#STOP HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE

[hyperfixatedbean]

- A love that transcend time and space, “In all possibilities, it’s you”

[iristial]

Individual character and duo bromides for the upcoming Gavv photobook, to be released February 14 2025! 🍬

[measureyourlifeincake]

my stp brainrot has combined with my casual interest in historical dress youtube and I decided to draw the Princess in a more historically-inspired outfit than her original design

If anyone's curious, her outfit/hairstyle is supposed to be from around 1828 ("around" bc my main reference/inspiration was definitely from 1828 but I had so many tabs open with different inspo images from nearby years and I don't remember which ones I actually used. also did you know it is surprisingly difficult to search for royal portraiture from a specific year) because based on some cursory googling, it seemed a lot of the elements of her canon base dress (off-the-shoulder, sweetheart neckline, poofy sleeves, straight waistline around the natural waist, skirt that isn't super full/poofy) seemed historically plausible for that time period

I also drew her hair in a more historically-accurate style for the period (but don't ask me exactly what's going on there because I'm not entirely sure myself) but I kept her canon tiara because it seemed plausible enough. anyway this was really fun to do!!!

[curly-cottage-girl]

are dating apps just completely counterintuitive to romance and actual love or is it just me

[palukoo]

Bettejoan plsssss 👉👈

thanks!!! ehjbfhefh okay. no summary on this one lol. i don't typically write rpf not like out of judgment or anything (rpf is fine!) but bc it feels like. so much harder/so much "she would not fucking say that" and like um as i've mentioned the lack of historical consistencies for bette and joan makes me feel crazyyyyyyy. also in truth, bettejoan fic should be like predominantly insults and hate sex and the most insane public comments known to man and that just isn't really my strong suit sadly!!! all this to say an effort has been made!!

“I can’t stand you,” Bette grits out, though she makes no move to step away.

“I'm not asking you to stand me, Bette," Joan says breathily. "I'm asking if you'll fuck me." Bette places a hand, firm, on the flat of Joan’s chest, and Joan grins in something like victory, until Bette pushes her back forcefully.

“God, you're even more easy and desperate than I realized." It lacks some of it's usual bite, because she's clearly a bit flustered by the directness and trying hard not to show it. Still, Joan’s face hardens.

“Easy and desperate?” she asks, voice cold, and Bette pretends she doesn’t somehow know that that’s her response to the actual anger and hurt beneath it. “I’ve always admired your originality with your insults, darling. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Only if she is,” Bette retorts. “I’m honest. And you're as common as they come.”

“Is that why you make such a point to avoid me? Why you insult me publicly given any possible chance? Why you bring me up just to get in a dig or two when I’m completely irrelevant. Maybe I’m too obvious in my appeals, but you’re hardly subtle, and if you haven’t noticed that, you’re crazy. Honest," she says with a scoff.

Joan waits for a rebuttal that somehow doesn’t come.

“I know you don’t like me, but you sure talk about me a lot. I bet you think about me a lot.” She pauses. “I think about you a lot,” she adds, voice lower.

“That much is obvious,” Bette quips, rolling her eyes. Joan takes the lack of outright denial as some kind of progress.

“I’ve thought about it, you know, and I never could decide if I thought you would have a need to be in control in the bedroom, like you seem to have everywhere else, or if there’s where you’d want to surrender it,” Joan says, mock casually. Bette flushes. The funny thing is that Bette’s never able to figure it out either, not in any way that makes sense. And she sort of hates that Joan has come to the same conclusion. Or lack thereof. She feels horribly, shamefully vulnerable under Joan's discerning gaze.

“What’s your point?” she huffs out, reaching into a pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, but Joan beats her to the latter, quickly lighting a match and holding it up to the cigarette Bette places between her own lips. She meets Joan’s heavy gaze as she inhales, and quickly looks away.

Joan puts out the match. “My point, darling, is that perhaps I tried the wrong approach. Maybe instead I should ask if I can fuck you.”

Bette laughs.

“What’s funny?”

“The fact that you think that your asinine question made you sound submissive. You may play it from time to time, but you’ve never sold it, not to me. You're not good enough to."

“Do you want me to be submissive? You’re right that it’s hardly the most natural thing for me, but you’d be surprised what the right person can get from me,” she says, perching on Bette’s makeup table carefully and doing her best to look seductive. Bette may not give Joan a lot of credit for her acting, but alluring is one thing she's quite good at playing.

Bette tries very hard to be unaffected, to not let her eyes follow a path from Joan’s long legs all the way up to her almost pleading eyes, to not picture it, Joan taking orders from her. Joan completely at her mercy. She tries not to be enticed by it, tries to tell herself it would only be for some sort of revenge, some way to humiliate her, to hurt her. And yet, there's a strange sort of disappointment as the fantasy seems to solidify. Not disgust, not even really shame, though she's sure that will follow. Disappointment. And something seems, horribly, to click.

Joan picks up on it, of course. “Bette,” she starts, and Bette doesn’t let her finish. She surges forward, letting one hand press into Joan’s thigh to brace herself and keep Joan against the table, and bringing the other to Joan’s jaw to crash their lips together. Joan tenses for a beat in surprise, but then clutches at Bette’s back, kissing her back fervently. “So that is what you want?”

“No,” she says bluntly, and kisses her again working slowly towards her neck.

“I don’t—“

Bette twirls a strand of Joan’s hair around her finger and tugs, and Joan gasps, her head falling back. “Fight back,” Bette says, and even she isn’t sure if it’s a command or a plea. Either way, Joan takes it.

“Oh,” Joan says, pulling against Bette’s hold to bring her head back up and meet Bette’s gaze. “With pleasure, darling."

[eff-exor]

guys, news just in. being in love with me feels like your blood is in fact acid and is eating you from the inside out. who want me

[teh-nos]

when a fandom person links to their kofi/patreon/etc i always click on the link to go and see how much money they're making doing things that i've stupidly been doing for free

[official-susie-deltarune]

my beautiful, handsome rook who i put my phone in a restart cycle to obtain the screenshots of <3 and i'd do it again. anything for mx. magpie de riva.

@lucaanis since you were interested in my rook :3

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

I may be laying on the floor staring into the void, merely vibrating as my brain rots about Veilguard, Rook, the companions, and Solas.

...this is the perfect excuse to replay my canon route.

Apologies in advance: I'm about to make my brainrot replay a problem for everyone and everything in my vicinity.

[heyitstaytay21]

I made it from Michigan to Kentucky before realizing that I left my computer monitor and headset behind 😩

[oxymoronicdumbass]

if one more person tries to talk to me about college, i swear on everything i love, i will explode

[buddyapologist]

something something lisa westworld parallels I'll explain it in excruciating detail later

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

I think visual kei is the longest obsession I’ve ever had. It took me 11 years to finally be chill about it. xD I’ve reached a point that I don’t care much about the scene, never seeing them live, missing releases like...this year I’ve managed to slowly detach.

Ever since I was a little girl, my favorite musicians were my life. They gave me a voice, a purpose and a dream. I wasn’t a casual listener, I was the kind of girl who needed to see them as much as possible, listen to music like 6 hours a day, if not more, my walls were always full of pictures of them, I always talked about them...they were my life. And even after getting into visual kei, I didn’t drop any of my previous favorites, I just wasn’t as focused on them as before. With previous artists I felt my enthusiasm was fullfilling and healthy, an energy boost, an inspiration, a place where I felt understood. It was sth I loved, people I loved etc. (and if you are one of those who think you have to know sb very well to love them, get the fuck out of my blog, I know what I felt and if a person can hate sb at first sight, they can love at first sight too. Yes maybe what I loved was 90% illusion, but I believe 10% was actually real cause, no matter how much a person likes to appear perfect and always friendly etc, cracks will always be there). Anyway visual kei felt like more than that to the point I really thought it was destiny to actually work with them (cause I’ve always wanted to work with my favorite artists, I just switched from wanting to go to the USA to Japan after a while being a fan). And you know what, it was fun as long as it lasted. It took me out of the dark, pulled blades away from my wrists, it kept me sane, lead to writing 2 and a half books, it lead to finally getting my hands on photoshop and honestly becoming a better person. But yeah those things aside, I realized that the goal-part was another lie I built to feel I belonged. In reality, it was another lesson in life which, once I got it, it had to go.

I’m closing 30 and I have not much passion for art or music anymore. It was painful forcing myself understand my dreams were silly, but the peace I feel now makes me think I finally made it. I can now look at their photos of the past with nostalgia and not feeling like I failed, cause it was never for me in the first place. I kept seeing people travelling there and being able to see them and, some even got chances to work with them, so I wondered wtf I was doing wrong. It was eating me alive and I desperately wanted sth to work but well...it’s all gone now. ^^

Currently I don’t have any goals but I know some old stuff came back. As a child, besides trying every artform I could get my hands on while listening to music, I also played a lot of games. We had 3 drawers and 1 cupboard full of videogames at home and I feel like I am slowly getting back to that. I limit myself only to genshin now, for sure, but I watch more playthroughs again of games I don’t have and maybe soon I will try getting a console to try more stuff, who knows. I also started watching anime again, which I had stopped for a few years.

Oh well, regardless of what the future holds, I am thankful to all those people who dared chase their dreams and inspired me do the same, my lovely musicians, even if I eventually got nowhere, and I will keep listening to their songs from time to time. And posting their pics cause nostalgia. My only complaint is that I spent the past 10 years of my life being upset that I lived in a house that didn’t allow me have posters on my walls (fucking humidity and mold ye see) and now that I can and my room is healthier, I have nobody I want on my walls. xD I will fill it with Genshin and anime characters xD.

[novaimperia]

★ popular girl!reader distracting nerd!nanami during a study session

“p-please don’t. you have to pay -ngh- attention,” nanami mutters, hands waving in the air frantically, unsure where to land. 

under the desk, you mouth at his cock – he’s being so boring, reading off the textbook and bossing you around. so, of course you had to take matters into your own hand, or rather, into your mouth, to liven things up. otherwise you would have lost your mind in boredom. “no, i want to have some fun.”

“but you promised me that after i -ah s-slow down- after i ate you out you’d work hard for an hour.” the nerd’s mouth is saying no but his cock is throbbing yes in morse code. he really ought to be more honest, especially when you can tell he showered right before you came; his hair is slightly wet, his skin supple and smooth, smelling of cocoa butter, and his cock of lavender soap. 

mouth full of his heavy balls, you tease, “i am working hard, kento. you think milking your pathetic cock is easy? hmm?”

nanami flushes a pretty pink, teeth biting into the plump of his bottom lip, desperate to stop the groans and moans from leaving his mouth. unable to help himself, his hand flies down to your hair and faces an internal battle: to push you away or to pull you down his long length until your nose is buried in the blond hair at his base. 

“this is -oh, f-fudge- unfair. ngh! i-if you fail the exam, you’ll -hah- get mad at me.”

that’s true. last time you failed, you didn’t speak to him for a week, choosing to ignore him on campus, and you certainly never let him touch you, not for quick hookups in the janitor’s closet or in the toilet stalls, not for a handjob in his car or some pussy eating behind a tree in the fields behind the science labs. honestly, you weren’t even planning on torturing him like that – you knew it was your fault to begin with – but he gets so needy and pitifully sensitive when you finally give him attention, almost as if he craved to be punished, to earn you and your pussy. 

nanami would rut his softening cock into your pussy well after he came, driving himself into oversensitivity until he’s shooting blanks and drooling all over your chest. he’d whimper your name over and over again, moaning about how he missed you, how he’s sorry and he’ll tutor you better so please don’t replace him. then, when you mercifully give him another chance as you push him back to sit on his face, he whines ‘thank you’ endlessly right against your clit.

in a lot of ways, it was actually a reward for him. 

you’re charitable like that. 

“ugh, shut up, nerd. hurry up and cum down my throat so you can eat me out again. if you do a good enough job, i’ll go through a practice paper with yo–mghm!.”

his hands shove your head down his cock, suffocating you and making you gag, eyes watering. hips thrusting up in unrhythmic pulses, nanami practically uses you like a fleshlight. when you give him these kinds of commands, it’s hard to tell whether he’s more pleased about you actually doing some studying or if he’s eager to have you sit on his face again. either way, you suppose, you’re both getting what you want. 

when he finally paints your throat white with his salty spend, you come to straddle him, pinching his chin. thoroughly pavlov’d, his jaw hangs wide enough for you to spit his own cum back into his mouth. he swallows. his eyes roll back. “hmm, you’ve been -hah- chewing cherry bubblegum again. you know what that does to me.”

“i don’t know what you mean, kenny baby.”

something begins to grow hard again beneath your ass. 

pathetic. 

[reignpage]

Is Two Really Better Than One?

Summary: in which Nanami's wife gets hit with a curse and he comes home to two wives, not one... Warnings: smut, married couple/established relationship, f!reader, threesome, dom!nanami, mention of being used as a sex toy, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, spanking, paizuri, spitting, doggy, dual ride/double cowgirl position, cum eating, fingering, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, slight size kink, slight yuri action, voyeurism/exhibitionism?, totally inaccurate use of the curse science or whatever, not proofread - like literally not at all sowwy Word Count: 4.6k

Nanami is flabbergasted. 

When he came back home after a long hard day’s work, he was impatiently waiting for his wife’s loving embrace and reviving kiss. There’s a routine you two follow and he upholds it like a knight pledging allegiance to the crown – arrive home at 6pm, you greet him, he takes a shower and changes into comfortable clothes whilst you prepare dinner, and then you dine together. He expected you to be at the front door with an excited grin and open arms, just as you did yesterday and the day before that.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was two wives waiting for him. 

“Ken! Make her go away,” you scream. 

The other you snarls, “No, you go away.”

Apparently, you’ve been hit by a spirit splitting curse – it fragmented your soul into perfect halves. There is no ‘original wife,’ just two different parts of the same woman he loves. At least, that was how Shoko explained it on the phone. How long the effects will last is indeterminable, though Nanami’s simply glad it’s a harmless consequence and not something more disastrous.

“I want her ugly ass gone, Kento,” you growl.

And other you shrieks. “Excuse me? I am literally you. If I’m ugly, so are you, idiot.”

“Yeah? Well, somehow, I’m just prettier, so suck it.”

Sitting in the living room, he loosens his tie and stares up at the ceiling. He supposes it really was just too much to ask to have peace and quiet in his life, to be able to catch up on some rest and sleep, and have dinner with his wife, his only wife. Right now, the two of you are smacking throw pillows at each other’s faces, exchanging limp blows over his body, and insulting one another.

This animosity is unfounded. She is you and you are her. You are both his wife, with the exact same body, personality, past, hopes and dreams. And yet you’re at each other’s throats like there is a long feud between your warring families. Nanami sighs again. “Please, stop fighting. Let’s just get on with our evening and wait for the effects to subside.”

Both of you press close to him, taking a side each. You cling to his arm, cradling his bicep between your breasts, seeping warmth into his skin through his work shirt. Nanami clears his throat. You smell nice – always do – but right now, the scent of you is engulfing him from all sides. Other you pokes his chest. 

With an accusatory tone, you question, “Why aren’t you pushing her away, Kento?”

He leaves a kiss on your head, hoping to soothe your irritation. “I could never push away my wife, darling. I’d sooner die.”

“But I’m your wife.”

“No, I’m his wife.”

Nanami wraps his arms around the both of you, rubbing comforting circles on your backs; if he doesn’t do something, he might just come out of this with no wife. “You are both my wives. Just as beautiful as the other and just as ferocious. So, there’s no need to fight, alright?”

“Oh my god, what if we’re stuck like this forever? I can’t share you, Ken! I won’t. And! What if you start to like her more than me? I’ll kill myself.”

Gaze softening, he holds you tight. “That won’t happen, my love. It just wouldn’t. I’m confident things will go back to normal soon enough and you’ll be whole again. That’s our biggest concern, not ‘who will I prefer.’ That’s a silly thought; I love you in all the possible shapes and forms you come in. I could never choose just one side of you to love, it’s simply impossible.”

A moment of silence passes. 

“He is such a sweet talker, isn’t he?” You ask yourself.

You reply with a chortle. “The absolute sweetest. Thank god we put up with his grumpy ass before he fell for us.”

His heart swells. To watch you two get along fills him with so much pride and he can’t quite explain it. Perhaps it’s because he loves your smile, the way your cheeks get so plump with the force of it. Maybe it’s because he knows how long you’ve struggled to reconcile with the need to love yourself, truly, and how you find it torturous to confront yourself and see all those flaws he thinks creates your perfect soul. 

Maybe it’s simply because he loves you so much; there’s no need to question it.

“Ugh, get your hands off my husband!”

“No, you get your hands off my husband.”

And Nanami sighs again.

On and off, you two keep bickering, momentarily being quieted by his hushed commands to behave before starting up again shortly after. Slowly losing the will to fight, he accepts his indefinite reality. His house might never know peace again and he might never truly clock off work even once he returns home. It seems, outside of the office, he also has to manage stubborn individuals and rising tension. 

Still, it’s not so bad, he thinks. Having two of you is a blessing; he’s always encouraging you to eat more with the rationale of wanting more of you to love, after all.

But, his reasoning at this moment isn’t so pure.

The feeling of your plush bodies in his grasp is distracting. Two sets of your breasts are bouncing against his sides and in his face with every move you both make. Hands rove all over his body, staking their claim, and teasing the skin underneath his clothes. Nails scrape against his thighs, digging in when you try to control your anger, using him as the punching bag. He needs to keep his cool, to maintain control so he can ease your worries and dispel trouble at any time. But damn it if it isn’t taking a lot of effort to stand his ground. 

“Ken,” one of you whispers in his ear, lips brushing the shell, “you’re hard…”

Looking down, he comes face to face with solid evidence of your observation. How embarrassing – his wife was hurt and is facing an indubitably anxiety-provoking situation whereby she might never recover as whole from again, and despite that, he’s aroused. What kind of man is he?

What kind of terrible husband would be so self-centred?

“We can help… if you’d like.”

The kind that’d be married to you, apparently. 

Speechless, Nanami can do nothing but sit back and let his wife unbuckle his belt whilst the other unzips his trousers. One has a look of complete glee when she finds his hard cock already leaking and the other sports a focused expression, working her hand up and down his length. You really are his wife, split or not. No one could ever touch him so seductively, so enticingly, already threatening to shake his entire foundation with simple grazes. 

He should stop you both, should establish boundaries and get on with dinner. Instead of giving into baser instincts, he should lead by example and ensure your safety and wellbeing by being patient. But…how can he when your velvety palms play with his balls, fascinated by the weight of them?

“Come here, sweetheart,” he mutters, losing all grip on reason. He discards his glasses. “Come give Kento a kiss.” 

Two heads rush to his face. They collide with a bang. Hissing, you throw aggravated looks at each other. “He meant me.”

“Uh, no, he meant me.”

Tutting, he cradles both of your faces and brings one up to his lips. He lays a kiss where you bumped your head and then another to your mouth. Slowly and gently, he indulges in your taste, swallowing your breathy moans and teasing your tongue with his. Then, parting ways, he pushes your head down, eager to feel those juicy lips wrap around his throbbing cock. 

He meets your gaze. “You too, love.”

Mirroring the ministrations, he loses himself in the steamy kiss, groaning into your mouth when the you that’s licking his cock from the base to the very tip slides her wet tongue on the slit. Fuck, he needs more. He needs to feel you. 

A hand of his slides down your body, groping a breast, tweaking the nipple, before it ventures further down to between your legs. You’re soaked. Pussy lips swollen, he wastes no time in working two calloused digits inside. Wet, tight, and hot, he can’t get enough of how your cunt clenches around him. 

“Ah, Ken! So good. Thank you!”

The wife that’s drooling on his balls pouts. “Me too, Ken. Make me feel good too, please.”

He smiles. “My sweet wives, always so polite. Tilt your hips this way, darling, show me your pretty pussy. That’s it. And you, sweetheart, let me kiss your beautiful breasts.”

Now, both of his hands are being thoroughly coated in your wetness, squelching their way inside your pulsing canals. Mouth full of your breast, sucking and flicking your hard nipple, he lets himself be consumed by your scent, your warmth, your softness, and the wondrous sounds of your barely subdued whimpers and squeals. 

Being weighed down by your body, the reminder of your love and need for him, of which reflects his own for you, is the purest form of bliss he never would have thought he was deserving of. There is nothing more rewarding than drawing out your pleasure, than curling his fingers in just right against that gummy spot inside you that pushes out even more sloppy juices, and washing away your fears and worries. 

In this moment, as both of your hips are grinding down onto his hands, he wishes there was another of him. He can meet all your needs at once, overwhelm you with his body and drive you crazy. Then, there’d be no need to be jealous or possessive. Though…Nanami has a dark realisation that perhaps the sight of a cock that isn’t really his pushing its way inside your body would drive him to madness and not the pleasurable kind.

“Fuck, Ken! I’m gonna–”

“Cum!”

You orgasm at the same time as your other half, juices flying and soaking the sofa underneath your bodies. Speckles land on his creased trousers, drowning his hands and dribbling juices down his wrists. Nanami throbs, cock jolting in the cold air.

Slumped over his body, one of your heads perks up. “Hey, uglier me, wanna give him a boob job together?”

“I’m ignoring that insult, bitch, but yeah, whatever.” You roll your eyes and then land a peck on Nanami’s cheek, giving him a wink.

Getting down onto your knees, you force his legs to spread wide to accommodate yourselves. A little frazzled at seeing you two collude and leave him out of the decision making process, no word of complaint can manifest before he throws his head back, unable to stand the sight of impish joy all over your irresistible eyes doubled as you watch his cock bob once and twice. 

“Ugh, isn’t his dick so pretty?”

The kitten licks you leave on his frenulum are your answer. Then, you both wrap your breasts around his cock, nipples kissing each other and his sharp intake of breath elicits giggles. Up and down, you rub his heated length with your supple breasts. His fingers thread through your hair, unable to keep his hands off you. 

“Is it good, Ken? Do you like it?”

Nanami groans. “Y-yes, it feels amazing, sweetheart. You’re so good to me…always so good to your husband, aren’t you?”

Giggling again, you two exchange grins, feeling mighty proud of yourself, he supposes. And he knows he can cum just like this, that his cum will spurt all over your faces and breasts. It’ll coat your plump lips and you’ll be able to taste his salty spend. Lightheaded, he gasps for air, intent to get his bearings, to not let you two have your way with him, but then you surprise him one more time. 

Lips locked, you two make a big show of moaning into each other’s mouths, tongue twisting together in an obscene display that has his heart thumping faster and faster until he’s sure he’s losing his mind. 

You might never stop surprising him no matter how long he’s loved you. 

He can’t take it anymore. The smell of your sweetness, the evidence of your euphoria coating his skin, the doughy blanket of your breasts around his cock is driving him insane. He needs you and he needs you now. In agile haste, he stands and takes his clothes off all while you both watch. 

“I-I need to be inside you, darlings.” There isn’t enough space on the sofa for what he wants. So, with a grunt, he lifts you two and carries your bodies up, biting back a smile when you squeal and giggle, into the bedroom. You both bounce into each other’s embrace when he drops you off on the mattress. “Strip.”

Clumsily, you remove every article of clothing. Your arms get caught in your shirt and your panties get tangled around your ankles. “Ugh, Ken, help.”

“I’m here. I’m here.” He helps you two out, wrangling your clothes off. “There we go, honey. Upsi-daisy.”

Though he might never admit how pleased he gets when he’s needed, he’s sure you know. There’s no way you don’t. You feel the evidence of it when he pins you to the kitchen counter to fetch the plate you’re reaching for and you surely see the way his eyes darken as you place a foot on his lap, wordlessly asking him to clasp your heels on for you.

As soon as your clothes are off, he pounces – sloppily swallowing your wet moans, he devours you and then the other you, swapping and switching till he gets frustrated and gasps for air. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I love you so much. All of you. In every life, in every time. Always.” You’re lying so prettily for him. Whatever he has done to deserve you today, he hopes he’ll do it again and again so he may never part from you, not even in death. His hands don’t know where to stay, exploring, groping and squeezing and pinching wherever they please. There’s so much of you he wants to feel at once and it’s like an urge he can’t fight. The need to be with you, to please you, to immerse himself in your essence wholeheartedly is choking him up, calling forth tears in his eyes. “God, if only you could see yourself from my eyes.”

“Ken, I love when you get all emotional, I swear, but please just fuck me already.”

He gulps. “Yes, love. I will.”

“No, wait, fuck me first.”

“Wait your fricking turn, oh my god.”

Another fight breaks out. 

Nails are out, hands are flying, hair is being pulled. Kento huffs. He’s trying to get in between you two without using force, without accidentally hurting you, and just as he’s about to pull you apart, a resounding SLAP!echoes. It’s a grating noise that steals his breath. In a flash, he’s got you behind him and you pinned to the bed. 

“No.” Nanami growls. Breathing hard, he shakes off the sudden anger coursing through his veins. Wide eyed, you just watch him release his punishing hold on your neck that he didn’t even realise he had on you. The scolding fire in him doesn't disappear. “No one hurts my wife. Not even you. Understand?”

You nod frantically. 

“Good. You know I hate to punish you but you won’t disagree when I say you need to be reminded of the rules, would you?” You shake your head. “Use your big girl words.”

“I need to be punished, Ken. I need to be reminded of the rules.”

Satisfied, he leans back on his haunches and beckons the other you to his front. There’s a mark on your cheek and it makes his chest squeeze painfully. “Oh, look what you’ve done to your pretty face. My darling wife and her penchant for violence. You’re going to give me more grey hairs.”

“I hope so; you’ll be a silver fox. Yum.”   

A fruitless frustration builds inside – it’s akin to that cuteness aggression you claim overcomes you often, he thinks. Well, he won’t deny himself any longer. He tugs your neck and kisses you. It’s rough, it’s messy, it’s sloppy. And he does it all while keeping his eyes on the you that’s in near tears. “Why don’t you -hah- show my wife how to be a good girl? Show her the reward you deserve.”

“Okay, Ken.”

Leaning back into his firm, sturdy body, you hiss as the threatening stretch of his fat cockhead pushes through the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. Slowly but surely, he’s worming his way into your pulsing cunt. Nanami grunts when he finally bottoms out, balls constricting with the labour of keeping his cum in his balls and not in your pussy prematurely. This is all far too much for him. To be thrusting into you, holding you upright by your arms as you watch his cock shine with your juices, is an insane fantasy he never even dreamed of, but it is his reality and he damn sure will make the most of it. 

“Ngh, tell my wife h-how you’re feeling, sweetheart.”

Breathless, you try to talk despite the delirium-inducing pleasure he’s ramming into your tight cunt. “G-good. I feel good. Ken’s so big a-and I’m feeling so full. Fuck, Ken, fuck me harder.”

The sound of skin slapping, the squelching of your pussy, and the heady moans and grunts are all going straight to his head. Overstimulated, he clutches your breast for a tether, grounded by the weight and the softness. His pace quickens. “Like this? Hmm? You like this, darling?”

“Yes, Ken! Fuck, I’m close. More, Kento. Fuck me more.”

Over your shoulder, he watches you writhe and squirm on the bed, a hand squeezing your breast the way he is and fingers pumping inside your needy cunt at the pace his cock is working its way into your other half. Impatient, you whine. “Hurry, Ken. I want your cock too.”

He licks his lip. Sweaty, eyesight ever so slightly blurry, and growing closer and closer to his climax, urged on by the tight pulsing of your pussy, he continues thrusting inside. “Behave. Can’t you see I’m -ah, fuck- p-pleasuring my wife? Bad girls don’t get to touch, do they? They don’t get to have their cake. And. Eat. It. Ngh. Too!”

To highlight his point, he lets you slip through his grasp. You fall on top of yourself, bouncing breasts pressed tightly against each other. Your face is buried into the crook of your neck, uncaring about how loud your moans are. Nanami finds purchase against your slippery ass and holds it still as he fucks his cock into you, using you as a glorified cock sleeve. 

“Give me something. Anything, Ken. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Nanami grunts. “Open up.”

A fat drop of his spit lands with a plop onto your awaiting tongue. You gulp it down eagerly. Your fingers work themselves inside your cunt even faster, unperturbed by the weight of yourself pinning you to the bed, sweaty and shaking. Dare your husband say, you rather like it. His cock pulses.

“Soon, honey. Just be patient, a-alright? And then I’ll -hah- fill you up. Just have to -ngh- make my wife cum first.” 

Expert hips grind into your tight pussy, cockhead hissing your g-spot and stretching out your gooey walls again and again. If he had it his way, he’d never leave your cunt, but he has a responsibility to make you both cum. He can’t be selfish.

“Ugh, hurry up, you whore,” you mutter into your ear. Then, he sees your mischievous hand trail down your other’s spine until it descends between your legs. When the moans get louder and the clenching of your pussy steals Nanami’s breath, he can only assume you’ve taken matters into your own hands.

You cum around his cock with a scream. 

Hips stuttering, his orgasm soon follows. “Ah, f-fuck! So tight. So fucking good.”

His choked groans are all that can be heard as you lay limp. He too falls to the bed, lying beside your bodies. That had to have been one of the strongest orgasms he had ever had. Never a dull day with you. Just when he thinks he’s got you all figured out, you prove him wrong. What a privilege it is to learn all about you every day for the rest of his life.

“Hey, my turn!”

Brushing back his blond locks, he chuckles to himself as he watches his cock throb back to life. It seems his body has adapted to be sure he can attend to his wife’s needs. Both of them. “Get up here, sweetheart. Take what you want.”

Excited, you shove your other half off and rush to straddle your husband’s hips. You don’t wait; his cock slides inside with ease from your juices. “Oh, god, yessss. Fuck, Ken, I can feel you in my lungs.”

Bracing himself by holding onto your thighs, he can do nothing else against the desperate bouncing of your ass. The pleats inside of your perfect pussy are attempting to wring him dry all over again and Nanami’s abs flex with the building pressure. His cock is still recovering and it’s sensitive but you don’t care. Now, he’s the one being used like a mere toy. 

“S-slow down, honey.” He hisses. “Hah, slow -hngh!- d-down.”

“Hmm, shit, Kento. Y-you’ve gotten so big…” Ignoring his pleas, you must be referring to the layer of fat that’s grown on his body, thanks to the delicious food you’ve been cooking for him. Wholly embracing married life by skipping visits to the gym in lieu of staying longer in bed with you, he’s realised that his clothes no longer fit as they did. It’s embarrassing for a man who prided himself in being fit and put together but it gets you so wet and so needy, he doesn’t dare change a thing. “I want to -ah ah ah fuuuuck- drown in you.”

His chuckle is punctuated by the grunts that your incessant bouncing is forcing out of him. “If it’ll make you happy, my love.”

You clench down. 

“Ah, don’t -oh fuck- squeeze so tight.” He reaches for your clit, thumbing at it. You yelp, hips bouncing faster. Looking so absolutely beautiful, he can’t keep his eyes off the recoiling breasts in his line of vision. Suddenly, his mouth is suffocated with something hot, wet, and delicious. “Hmmph!”

You’ve sat on his face, leaning forward on his stomach, clearly keen to be involved once more in the fun. Submerged in your scent and taste, he doesn’t hesitate to slurrrrrrp! up your juices. He can taste his cum too and it dribbles down his chin. Cunt wrapped around his cock and another leaking wetness right into his mouth, Nanami swears he’s in heaven, delirious with the devastating gratification of pleasuring his wife. “Ride me faster…my face…my cock…that’s it, dear…doing so -ngh- great for me…my -hah hah- perfect wife.”

Lapping up your juices, he throbs when you squeal on his tongue.

“Is that how I really sound when you eat me out? Ew.”

Other you growls. “And is that what I really look like when I ride you?”

SMACK!

SMACK!

“Don’t t-talk badly about yourself. I won’t have it.”

Rubbing your sore ass, you mumble, “Mmm, sorry, Ken.”

“Yeah, s-sorry.”

Soon, you three work back into a punishing rhythm. Nanami hates to be so strict, but he can’t bear to hear you be so mean to yourself. It makes the hairs on his arms stand. If his eyes aren’t rolling to the back of his head, he’d lecture you about the importance of loving yourself. Again. But he can’t string full sentences together. Not right now. Now when you’re all so close. 

Your clit is bumping against his nose whilst his tongue pierces your cunt and he wonders if you can both feel the specific kind of bliss the other is – a cock kissing your g-spot, filling you up, and your pussy being thoroughly ravished by his greedy mouth. 

“Yes, Ken, suck my clit…hmm, just like that… yes yes yessss.”

“Fuck, Ken, your cock feels so good. I love it! More more more. I need it.”

Whatever his wife wants, he’ll oblige. Planting his feet, he fucks up into you, jostling your body. You shriek. His pace is relentless, merciless, and they push you further and further until your climax nears. Off balance, your face falls in between other you’s breasts. Whatever you’re doing to those tits he loves so much is making his wife’s eyes roll to the back of her head too. 

Nanami’s nearing his end. He needs you to get there first. Always. “Come on, sweetheart. Make me –ah make Kento– proud, won’t you? Let me h-hear, feel a-and taste my darling wife -hah- cum.”

“Yes, Ken!” You both screech.

And soon after, your husband finds himself covered in a flood of your juices. 

“FUCK!” 

“SHIT!”

“OH GOD!”

Nails dig into his skin, scratching and stinging. The grip you have on his cock tightens until he’s robbed of his breath and forced over, hips pumping up into your scalding cunt. Your moans are muffled between your breasts when his searing cum paints your walls white. 

Clinging to each other, the three of you black out. 

Minutes or hours later, Nanami is the first to wake. Bones aching just a little, he has a quick flash of thought that maybe he’s getting too old for this curse business. A curse-less day with you is more than enough to zap him of energy all while reviving him simultaneously so would it be so bad to give up the other part of him so he can dedicate his life to all of you?

He groans. His muscles are a little sore with a slight shake to them —the good kind. What a blessing it is to be pushed to his limits with you. Gazing down, he sighs in relief at what he sees.

Finally, the sight that greets him is not anomalous or extraordinary – it’s just his wife, singular and whole, draped naked across his lap and snoring. He’s trying to catch his breath, staring down at your sleeping form. “I’ve -hah- tired you out, huh? Poor thing.”

No doubt you’ll ask him if he enjoyed having two wives to service him later, and he’ll answer honestly as he always does with you; it wasn’t having two wives that he found pleasure in, it’s having two of you. There’s more to touch, to taste, to love. A challenge he wouldn’t ever shy away from.

Just as he wanted, he’s covered in sweat and your juices, owned by you in every way possible. This is how he’d like to spend the rest of his life if he could: attending to your needs and drawing out a grin even in your sleep. He pets your head, a shaky smile on his lips. Your eyes flutter open. 

“There’s my beautiful wife. Hi. I’ve missed you, darling.”

Groggily, you ask, “Am I fixed now, Kenny?”

Bringing up your face to his, he skims his nose against the tip of yours. “You were never broken to begin with, my love.”

“That’s sweet…can we go eat? I’m hungry.”

Petting your pussy and seeking out your heat as if his fingers are magnetised to it, he whispers against your lips, “You can take one more round, can’t you, honey? For me? For Kento?”

You both know it won’t stop at just one round. 

It never does. 

And thank fuck.

[mixingandmelting]

Heavy Blanket

Summary: You were cold and needed a blanket. He decides to be that blanket only to get too comfy and lay on top of you longer than needed

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You’re hot. Sweltering. Wheezing. Lungs close to collapsing. And no matter how many times you tell him, he won’t. Get. Off.

“Simon, please.” You gently nudge his shoulder, trying to get him to look at you. “I’m suffocating here.” 

He simply grunts, nuzzling his face into your chest as his arms tighten around your chest. You suppose it’s your fault, having told him that you were cold and not wanting to get off the couch to get a blanket. You just.. didn’t expect him to take it quite literally and provide you a heavy, weighted one (i.e., him). 

You sigh. Maybe you could push him off…? You glance down only to be reminded how massive he is, easily engulfing your being so that it looks like there’s simply a single person on the sofa. Hell, the only indication you’re even lying there is your head and arms poking out from underneath. No body, just ligaments. 

Yeah. It’s Not happening. As if sensing your disgruntlement, he lifts his head so his eyes would be looking into yours. For a moment the two of you stare, waging a wordless battle.

“…For a person called ghost, you’re so cheeky.”

He snorts, going back to comfortably resting his head on your chest.

“Only to you, love. Only to you.” 

Took the words right out of your mouth. 

Shaking your head in exasperation, you card your fingers through his hair. Welp. laundry is definitely not getting done today. 

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

“Johnny?”

“No.”

“Johnny.”

“No.”

“John Mactavish.”

That gets him to lift his head up. You try not to snort at the offended look he gives you, his eyes asking if you had seriously just used his full name over something like this. Instead, you take this chance to finally get some precious O2 in your lungs and enjoy weight being lifted off of you. Literally. 

You had forgot and now remembered his biceps are the size of your head when he props onto his elbows, bright blue eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Luvie, I’m not John Mactavish to you. Am I?” 

“No. But,” you shuffle to get around but he doesn’t budge. Dammit. “You are a furnace. Heavy, hard, and exuding only heat.” 

Instantly you regret saying that, recognizing the glint in his eyes. 

“Heavy and hard, aye?”  

One hand to cover your burning face, you use the other to smack his chest. You and your stupid mouth. Him and his stupid, smug, smirk. Chuckling, he moves and gets comfortable before snuggling you again. At least he’s being mindful this time, making sure you aren’t feeling as if you’re being flattened into a pancake. As for you, you nuzzle your face into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s going to take a while for you to function, the embarrassment still fresh and searing your soul. 

Kim Hong Jin "Horangi"

You swear you’re dating a giant cat, not a tiger. The ones that enjoy pushing a glass off the table while you’re looking and begging with your eyes not to. Smiling as some crying lady points at them over a salad. 

You’ve been shoving and pushing him by the shoulders, and so far you’ve successfully freed half of your upper body (more like that’s the only leeway he’s willing to give but you choose to ignore that).

“Hong Jin.” You pant between each word, exhausted and having much of your strength sapped out of you. “You need to let go.”

“싫은데?“ (Don’t want to?) 

…This man and his nerves. 

“No, seriously.” You nudge him, hoping it would get your message across. “I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Just five more minutes.” His groan coming out muffled from him burying his face into your tummy. 

Five minutes ago he said that. Which was also what he said five minutes before that. Now you’re uncomfortable, feeling the half of you he’s holding onto sweat while the other feels chilly from the sudden loss of heat. Worst is how effortless it is for him to keep you still, lazily lying on top of you being enough to stop you from worming yourself out. Like sure, you do enjoy how well-built he is but not like this! 

Sucking a breath in, you go back trying to pry yourself off as he stays where he is, eyes closed and a grin plastered on his face. 

König 

A king-size mattress. That’s what he is. And certainly feels that way too with how he easily engulfs both you and the bed. 

“Konig.” You gently shake him, only for him to turn his head. 

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry though, at the moment, it would hurt if you do either. Every time you try calling him out or getting his attention, he’d turn his head where he’d lie on one cheek then flip to the other. He doesn’t even make a sound. No harrumphs, grunts, or a sigh. All of you wanted to do was go get ready since the two of you are supposed to meet with his friends. Now? Not happening. 

“We need to get ready. It’s already quarter past five.” 

He squeezes your waist in response, snuggling himself into you. Just like a petulant kid, thinking if he doesn’t say anything and pretends to not hear you, you would stop. You try to slip from being underneath him, not enjoying being the filling in the mattress sandwich. Unfortunately for you, fortunately for him, you give up in less than ten seconds realizing how much you’d have to go through to just get a hand out. 

You raise your hand to place it on his shoulder until he stops you by grabbing at the wrist. He drags and presses it against his cheek, making you feel stubbles under your fingertips. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and mentally count from ten. 

“You better text them we’re not going.” You grumble, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Already did.”

You shake your head. This man.