mind every once in a while if it means you’re treated like the pack’s princess. After all… it feels way too good being all full of cum and being bounced on one knot then another…

Being adored by an entire pack of wolf hybrids isn’t easy, but you’re a horny bunny, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, loan shark!price x reader part 1, fem!reader, afab!reader, noncon elements, manipulative price, implied violence (not reader), petting, almost(?) fingering - 3K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune massive thank you to @pricetagged for keeping me sane writing this

“Mr. Price-” you spoke up, fingers massaging into your temples. 

“Said you can call me John, Sweetheart.” the man interjected with a serious look. 

He was currently hanging your entire life over your head and he knew it, you most certainly were not going to call him by his first name. Noticing your reluctance, he shrugged and leaned back into your dining room chair.

“Look, I’ve been as kind as a man like me ought to be. Don’t know how much longer I can shoulder the loss, and I don't know how much longer you-” He sent a condescending look of concern your way, a hand fishing into his pocket. “-can take the fees. I’m playing the good guy here, y’gotta pay up, lovie.” 

“No smoking inside.” you warned, voice less confident than you would have liked it to be.

His hand paused in his coat before slipping out and up in a sign of surrender.

There was a buzzing silence between the two of you, only interrupted by the occasional tick of your kitchen clock. It was hard to meet his gaze, eyes rooted downwards towards your table under the weight of your rising debt to one of the most notorious men in the city.

“Right then.” he huffed, palms coming down to rest on the table before twitching upwards. “So?” 

“Give me another month to pull something together.” you spoke, wincing when you caught the way his eyebrows quirked in surprise. “-Please?”

There was no telling a man like John Price what would be happening. He was the shot caller, the unequivocal card dealer, it was only by some higher grace that he let your ill manners slip. 

He grumbled for a moment before looking up. “I respect what you’ve got going on in the shop, I do. Lovely place, good atmosphere—we’re both the entrepreneurial type, so to say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for you-” the thought that he’d lump your small shop in with his exploitative business made your stomach turn. “-but this is a bit much, yeah? Let’s give it up, sweetheart.” 

Your face twisted into a sharp grimace, but that was all you could do—what right did you have to tell the man whose money you were living off of to get out of your house? Even worse, you hated that he had a point; you were so tired of your lackluster sales and mounting bills, but-

“I’m not the only owner, I-I can’t just make decisions like that.” you reasoned.

He looked incredibly unimpressed, nostrils flaring with a dissatisfied huff. “Right, your business partner.” 

“H-he-”

“If it’s what you want, m’sure he’ll understand,” Mr. Price hummed, eyes narrowing. “I think you’ll find my men and I can be quite persuasive.” 

Registering your cautious demeanor, his lips curled upwards.

“Where is the bloke anyway?” John asked in faux-disinterest, disapproval blooming from his tone. “Always sends you to talk to the big mean lender. S’not right.” 

He shook his head and sighed.

“-Seen this play out before, love. He’s throwing you under the bus.” 

Your mouth shut, hard set into a frown—you knew he was right. Your business partner was most likely enjoying his morning in peace knowing it was your apartment above the building—your life about to be uprooted if it all went tits-up. It was hard not to feel played.

Mr. Price’s gaze glimmered in recognition, and slowly, like a languid predator, he was leaning across the table with a large hand over your own. 

You studied the sparse dusting of translucent hair on his fingers, the trimmed nails at the ends of his stocky fingers, his nice, expensive-looking watch—anything not to meet his eyes. 

“S’not worth it,” he urged softly. “spreading yourself thin like this.” he paused to think. “My advice? Liquidate, I'm sure you and I can work something out in the long term.”

You swallowed, throat feeling impossibly dry as you focused on the twitch of his thumb.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy, but business is business, sweetheart—I’m offering you a hand, it’s in your best interest to take it.” he spoke, palm patting over your digits before withdrawing into his pocket. There was a deep breath drawn in through his lips. “Right, I’ll be off then—Unless you want me over for lunch?” 

He chuckled deeply in solus as he stood, reminding you of a proud and awful beast. “Maybe another time then, love.” 

Ideally not.

-

The shop had closed on another unnoteworthy day, only serving to further hammer in Mr. Price’s point. With defeated footfall on the stairs up to your flat, you nearly slipped, shocked by a fist beating on the front door frantically. You slowly turned around, heart pounding from the sound.

“-Christ! Let me in!” Ewan, your business partner cried out from the other side of the threshold.

You hurried to the door; pushed aside as soon as the lock had released.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” you scolded over the shop door’s welcome chime. You were met without response while the man darted for the till. “What are you-”

“Not now,” he growled. “we need to get out of here.” 

Studying him closer, you realized one of his arms had been held up by a makeshift sling, tucked neatly beneath his quilted coat.

“W-what are you talking about?”

He paused, looking up. 

Your eyes widened when the light from the street outside washed over his face. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” he snarled, freshly dried blood crusting at the movement. His head dipped down as he popped open the till. “Price and his dogs want our heads.” 

“I just spoke to him this morning-” 

“Things change—may have pushed our luck a little too far. We’ve got to get out of town.” 

You frowned “I-I can’t just-” 

“Suit yourself.” he snapped, voice dropping to a mumble while his fingers grabbed at whatever they could, stuffing it into his coat pocket haphazardly. “-Sitting duck.”

“Wait—that's our money.” you balked, watching the empty register drawer shut. He offered you a bloody, tight-lipped smile as he sped past you towards the door; in and out like a typhoon.

“Good luck.”

You were stuck where you stood when the door swung shut, absolutely beside yourself in shock as you watched his figure disappear from view into the night. Looking around your shop, it was just as it had been when you closed up, but the knowledge that you were sitting on an empty till, all alone with the looming threat of a less-than-savory money lender finding out you were back to square one for your upcoming payment was not kind as it crashed into you. 

After a sobering moment, you hobbled over to the point of sales, turning the drawer’s lock tentatively. Of course, the tray was as empty as the day you had bought it, save for a spare coin roll shoved into the side. You stared down at the dark plastic, hand clumsily digging into your pocket for your phone. Swiping at the device, you paused, debating for a moment over whether or not to open the banking app; you already knew what you’d see if you did.

Confirming your fears, the log showed a hefty transaction at the branch earlier that day. The account had been emptied right before the banks closed. 

You had nothing to give John Price.

It was all gone.

You stared at your feet while it sunk in. Slowly, you regained the ability to move, making your way over to the shop door and locking it back up before spinning on your heels. The trip upstairs was eerily silent as you slipped into your flat, legs wobbling as you ambled into your washroom and stepped under the hot stream from your showerhead. You let the water run over you for far longer than necessary, only stepping out onto the frigid tile once your fingers had pruned. 

The dinner prep that followed had gone surprisingly smooth, serving as a vessel to pretend the foundation of your life wasn't crumbling away. You replayed comforting thoughts, words passing through your mind like a liferaft just out of reach– you knew Mr. Price, he always spoke gently to you, he would understand, he-

A fat tear fell onto the hand that braced you over the stove, watching the bubbling pasta through bleary eyes. With a shaking grip, you drained the water and slipped the noodles into your saucepan, stirring and sniffling lamely.

You made too much—you had nothing to give and you had made too much. Typical.

Sitting at your table, you ate in near-silence, listening to your clock’s soft ticking as you tried to ignore the afterburn image of Mr. Price across from you where he had sat that morning.

Your fork paused mid-air when the downstairs shop chime rang out. 

Had Ewan come to his senses? 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to call up to you. 

The stark sound of heavy footfall bustling around the lower level was the first thing to alert you to the intrusion—too much noise for one man. Setting down your fork, you stared owlishly at the door to your flat as if it was the last line of defense between you and whatever was happening down there. Through the muffled commotion, you could faintly make out the creak of your stairs getting louder—closer, you watched helplessly as the knob slowly turned.

The door opened a fraction, a thick hand curling around the side to brace it against the three thunderous knocks that echoed throughout the room.

“Come in.” you spoke up once your heartbeat had evened out, blinking as Mr. Price emerged from the dark stairway.

“Mmh, you’re here.” he stared down at you, a pleased rumble rolling around in his chest. “‘Course you didn’t skip town, smart. Good girl.”

He kicked his boots off and drifted through your kitchen; cabinets and drawers clattering behind you while he whistled breathily, dishing up some pasta as if you had made it for him—you do suppose he had every right to, though. 

Your whole body tensed as a palm ghosted across your back. The plate was set down, and the chair beside you was tugged out from beneath the table. 

Your eyes darted to his dish where it sat, steam trailing fragrantly. Mr. Price tucked in, humming lowly despite his tense demeanor. 

“S’good, Love. eat up.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed your fork, gaze falling back to your dish as you picked at the food, appetite long gone. Once again, it was you, Mr. Price, and the sounds of your kitchen—an unwelcome sense of Deja Vu creeping in. 

“Your money’s gone.” you whispered, unable to stand the silence.

He reached towards you, grabbing your napkin, and patting his mouth. “I know.” he scratched at his beard idly. “My boys are dealing with that.” 

You paled, trying not to think about what would happen to your business partner as you watched Mr.Price fuss with his fork, leaning in to take another large bite; a nauseated feeling washing over you. 

“What's going to happen to me?” you murmured, eyes downcast. 

His fork clattered quietly against his plate as his hand came to rest on the back of your neck, thumb petting at your nape. “That’s what I'm here to sort out, sweetheart.” 

Sort out. It was ugly, spoken as if you were just one of his assets. You nodded; compliance met with a soft, affirming squeeze. 

“We can work something out.” his hand traveled downwards, grazing your arm before landing on the meat of your thigh. “I don’t have to be the bad guy.” 

“Mr. Price..” you spoke after a sharp breath, tears threatening to well up. 

You missed the way his eyes crinkled at your weepy tone, thumb brushing your thigh in comfort. 

“I’ve had my eye on you, love—Would have never lent you as much as I did if I wasn't sweet on you. Thought maybe I’d be able to charm my way into your life but it seems like I only see you when you’re late on a payment.” he laughed hoarsely. A knee knocked into yours as he stood; his chair scraping beneath him. The floor creaked under bulk, two large hands coming to rub at your arms with hot breath and trimmed beard tickling at your ear. “-I’m a hopeless romantic, y’see.” 

“Price!” a voice hollered up, causing the man to straighten with a low growl. 

“What?” he barked, voice aimed downstairs.

“Trucks loaded up, gonna head back to the office, yeah? See if Simon needs any help retrieving the cash.” 

His hands flexed around your shoulders. “Good, lock up behind yourself. I’ll be a bit.”

You froze, looking up to see the looming shadow of a man; profile distinct in the low light. He turned to you, offering a tight grin while a wayward hand trailed from your arm to your neck, caressing the skin as he exhaled deeply behind you, resting your head against his abdomen. 

“It’s okay to give in, love.” he cooed. “Let me take care of it all.” 

You had nearly folded when that little prey animal in your brain stiffened, hackles raising. You stood carefully, sidestepping his grasp.

“No, I-I… I couldn’t impose… It’s alright.” you silently begged for him to understand your polite refusal.

“S’not imposing,” he challenged, glaring down at you. “imposing would be the number of zeroes on the sum you owe me—now you care about my burden?”

“That’s-”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart.” he laughed. “Now, sit back down.”

You complied, lowering back into the seat shamefully.

“Good.” he exhaled, crouching beside you with hands knotted together. “I always collect what’s owed, that’s one thing you need to understand.” 

You nodded.

“-But I’m not opposed to shouldering burdens where personal interest is involved.” His eyes searched your own desperately, palms unfurling to rest back on your legs. “You understand what I'm saying, yeah? You’ll never pay it off alone, let me help. I could take care of you.”

Overwhelmed, you turned away; the grip on your thighs tightening in response as he braced himself, standing up. A warm hand cradled your cheek as he drew your gaze upwards, free hand looping around your back and lifting you to stand against him like a marionette. 

“I don’t know what to do…” you sniffled as his big palm had begun to rub circles into your back. 

He shushed you. “-It’s okay, love. I can handle it, It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, turning and rubbing your face into his shirt as he comforted you. The entire situation was a disorienting experience. Had you done something so wrong to get here?– had it been a crime to want to live a gentle and quiet life in your shop? 

It was hard to care much for your sense of conviction when the root of your problem looked more like a finely woven cradle; what did it matter if you were to bend the knee to your devil’s appeal at this point? 

Still, it felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“I’m scared.” your lips settled for, hiccuping the words into his chest. 

He hummed thoughtfully, the noise buzzing around the walls of your head as his thick arms hooked around your neck, pulling you in deeper—a trap set without any fuss. 

“It’s okay for you to be scared,” he pressed a kiss to your crown. “There’s no way anyone was getting out of those rates you agreed to, love. Let me help you.”

You stiffened, head raising slowly to look at him. He smiled down at you.

“You definitely won’t be taking care of our finances, yeah?” John joked, letting out a deep, phlegmy laugh before he pecked your nose, pulling you back into his chest and rumbling against your head. “Enough nonsense. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

It was all so domestic—like he hadn’t just shown you his rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. 

His grip relented as he patted your bum. “Go on and get into bed, let me clean up dinner.”

-

So you did, brushing your teeth and feeling incredibly confused as to why you were readily complying. What truly got to you was how tender it felt—had you been so oblivious to his vying interest? You had just assumed he was a rare good-natured lender; though, you suppose neither of these had been true.

John Price was not a good man; although it was a recent revelation in the grand scheme of things, you knew this as a fact now. The other fact of the matter was that it seemed you were most likely the real collateral in the vulturine deal. Had he been playing the long game?

You could hear John floating around in the other room as you pulled an old shirt over your head to sleep in—the kitchen faucet running as you slipped into your bed. It all felt so wrong. 

Your eyes shot open when the bedroom’s aged floor creaked, deer-like paralysis keeping you snapshot-still as the ring of his belt buckle filled the static air. Was he—The rickety bed dipped behind you under John’s added weight, bedframe crying out with every shift of his body that came with tucking himself against you; achy grunts blowing out from his lips.

“Not as limber as I used to be.” he laughed modestly. “Still gets the job done though, I reckon.” 

He breathed for a moment before his nose dipped into the hair at your nape, sniffling around. 

“-Better than I imagined.” he grumbled contently.

Thick hands dipped under your shirt, massaging at the skin momentarily before slipping into your panties, tugging them out of the way. 

“Mr. Price.” you winced, feeling his cold hand on the sensitive skin.

his hands paused as the large man thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Price…” he chuckled after a beat, the hairs on your neck standing up in response. “-See? You don’t like it much, either. Now, what’s my name, love?”

“John.” you mumbled quietly, eyes darting around through the dark of your room.

“Mmh. good girl.” he hummed, hand cupping your cunt and thumbing at it absentmindedly. “Sleep, love. Big day tomorrow, yeah?” 

[earlgreylatte]

Variant Madness

You thought he was your Mark.

Omni Mark and Shiesty Mark 2V1 you.

Breathing in, you savour the fresh air of the mountain trail you find yourself on. You had visited years ago, but you decided to come again to enjoy the scenery. Maybe you could find a cool rock for Mark and Oliver, too.

You hope things are peaceful for them too, but even if there is another threat that needs to be taken care of, you’re sure Mark would be able to come find you easily enough.

You feel a bit pathetic that you already miss him, even though you’re going to see him in a couple of hours. You suddenly find yourself understanding Debbie’s usual amusement when she watched you two. You really acted like a lovesick puppy, sometimes.

Feeling your phone buzz from your pocket, you fumble for a second as you’re broken from your thoughts, rooting through your jacket to find it. Just as your fingers begin to pull it out a sudden rush of air hits you from behind, your jacket’s hood suddenly pushed over your head as you drop your phone onto the soil as dirt is kicked up into the air.

You whip around, to find…Mark? He was still wearing his black and blue suit, but his entire head was now covered, making him look a little intimidating, with his mouth and hair covered.

He stares at you wordlessly.

“Were you in that much of a rush to show me your new costume? I mean, you just got a new one from Art just a couple of months ago,” you speak up, rubbing the dirt out of your eyes, “Honestly, you could have caused a dirt storm or something…”

He breathes out your name.

You tilt your head, “Is something wrong? Did something happen? Are Debbie and Oliver okay—!?”

Your worrying is cut off when within an instant he has you crushed to his chest, arms locked around you as he buried his head against your neck.

“I just really missed you,” he whispers.

Looks like he’s a lovesick puppy, too.

You can’t hold back a dopey smile, “I missed you too.”

You jolt in his arms when you realize your phone is still vibrating; a redial, so possibly urgent.

“Mark, my phone—“

You’re interrupted again when he pivots you so your back hits a nearby tree, his mask rolled up enough to reveal his mouth which soon presses against yours.

Anything you wanted to say is forgotten as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He groans into your mouth as his hands plant themselves to your waist as he places a knee in between your legs.

He moves from your lips to your neck, pressing adoring kisses against your pulse point before helping you shrug off your jacket, letting it to the ground as his hands slide under your shirt, gloved fingers brushing against your ribcage.

“Mark,” you breathe, heart swelling at the sweet intimacy he was more than willing to give you.

Your attention is broken again when you notice your phone is still ringing, your gaze sliding from the man nestled against you to the forest floor where your phone laid.

Your body stiffens.

The caller ID illuminating your phone was one you could recognize even from afar just from the amount of heart emojis you set for…your boyfriend.

The boyfriend that was currently with you.

Whose grip on you begins to tighten as your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

You shakily bring up your hands to hook your fingers beneath his mask, slowly pulling it up as he remains as still as a statue. The face is familiar, if not a little more worn, but the brown eyes you held so dear were now filled with a sadness deep enough to drown you.

This wasn’t your Mark.

Mark was definitely lucky he was attractive, you decide.

If he wasn’t, you definitely wouldn’t have tolerated the sheer annoyance his two variants were causing you.

“Were you a virgin or something until now? Because you fuck like a noob,” A Mark with a wild rag mask laughed as the one that was dressed like Omni Man 2.0 pounded into you, your back pressed against an alleyway wall, the area long deserted from the destruction the two men unleashed on the city.

“I doubt you even know what you’re talking about, with how you talk like a preteen boy,” The red and white Mark huffs, tone passive enough that you’d think he didn’t care about his copy’s words if not for his pace speeding up and his thrusts going deeper and deeper until your voice reaches a new octave.

The other Mark scoffs, “Well, not that she minds, already looks cockdrunk off your tiny dick. Hey, sweetheart, bet I can take you to heaven and back with one stroke.”

“I will kill you.” The Mark fucking into you, tightens his grip, turning to death stare the now laughing Invincible.

“Aww, is daddy mad? Scared she’s going to want to run away with me once I slip my dick in her?”

You can’t believe you have to orgasm while listening to their dumbass argument…

“Hey, if you’re going to hog her pussy, at least move her so I can put that mouth to use—“

Annoying people really shouldn’t be so hot.

The invincible tag is so good rn, I’m actually in tears…

Decided to do a 2in1 special because people really want me to make a part two of that other variant post…it will come…

Masterlist

[atisecnom]

NSFW alphabet ♡♡

Characters: The Hanks, AFAB!reader

Warning: uh sex

Summary: title is prettyyyyy self explanatory

A/N: sorry if this sucked I've been gone for soooo looooong

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

They're all suuuuper cuddly after sex. Well, they're cuddly no matter what, but it's extra when it comes to aftercare. They'll get you- and the other guys- whatever you need in a heartbeat. A bath, water, some food. And after allat, they just form a big cuddle pile and go to sleep with you in the middle.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Hank 1: His favorite body part on you would be your hands. He likes just the feel of them and the intimacy feeling of holding them while making love to you. His favorite body part on him would be the same as yours- his hands. For the same reasons too. The intimacy feeling.

Hank 2: His favorite body part on you would be your face. If that even counts 😭. He just thinks you're jaw-droppingly beautiful. Straight eye contact and everything during sex. His favorite body part on him would be his arms. They all got hellaaaaa muscle. And he know he looks good.

Hank 3: His favorite body part on you would be your ass. He doesn't care if it's fat, skinny, or in the middle; ass is ass. His favorite body part on him would be his dick. Let's be so fr 😭. And every moan that comes outta your mouth makes his ego inflate a little bit more.

Hank 4: His favorite body part on you would be your belly or your face. Your belly because he like the way it moves when you're have sex. He gives me the vibes that he loves himself a chubby woman. Your face for the same reason as Hank 2. His favorite body part on him would be his abs/torso. He's so proud of his abs, like why do you think he's out there rocking a crop top?

Hank 5: His favorite body part on you would be your boobs. If you asked him tho, he'd say your face because you're just that pretty. But it's your boobs. Like Hank 3 with ass, it doesn't matter if they're big, small, or in the middle- boobs are boobs. He just thinks they're pretty fr. And mesmerizing when they bounce. His favorite body part on him would be his hands. Like Hank 1, he just likes to grab onto yours and your body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hank 1: He will cum anywhere you want to. He asks before it happens where you would want him to and he just follows.

Hank 2: He loves your face, so if you let him, he'll either cum in your mouth or on your face. He cums like 10x harder when you let him. But yk if you say you want him to finish in a specific spot, he won't complain fr.

Hank 3: Practically begs you to let him cum inside you. He either cums in you or on your pussy.

Hank 4: He prefers to either cum on your belly or inside you. Again, he loves your belly soooo. He gets hard right over again when he sees his cum on your stomach.

Hank 5: Prefers to cum on your pussy. If he can pull out in time, which is a 3 out of 10 chance. And of course if he doesn't pull out in time, he comes inside.

And if they're wearing a condom, they are NOT pulling out for shit. Why bother yk?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hanks 2 and 3 have def stolen your underwear and used it to jerk off. Hank 3 has done it more than 2 but yk. Hanks 1, 4, and 5 don't have much secrets. Everything just comes out of the wazoo with them. #shameless. Hank 3 would totally tell you everythinggggg tho, but you haven't asked so he hasn't said nothing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh they're experienced. They've been fucking since you came into the picture. #boyfriends. They know what they're doing, for sure. Don't even worry.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Hank 1: His favorite is cowgirl. He loooves seeing you on top.

Hank 2: Very vanilla, but he likes missionary.

Hank 3: His favorite is either doggystyle or cowgirl.

Hank 4: He likes mating press. He likes to be in ittttt.

Hank 5: Same as Hank 2, his favorites missionary.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

When are they NOT goofy? You best believe their borderline cringe vocabulary and jokes are being expressed during sex. They just like hearing your laugh being cut off by moans. Don't even get me started on Hank 3s dirty talk. It works, it turns you on, but a little part of you cringes everytime he talks. But it makes the experience better.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hanks 1 and 3 have a bit of a bush down there. Hanks 2, 4, and 5 are almost clean shaven, they have a little happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It's kind of hard to be like candles and rose petals type of romantic because of their goofiness. But if you want candles and rose petals, they'll give it to you. They're always talking and praising you during sex. And the way they look at you with their pupils dilated too. Sex with the Hanks is a mix of romantic intimacy and goofy jokes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

They barely jerk off. Why look at a picture when the real things right there? But sometimes Hank 3 does- like I said before- using your underwear he stole.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hank 1: Praise, Neck kissing/licking

Hank 2: Eye contact, overstimulation (either you or him), Praise as well

Hank 3: Spanking, dirty talk, overstimulation, praise

Hank 4: Teasing/edging, begging, praise

Hank 5: Eye contact, praise, slight scratching, maybe a bit of breeding

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

They all prefer the bed, occasionally a couch. Just anywhere with cushion on it. The bed is the best place for then to take turns with you or have you take them all at once. The couch is good for one or two at a time. It's less moving room compared to the bed.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Hank 1: Dirty talk and teasing gets him going quiiiick. A little whisper in his ear and a hand trailing down his chest gets him hard immediately.

Hank 2: Almost the same as Hank 1, lightly touching him sensually gets him going. A low-cut shirt and anything that exposes your thighs also does the trick.

Hank 3: Everything gets this guy going. You can say "hi" and he's semi hard.

Hank 4: Any touch to his hips area turns him on. If Hank 3 is the easiest to turn on, Hank 4 is second on the list.

Hank 5: Short skirts and shorts turns him on. Hellaaaaaa stares but won't tell you he's hard. He just waits for you to do something.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

They will never hurt you in any shape, way, or form. Sorry to all you freaks, but they wouldn't be into BDSM or S&M. Most they would do is bondage. They also won't do degrading or anything like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

They all prefer to give head than receive it (maybe sometimes giving and receiving at the same time yk). The best at giving head is Hank 3. He eats it like he's starving PLUS his hooked/big nose. Heaven. But they're all really dam good at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Hank 1: His pace depends on the mood yk. Sometimes it's slow, sometimes he's fast. It also depends on if he's the only one inside you at the moment. If there's more than one dick inside of you, he's going slow. Don't want to overwork you.

Hank 2: He's a mix of both. He's slow and rough, if that makes sense. When he's close, he speeds up a bit. And if you finish before him, he goes slower, then gradually speeds up to his normal pace.

Hank 3: He's also a mix of both, but the opposite of Hank 2. He's rough and sensual. And if you finish before him, he doesn't go slower. Unless you literally cannot take it anymore. THEN, he'll go slower.

Hank 4: He's slow and rough too. He wants himself as deep as he can get in there. But it depends on how you want it. Like he asks you beforehand. If you want fast, he'll give you fast. If you want slow, he'll give you slow.

Hank 5: He's slow and sensual. Takes his time with you. When he's getting closer, he gets rougher but not faster. But if you beg for fast, he'll go faster. But not like Hank 3 kinda fast. Just a little bit faster.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

The only one open to quickies would be Hank 3 (obvi) and maybe, possibly Hank 4. The rest want to take their time, make it comfortable and sensual. Plus there isn't much quickie opportunities if you're inside all day. The bed/couch is right there, why are we in the bathroom? But after Realization and they're actual people and they're going out and about in public, Hank 3 and 4 are the only ones that would probably have quickies in like bathrooms.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Their whole persona is risk-taking. If you want to try something out and it doesn't involve pain in any way, they're willing to try it out. Like I said before, after Realization, there'll be more risk-taking opportunities. But before that, you're all cooped up in your house, alone. No risks there. Kinda sucks but yk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hank 1: He can last like 2 rounds, but he'd need a bit of a breather in between them. He lasts a pretty good time, doesn't cum too early or too late.

Hank 2: He can last like one round, MAYBE two if he has enough energy. He also lasts a pretty good time, but he cums earlier than Hank 1. But not like off-puttingly early.

Hank 3: He can last two-three rounds with breaks in between. He cums the earliest out of all of them but he makes his turn enjoyable don't even worry gang.

Hank 4: Same as Hank 2, can last one round, two if he has enough energy. Everybody thinks he lasts the most time but he's just prolonging his release as long as possible. Literally just edging himself everytime. 1, because he wants you to cum first. 2, because he likes the struggle of keeping it in.

Hank 5: If Hank 3 is the fastest to cum, Hank 5 is second in line. He can last one round before he's burnt out. But maybe if you give him a long enough time to recover, he can go again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

They have a couple cock rings and bullet vibrators, but that's it. And in the game, you obviously have some toys yourself. They use the toys on eachother, if they feel like it. But it's five guys plus you. There's enough stimulation and pleasure. Toys are useless. But hey if they feel like it and you agree, they might just use them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Hank 3 and 4 are the only ones into teasing. The others like to get to the point. Slowly, but they get there. Hank 4 likes teasing more than Hank 3 tho. Hank 4 actively chases that high everytime he's having sex. With anyone. Hank 3, tho, teases occasionally. He just likes the way you react to it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hank 1: He grunts and moans. But he talks too. Like I said before, he's asking you if you're feeling okay. And his words come out all breathy and moan-y.

Hank 2: He let's out loud, shaky breaths. But sometimes he DOES moan. Sometimes. But it sounds so good everytime he does.

Hank 3: He does not stfu during sex. Dirty talk galoreeeee. Moans a lot too.

Hank 4: He also doesn't stfu during sex. Not much dirty talk, just regular talking. And hyping you and the other Hanks up. Moans a lot too.

Hank 5: Hes the loudest moaner out of all five. If he talks, it's all breathy and quiet. Lowkey high-key whimpers.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Most of the time, they prefer to have you all at once rather than one at a time. But again, depends on what you want and if everybody agrees.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hank 1: He's the biggest of the 5, at 8.5 inches. He's a shower too. And he's thickkkkk.

Hank 2: He's the third biggest. He's about 7.5 inches in length and a little thick but not as thick as Hank 1. He's a grower. Soft, he's about 6 inches.

Hank 3: He's about 7 inches in length and he's not thick and he's not thin either. Right in the middle. And he has a vein going through the left side and to the middle.

Hank 4: He's the second biggest, at about 8 inches. Also a shower, and thick. Curves up a little.

Hank 5: He's the same length as Hank 3, but a wee bit thicker. It curves a bit to the right. And when he blushes, his tip gets a bit redder.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Hank 1: It's pretty normal, but it's more high than low. All of the Hanks have a pretty high sex drive. But out of all of them, he has the least. But it's still high.

Hank 2: It's pretty high. A little higher than Hank 1s.

Hank 3: The highest sex drive anybody has ever seen. If you want it every single night, he will give it to you every single night.

Hank 4: Second highest sex drive. Almost as high as Hank 3. He can just hide it better than Hank 3.

Hank 5: He's right in the middle. Not super high but not super low.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

After the aftercare, whatever it may be, they are spentttt. The form a cuddle pile with you in the middle and sleep. Hank 3 and 4 snore like dads bro. Good luck if you're a light sleeper. All the Hanks sleep like rocks. It takes an arm and a leg to wake them up. It's always Hank 1 and 4 on the bed, you're laying on top of both of them, Hank 2 on the left, Hank 3 on your right, and Hank 5 with his head on your lap/on your legs.

I haven't posted in a hot minuteeeee

Sorry if it sucked

I made this while watching a movie so I was lowkey distracted 💔💔😗