#beloved nana

[134340am]

hmmm for the made up fic title game how about ‘double trouble, triple threat & a whole lot of love’ 👅

the first thing i thought of was the inarizaki three lmaoooo i m so down bad for them

nsfw — minors do not interact. f!reader x miya twins x sunarin

“look, she’s dripping. try it.” 

your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, tugging up the collar of your boyfriend’s jersey and pulling it up over your burning cheeks. you couldn’t care less about stretching the fabric out—not when there were not one, not two, but three men between your legs stretching you out.

or, at least, they’re about to.

osamu swipes a finger through your folds before popping said finger into his mouth—his hands are notably rougher than atsumu’s. meanwhile, the setter takes his time, circling your leaking hole lazily and only stopping when rintaro casts him an impatient look.

“‘s salty,” osamu speaks first. “‘nd a little sweet.”

“yeah, ‘s good.” atsumu pipes up, reaching out again for a second taste—only to whine in pain when rintaro swats his wandering hands away.

“wait, we won’t get shit done if you keep being greedy,” your boyfriend hisses at the blond, turning his attention back to you. “see this button?” rintaro flicks your clit with just the tip of his finger and you cry, back leaving the bed.

“it makes her back arch?” atsumu suggests.

“yeah, and it drives her absolutely crazy.” the sentence was punctuated with a quiet chuckle, one that can only belong to rintaro and no one else. it spells trouble. you peek down between your legs—still not used to the sight of there being people other than your lover in bed with you—but your eyes flutter close almost immediately as rintaro proceeds to rub your clit relentlessly. 

“fucking— slow down a little, rin!” you choke out, legs trembling in pleasure and clamping shut around his hand. 

“no can do, babe, we don’t have all day. ‘samu’s on evening shift, and ‘tsumu has practice later, right?” came your boyfriend’s voice, light and teasing.

“yeah, gotta go in an hour.”

“hurry up, sunarin.”

both twins, lying on their tummies and sandwiching your boyfriend in between, grab a knee each and pull your legs open once more. 

“yeah, yeah, okay. you heard the boys, sweetheart.” rintaro shifts closer to you, tossing you a mischievous grin as he cranes his neck to press a gentle kiss to your clit. though his demeanour was as playful as ever, you see the concern flashing in his yellow-gold eyes from between your legs. you nod at him, almost shyly, and the worry in his eyes fades into a lustful sheen.

“anyways, that’s the button on the outside,” he mutters. the twins nod. “the button on the inside, however...” 

rintaro pushes two rough fingers into your weeping hole, crooking them up at the sweet, spongy spot up front. your reaction was immediate—you arch off the bed again, hips bucking into his fingers and a desperate cry leaving your lips.

the sight of you sweaty and panting pleases your lover, for he rewards you with a gentle massage to the very same spot that elicited your reaction in the first place.

“there we go,” he chuckles amusedly. “that’s our pretty girl.”

send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it!

[ramblerogue]

See you next year.

[nanabrainrot]

IV. Gut Reaction [Kirtch] Kinktober

Day 4: Teratophilia, the sexual attraction to monsters

Warnings! size difference, monster fucking, alien fucking, facesitting, I gave him a ribbed/ridged prehensile tongue like an anteater/alien/cat crossover for horny reasons. @i-drop-level-one-loot is Kirtch’s creator so everyone say thank you to them.

Like a good pet, you wake him up with kisses. The collar isn’t on anymore (of course not at night, what if you were uncomfortable?) and you curl to his side in bed every night now. The weeks, months, years were passing and you were none the wiser: you measured time by how long Kirtch was gone now.

Your lips press kisses to the exoskeleton of his face, warmth greeting him in the morning with soft skin pawing at him clumsily. He was no awful owner by any means, but he was an indulgent one. You climbed on his chest, hands pressing with flat palms against the plates there - cold exoskeleton making you shiver slightly. No matter, he indulged you especially when he made room for you on his bed with the miscellaneous throws of plush, sherpa, faux fur, real fur, satins, and more from neighboring planets or galaxies’ animal pelts. The little sweet bralette and boy short sleep set are moist - the adverse reactions of you to the collar’s chemical seemed to stay in your system forever due to the dosage. Pressing a kiss to the pinchers on his cheeks you coo: “Work today?”

“Of course, little one. I got called in with incentive pay, I told you last night,” he chuckled lightly. Last night, per usual, you were out of your head and airheaded - bucking into the device he used to force orgasms out to tire you faster. Humans were sometimes prone to trouble falling asleep, which he noted dutifully to avoid or a human can be exhausted. One sleepless night was enough to throw off a human’s entire schedule!

You pouted, huffing at him haughtily. All this time with Kirtch had made you bratty, not that you knew. You were just a hedonist who survived off the attentions of your master, the one you initially hated. Now, the days without him were hard and agonizing. It was like leaving your dog at home on a daytrip.

His cold claws graze your skin and you nudge upwards, knees and hands carrying you as you crawl to where his face is with a mischievous grin. Your knees settle on each side of his head: you were a taker who took and took timelessly again and again. You were lucky he was a giver.

The fabric of your shorts gone, you pressed your entrance to his face - a dog in heat. Knowing his strength, you held nothing back from letting your dead weight sit on his face given his size. Slickness pressed on the opening when his mouth was as you impatiently bucked against the opening: wanton and waiting.

Kirtch was a giver. The appendages of his mouth were jarring at first, but the length of his long prehensile tongue licked up and down the slit. It wasn’t a human tongue, the ridges and texture of it stimulating the crevices of your loins with stimulations of all sorts. The gentle licks with the abrasive texture of the muscle made your stomach turn and nipples perk as his big hands went to cradle you above him. He made no effort to alleviate your weight as you squirmed and twitched on him. He was just happy to have you close like this.

The tongue, long and prehensile, stills at your entrance and prods at curiously. Despite his human knowledge, you always found it cute that like human lovers he seemed to have trouble finding that hole at first despite the numerous encounters. You buck, humming in contentment as your head lulls back and your hands stroke the cold shells by his face. Prodding, prodding, you sigh in anticipation. Patience was a virtue and patience had made you stronger than you ever imagined; you weren’t the person you were when Kirtch got you but there were virtues bestowed upon you from this… this situation turned companionship he planted you in.

Prodding, pressing, then sliding, the texture of his tongue is delicious. The movies back of earth with those scary alien tongues always left you with a weird feeling in your belly but the way his tongue felt so thick and ridged inside was a greater pleasure than any dildo you ever played with in your bed back home. Sighing, you stir your hips when his tongue stops when it hits the wall by your cervix and he knows it can go no deeper: you loved being so full, so close to him.

Bucking, your eyes roll as his tongue dips down into where his mouth is obscured by your hips, before sliding back up. The ridges scrape your insides like a ribbed condom or those textured dildos, hot and warm and wet, he fills you before withdrawing. The slow tongue dips back down and jams back up harshly, earning a choked gasp. You stutter, eyes blown wide as the tongue flattened in you: its circumference blown wider to fill you more. The ribs and ridges of the tongue thing press impossibly hard into your walls as you pant lewdly while you struggled to steady you weight by pressing your palms flat on his head. The tip of the tongue swirls around your cervix like a human licks at a nipple and your eyes see spots.

The tongue is long, in and out, flattening and widening then swirling and flicking at your cervix with the hot wet texture of it. You buck, a choked sob as you clench on it. The size of him always hurts given his impressive and inhuman stature; your little body was not made to take the ridiculous dimensions of his races’ appendages in any way. There is a will, there is a way. The way his member left your insides fragile and swollen often led you to seeking pleasure from his mouth while your pussy recovered. A flick of the tip inside, he switched gears and presses hard on your g-spot with a stiff tongue. Drool dribbles from your mouth as your vision slips away while his tongue keeps thrusting in and out, jutting up only to meet the g-spot in beating and steady bursts against the sweet spot until your body was shaking.

Back hunched as you held at his head while you babbled and drooled stupidly, Kirtch withdraws his tongue but only to nuzzle against your clit to drink up the scent of your pheromones to memorize and get him through the day. Regrouping, you still shake on where his tongue emerges from with shaky breaths. He can’t bring himself to move you.

Sometimes it’s okay to be late to work.

[the-kipsabian]

swerves insta stories 3/13/2024

[s-aint-elmo]

she got too silly

(id in alt text)

[iceman-maverick]

is softly trying to wake up your sleepy partner a trope ? idk. anyway “ice, baby, it’s time to wake up.”

“Ice, baby,” Maverick whispers, lightly pushing at his shoulder “it’s time to wake up,” 

Several truths reveal themselves to Ice the moment he returns to consciousness:

It is swelteringly hot

The base of his spine hurts like a bitch

He is naked

And, most troubling, he is quite sticky 

None of these revelations are particularly encouraging, but his aching back quickly takes priority as Ice comes to and gets his bearings. He stretches his arms, grossly caked in dried over sweat, over his head and then yelps once his index finger collides with the metal coils of the bed frame. He frowns, bringing the wounded digit to his lips. 

Maverick is sitting on the edge of the bed - dressed, showered, and shaven with an irritatingly dopey smile. He’s wearing jeans and his leather jacket, which doesn’t make much sense given how fucking hot it is in here.

Ice squints at him accusingly. 

“What-” Ice starts, then swallows. His throat is bone-dry, his tongue not much farther off as he sucks on his still throbbing finger. “What time- wait, where are we?” 

The curtains of the room are drawn shut tight enough that just the slightest ray of sunlight is able to creep in. There’s no air conditioning, and the bedframe squeaks loudly with even the slightest of movement so Ice figures that wherever they are, it’s old as hell. 

“It’s almost three,” Mav tells him. He gestures for Ice to sit up and passes over a glass to Ice’s free hand. Ice frowns as the motion pulls unpleasantly at his back and then promptly gulps down the entire thing. Ice rolls his shoulders and pops his neck. God, he is fucking sore. 

“Come on sweetheart,” Mav prompts, “wheels up. Slider’s starting to lose it out there,” 

Mav stands and walks over to open the curtain, flooding the room with light. Ice flinches at the brightness, peeling back the thin cover sheet and swinging his legs over so that his feet land on the fuzzy teal carpet. The sheet - adorned with pastel pink flowers and butterflies - sticks to Ice’s leg as he moves. He grimaces as the puzzle pieces begin to fall in place.

“Am I in heat?” He asks, trying not to be overly put out by Maverick’s smug look. 

“Nope,” Mav pops the 'p', from where he stands, arms crossed, by the window. “Well, you were. Not anymore though, I saw to that, thank you very much. It came on fast enough that we had to get real creative,"

Ice blinks, his stomach drops. "...Creative?"

"We’re in Nana’s room,” 

Oh Christ.

It had been Ice’s idea in the first place to get the band back together so to speak. It had been a few years and between deployments, reassignments, and Hollywood going local, everyone was clamoring for a vacation.

Maverick famously hates anything to do with camping so they compromised, landing on what Slider has taken to calling Boyscouts Lite. Ice found an RV rental and enough tents to reasonably shelter a handful of pilots, three women, an eight year old, and twin baby girls.

A tall order to fill, no doubt, but thankfully Slider's Nana conveniently owns a vast plot of land up in NorCal with river access, enough trees to give Hollywood the creeps and, most importantly, radio signal. Maverick refused to go unless he could be guaranteed his daily dose of Springsteen. Nana was more than happy to act as their crew's headquarters, positively delighted to meet all of Ronald’s little friends. 

Ice’s last lucid memory was breaking up an argument between Carol and Wolf. They had been organizing the fishing equipment when suddenly Wolf shrieked a sharp, piercing wail that startled several birds into flight. His finger had been pricked - barely, Carol protested. Accusations began flying and Maverick, naturally, was no help. 

Within moments of parking the RV, Mav elected himself as the resident river thermometer, stripping to board shorts, making a real show of it once the chorus of whistles and cheers started up. He plopped himself down - a can of beer in either hand - onto one of Bradley’s tubes (the one with the flamingos, specifically) and cast off into the river. Supervising, he had smirked from his tube, bopping along without a care in the world. Ice supposed he should be grateful that his alpha wasn’t one of those excruciating knotheads that insisted on micromanaging everything, but mostly Ice was just annoyed that he was left alone to wrangle with the tents. 

Ice vaguely remembers pushing himself between Carol and Wolf - the distinctly unpleasant scent of agitated betas making his lip curl. He had shoved Wolf back hard and then after that Ice’s memory goes mostly blurry.

Heat tends to do that to a guy.

“Come on,” Maverick startles him back into the present, reaching a hand out to pull Ice to his feet. Ice brings his arms up and around Maverick’s neck, breathing in the reassuring scent of content alpha - his alpha. 

“Hi,” Ice smiles into Mav’s neck, swaying forward to let the alpha bear most of his weight. Mav makes a pleased sound and wraps his arms around Ice’s hips, digging his thumbs in to massage at the sore tissue.

The sound Ice lets out in relief is rather unbecoming of a naval officer with his record, but Ice is too blissed out to find it in himself to be embarrassed. Plus, they're alone and it's not ike Maverick is a stranger to the various groans, moans, and whines Ice comes up with. No, Maverick loves when Ice gets vocal, makes it his most sacred duty to get Ice to make as many sounds as possible in bed.

It's a shame he doesn't remember much of the previous night, Ice thinks. If the ache in his back is anything to go by, it must have been a good one.

Ice lifts up his right leg to rest atop Maverick’s hip and swoons as Mav, ever eager to follow Ice’s lead, uses his grip to pull up Ice into his arms. It’s a little ridiculous, what with Ice’s clear size advantage and all. But Maverick is strong, and takes Ice’s weight like it’s nothing. He shuffles his hold so that Ice can squeeze his thighs around Mav’s waist, effectively clinging like a starfish across Maverick’s front. 

“Hi,” Mav smiles back once they’re both situated. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

Ice drops his head to rest snuggly on Mav’s shoulder, and nods. He lets his eyes close as Maverick begins to walk towards what Ice prays to be some form of indoor plumbing.

---

going into heat while being slathered in sunscreen and bugspray must be amongst the top 10 ickiest feelings of all time, ice truly is so brave.

We're playing an IceMav askbox fic game. Send me a trope and a first sentence and I'll write at least one paragraph!

[k-seunghun]

seunghun · curtain call ending fairy · 230606

[bloodraven55]

they’re having a possessive off 💀

[spankycomic]

Hypocrite

[134340am]

Yuna 💕 I love seeing you on the dash again 🥺 if your askgame is still going, 3 & 9 please

(also omg I ADORE augustinewrites’ Hirugami stories too!!!!)

sweetest nana!!! it’s hug time indeed ✧⁺⸜(●′▾‵●)⸝⁺✧ i’m squishing u to me and rubbing my face on u like a little cat because i missed u : (

#3_a fic that makes you cry

oh man, i’m a big crybaby so i cry at a lot of fics 😞 but!!! the first fic that came directly to mind when i saw this ask was on my way (to you) by @/ofmermaidstories. it’s a time travel, kinda soulmates!au fic but less like we-are-meant-to-be-in-every-lifetime and more like i-will-choose-you-over-and-over-again-in-every-lifetime which is a thousand times more meaningful to me. this is a fic i’ve only read once but it’s impacted me deeply, so i’ll rec it over and over and over again!!! this fic moved me in ways i cannot describe. the characterisation is impeccable (as always) and it seems like every word in the fic is meant to be there, y’know?

also, the part that pushed me from crying to full on snotty sobbing. i got my whole shirt wet, hehe:

#9_a fic that reminds you of summer

ah!!! this would be heaven can’t help me now (i think that’s the title? :O) by the talented @chimielie but lia left/privated her blog T^T (miss u bb i’m wishing the best for u and thinking of u always!!!) i love this fic because it screams first love and the thrill of getting to know someone bit by bit and falling in love tho you don’t quite know it’s love yet… it reminds me of my fave coming of age movies and it reminds me of sticky summers when i was younger sob sob

but when it comes to summer i also really like somewhere only we know by @/wanderwithme on ao3! partly because these X times and Y times kinda fics were pretty popular in the fanfiction community years ago (now, not so much… i think) and it makes me nostalgic, and partly because much of this fic happens while kuroo and reader are still growing up. it’s a sweet proposal fic overall, but under the copious amounts of fluff lies the emotional torment of growing pains and navigating the world when everything is strange and unpredictable. but that’s what makes the fic so relatable and enjoyable, and the payoff sooo insanely worth it.

let’s chat — fic rec ask game!

[lanavecorona]

ok one more

[the-kipsabian]

swerves insta stories 3/13/2024

[s-aint-elmo]

today i offer you screenshots of my favourite war veterans from my defunct laptop. tomorrow? who knows

(id in alt text)

[riveramorylunar]

MHA Women.... That's all I'm saying.....

[rockybloo]

Could we see the height chart? Finished or not your art looks sick!

THANK YOU and I only got to the Fabled Five, the Beloveds, and the Flavor Four.

AND BECAUSE nearly anytime I share OC heights, someone asks why some are so short-I scale my OCs in reference to myself (5'1 ft)

I winded up recycling the Fabled Five ones for their full bodies I posted awhile ago

Jack is 5'8 ft

Nana is 4'11 ft

Pinokuni is 5'3 ft

Kai is 7'0 ft

Ashe is 6'0 ft

Sweetheart is 5'5 ft

Honey is 5'3 ft

Dear is 5'1 ft

Baby is 6'0 ft

Bitterbat is USUALLY 6'6 ft

Redhot is 7'5 ft

Sourpus is 5'0 ft

Halite is 6'9 ft

[betelgo0ze]

This is my cat Ben(it’s short for Obi-wan)

His legal name is Obi-wan but he’s hiding from the empire so shhh don’t tell anyone