#but i's fantasy so we should have a little fun as a treat

[heyitsnyixie]

I miss when Joker plots were like

The Joker: Well, Batman! If you can't find all my hidden Joker Bombs throughout Gotham by midnight, they'll all go off, and Gotham will be dyed green FOREVER!!! *manic cackling*

Batman: Joker. That's fucking stupid. No one wants to be green. I'm going to stop you.

*14 minutes of hijinks followed by a return to status quo except Robin was holding a bomb at midnight and is now green until the next episode*

[inkskinned]

sometimes we just need someone to pay enough attention.

for the longest time i had been trying to read The Lord of The Rings. everyone had sung the praises for it, over and over. i'd seen clips of the movie and it seemed like it could be fun, but actually reading it was fucking horrible.

my parents had the omnibus - all the books squished into one big tome - and in the 4th grade i started sort of an annual tradition: i would start trying to read TLR and get frustrated after about a month and put it back down. at first i figured i was just too young for it, and that it would eventually make sense.

but every time i came back to it, i would find myself having the exact same experience: it was confusing, weird, and dry as a fucking bone. i couldn't figure it out. how had everyone else on earth read this book and enjoyed it? how had they made movies out of this thing? it was, like, barely coherent. i would see it on "classics" list and on every fantasy/sci-fi list and everyone said i should read it; but i figured that it was like my opinion of great expectations - just because it's a classic doesn't mean i'm going to like experiencing it.

at 20, i began the process of forcing myself through it. if i had to treat the experience like a self-inflicted textbook, i would - but i was going to read it.

my mom came across me taking notes at our kitchen table. i was on the last few pages of the first book in the omnibus, and i was dreading moving on to the next. she smiled down at me. only you would take notes on creative writing. then she sat down and her brow wrinkled. wait. why are you taking notes on this?

i said the thing i always said - it's boring, and i forget what's happening in it because it's so weird, and dense. and strange.

she nodded a little, and started to stand up. and then sat back down and said - wait, will you show me the book?

i was happy to hand it over, annoyed with the fact i'd barely made a dent in the monster of a thing. she pulled it to herself, pushing her glasses up so she could read the tiny writing. for a moment, she was silent, and then she let out a cackle. she wouldn't stop laughing. oh my god. i cannot wait to tell your father.

i was immediately defensive. okay, maybe i'm stupid but i've been trying to read this since the 4th grade and -

she shook her head. raquel, this is the Silmarillion. you've been reading the Silmarillion, not the lord of the rings.

anyway, it turns out that the hobbit and lord of the rings series are all super good and i understand why they're recommended reading. but good lord (of the rings), i wish somebody had just asked - wait. this kind of thing is right up your alley. you love fantasy. it sounds like something might be wrong. why do you think it's so boring?

[0097linersb]

Little White Lies (m)

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Genre: Smut, basically pwp, kind of fluff for a bit

Word count: 5k~

Summary: Satoru gets too excited at the thought of being your husband.

Follow me on twitter: marmitasatosugu <3 I´ll proofread this some other day

You thanked God every day that Satoru had the attention span of a 2-year-old considering that you often got away with stuff solely because he was walking around pointing at random clouds or rambling about what movie to watch later. Shoko joked once that you should just leash him after he rushed excitedly to feed some pigeons on the street, but you just laughed it off – you loved the way he was, fully and completely.

Now to quote an example: after a few years of dating, sometimes you found yourself telling a little white lie around, simply because it was so much easier to just call Satoru your husband rather than your boyfriend, especially since it made people take you so much more seriously. It started small, workers had been referring to the man as your spouse for so long that at some point, you just stopped correcting them. It was great, it was practical; people would treat you with more respect and you would have fun inside your little fantasy world.

“My husband will pay for it, the one with the white hair over there.”

“Good afternoon, I´m looking for a gift for my husband.”

“My husband will pick it up later, thank you.”

“Put it on my husband´s tab, please.”

Satoru never caught on to it and you´d much rather that he never did – but once again, the probabilities of it happening were low: if you weren´t holding his hand, he was probably far from you, exploring the big world around him and all its wonders. But oh well, your luck couldn´t last forever.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Y/N,” The receptionist with the Hawaiian shirt smiled once you and Satoru walked inside the resort hand-in-hand. “This must be your husband, welcome to Crystal Waves, Mr. Gojo. Congratulations on the wedding!”

Frozen in place for a second, you couldn´t for the life of you look at your boyfriend. It´s not that you were ashamed, it was a silly little thing that you knew Satoru wouldn´t mind or judge you for, it´s just that… He would tease you so much, you´d never hear the end of it.

You had forgotten all about how when making the reservations, after a long conversation with the lady on the phone, somehow you ended up with free upgrades because apparently it was your honeymoon – Technically, all you said was that the reservation was for you and your husband, she was the one who, probably trying to be nice, commented that she was surprised because you sounded so young, therefore asking if you were newlyweds, so naturally you agreed because the little lie you told was now too far along to take back.

That was almost two months ago, of course you´d forgotten about it. If you hadn´t, you could have just filled Satoru in on the little story, he would love to play pretend, and this was right up his alley. But you didn´t, so before he could say anything, you swallowed down the embarrassment and pretended normality, “Good afternoon, Martha. Yes, this is he.”

You still didn´t look at Satoru, but you heard him thanking her amusedly.

“We´re so glad to have you here,” She smiled as another worker brought you welcome orange cocktails with a beautiful pink flower decorating the glass before guiding you towards the front desk for check-in.

“Did you have a chance to look at all the activities we offer?” Martha asked after you finished signing the paperwork. “For some of the schedules, we ask for the reservations to be made in advance.”

“Yes, that´s understandable. I´m interested in the SPA treatments; we can book it for tomorrow if you have any spots available.”

“Yes, of course. Are we going for the complete package, back massage, facial, scalp treatment, hot stones, body rub…?”

“I think the back ma-”

“Complete package,” Satoru interrupted, tightening the hold on your hand.

“Ok, perfect. 9 AM, 2 PM or 5PM?” Martha asked, clicking away on the computer, smiling up at Satoru for his romantic gesture.

“9 sound goods.”

“Any other plans?”

You waited for Satoru to answer, since he was the one who spent days rambling about some of the stuff he wanted to do, but since he stayed silent, you cleaned your throat and took it upon yourself, “The parasailing one, what days do you have it available?”

“Will it be just your husband or you´ll be going as well?”

“Both of us.”

“Looks like we have an opening two days from now at 3 PM, does that sound good?”

“Perfect, and what about the White Stones Trail?”

“It happens every Monday at 8 AM, should I book it for the two of you?”

“Oh God no, just for my husband, please.”

You didn´t even notice you got carried away in the role until Satoru dropped your hand, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you slightly closed, his thumb rubbing the skin on your side. You still refused to look at him.

“Booked. Anything else?”

“We´d like to go scuba diving on Tuesday.”

“We have a boat leaving at 10 AM.”

“Sounds good. I guess that´s all for now.”

“All set then, these are the keys to your room. The elevator is at the end of the hall to your left, press 10. Your bags are already waiting for you inside. Hope you have an incredible stay and please find me if you need anything.”

You both thanked Martha before you spun in your heels and tried to make a run for it, your escape plan being quickly ruined by Satoru´s hand finding yours once again, holding you close. Taking a deep breath, you accepted defeat and prepared yourself mentally for the next days of hell.

“So…” Satoru started once you were out of earshot from the main desk. You didn´t look at him but you could tell just by the tone of his voice that he was smiling as you walked down the hall.

“Don´t start,” You warned.

“Too late. Husband, huh?”

“Listen, don´t get your panties in a twist-”

“Oh, I´m absolutely getting my panties in a twist.”

“There´s a logical explanation for all of this,” You informed as he pressed the elevator button.

“Which is?”

“I don´t want to talk about it.”

“But you will.”

You sighed, “When I made the reservations, I told them it was our honeymoon so we´d get upgraded and get like, some free stuff.”

The elevator doors dinged open and you walked in, not even being able to appreciate the paradisiacal panoramic beach view inside. Satoru dropped your hand now that you had nowhere to run, leaning against the glass window and crossing his arms to look at you attentively – At least that´s what you guessed since your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

“Y/N, I´m rich,” He stated as a matter of fact, because well, it was true. “You don´t need to lie to get stuff.”

Shit.

He caught you on your semi-lie - and he knew it too by the way there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You shouldn´t have looked at him.

“Fuck, ok,” You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he wouldn´t just accept your answer and move on. Taking another deep breath, you carefully measured your words: “Sometimes, for practical reasons, I just tell people we´re married.”

“For practical reasons?”

“Yes, it makes my life easier in certain situations.”

“And how long have you been doing this for?”

Would this damn elevator never reach your floor?

“A few months.”

“And what are you telling people I am?”

“Are you stupid? If we´re married, you´re my husband.”

“Which makes you, my wife.”

The doors finally opened and Satoru reached for your hand, practically dragging you along with his abnormally long legs as you stared at his back.

“Yes Satoru, that´s the correct term.”

“So, you're telling people that you´re my wife?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, struggling to keep up with his pace and confused at his reaction. You expected insufferable teasing for the next few days and not… Whatever this was.

“Yes Sato – Are you ok? Did you hit your head or something?”

“No,” He finally stopped in front of your room, turning around to look at you with a huge smile on his face as you caught your breath. “I´m just so hard right now.”

“You- You´re what now?” You choked out as he searched his pockets for the magnetic card that opened the door. Your eyes automatically trailed down his pants and he was indeed not lying about his current state. “Do you have a thing for elevators?”

Satoru celebrated when he found the key, positioning it against the lock and smiling when he heard the engines turning, eyes back on you as he opened the door eagerly, “No, but I do have a thing for you calling me your husband.”

He didn´t wait for an answer, pulling you into the room and practically banging the door closed before pressing you against it. Satoru ripped his black glasses off, throwing them somewhere on the floor before bending down to your height so your faces were only inches apart.

“Say it again.”

“Satoru, let´s look around the room first, enjoy the view -”

“That can wait, I´d rather enjoy this view for now.”

“´Twas expensive,” You tried again.

“I´d spend all my money on you. Now say it again.”

“What?”

“Call me your husband.”

You were still so confused, was this a trap? For some reason, Satoru seemed to be enjoying it, a bit too much even. You let your walls crumble down slightly, wrapping your arms around Satoru´s neck so you´d be more comfortable.

“My husband?” You tentatively obeyed.

He instantly groaned, crashing his lips against yours with so much need that you felt like this was your first time all over again. He started by holding your face, his hands so big that he could hold your jaw with his palms while his fingers dug at the roots of your hair on your nape. He just held you like you were absolutely everything in the world to him and that got your legs weak. His tongue massaged yours and you were whining against his mouth in no time, hands clawing at his black shirt harsher every time he grinded against you. Satoru was equally as worked up, his chest heaving up and down as his hands left your face to grab at the back of your thighs, pulling you up so you could wrap your legs around his hips.

It was so much easier kissing him like this, since you were actually able to reach him. Unfortunately though, this new position got your boyfriend´s throbbing cock right against your core which you know, did nothing to calm you down. You grabbed at his hair in pure need, making a mess out of it as he left your swollen and wet lips alone to attack your neck.

“You´re so beautiful,” He groaned against your neck after he sucked at your jugular, his hips subconsciously bucking against yours. “Can´t believe you´re mine.”

“Satoru,” You moaned as he bit into the junction of your shoulder and neck.

His lips caught yours once again in another messy and aggressive kiss, his right hand leaving your thigh to start bunching up the bottom of your dress until he could see your panties.

“I could just take you right now,” He groaned against your lips.

“Then do it.”

The corner of his lips tugged up in amusement, “Now that´s no way to treat my wife, is it?”

His own words seemed to light another fire inside him, before you could even react, he was kissing you roughly once again, spinning the two of you around and carrying you towards the bed, where he threw you unceremoniously. You yelped at the impact and once more when he grabbed at your calves, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You supported yourself up on your elbows, so you could see when he went down to his knees in between your legs.

He stayed there on the floor for a few seconds, simply admiring the wet spot on your panties, your legs folded up so they wouldn´t be dangling from the edge of the bed. As you were about to complain, he pressed his thumb right on your clit over the fabric, before slowly rubbing circles with the pad of his finger, staring at what he was doing like he was hypnotized. A gasp left your lips at the surprise feeling and his eyes, which were so focused, snapped out of the trance to look up at you.

As your eyes met, he smiled, “My wife.”

“What´s up with you?” You shakily asked as he gently slid your panties down your legs, throwing them away somewhere.

“I just like the sound of it,” Satoru answered as he grabbed at your thighs once again, positioning them on his shoulders, placing a wet kiss on your inner tight.

Your head fell back in pleasure when he bent down, slowly licking your slit from bottom to top before giving your clit a light suck. He then pulled away slightly and you could already see his lips glistening, his arms wrapped around your tights firmly.

“Tell me you´ll marry me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, not familiar with this type of foreplay and not sure if this was the right setting for this type of discussion. In response to your silence, he dove back in, his tongue eagerly working on your clit – Why did your boyfriend, besides being rich and extremely hot, also have to be good at just fucking everything?

As soon as you left a moan out and he felt your body start twitching at his ministrations, he leaned back once again, “Tell me.”

He looked at you so hungrily that you heard yourself answering before even realizing, “I´ll marry you, Satoru.”

“And that we will have a big, beautiful family.”

And suddenly, it all made sense: Gojo Satoru, the single most powerful sorcerer in the whole world, unraveled at the thought of marrying you, of you being his, of being loved and having a happy family. Your chest filled with so much love suddenly; your boyfriend was such a loser.

“I´ll give you all that,” You agreed.

Even if it was a fantasy, for this moment it didn´t have to be.

You gave him the answer he wanted, and he excitedly went back to his job after hearing your words. His tongue expertly lapping at you in between kisses and sucks, one of your hands flying to grab at his hair to try and ground yourself. Even after years with this man, you´d never be able to get used to just how good he was at fucking you - and today especially, after a long time of not being touched because either you or him were always away for work, you were feeling extra sensitive.

Satoru knew exactly what to do to get you squirming in record time, flatting his tongue to draw circles against your clit, flicking his tongue from side to side, up and down, fucking it into you and it just drove you absolutely crazy. Even his groans of pleasure as he ate you out with so much hunger, vibrating against you, got your head spinning.

“I´m close,” You moaned, as if he didn´t already know.

“Not yet, hang in there,” He stopped, breathing hard and turning his head to the side, vehemently kissing the inner part of your thigh twice more before sitting up on his knees. “I´m having fun.”

He completely ignored your whines of protest, sitting you up so his face was now right in front of your boobs. Satoru smiled in victory at the view, softly sliding the two straps of your dress down your shoulder until all the fabric fell to your waist. Your boyfriend wasted no time, kissing all over the skin of your chest and leaving what soon would be many deep purple marks, his thumb teasing your nipples.

“Have I told you how much I love your boobs?”

“A few times,” You joked in between gasps, you both knew he would tell you that like, at least once a day.

“If I could just hold them all day I´d be the happiest man on earth,” Was the last thing he said before his mouth latched around your nipple, your back arching into the touch.

Once Satoru was satisfied with his work, he gently pushed you back into bed and climbed on top of you, supporting his weight on his two arms. At this point, you were just praying that he would fuck you already, you were dripping, walls clenching around nothing so desperately it hurt – and your boyfriend wasn´t much better, in this position you could feel very clearly how much his cock was throbbing.

You whined in need as he stared at you with his pretty blue eyes and laughed at your desperation – as if you couldn´t see he was about to cum in his pants too.

“What does my baby want?” He smirked condescendingly, amused at your need.

“To be fucked,” You groaned.

“Ah, anything for my wife,” He agreed, now only supporting his weight on his left arm as he snaked his other hand in between your bodies. “Just let me open you up first.”

You would complain you didn´t need to be prepped, but before you could say anything, his middle finger was already inside you and you forgot what you were going to say. He gently and languidly pumped his finger in and out a few times, adding another when he considered you were good to go.

You were a whiny mess, especially when he curled his fingers and found spots no one ever could before.

“Will you take my family name?” Satoru asked suddenly, his face right in front of yours, attentively watching your expression, his hair tickling your forehead. You were too out of it to even process the words coming out of his mouth. “You know the Gojo Clan is one of the most important and powerful clans in the country. It would sound nice, Gojo Y/N.”

He smiled kind of sadistically at your dazed expression before continuing, his fingers not stopping even once, “Or I could take your last name, I don´t mind. Who gives a fuck about the Gojo Clan anyways? I just suggested it ´cause I´d love everyone to know you´re mine.”

Satoru sped up his fingers and you grabbed his arm, your whole body shaking as your high approached, “But if you accept, you´ll be the heiress of everything, everything will be yours, including me. You can do anything you want, order whoever you want, and spend whatever you want, I´ll let you rule over it all, one snap of your fingers and it´s yours. My wife, the head of the Gojo clan.”

A dragged-out moan left your lips not only because of his restless fingers inside of you, but also because of the whole scenario he was painting, he wanted you to have it all, he wanted to be the one to give you everything. He felt the way your walls were squeezing around him and smiled, slowing down his fingers, “But for now, I´ll be a good husband and fuck my beautiful wife until she´s crying.”

At that, your eyes lit up, quickly sitting up to unbutton his shirt as he unzipped his pants. Once he was done with his trousers, he started helping you with the buttons and you abandoned your task, deciding to litter the already exposed parts of his chest and abdomen with kisses, an “I love you” leaving your mouth in between each touch of your lips on his skin – Because you did, you loved him so much.

The show of affection drove Satoru crazy, harshly throwing his shirt away. You were equally insane at the sight of your boyfriend in just his boxers, practically salivating as if this wasn´t the thousandth time you´d seen him like this. He caught you looking at him in pure awe and smiled, leaning over you for a quick sweet kiss before getting rid of his boxers.

“I´ll get you a ring so big it´ll weigh on your finger,” He informed as he climbed on top of you. “Everyone will be able to spot it from miles away.”

“Don´t want it, just want you.”

“You already have me,” He held your face, his eyes so intense you froze for a second. “Always had, always will.”

“What a simp,” You teased as if you weren´t right about to cry.

“Only for my wife,” He smiled, admiring your face.

“And now will my husband finally please fuck me?”

You said it kind of jokingly, but the title appeared to do the trick anyways; you felt his cock twitching against your thigh before he grabbed at one of your legs, pushing your knee slightly up and groaning as he grabbed his member to position it against you.

After all this lovey-dovey talk, you kind of expected Satoru to want to make slow gentle sappy love to you, and you wouldn´t exactly mind since that was amazing as well, but oh you were so wrong. You had miscalculated how horny the thought of being your husband got your boyfriend, because as he entered you, a loud groan left his lips and while normally he would wait for you to adjust to his size, this time he just kept going. At least he was slow with it, slow enough that you could feel every vein, every inch of his skin against your walls, every ridge, every bump.

You dug your nails into his back to distract yourself from the discomfort as he bottomed out, his lips open in a silent moan, and you caught yourself thinking about how lucky you were; out of everyone in the world, you were the only one who got to see the Honored one like this, so vulnerable and beautiful and yours.

“You feel so good,” He breathed out, beginning to drag his cock out. “Every fucking time.”

You didn´t care if it hurt, you wanted him to destroy you, “Satoru?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

As he started fucking into you again, you lost your words, but the pleading look you gave him and the drag of your nails down his back sent him the message loud and clear.

“Oh,” He smirked. “How am I so lucky?”

You felt his lips on yours as he began to speed up his hips, his right hand wrapping around your thigh so he could pull you flush against his cock. You cursed, feeling like you were being impaled, “Fuck.”

“To have a beautiful sweet loving wife who wants to be fucked like a slut.”

His hips were so smooth yet so fast, knowing all the right angles to get you biting at his shoulder and squeezing your walls around him.

“And you know what´s the best? All these men wanting you will have to know you´re only mine.”

It came as a surprise to you after a few months of dating that Satoru Gojo was a jealous boyfriend. It made absolutely no sense to you, considering that he was… well, Satoru Gojo. Like, what do you mean the strongest and most powerful man in the world, who could end all civilization with a flick of his finger if he wanted to, got bothered when you and Nanami took a cooking class together?

However, you kind of liked his possessiveness over you, especially when it made him thrust harder into you, got his tongue in your mouth in public, or his hand around your neck at a bar.

He felt the way you clenched at his words, breaking apart from you with a groan and flipping you around before you could even process what was happening. The way he could just throw you around so easily got you moaning into the sheets as you arched your back waiting for him.

Satoru didn´t leave you waiting for long, a second later he was already bottoming out inside you once again, and the hotel sheets were proven to be good quality when they didn´t rip under your fingers as he fucked you like his life depended on it.

You were completely lost, brain scrambled as you communicated through moans and gasps, especially when he pulled you up by the neck so your back stood against his chest. His hand stayed there, holding you in place and choking you as his other hand teasingly found its way down your abdomen, finding your clit as its destination.

Your whole body was shaking, Satoru´s arms were probably almost bleeding with how harshly your nails dug into it so you wouldn´t scream.

“You were made for me. Your pussy was made for me,” His moan was raspy against your ear. “Mine. Only for me. Your husband.”

Satoru was close and you were doing your best to buck your hips back to meet his thrusts, already at the edge too with the way his finger kept rubbing number eights against your clit. You stretched your hand back to grab at his hair, stupid at the feeling of being fucked open. He groaned at you pulling his hair, biting your shoulder to warn you he was about to cum.

“Inside,” You rasped.

He literally shivered at your words, a loud moan leaving his mouth as he thrust into you deeper than anyone had ever been before, including himself. Your vision went blank, your orgasm hitting you without warning and no time for you to prepare yourself, your body twitched violently as gasps left your lips, knowing you would have fallen like a doll if Satoru hadn´t been holding your neck.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” He cursed, losing control at the way your walls were crazily clenching around him.

His wet and warm mouth was soon on your shoulders, desperately kissing the bite marks he was leaving. You barely felt as he came inside you, or how his cock twitched against your walls, or how you could barely breathe with how tight he held your neck once his orgasm hit, too lost in your own pleasure. You did hear the beautiful noises coming out from his lips, prolonging your orgasm.

Once the two of you came back to reality, breathing hard, Satoru gently let go of your neck, softly rubbing his thumb over the red marks. As expected, your legs failed to hold you and your chest met the bed a second later, your eyes closed to try and come down from your high.

Satoru stayed on his knees, eyes glued to the way you were dripping out because of your walls´ spasms. He just couldn´t help himself, gathering all his cum that spilled with his fingers, ignoring your whines of protest, and pushing it all back in.

“Just a second baby,” He answered dazedly, his fingers still working.

He was obsessed, addicted to the view. No matter how much your body twitched because of the overstimulation, he couldn´t stop pumping his fingers into you, feeling how wet and slick you were around him. He groaned at the way your lips were swollen because of him, thumb gently rubbing your clit. He continued until your whines turned into moans, until your hips stopped trying to run away and instead bucked back against his fingers, until he felt himself getting hard again.

You didn´t complain when you felt his cock entering you once again, his lips worshiping your back as your eyes remained closed, slightly arching your hips to give him better access as he slowly and gently fucked you. Satoru caressed your hair and kissed your temples, your nape, your eyes, all while calling you beautiful and telling you how much he loved you.

…………………………………………….

“Gojo Satoru.”

Sensing your tone, he didn´t answer in pure fear.

The silence made you leave the bathroom, staring at your boyfriend who was in bed looking at you with wide eyes, “What´s wrong, baby?”

“We´re at a beach resort,” You said in between gritted teeth. “How the fuck am I supposed to go to the beach when it looks like I have been mauled by a bear after being dragged around town by a car?”

“I´m sorry, I got carried away.”

“Oh my god, call Martha and cancel the SPA day tomorrow.”

“I can give you a massage-”

“You´re never touching me again, Satoru.”

He smirked at that, “Yeah, give me a few hours and we´ll see.”

You hated that he was right.

[changbunnies]

Scent Of You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Wolf Hybrid!Bang Chan x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader x Wolf Hybrid!Changbin

♡ Genre: dubcon, little red riding hood au, fantasy/supernatural au, hybrid au, vague allusions to omegaverse dynamics, porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.8k (oops)

♡ Summary: In which a sweet, naive bunny hybrid nicknamed 'little red' becomes lost in the forest at night, and finds herself face to face with the big, bad wolves her grandmother always warned her about.

♡ Warnings: uses the little red riding hood fairytale as a base for inspiration before it devolves into smut, words like "alpha" and other omegaverse terms aren't used but the vibes are There lol

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon, pet names (though mostly as a title- such as bunny, little red, and sweetheart), the word slut is used a few times, gendered language such as "dirty girl", scent stuff lol, dom/sub dynamics (dom!chan, sub!reader, allusions to switch!bin), a lot of kissing, size difference, size kink (i'm sorry if you're tall just pretend ur small and they're huge because ur a rabbit and they're a wolf fsdgsdf), oral (m + f rec), spitroasting, some manhandling, some banter and mild rivalry between bin and chan, unprotected piv, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms and multiple creampies

♡ Notes: so i intended to take a small break from writing after finishing crave but inspo struck me as i was trying to fall asleep and i NEEDED to write it so i literally shot up and wrote all of this in one sitting in a cold sweat fsdgdsf so here we are, one last surprise upload before my break <3 it's easily the most self indulgent fic i've written to date dfdgh bunny is my fave petname and this is basically just my excuse to be called bunny in a wolf binchan sandwich lmao this is not as proofread as my other stuff given how quickly i wrote it, and it's my first time writing a threesome, but i hope you enjoy! edit: there is now a sequel you can read here !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Please, take care sweetheart. Don't stay out too long," your grandmother warns with a tender kiss to your forehead as you prepare to head out for the day, pulling the hood of your long, red cape up over your head, tucking in your hair and covering your lopped ears.

"I know, grandmother, I know! I'll be back before you know it, I promise," you assure her with a smile, hooking your twine basket into your arm, empty and ready to be filled with treats of the forest.

Your grandmother heaves a soft sigh, as she falls back against the bed, and you give her hand a reassuring squeeze and a soft goodbye before you make your way out of your quaint cottage, a long line of intimidating, tall standing trees before you. Grandmother always worries for your safety, as the woods aren't entirely safe for a rabbit like yourself, but so long as the sun hangs bright in the sky, you'd be perfectly fine.

Really, it's only at night that the woods near your home become truly dangerous, as all manner of nocturnal predators leave their dens in search of their next meal. For a rabbit such as yourself, lingering in the woods at night is assuredly a death sentence; your diminutive stature and weak limbs would cause you to easily fall victim to the beasts that stalk through the forest with the moon's aid. 

The only thing on your side would be your speed, but even then it's no guarantee of safety once a predator has you in their sights. And so your grandmother always instilled a proper fear of the dark within you, in the hope that you'd never find yourself in a situation in which you'd have to flee in the first place.

Entering the forest brings with it countless anxieties for your species, but it's not like you can simply not go. The gifts of nature are what sustains you, and you have to enter the woods, even live near them, if you want to have food in your tummy and herbal medicines on your shelves. 

As such, you are always very conscious of the amount of time you spend in the forest, only ever entering when the sun is brightly illuminating your surroundings, always careful and alert as you gather what you need. You observe the sun's position in the sky, use it to determine how much time you have left before it begins to set, always heading back well before it starts to sink behind the trees.

And you'd never stay longer than necessary, especially not when you have grandmother waiting at home praying for your safe return! But well.. grandmother is quite ill these days, and you spent more time than you usually would gathering the berries and leaves you’ll need to make her sweet, healing brews of tea.

Soon enough, winter's chill would cause all the greenery to frost and wither, and you wanted to stock up now to ensure you had enough to last 'til the end of the season. It was for grandmother's health! Surely she'd understand and forgive you if you stayed out just a little longer than usual. 

But as dusk started to settle over the trees, and you realized how precious few moments of sunlight you had left to make it home with, panic began to accumulate in the pit of your stomach. You tried your best to take deep breaths, to not allow your heart to race– as long as you remained calm, you could get back before dark, you were sure of it. 

The more the sun sank however, the more you lost your clarity; you found yourself stumbling in circles, the encroaching dark causing the forest to become unrecognizable, leading you blindly in circles. You'd long since lost sight of the path you always followed home, and the moon and stars, which were normally such a beautiful sight, now came with a sense of foreboding.

It was dark, you were lost, and grandmother was now all alone, probably worrying herself half to death wondering where you could be and if you're even still alive. You continue blindly weaving your way through the trees, just praying that you're moving in the direction of home; you can't afford to hide away and wait until morning, not when a beast could be around any corner.

Using your speed to your advantage, you dart past a near endless sea of trees, praying, praying, and praying the clearing will come into view and you’ll see your cottage in the middle, with orange light from the fire peeking through the windows and smoke billowing from the chimney. 

Suddenly you stop, entire body freezing as your hair stands on end, nose twitching as an unfamiliar scent fills your nostrils; someone is near– someone that you should avoid at all costs. It’s so heavy, overwhelming beyond comprehension– the scent of the forest itself is still identifiable, but mixed now with something akin to leather, black coffee, and hot iron.

The scent is actually quite pleasant, so that's not what causes you to freeze; it’s the unfamiliarity that is the true root of the problem, evoking a deep rooted, innate fear response. You know all the “safe” smells– that of other prey animals such as yourself, for instance, are recognizable, comforting, and bring about a sense of calm.

To be met with the unfamiliar is to be met with danger; it means that whatever is near is something you’ve never encountered during your safe treks through the forest, it means that a predator likely has you in their sights. And as grandmother has told you, if you smell them it’s already too late– they’ve found you. 

“Now, now, what do we have here?” A deep voice calls, hidden from your sight. Your heart erupts in an erratic rhythm, a chill running down your spine as your eyes desperately search the darkness for the source of the voice. And there, you finally see it– or rather, him. A man, standing much, much taller and bulkier than you, sharp fangs exposed with his smile, fangs that you are sure will be used to rip you apart. 

You see pointed ears and dusky blue-silver fur, a long tail that swishes with intrigue and delight, a fur coat with the arms cut off, an exposed chest laden with scars both fresh and faded. He’s a wolf, you realize with dread, the thing you were taught to fear most of all.

You unconsciously take a step back as he approaches, the moonlight illuminating him in a way that evokes both fear and reverence; as beautiful as he is dangerous. “What’s a little thing like you doing in the forest at night, hmm? Don’t you know it isn’t safe, little red?” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile, referencing the caped hood you’re wearing, a gift from your grandmother meant to keep you safe from men like him.  

You clutch your basket tighter as your legs begin to tremble, lowering your head and pulling your hood down further, trying your best to ensure your ears and other features are completely covered. He probably knows by smell alone you’re a prey animal, but you vainly hope he’ll let you go if he doesn’t realize you’re a rabbit– a stupid hope, but it’s the only one you have.

“Poor thing, don’t be scared. You got lost, didn’t you, little red?” With each step towards you he takes, you take another step back, until your back meets that of a thick tree, the erratic rhythm of your heart building to a speed you thought otherwise impossible. 

“Tell me– where did you come from?” The wolf asks with an intimidating smile full of fang, “I recognize you from somewhere. Where was it I’ve smelled you before..?”

With nowhere to go, caged against the tree as the wolf closes in, all you can do is tremble as you watch him sniff the air, licking his lips as if tasting your scent. Most prey animals are generally the same, but there’s only one place he’s gotten the scent of sugar and cream from.. 

“Ah, I know,” he says suddenly, smile growing wider as he speaks, “That little cottage in the clearing– that’s it, isn’t it? That’s your home?” You swallow as you timidly nod, your nerves much too frayed to attempt to lie– you’ve never been a good liar anyways, your grandmother having raised you to be honest and good.

“You’re quite far from home, little red. But I can help you,” he offers, but you know better than to trust a wolf– they’re liars, all of them. “N-No, I.. I can get there by myself,” you say, finally finding your voice (shaky and timid though it may be.)

The man hums, seemingly amused by your brave display; he knows how scared you are, can quite literally taste it, but he has to commend you for trying, at least. “I’m not sure that’s true. Do you know which way home is?” 

“W-Well, uhm, I.. I– I, I don’t–” you stutter and fumble, and he chuckles, a smug look of “thought-so” clear on his face as he grins at you. His hand finds your cheek, and you look up at him with glassy, teary eyes, heart thumping out of control as he strokes your skin with his thumb.

He smiles sweetly, almost boyishly– a look that would be endearing if he wasn’t a wolf, and you weren’t afraid for your life. His clawed hand travels from your cheek to the top of your hood, and you quickly reach your hands up to clutch the fabric, keeping it fully tugged down in a vain attempt to continue to hide your identity.

The wolf laughs, clearly amused at your reaction. “Come now, little red, show me what sort of ears you’re hiding under there,” he coos and you shake your head, eyes squeezing shut and knuckles turning white as you desperately cling to your hood. 

At this point it probably no longer matters what you are exactly– no matter the answer, it’s clear the wolf before your eyes has plans for you that won’t go unfulfilled. But still, your survival instincts are in overdrive, and you can’t help but try your best to protect yourself, even if the endeavor proves to be worthless.

He tugs at your hood, not yet trying to fully pull it off, but rather playing with you– he could easily pull it off in one quick swipe, his claws could tear the fabric to ribbons, but he chooses to instead have his fun, watch you panic and struggle with the hood in your tiny hands. 

You look at him, unfallen tears blurring your vision; you don’t know what else to do. Grandmother always said if you found yourself cornered by wolves, your only option would be to run and pray for the best, but is that really the best you can do? And while you’re fast, wolves are faster– you’re sure the man would be able to catch up with you easily, especially given that the moon is his ally and he is likely extremely familiar with the deep woods.

Further still, he clearly stated he knows your home; even if you escape, he knows exactly where to go to find you. It fills you with dread, knowing that even if you do make it home, your grandmother would be there too; and you’d never forgive yourself if something bad happened to her because of you.

It’s an impossible choice you are being dealt– surrender to your fate now, or try your best to flee and risk dragging your precious grandmother down with you. But as he finally tugs down your hood, your white, snow-like lopped ears are fully exposed, and the wolf’s fangs shine as he gleefully smiles, you find yourself unconsciously making a choice– you run, as fast as your legs will carry you.

The cape gets caught and snags on stray branches from the myriad trees, tearing as you continue to run, adrenaline coursing through your veins, chest aching from the erratic, forcefully thumping of your heart, breath coming out quick and harsh. 

You barely make it 10 feet ahead through the trees before you’re crashing into something, the sudden impact causing you to let out an involuntary shout as you stumble back and fall ungracefully on your backside. Looking up, tears fall from your eyes when you realize it’s another wolf– shorter than the one who’d cornered you previously, but bulkier, with fur as dark as obsidian and a scent that matches it.

You suspect that he was there the entire time, and you just didn’t notice due to the panicked focus you held on getting away from the blue-silver wolf. “Where do you think you're going, little red?” the new wolf speaks, affirming your fears; he was there for the entire exchange, witness to the moniker you’d been given and now using it for himself.

“Oh Changbin, you caught her,” you hear the previous wolf say from somewhere behind you, leaves and twigs snapping beneath his feet as he approaches your spot on the ground. “Course,” the dark wolf evidently named Changbin speaks, kneeling down to look directly in your teary eyes, “I’d never let such a sweet little thing get away from us.” 

He reaches to the side of your body, where your twine basket has fallen from your arms and spilled its contents, all the berries and leaves you gathered now decorating the dirt. “Hmm, most of these are herbal. What a sweet girl you are, gathering until late into the night! Your grandmother must be proud of you, hmm?” Changbin smiles, looking up to the previous wolf once he stands again, your basket in his hands, “Don’t you think so, Chan-hyung?” 

The blue-silver wolf that the dark wolf calls Chan hums in agreement, once again calling you a “sweet thing.” Chan offers you a hand to help you stand, and you hesitate, swallowing as your eyes dart nervously between them. Their eyes on you make you nervous beyond just the predator-prey relationship you share; they’re both so impossibly ethereal in the light of the moon, and it makes you wonder if all wolves are such divine creatures. 

Maybe that’s why the rest of the forest view them reverently; beautiful, powerful, utterly intimidating in all aspects– they offer no choice from a rabbit such as yourself but submission simply from presence alone. “What’s your name, little red?” is Chan’s next question, and again, you find yourself unable to lie; against your own sense of self-preservation, you tell him your name.

He hums, repeating your name as if testing the way it falls from his tongue before diverting back to his nickname for you. “Let’s make a deal, little red,” the wolf says, still holding out his hand, waiting for you to take it. You finally do so cautiously, letting Chan help you to your feet, your legs still trembling but not yet buckling in the face of fear.

“W-What kind of deal?” you ask hesitantly, looking between the two wolves who smile and lick their lips, tongues ghosting over their fangs as they do. Beautiful, powerful, intimidating, your mind repeats.

“We want to play with you,” Chan says smoothly, the answer coming natural to him, “play with us for a little while, and then we’ll take you home. We promise.” You look at the other, younger wolf who nods, backing the sentiment of his superior.

Here you are, confronted in the deepest reaches of the forest by two wolves, and instead of devouring you they just want to “play”..? What does playing entail with them? You’re not sure how much you truly want to know, but the promise of home dangling in front of you makes you consider their offer despite how foolish it may be.

“You’re not.. tricking me, are you?” you ask, voice small, full of naivety and hope. “Of course not, sweetheart, we would never,” Changbin affirms, even going so far as to pick up the spilled contents of your basket and nestle them carefully back inside– a promise that by the time you’re done “playing”, you’ll be reunited with your sickly grandmother and able to care for her again.

“You just smell so sweet,” Chan says, his clawed fingers once again tracing over your cheek, “and we’ve always wanted to play with a sweet little bunny like you.” You nervously exhale the breath you unconsciously held when his hand traced your skin, searching his eyes for any sort of deceit.

If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely confident in your ability to tell if the wolves are lying to you– they’re masters of manipulation, after all; lying is second nature to them. Still, you want to trust them– trust that after you play with them for a little while, they’ll keep their promise of taking you home with your basket in your arms and everything you need to get through the winter.

“If you really promise, then.. I’ll play with you,” you answer, and the wolves both smile eagerly, with the elder wolf taking you in his arms, swiftly lifting you up off your feet. You squeak in surprise, instinctively clutching tightly to his fur coat, scared of being dropped. 

“Let’s go have some fun then,” Chan grins at you, making sure his hold on you is secure before he starts to move, “but not here. The floor here’s too dirty for you, isn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question in which he expects no answer; instead he starts winding through the trees quickly, a destination clearly in mind.

You vaguely see the other wolf trailing behind before you squeeze your eyes shut, the blur of trees and wind whipping through your hair and past your ears making you dizzy as you’re carried further and further into the forest, likely towards its center. It takes you a few moments to open your eyes once you’ve realized you’re no longer moving at high speeds; Chan, who still has you in his arms, is now walking at a leisurely place through what you assume is his den.

The smell of other wolves is distinct but distant– evidently, the three of you are the only ones home for the night. It makes you breathe a small sigh of relief to know the rest of his pack is absent, attending to their own matters. It makes you feel safer, somehow; as if you’re not literally inside a wolf's den, at the mercy of whatever it is the two before you want with you. 

Eventually you are carried into a bedroom– one that smells more of Chan than the other wolf, which leads you to believe this is his room specifically. Changbin doesn’t seem to mind that the “playing” will take place here, a smile still clear on his face as he shuts the door behind himself, locking the door behind him as Chan sets you on his rather large bed. 

Your ears lie flat against your head, your nerves eating away at you as you fiddle with your hands. You watch them both carefully, taking note of where Changbin sets down your basket before he meets you and Chan at the bed.

The two of them standing over you makes you feel impossibly small, affirms how much better they are than you in every evolutionary aspect; speed, strength, size– they have it all. And you, one measly little rabbit with no significant qualities in comparison to them, who has no choice but to put her life in their hands if she wants to survive. How unfair. 

“Tell me, little red,” Chan starts as he sits next to you on his bed, one large hand enough to cup your entire face and direct your complete attention towards him, “are bunnies as slutty as they say?” Your eyes widen as you gulp in shock, having not expected such a forward, explicit question.

“Yeah, I’m curious,” Changbin follows up, sitting firmly on your other side, caging you in between the both of them, “they don’t say ‘fucking like rabbits’ for no reason, right? So what are you? A slut?” 

“I-I’m not!” you sputter out; it’s true that rabbits have a reputation for promiscuity but you live a rather sheltered life with your grandmother– you hardly even know other rabbits your age, much less male rabbits. That being said, you have been a little.. intense during your heats– but you rode those out with toys, not with the help of men.

And you don’t think there’s any shame in promiscuity, but that’s simply not the life you lead; you live modestly, simply taking care of your grandmother to the best of your ability. You barely even have time to masturbate these days– fucking is entirely out of the realm of possibility, as busy as you are. 

“But you’ve taken cock before?” Changbin asks from behind you rather shamelessly, and Chan looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer with a cocked brow. “W-Well, yes, but–” you start and Chan is smiling again, another happy hum leaving his lips. ..Does your virginity status really matter here..?

Your eyes widen again when the reality of what you’ve agreed to clicks, and Chan chuckles at your delayed reaction. “You’re not very smart, are you, bunny? But that’s okay– you don’t need to be smart to have fun, isn’t that right?”

Changbin is the next to speak, his hot breath coming out against one of your lopped ears, his hands tracing your hips, “Mhm, sweet, dumb bunnies are cute, don’t you think? I bet they have lots of fun,”

It’s vaguely condescending, how they speak of you– sweet and dumb, as if your intelligence pales next to theirs, as if you are an object designed for their pleasure and no other. And somehow, it adds to the tremble in your legs, your breath hitching when Chan squeezes your cheeks between his fingers and thumb, forcing your mouth to open. 

You overtly whine, the wolf’s obscenely long tongue sliding into your mouth, exploring with another eager hum, his fangs catching on your lip with each kiss. As he kisses you, his fingers tug at the knot of your caped hood, leaving the task of discarding it to the other wolf once the knot is undone.

Goosebumps once again rise on your skin, with Changbin kissing and licking your neck after your cape has been tossed aside, deeply inhaling your scent as Chan continues to abuse your lips with his tongue and teeth. “Chan-hyung wasn’t kidding when he said you smell so sweet,” he whispers against your skin as he continues to trail his kisses down towards your shoulder, “it’s intoxicating.”

It’s shameless and almost embarrassing, the way arousal pools in your underwear despite all preconceived notions of how a rabbit should behave in the face of a predatory animal; but the more they kiss and lick, the more fear ebbs away, and becomes replaced by pleasure and yearning.

It’s been so long since you last felt the touch of someone else, having been stricken to solitary heats since becoming your grandmother’s carer. It almost humiliates you to admit how good their touch feels on your burning skin. 

They can quite literally feel your body release its tension, Changbin’s strong arms being the ones to hold you up as you melt into their touch, and the smell of your leaking arousal obviously doesn’t go undetected by either of their noses. Chan pulls away from your lips, a smirk visible on his features when you open your eyes to look at him. “What a dirty girl you are, excited already,” he says, another whine escaping you not only from his words, but from the feeling of Changbin’s teeth grazing your neck.

Chan, who could quite easily rip your dress from your body, instead opts to tug the fabric away much more carefully than you’d have anticipated– perhaps they really mean to return you home after this? Changbin, whose torso was substantially more covered than his elder’s, removes his top, leaving you to feel his bare, muscular chest against your now exposed back.

He wastes no time in latching back to your neck, licking, sucking, teeth grazing the skin, but not biting down– whether to spare you the shame of returning home with the clear mark of a predator, or because he doesn’t have permission from lead of the pack however, is unclear.

Your breasts, which you’ve always considered quite full despite your diminutive frame, easily fit within Chan’s large palms. Their ability to not only make you feel, but look small leaves you dizzy. You should be afraid of how they eclipse your frame with their size, but instead you find it exciting, your brain unraveling everything you’ve been taught about self-preservation in favor of experiencing utmost pleasure from two hulking wolves. 

Shame, it seems, has entirely left you, as slick leaks from you easily, drenching your underwear with each touch from their rough hands. Chan’s fingers play with your sensitive nipples, pulling and tugging until you’re writhing against Changbin’s body, who has his own hands tracing your hips and thighs, pressing lingering kisses to any patch of skin he can reach.

Chan lowers himself to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as his hand continues to play with the other. Meanwhile, Changbin’s hand slinks around, brushing over your stomach before his hand dips between your legs, rubbing your heat over your soaked underwear. 

“Fuck, this messy for us already? You have to feel her, hyung, touch her pussy,” Changbin speaking such filthy words right next to your ear makes you shudder, a whimper leaving from deep in your throat when Chan obliges, his hand quick to replace the younger wolf’s.

Instead of touching you over your clothes however, he opts to completely tear them from your body, in stark contrast to how he treated your dress– you suppose the underwear is less important to remain intact, or maybe he just can’t help it after having gotten this far? 

“Oh, look at that Binnie, you’re right,” Chan grins as his fingers rub along your folds, spreading the slick around to create even more of a mess between your legs, “You’re such a dirty bunny underneath, hmm?”

Your face burns red, another whine escaping as shame finally returns to you, your hands reaching to cover your face. The pair of them coo, finding the display cute, whilst simultaneously making their cocks throb– what a treat, to have found a bunny that is both incredibly sweet and effortlessly sexy all at once. 

Chan pushes Changbin’s hands away from your body, and quickly turns you around. Your back is now against Chan, and he hooks your legs over his knees, spreading you open for the younger wolf to see. “Let’s give Binnie a look at your dripping pussy, don’t you think he deserves it after being so sweet to you?” More slick dribbles its way out of you, soaking the mattress beneath, a treat for Changbin’s eager eyes. 

Peeking between your fingers, you see his dark tail swishing behind him in delight, very clearly excited by the sight he’s met with. “Can I taste her, hyung? I want to so bad,” he asks, licking his lips, his eager, sparkling eyes not leaving you for even a second. “Mm, what do you think, little red? Should we let him have a taste?” Chan asks, and though you can’t see him anymore, you can practically hear the smile in his voice– playful and fun. 

You nod quickly, though Chan doesn’t seem content with that response– he tsks, once again grabbing your face and making you twist your neck to look at him. “You gotta use your words, sweetheart, you understand?” You start to simply nod again, but then quickly follow up with a small “yes”, to which the wolf smiles. He diverts your gaze back to Changbin, forcing you to hold the darker wolf’s gaze. “Good bunny, go ahead and tell him, then. Tell him you want him to eat you.” 

He can feel your face burn beneath his fingers, and though you can’t see it you’re sure there’s a smug smile gracing his perfect face as he waits for you to properly address Changbin. “I-I.. I want you to eat me, please,” you force yourself to mumble out, not missing the way Changbin’s cock throbs in his torn shorts. With one last lick of his lips, he’s diving between your thighs, looking up at you with a grin, “I’ll devour you, sweetheart.” 

You gasp when his tongue licks between your folds, a loud moan unintentionally falling from your lips as he eagerly laps away at you. You can’t help but squirm in Chan’s hold, his legs continuing to hold yours open and preventing them from closing around Changbin’s head.

Changbin moans as he licks and sucks on your clit, as if the act is more pleasurable for him than you; and eventually he alternates between giving his undivided attention to your clit, to sliding his tongue as deep into your hole as it’ll go, letting his nose bump your clit instead. 

Chan’s erection digs into your back, sometimes groaning when your squirming and twitching causes friction; but he’s not content to just sit behind you and watch– he wants to add to the fun. So his hands come up to the soft base of your ears, expecting it to be as erogenous of a zone for you as it is for them– and by your reaction, he can tell it is.

Your head falls back against him, and he can just catch a glimpse of your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, mouth hanging open as more moans and desperate whimpers leave you. “You getting close, sweet bunny? You wanna cum?” Chan asks, grinning when you once again quickly nod your head, a near endless stream of whimpery moans leaving you as your high approaches.

“Answer properly,” he reminds you, though his tone isn’t as strict as before– it’s almost playful, amused; he’s having fun. “W-Wanna cum, please, please let– hah– please let me cum,” you beg between harsh breaths, your entire body feeling like a wire on the verge of snapping.

“You heard her Bin, make her cum,” you hear Chan say as he becomes harsher with your ears, his calloused fingers now rubbing in rough circles. Your entire body jolts and convulses as the wire finally snaps, cry after cry of white pleasure spilling from your lips as you release on Changbin’s waiting tongue. He hums as he licks up all you offer him, not separating himself from his spot between your legs until he’s sure he’s got it all and you’re shuddering from the overstimulation. 

Changbin takes your face in his hands, pulling you just slightly away from Chan as he drags you into a kiss, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth. Your taste is all over his tongue, his mouth stealing away all the breath you’ve just barely managed to breathe into your lungs after the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes are hazy when he pulls away, fogged over by lust and needs for the wolves you are sandwiched between. 

You just barely register Changbin looking past you to Chan, as if asking what to do next; though the exchange is silent, it seems like Changbin knows exactly where to go from here after receiving a certain look– have they done this before, you wonder?

Changbin scoots back just a bit before grabbing your legs, unhooking them from Chan’s knees before he’s pulling you down, closer to him. You gasp, your head falling straight onto Chan’s lap– well, more accurately to one of his thighs, before he’s closing his legs to act as a pillow for you. 

His cock, though still obscured by the fabric of his shorts, is right next to your face and impressive in its size, just as Changbin’s is. The two of them, in almost practiced unison, pull down their shorts, though the task is harder for Chan, who has your head resting on his lap. He still manages well enough, and you’re met with the sight of his hard, leaking cock right in front of your eyes, almost close enough to touch your cheek. 

You look up at Chan, who looks down to meet your gaze with a grin. “Hope you’re ready, bunny,” is all the warning you get before you’re flipped around to your front, another squeak of surprise as you’re manhandled to your knees, bent to where Changbin wants you, with your face still squarely in Chan’s lap.

One of Chan’s hands holds his cock at the base while the other reaches under your chin, lifting your face up to look directly at him. “Show me what you can do while you’re taking cock,” he instructs, your body trembling as you feel Changbin’s cock rub between your folds, slicking himself up. 

You whine when his cock presses against your hole, Changbin’s hands holding your hips up while Chan’s guide you to take his leaking cock into your mouth. You never imagined you’d be in a scenario where you’re taking in the cocks of two wolves at once, but you welcome the challenge.

Changbin enters you first, the stretch the most intense you’ve ever taken– you can’t help but gasp, the sting pricking up every inch of your body. Chan, thankfully, doesn’t force you to take him entirely into your mouth in this state– he lets you instead kiss and lick the tip, recognizing your need to adjust to a size you’re entirely unused to taking. 

They both praise you, though Changbin’s voice is significantly more strained and breathy as he continues his slow push inside your tight heat. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs for support, and he doesn’t scold you for taking pauses in giving him attention, instead just watching as you squeeze your eyes shut and do your best to control your heavy breathing.

“Big stretch, isn’t it bun?” Chan ends up asking, which causes you to nod with teary eyes. “‘s so big,” you exhale, and Changbin whines from behind you– you wonder if he likes hearing how big he is? You can also hear the loud swishing of his tail, almost like a whip with how quick it snaps from side to side; it’s an undeniable truth that Changbin has been very, very excited to play with you the entire night.

Changbin hisses once he’s fully aside, while Chan takes this time to rub your back in a soothing gesture you wouldn’t typically expect from a wolf. You look up at him, eyes full of equal parts gratitude and lust, and he simply smiles, hunching his back down to meet your lips in a kiss. 

“Not fair, I wanna kiss her too–” Changbin protests from behind you and Chan scoffs when he pulls away from your lips. “Your dick is literally inside her Bin, shut the fuck up,” he says and to your surprise, you giggle– Changbin is kind of cute, isn’t he? At least, in a weird, wolfy sort of way.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asks, and you can almost hear the playful sort of pout in his voice. “S-Sorry, didn’t mean to,” you mumble, hoping you didn’t offend him. You take a cautious peek at him from over your shoulder, relieved to find that he’s actually smiling once he stops his dramatic pouting. Cute, you think again, but he doesn’t let you feel that way for long.

He pulls out to the tip and presses back inside in one, swift motion, causing a moan to erupt from you as your nails once again dig into Chan’s skin. “Won’t be laughing by the time I’m done with you, bunny,” Changbin says as he repeats the motion, and it takes everything in you to not utterly collapse onto Chan’s lap. 

He hits your spot every time, and you swear you can feel it all the way in your stomach– but Chan doesn’t let you stay idle in your pleasure for very long. “C’mon, sweet bunny, you know what to do,” he says, his hand under your chin directing you back to his own neglected length.

Unable to control yourself much after Changbin starts picking up his pace, you simply open your mouth and stick out your tongue, allowing Chan to enter your mouth however much he wishes to, completely handing your control to him. Changbin’s thrusts cause you to take more of Chan into your mouth than you’d initially take all at once, and it causes Chan to curse, his cock hitting the back of your throat within seconds of entering your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to well with tears, and then for those tears to cascade down your cheeks, trying your best not to choke and gag as Changbin, voluntarily or otherwise, forces you to take more and more of Chan’s cock down your throat. You can hardly even breathe between the pleasure of Changbin drilling you from behind and Chan’s cock obstructing your primary airway, but it makes you dizzy in the best way possible.

You feel floaty, every cell in your body knowing nothing but intense pleasure. Chan strokes your head, sometimes petting your ears for that extra burst of pleasure that makes you clench tighter and causes Changbin to curse from behind you each and every time. 

Changbin, who is observing the way his cock looks sliding in and out of your tiny hole, gets a flash of inspiration when he looks at your cute, fluffy cottontail. Experimentally, he takes it into his hands, rubbing your tail between his fingers, and you keen, a shiver traveling throughout your entire body.

“Oh, you like that?” he asks, a bit smug as he continues to rub and gently tug at your tail, a loud whine escaping you that is muffled only by the cock lodged in your mouth. Chan can see your eyes rolling back, and decides to double the pleasure, not letting his hands leave your ears for even a second.

Your noises tumble freely now, quick and constant, rising in volume despite how muffled they are. It’s overwhelming being played with like this, but it feels so fucking good you’d never think to complain– you may become addicted to this sensation when it’s all said and done.

You’re so wet and warm, and now squeezing impossibly tight– Changbin isn’t going to last, and you can feel him throbbing and twitching as his pace begins to stutter. “Shit- fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines, letting go of your hip with his other hand to reach under you and find your clit with his fingers. “Cum with me, pretty bunny, c’mon, I know you’re close too,” he says, quickly rubbing your clit between two of his fingers. 

Chan guides your head off of him, letting you suck in the breath you desperately need before he’s lifting you up just enough to meet his lips, capturing your moans with his mouth. You cum again with a succession of loud whimpers, your hands squeezing at Chan’s body desperately. “Oh my god, yes, ‘m cumming, c-cumming–” Changbin gasps, his cum shooting inside you in quick spurts, his bottom lip tucked between his sharp teeth as he groans. 

Chan lets you fall back to his lap, breathless and almost entirely spent, with Changbin breathing heavily behind you. He pulls out when he finally starts to soften, and you glance behind you the best you can to see him pouting at his elder again.

“You did that to make me jealous!” he accuses Chan in reference to kissing you, and the other wolf simply shrugs with a smirk. “I can kiss you too, Binnie,” you mumble, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. 

He whines again, and you realize it’s the first time you’re actually using one of their names. “You should’ve said my name while cumming, bunny,” he grunts as he scoops you up, pulling you back to his chest. “I don’t think she could’ve–” Chan starts to interject, laughing when Changbin glares at him, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss. 

They’re not actually fighting over you, but you find the dynamic fun– maybe that’s why they like to share; and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this desired before. Changbin’s tail is swishing again as he kisses you, and you giggle when you hear it– he’s like a puppy, you think; eager, and easily excitable, with a hint of jealousy that makes him fun to tease.

When he pulls away, he looks at Chan and then back at you, “Can you handle one more, sweetheart? Channie-hyung still needs a turn with you.” 

“I can take it, I’m a good bunny,” you affirm and they both grin, Chan reaching out to you and pulling you away from Changbin’s arms, into his own. “Such a good girl,” he hums as he lays you down on the mattress, taking his place between your legs while Changbin lays down next to you, rubbing his hand over your soft tummy.

Changbin’s cum is leaking steadily out of you, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind the mess it’s making on his mattress– you've made your own mess of his bed too, after all. He instead uses his fingers to gather up what has leaked and spread it over his own length, using it as lubrication for his own push inside of you.

Changbin presses kisses to your heated cheeks, licking away the tears that fall as Chan starts to push his cock inside you. Chan, who has been entirely composed up to this point, finally breaks just a bit– enough for his breath to start coming out harsher as you feel him twitch and throb inside you. 

His tail doesn’t swish as fast and erratically as Changbin’s but it is nonetheless moving happily side to side, a clear indicator that you’re actually affecting him, and he’s not all confidence and smug charisma. “Can I play with you while Channie-hyung fucks you, bunny?” Changbin asks, his hand creeping up to your chest, smiling when you quickly nod at him. 

Chan should scold you for not answering properly, but he’s focusing on his own pleasure now– taking your legs into his hands and holding them open while he fucks in and out of you. Changbin plays with your nipples, his hand taking turns between them while the other is used to keep himself propped up to watch.

“You’re making him feel good, can you tell?” he asks, and you look at Chan, who has sweat trailing down his brow and his plump bottom lip sucked between his teeth, face scrunched in pleasure. It makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you turn back to Changbin, a small pout on your lips.

“I-I wish I–” a deep breathy moan interrupts your dialogue as Chan hits your spot, but you continue, “I wish I could’ve s-seen you too.” You bet he looked absolutely divine, just as Chan does. Changbin groans, your sentiment evidently having an affect on him. 

“God, you’re the fucking sweetest, bunny,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss you some more, his tongue once again shoving it’s way into your mouth. You tangle your fingers in Changbin’s curly hair as he kisses you, and he whines when you unintentionally tug during a particularly harsh thrust from Chan. 

Changbin simply watches your face in awe for a moment when you pull away to breathe and let yourself fall back against the mattress, finding you incredibly cute, beautiful even, even with your hair a mess and drenched in sweat. “B-Binnie, Channie, think ‘m gonna cum again–” you whine, eyes rolling back once more when it causes Chan’s thrusts to become harsher.

“Yeah? Gonna cum again, slutty bunny?” Changbin smiles, egging you on with his voice. You nod quickly, pleas starting to fall from your lips effortlessly, “I-I can, right? Been a good girl, a good bunny? Good bunnies can cum?”

They both smile, endless encouragement leaving them such as “yes pretty, go ahead and cum for us,” and “good bunny, good girl, cum sweetheat.” Changbin pulls you back to his lips as you cum, wanting to kiss you as you cum since he missed the chance earlier, and he eagerly swallows your noises, his fingers finding your clit once more to drag out your orgasm. 

Chan as well starts to become louder, his grunts becoming more successive with each thrust, not losing speed even as his hips start to lose their rhythm. He grabs your face and tears you away from Changbin, kissing you in a display that is either meant to make Changbin jealous again, or is simply for his own pleasure.

Or maybe it serves both purposes at once, because as Changbin whines in protest, you can feel Chan smirk against your lips before he’s losing himself again. His groans are muffled against you as his hips stutter once, twice more before he’s spilling inside you, ropes and ropes of cum filling you to the brim. 

You reach out to Changbin’s hand, squeezing it in a gesture that is meant to stop his jealousy, and he smiles at you, calling you a “sweet little thing” once more, giving you a peck to your forehead. Your eyes close, not opening even as Chan softens and slips out of you, exhaustion having clearly seeped into every molecule of your body.

“Poor thing’s tired,” you vaguely hear Changbin say as he wipes the sweat off your brow. Chan responds, though it’s hard to make out what he says as you unconsciously slip into sleep, unable to prevent it with how heavy your entire body has become, rest quickly claiming you. 

The sound of birds loudly chirping wakes you, and you blink slowly awake, eyes straining as you realize you’re in the sunlight. You sit up quickly, looking down at yourself and then your surroundings; you’re out of the forest proper, in the clearing where your home sits quaintly in the middle. You're dressed back in your prior clothing and with your hood over your ears– barring the underwear you lost. 

You’d think last night was a dream if it wasn’t for the fact that you could feel yourself bare underneath your dress; so they really upheld their promise and brought you back home..? You see your basket, sitting neatly in arm’s reach, a small note resting atop the berries and leaves you gathered yesterday that simply reads, “Last night was fun, wasn’t it, little red? Come play with us again sometime,” with a cutely drawn heart at the end, signed ‘Binnie and Channie.’

[vampcubus]

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!yandere!izuku, dom!fem!reader, kinda mean reader, izuku being delusional & obsessive, spitting, oral (f!receiving), not proofread.

I wanna bully Yandere Izuku just a bit, just to watch him crumple at the slightest crumb of attention. Because let’s face it, Izuku doesn’t care if you’re being nice to him. He wants you to perceive him, to acknowledge him as something tangible — something worth your time. And if you spend that time pulling on his chubby cheeks and hooking your fingers in his mouth to spit into it, who is he to try and stop you?

If he can’t be with you, he can at least be entertaining for you. If you say all he’s good for is to spread his legs and fuck himself on his fingers while you watch, who is he to disagree? All that processes in his fuzzy little head is that he’s good for something.

It’s just fun at first, teasing your pathetic little stalker to see him trip over himself. You didn’t mean for it to go this far, but you can’t deny that the creep has grown on you. After all, who else would get on their knees and worship the ground you walk on while being treated like a pet? Not many, which makes Izuku a special case that you just can’t get enough of.

Your conscience is telling you to get outta there, that playing with someone’s feelings that was so clearly ill for you was a bad idea. You can imagine the fit he’d throw if you proposed such an idea, actually quite vividly because he’s throwing it right now.

“What do you mean we shouldn’t see each other anymore? I thought things were going so well!” He sobs into your thigh, his arms and legs clinging to your leg like a child. Your hands hover just above his head awkwardly, unsure if you should really be comforting him right then. “You can’t break up with me now!”

“Break up? We were never even a thing. There’s nothing to break up. I let you follow me around and we had a bit of fun, but really this is getting out of control. I mean, I’m using you, you know?”

Izuku doesn’t seem to be hearing you though, too caught up in his own delusions. You had expected him to take it poorly, but this was worse than you thought.

“You weren’t concerned about using me before. Why are you abandoning me all of a sudden? I just wanna make you happy!” The man bawls, and you’re ashamed by how the pathetic look on his face excites you.

He was pretty, even when he cried.

“Don’t you see that whatever fantasy world you live in isn’t real? I told you from the beginning that a relationship between us was impossible.”

“But you keep coming back to me. That means I’m useful to you, right? I’ve been so good for you. I’ve stopped following you around as much and I’ve been taking less of your stuff like you asked me to! I’ve done everything you asked without question, you can’t throw me away now!” Izuku’s fingers twist in your shirt, and he uses it as leverage to drag himself up from the floor.

“Izuku,” you sigh, more protestations resting on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch.

“Let me prove to you how much you need me. That no one can make you feel as good as I can, can submit to you like I can.” He sinks to his knees before you, like he’s done countless times before, his shaking hands pulling your skirt up so he can mouth at your cunt through the cotton of your panties.

Your knees buckle at the contact, your hand rushing down to hold the back of his head despite yourself. You can only sigh and let him lap at you, letting him tug your panties down your legs to suckle at your oversensitive pussy properly.

You have to admit that he’s gotten much better at this. You can vividly remember the first time you let him go down on you, teaching him how to eat you out the way you liked it. And you can tell now that he’d memorized every word, every moan of approval and scrap of praise you’ve thrown his way because he knows just where you need his slick tongue to tease.

Izuku still moans excitedly into your pussy after all this time, as if the act itself was pleasurable for him too. Not knowing that he dreamed of it years before you met officially, or how he fucked his fist until his cock was raw at the thought of tasting you. He savors every swipe of his pink tongue over you abundant slick like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to, and with a hitch of his breath, tears spring to his eyes when he realizes that it might be.

If he didn’t do a good job you’d leave him.

[evilminji]

Behold! o/ The Face Of Benevolent Evil!

Mr. Principle! A professional hero and educator!

Also possibly some sort of stoat hybrid! Certainly a chimera of Japanese fauna! With the Quirk High Specs, he is one of, if not THE, smartest beings on the planet of which he resides! With a background perfectly justifying a decent into hatred and villiany, he instead chose to channel his incredible world shaking intellect into the shaping of future generations!

He likes to fuck with people!

For FUNSIES~☆!

What can he say? It keeps a man young and mentally stimulated! Plus the hysterical screaming of his staff and students is HILARIOUS. He can even argue it makes for good reaction training! Unforseen situations, children! React!!! *psychotic chortling*

Mmmmm, yes. We all have our trauma responses. Ways we deal with them. He should probably find other means... but he won't! Tea and tormenting the student body make for good future heroes, you know! They adapt!

But! You may ask! Why am I introducing you to this... *polite yet somehow deeply threatening smile* c-completely sane and normal individual!? Esteemed educator that he is! Ha ha...

A good and not at a under threat question!

Villains? Are fuuuuuckin STUPID!

Doesn't matter how many PHDs you possess! In fact! That makes it WORSE! You moron! You absolute fool! No traveling circus would have you, you sub-rate CLOWN of a jingle jangle dunce jester! You have a god damn PHD! Possibly MULTIPLE PHD!

And you thought "ooooh I should go into cwiiiiime~☆"?

Do you hear yourself when you talk? DO YOU?! Ooooh boohoo. They won't let you study what you WANT to study. It's called an ETHICS BOARD. And YEAH, NO SHIT! Maybe get over it and keep you fucked up fantasies to your SELF.

Or? If you REALLY can't hold it in? Lay the ground work like EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE! You're not special! Everyone wants to play god! It's FUN! They let you have the COOL toys! But you have to EARN that shit! Not jump straight from graduation to "fucked up superscience"!

And? If it's NOT the Ethics Board? But just some bureaucrat on a power trip? You don't have to fucking STAY. This? This RIGHT HERE? Is why I-Island fucking EXSISTS.

APPLY.

They are SO MANY countries you could move too. SO MANY other labs. You actual DUMBASS.

But NO! You decided to commit to a fucked up underground Villian Lab. As though HUNTING THOSE isn't the PERSONAL fucking passion project of THE SMARTEST BEING IN JAPAN. Frankly? You deserve this. You deserve this and our school doesn't know you. Never heard of you. You whoms't?

Coulda changed the world. But instead all you did was piss of The Fuzzy White Demon Lord of UA. Rest in pieces. *click*

*sound of doors smashing open*

*violent Raid Upon Your Labs noises*

But! You may ask? What's IN the Lab?

What MAKES this a DP crossover?

I like your question asking spirit! Good one! And the answer? You know what's better then ONE(1) Nedzu? A second one that you can ACTUALLY control this time! After all! You could consider Mr. Principle a prototype. A proof of concept, if you will. If you were able to make ANOTHER.....

Well, you would set off EVERY. SINGLE. ALARM. Nedzu has set up!

All of them!

Because he don't PLAY THAT.

He has long last trauma from the labs and is the SOLE FUCKING SURVIVOR. There WERE others. They Did Not make it. And their slow agonizing deaths are carved into his brain for the rest of his life. Truely "The living shall envy the dead"; it was a place that made hell seem merciful.

When he declare Never Again?

He fucking MEANT Never Again. He will BURN your empires to ash, with you in them. No More Labs.

So :) You can IMAGINE :) HOW HAPPY HE IS :)

That someone out there is trying to RECREATE his SUPER traumatic childhood, on ANOTHER CHILD. Ha ha! Gonna be a second Nedzu huh? Planning to torture HIM like you did me, HUH? Shove him in a cage and treat him like an animal? Force him to watch as the others die? Collars and whips and cattle prods? Mazes?!

Nedzu may lose his shit.

Juuuuust a little bit.

But if anyone there knows what good for them? They saw NOTHING. What's a little PTSD flashback between friends? Now what is the baby?

Smashcut to said baby!

Because it was a TEAM effort, Danny was successful in "Nuh Uh!"ing out of Rulership. But NOT out of governance. Since he DID help. He's a Councilman now. It's? Not as bad as it could be, honestly. Since it's opened the Zone up to a more democratic system.

Still held by "kick the ass of the person you wanna replace" but still!

Babysteps.

Thing is? There was apparently this weird? Leak? Like a couple hundred years ago, in this one area, that was never addressed. Everyone just moved their doors and stuff. Treated it like the floors flooded. But now that they HAVE someone to complain too?

They all want their territories back.

"Go fix it!" What are we? Janitors?

Danny looses the rock, paper, scissors competition. He's pretty sure Boxy cheated. But like? Dude has a kid to go home too, so Danny doesn't fight him to hard on this. Uuuuuugh. Just remember the Spider-Man motto. Great power~ blah blah blaaaah~

And? Wow is it fucked out there.

The whole PLANET has to be limnal as FUCK. Yikes.

Problem is? When he and his team (Because YES, he HAS learned from his mistakes, Jazz.) get close to the... frankly the Zone here looks like distorted spiderwebbing. With him leading the charge, obviously.

....something happens.

It's... it's not a portal. Wrong color. It's like someone USED the weird spiderwebbing effect to... to reach INTO the Zone? But they are severally Limnal. Clawed hands, blue tint. But that's not the problem.

No, the problem.

The Horror.

The thing that his team can only watch on in agonized terror as it plays out... is that hand? It shoots out of nowhere. Ghostlike in the Zone. Meaning it must be living. And PLUNGES directly into Danny's chest to wrap around his core.

Time seems to slow.

He can't even scream in pain. At the violation. His team, acquaintances, yes, but friendly ones. Can not even cry out in horror, as they watch their friend and team lead be butchered before them. Before that uncaring hand is ripping back. Perfect ice and starlight in its uncaring grip.

For a terrible moment... he is in two places at once.

Then he is crushed in a burning grip. Like molten bars. Watching his own body dissolve into nothing in an instant, pain and horror still etched upon his face. The beginnings of screams ripping from his team as they jerk away from the nightmarish threat.

Then he can not think at all.

He... he TRIES. Knows he has been captured. Is certainly not the sort to give up easily. But... he's so tired. His body feels? Weird. Not wrong, per say. It's HIS. But... small and weird. Like he's shape shifted into a new form and hasn't adjusted yet.

....

.......

...........

He's getting really sick of all the goop against his whiskers and in his ears. It feels WEIRD against his fu- WAIT a second... did those assholes shove him into an animal? Why?! To contain him? Ha! Jokes on them! He's DONE THIS before!

For FUN!

He once spent a whole ass summer as a tiny dragon just 'CAUSE!

Unfortunately, said assholes notice him waking up. Dump him in a glorified hamster cage. But like.... a SHITTY "I don't care about the pet I bought" hamster cage. Dude. And he's naked.

Is that Japanese? Ooooh! It IS! Thank you, Tucker's Weeb phase.

......actually, never mind. Lotta dehumanizing language there, my guys. What is this? The GIW international? You couldn't even give me PANTS? Swear to God, call me an "it" ONE more time and the next time I have to go? I am going to aim through the bars at your-! *alarms going off*

....wasn't me.

I mean, be all means, ha ha and get fucked, but? Wasn't me. Oh hey! Some one exploded the doo-

AND? In Lab 4?

Nedzu finds a child with fluffy, ungroomed black and white fur, and the curious yet cautious eyes of a survivor. They are the most magnificent green, pale and luminous they glow in the laboratories lighting. Paws too big for his small frame, delicate ears on the swivel, equally large. Yet to grow into either. Adolescent, at best.

He watches the child take him in. Note his features and the chaos behind him. The injured scientist under his feet. Come to him conclusion. Nedzu will not rush him. Now that he... he stand the chance to be the hero he himself never had. It is a strange feeling. At once cathartic and unbearably painful.

He is given the equivalent of a cheerful grin, as the lad points the the lock on the cage. Is asked if he happened to bring a spare pair of pants. He can not help his amused chortle as he makes quick work of the lock. The unbearable RELIEF he feels.

He... he was not too late.

These monsters had no chance to crush the boy's light. To make a monster of him, like they did with him. He survived his laboratory, his hell. But not all of him left that terrible place. He knows that. Some innocence, some goodness, died alone in the dark. But here? He insured there would be no chance.

With amusement, he watches the boy turn the lab upside down until he finds spare scrubs. Triumphant, he then considers his own, tiny claws. Dismisses them. Attempts to hop up on a chair to retrieve something sharp. It? Is unbearably cute. To watch him rip and shred, problem solve. His little mind churning away. Whiskers twitching as his eyes dart around, considering his options.

Nedzu offers one of his spare knives.

Watches him light up.

Adorable~

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @lolottes

[springseasonie]

Just a fantasy | LMH (M)

Nerd Mark x popular fem reader

Summary: mark always thought you and your friends hated him. That never stopped him from being attracted to you though. He never thought one of his biggest fantasies would be coming true until you pulled him into a janitor's closet after your class, wanting to give him a treat for looking so good in class that morning.

Warnings: sexual content, switch mark, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), dubcon (I think??), reader is a bit more feminine, proof read but still may be errors, mark is so fine y'all omg...

Word count: 2,7k

Song recs: give me a kiss by lolo zouaï

A/N: going to dream how tomorrow and literally couldn't stop thinking about mark. then I saw him in glasses and I had to write this. Give any feedback you can, it is all greatly appreciated 🤍🤍

Mark could barely see you with how fogged up his glasses were. The position the both of you were in was surely…compromising. You pulled him into a closet, nothing but one light bulb lighting you both up in the cramped space. It had only been 10 in the morning, but he looked so good sitting in class, taking notes and paying attention to your professor.

In a world like this, anything was possible. It's just that Mark never expected for you to like him so much. You were on a pedestal to him, something he could never reach. Your group of friends made fun of people like him, always making passive aggressive comments about the "nerds" or "freaks." Mark never really liked them, or you for that matter.

But he hated himself for being so attracted to you.

He hated himself for staring at you for a little too long. Thinking about you a little too much. Letting his curious eyes get the best of him sometimes. His thoughts got so wild when he was by himself that sometimes he'd touch himself to the thought of you. He hated that he wanted you so bad, no matter how much you gave him strange looks.

He never would've guessed you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Mark stood in front of you, stiff as a tree. You leaned on the wall, a sly smile on your face as you watched his hands tap along his leg. His glasses were fogged up, body heating up from the nervousness he was feeling.

"So um," he started. Mark couldn't even look you in the eye. Somehow you made him think he was in trouble for something he wasn't supposed to do.

"I like you Mark," you stated simply.

His eyes went wide with confusion making you giggle softly. Mark lifted his hands to take his glasses off, but froze when you pushed off the wall, walking up to him slowly. You reached up, taking his glasses off. You wiped the fog, looking up at him with a small smile as you put them back on.

"You're so cute," you confessed.

"I, uh, Y/N," he stuttered. Mark gulped as you eyed him, eyes scanning his body. "We, uh, we shouldn't be in here."

You cocked your head to the side, looking at him innocently. You smiled watching him avoid eye contact with you. Mark knew if he looked at you long enough, he'd get harder than he is right now.

"Do you like me too?" Mark gulped, hands fidgeting on his pants. You liked toying with him. His reactions were so real and raw, nothing like the meatheads you fucked on campus. He was sensitive and soft. Anything you said, any move you made, made him a nervous wreck.

"I really don't think we should be in here," he whispered, avoiding your question.

"You think I don't see you staring at me?"

That question caught him off guard. Mark never knew he was staring. He never even knew he'd been staring at you. Or maybe he did. He always sat in front of you in class so he never really stared at you there. Mark couldn't help but look at you when you were on campus though. You always wore short shorts, short skirts, tight clothes. He couldn't control his thoughts.

"I-I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you said. "I just want to know if you like me too, because if you do…" You paused, a smirk on your face as you stepped closer to him. "I think we should do something about it."

If he wasn't hard before, he sure was now.

"What should we do then," he said, voice coming out softer than he expected.

You didn't take your eyes off of him as you dropped to your knees. Mark watched you in silence, jaw clenching as he watched you undo his belt. He couldn't protest or even say anything, he wanted this so badly, more than even you could know.

"Do you want me?" You unzipped his pants slowly, looking up at him through your lashes.

Mark didn't trust himself speaking, so he just nodded, earning a smile from you.

"Mark, I want you to do something for me."

"W-what is it?"

"Fuck my mouth. Can you do that?"

If Mark was by himself, he'd be playing this scenario in his head over and over again, wishing it were real. If he could go back to 30 minutes ago and tell himself he would be in this position, he would probably laugh. But here he is with you on your knees in front of him.

"You're such a pervert," you said, laughing softly as you rubbed your hand against his erection. "I bet you jerked off thinking about this so many times."

"I-I…"

"You wanna know what my friends think about you?" Your gaze was piercing, almost like you could see right through him. He gulped, eyes moving from your lips to your cleavage to your eyes. "They think you're a nerd, a dork, a freak.."

Mark couldn't even pay attention to what you were saying, not when you were squeezing him through his boxers after every word. His soft moans were like music to your ears. You loved how weak he was.

"But do you wanna know what I think?"

"Yes, yes," he answered softly. His brows furrowed slightly as you began to stroke him slowly, making him bite his lip.

"I like the nerds and the freaks. I think they're cute, and you're definitely high on my list."

"R-really?" Mark was literally being brainwashed right in front of your eyes. If you gave him another squeeze, you were sure he would cum in his pants right there.

"Mhm." You hooked your finger in the waistline of his boxers pulling them down slowly. Mark sighs softly when his erection is freed, tip hitting his stomach. You licked your lips, grasping his length in your hand.

You look up at him, and you swear he looks like he could crumble right there. His mouth is open slightly as he lets out soft whimpers. You barely touched him and he looks like he's already so close. "Will you be able to last long enough Markie?"

Mark blinked fast, being pulled out of his head by your voice. Markie. The way the most innocent nickname anyone has ever given him rolled off of your tongue while on your knees for him almost sent him into a coma. He opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off by the feeling of your tongue licking the tip of his length. His breathing quickened, hands gripping the sides of his pants.

You decided to test the waters, pushing his tip into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut as you stroke him slowly all while sucking him softly. Mark couldn't look at you anymore. He wasn't sure if he was enjoying it too much or too embarrassed, but he knew if he looked at you again, he would cum right in your mouth. Mark closed his eyes, biting his lip as he faced the ceiling.

You opened your eyes and took your hand off his shaft. Slowly, you sink into his length until his tip but the back of your throat. Mark looks back down, desperate eyes staring at you.

"Shit," he whispered. His lids were half closed like he was in a gaze.

You took him out your mouth, a string of spit being the only thing connecting you both. "You can touch me, you know?"

"I..I don't wanna hurt you," he said.

"Markie, I wouldn't mind if you did."

At that moment, his gaze darkened. He relaxed his hands and let go of his pants, putting his right hand behind your head gently. He watched you put his length back in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly.

You continued suck him off, your cheeks hollowed as you moved. Your hands were gripping the hem of your skirt, knuckles white from how tight you were holding it. You sped up your pace, sucking even harder, earning a shaky moan from the boy.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he moaned.

Mark feels like he can see the gates of heaven when his tip touches the back of your throat as you deepthroat him. Something in him snapped seeing you gag, the tears coming to your eyes as you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

Mark's soft grip on your head turns rough in an instant when he grips it, pulling your mouth off of him. You cough, saliva dribbling down your chin. "Get up."

"W-what?"

"Get up," he repeated. The tone in his voice was completely different as if he was possessed.

You've never seen this side of him, so assertive and dominant. You wanted more of it. You stood up, gasping when he pushed you against the wall. His lips crash onto yours, making you moan softly. Mark's hands ravaged your body like a starved man, touching and groping you all over. Mark hiked up your skirt, immediately groping your ass roughly.

"You still want me to fuck your mouth," he muttered against your lips.

You nodded, getting wetter at the thought of him forcing you back down to take him. But he had other plans.

"Why don't we put her to use instead, hm?" Mark smirked seeing your face when he slapped your core firmly. "Face the wall."

You did as he said, leaning your body against the wall. Pressing his body on yours, his lips leave wet kisses along your neck. You moaned softly feeling his length rub against you. Mark gripped your hips, pressing your ass against him in an attempt for more friction.

"Mark please," you begged,"fuck me. I need you to fuck me." You never begged for anything in your life, especially not when it came to sex, but the way he was touching you, the way he whispered in your ears, you couldn't help it.

Mark smacked your ass roughly before moving the small fabric of your thong to the side. He lined himself with your core, rubbing the tip along your clit. Your legs began to shake from the feeling, hand looking for something to grab onto. Mark took your wrist, pinning your hand to the wall.

"Oh my god," you whimpered.

"It feels good doesn't it," he whispered in your ear.

Mark entered you slowly, softly moaning when he bottomed out. He thrusted in you slowly, his other hand rubbing your side. This was like a dream he never wanted to wake from. Fucking you on a wall, you begging for him, is only something he imagined, but never considered happening. The way you clenched around him for dear life was enough to make him pass out right then and there.

Mark thrusted into you slowly, but hard. You had to cover your mouth to not let the loud moans reach the ears of people walking by. You pressed against him more, wanting more of him. "F-faster," you stuttered.

Mark did as you told, earning a loud moan to escape your lips. Mark didn't care though. He didn't care that people would know it was him that was giving you the time of your life. He wanted people to know. "Say my name Y/N."

"M-mark," you whined softly.

"You can do better than that, you know you can." His hand reached around your body, slipping under your legs. He rubbed your clit fast, making your head fall back onto his shoulder, jaw slacked under his touch.

"M-mark, I'm gonna cum," you breathed out.

Mark's glasses were so fogged up, he could barely see what was in front of him. He snatched them off, throwing them onto the counter behind him. You took your hand off your mouth, reaching back for him. Mark leaned down, kissing you deeply as your hand tangled in his hair.

"F-fuck I'm-"

Your sentence was cut off with the wave of pleasure that crashed over your body. You grasped Mark's hair tight as you clenched around him. But Mark didn't give you a chance to calm down, still fucking into you at a steady pace.

"M-mark I can't," you whimpered out.

"You can and you will." His voice was low. He was completely in the zone. You pushed your hips against him despite saying you couldn't do it anymore, completely overtaken by the pleasure. "Are you on the pill?"

You nodded, kissing his jawline softly.

"Good." Mark let go of your hand on the wall and moved his hand from your clit, holding your hips tight as he practically rammed into you at this point. You couldn't let out a single sound, any inchling of pleasure threatened to be too loud. Mark noticed and let out a dark chuckle. He kissed you deeply, allowing you to moan all you wanted to in his mouth.

"Shit I'm gonna cum," you moaned against his lips.

"Cum with me okay?"

With a few more thrust, you came again, your knees almost giving out this time. Mark came inside of you, painting your insides white as soon as he felt you clench around him. He held your weak body up, making sure you didn't fall on the concrete floor.

The both of you stood there, Mark pressed against your body, trying to catch your breaths. Every deep breath made by Mark was shaky, air tickling your ear. You would never admit this to yourself but you liked it. In fact, you loved it. And you would do it again. You never fucked anyone twice, but Mark had to be an exception.

He pulled out of you slowly, watching the white liquid slowly fall down your leg. "Fuck," he muttered to himself. "I-I'm sorry about that. I-I should've asked you first."

And just like that, the shy cute boy Mark was back.

You turned around, finally facing him again after 10 minutes. He still looked as sweet as ever, rosy cheeks, slightly swollen lips, sweat dripping down his forehead. But yet, even with the aftermath of fucking you, he was still so so cute. "There's paper towels over there."

Mark turned around, looking to where you pointed. He quickly picked up the roll ripping off a piece and handed it to you. "Here. I'm sorry."

You took the paper, laughing to yourself softly as you cleaned yourself up. "Stop apologizing. I liked it, you know."

"Liked what?"

"When you came inside me."

Mark was a bit taken by by your super forward answer, face becoming redder as he proceeded it. He looked away from you as he fixed himself up, the embarrassment of the situation starting to fill his brain.

"And I didn't know you were like that," you confessed, throwing the paper in the trash.

"Like what?"

"You're so…rough. I thought you were all cute and shy, but you did a complete 180 on me," you stated.

Mark's eyes widened, face palming himself. "I'm really sorry I got too ahead of myself."

You stepped up to him pulling your skirt back down. You looked up at Mark with doe eyes and a small smile. Mark wondered if you could hear his heart beating, because at this point he wouldn't even be surprised if you could hear his inner thoughts. "I like rough Markie."

Mark didn't want to let it go to his head, but it was too late when a small smile tugged on his lips. You kissed him softly, cupping his face. "But in the meantime, I have to leave."

Mark blinked, furrowing his brows at the sudden announcement. "Already?"

"I'm sorry. I have to go to class in an hour and I need to shower." You bent over to grab your bag, but before you could reach it, Mark handed it to you. You opened your mouth to thank him, but he kissed you. Usually, things like this feel awkward, but this time it didn't. You were actually endeared by it.

"Have a nice day," he said, avoiding eye contact.

You kissed him again before reaching for the door knob. Just as you were about to turn it, you had to say something. "Just so you know, I never really say this to people but…I'll see you next time okay?"

Mark nodded, watching you walk out of the closet, leaving him alone. And just like that, his biggest fantasy came true, and all he wanted was for it to happen again.

[deandoesthingstome]

Medieval Fantasy

Pairing: Witcher!Geralt x Reader

Summary: The offerings at this hotel, I swear.

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving, 69), p in v (cowgirl, missionary), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I suppose, strictly speaking we're not fucking the monster, but he's still a treat, so enjoy!

A/N 2: (Edited) I do owe @augustsprincess a little thank your for an idea; I played it out during the group chat here, but I probably wouldn't have included it at all if not for you, so *smooches*

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

Mike ordered a pizza from room service for the last hour of your reservation with him once he flipped the time switch. You sat cross-legged on the couch with him, munching happily while he narrated the ridiculousness of the rest of the scenes to your scary movie, making you giggle where you’d normally be hiding behind a blanket. You’d remember this night fondly for a long time. Mike’s easy going way had put you completely at ease once he noticed you were a little hung up on Walt.

He unfortunately didn’t know anything about how to get a hold of your missing object of desire.

You set the scene for the story pretty much as it was, but added more spook and gore, opting to split up the experience into two nights. One with live Mike, just barely slipping out the window before the parents came home from their Halloween night costume parties, only to be killed by the tow truck driver who showed up when his car, parked around the corner from the house, wouldn’t start. He was hung on the hook that should have hoisted his beater onto the truck. And one a few weeks later, when the heavy drag of the chains and hook across the attic floor led the heroine to investigate, only to be taken swiftly and with no mercy by her incorporeal boyfriend. Not rough, just urgent, insistent, longing for some other connection that would allow him to leave the vicinity of his undoing. If he could have taken her outside on the sidewalk without prying neighbor eyes, he probably would have.

You put the notice up after you posted. The next would be your last regular monster fucking post. You were taking a hiatus to work on your first novel.

sendmeanangel: and then Walter burst through the window, all wolfed out darkgothnightengale: while they were both fucking you??? sendmeanangel: yeah, and i can only think my subconscious was trying to not kill me when it chose August and Mike for that experience. I can’t imagine having anything else inside me while getting fucked by the Bull MNstrluvr: i would kill for a dream like that darkgothnightengale: well, did he take you away? sendmeanangel: i woke up!!! darkgothnightengale: and still no luck finding him? sendmeanangel: no. i found a guy who seemed like him, but he’s in Minnesota. Or was. It’s like his online presence is either non-existent or ended abruptly at least ten years ago MNstrluvr: another ghost lol! sendmeanangel: very funny. Mike was a lot of fun anyway. I needed that darkgothnightengale: and you’re still going back? sendmeanangel: i’ve never heard of a witcher. He just showed up on the site the other week and i bet he’s softer than he looks. I booked him at the same time i booked Mike, so it’s already scheduled and i could do with one more amazing adventure before i give it all up darkgothnightengale: i still don’t understand why. If you don’t have walter, what’s the harm? sendmeanangel: there’s no harm. Obviously i’m free to do what i want. But i think about him all the time. And i just think maybe it’s time for a break MNstrluvr: when you find him you should see if he’s up for booking a room with you so you can recreate that dream sendmeanangel: oh my goddddd! 

“We certainly hope you haven’t been displeased with your experiences here,” the desk clerk asked gently.

“What? No! Everything’s been wonderful. Why do you ask?” you inquired, at a loss for what may have precipitated the comment.

“We noticed you hadn’t made another future booking yet.”

“Oh, that,” you stammered. ”I just…no, everything’s fine.” You fingered the edges of the card stock bearing the elevator code to get you to L2 and tightened your grip on your bag reflexively. Just a trick you used to bring you back to steady. 

“Well, please. If there’s anything at all we can do for you…” You smiled and cast your eyes down so as not to betray your true feelings, but glanced up quickly to try to judge the meaning behind the next statement made with a hint of weightiness. “Anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you offered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The elevator opened to a small wooden hut, a place for your belongings and coat, a small wash basin filled with still steaming water and fragrant scents set on a wooden stand. You disrobed, dipped a washcloth in the water, and bathed yourself with the enchanting smells, then grabbed a linen towel to dry off before climbing into the outfit you’d selected for the fantasy. You slipped the silver dagger into the holster you’d strapped to your thigh and dropped your heavy skirt down over it before wrapping the cloak around your shoulders.

You had no idea what you were walking out into, only that if things got too hairy, as they absolutely could, he’d be there to save you. There to comfort you. 

You stepped out onto a wooded path leading to a trail along a marshy bog, mostly full moon shining in the sky above you. You were never going to get over the mechanics of this hotel that made it seem like you were in at least five distinctly different places, some of which were outside, while still housed in the same building. But you were solidly on the side of possibility. Monsters were real. Magic was real. This hotel was real.

You carried a small basket of goods, as if headed to a market or maybe home from one. The path ahead of you seemed less than ideal and you began to wonder if you’d made a wrong turn. The churning and bubbling of the bog was lost on you as you looked around for another path that might lead to more solid ground, grateful for the light of the moon since a flashlight app was absolutely not happening, as your phone was left back in the hut.

Suddenly, a loud shriek sounded from the liquid and a large figure began to emerge, long twig-like legs reaching into the space above it as if searching for something. You dropped your basket and ran as soon as it became obvious the thing it was searching for was you. A moment’s respite allowed you to reach under your skirt and grab the dagger before you resumed fleeing away from the monster but suddenly a creepy crawly leg swept around you and it was all you could do to jump out of the way.

You stumbled when you hit the ground, but landed on your back, which meant you could stab up at whatever was coming at you and you did. The blade wasn’t long enough to do full damage, but some gore dripped down your arm as you registered a little casualty point and you pulled back and stabbed again as quick as you could, completely unconcerned with whatever came oozing out. It had to be better than being dead, you thought.

You heard another roar and the distinct slice of a finely crafted blade through the air and the legs that had you trapped were suddenly no longer attached to the larger body that was stalking you. It gave you time to move, scramble out of the way and find a spot to regroup. From behind the boulder you saw him. Leather clad, silver hair flowing, steel blade drawn and hacking through more limbs. As he spun for another attack, you glimpsed his dark eyes and shimmery, pale skin.

It was maybe not the time, but his ass looked great too. 

“Little help,” the strained call came, as he flipped the beast over, tackling what you took to be the lower extremities. A smooth patch on the chest seemed like it was made for stabbing so you climbed onto the rock and jumped, landing right on top of the beast with your tiny blade finding a home in the furry goo. 

One final, ear-splitting shriek and the deed was done. Your compadre stood and held out a hand to help you up and off the steadily shrinking body of the buggy creature you’d just slayed. You felt your feet touch solid ground as you looked up at the mountain of a man who stood before you.

“Alright?” he asked. “I think you got ‘im, but we should head out in case there are more. I don’t think tonight is the right time for this. We’ll come back tomorrow and finish the job.”

“What job?”

“Okay, sure. This wasn’t why you were walking alone late at night in a Krak infested bog? Are you telling me you weren’t hired to clear the area?”

“No?” you answered, unsure what the words coming out of his mouth meant. Was this what a witcher did?

“Were you hired for anything?”

“I’m really not sure what you mean.” You had to find a way to talk to this man coherently. You remembered your basket. “I was just walking back to town from a market. I think I got a little lost.”

“I think you got a lot lost. Can I help you find your way back? I’m Geralt.” His black eyes were  ringed with dark circles, but in the moonlight, those looked like they were fading slowly.

You offered your name and a hand, which he shook, and you felt a line of heat rush straight through your arm, down your chest, and into your core. You gasped as the last of the shadows over his face and eyes dissipated, leaving you staring into amber eyes full of flame. The memory of lights piercing the shadows the other night flooded your brain. What if that wasn’t Walter, as you suspected? But no; the howling.

Geralt helped you locate your discarded basket, into which you stuffed your goo-covered corset and cape, eager to be free from the stench and hoping desperately that dry cleaning would do the trick when you were home. You mounted his horse, Roach, with his assistance and he led you into town. He made a beeline straight for an inn, dropping you off at the entrance with instructions to ask about lodging while he found boarding for his horse for the night.

“Oi! You’re late!” an oversized brute behind the bar exclaimed in your direction as you entered the tavern and you froze, unsure what part of the fantasy this could be. “Have ya lost control of yer legs suddenly? Bring the goods here. Now!”

You looked down at the basket with a realization that was confirmed by another shout.

“Yes. That. The basket. Now!”

You were about to begin the trek across the wooden floor to hand off your basket to the foul looking man, when a pair of comforting hands came to rest on your upper arms, holding you firmly in place.

“I think you have the wrong merchant. This basket of goods is mine,” Geralt’s deep and soothing voice growled. “And we require rooms for the night.”

Rooms? Was this not happening?

“Almost full tonight, Witcher. Only one room left.” You stifled a snort at the cliche of it all.

“We’ll take it. And I’d venture to say you’ll want to provide a meal and round on the house. At least one of your swamp monsters is already dead thanks to this one.” Geralt stepped you into the tavern and over to the bar where a key dangled from the innkeeper's hand.

“She took out a Krak?”

“Practically single-handedly.” There was something like pride in Geralt’s voice, and maybe a little admiration, though you definitely didn't handle that on your own. Still, you grabbed the key with a smirk and turned to find an empty table. Geralt followed once he’d grabbed two tankards of ale, and two plates of stew with bread were set down in front of you after a few moments of awkward silence, during which you took in the clientele. How was the hotel paying all these extras?

“Wolf!” someone called from the entrance and for a moment you thought they’d seen Walter. You looked around, but found nothing other than another sizable man clad in leather and steel making his way to your table.

“Lambert,” Geralt acknowledged him, and introduced you. “What brings you tonight?”

“Just finished up a town over and heard of another job. Looks like you’ve already taken it on. Finished so soon?”

“Hardly started. First kill’s hers anyhow.” Geralt nodded with what appeared to be reverence in your direction.

“Beginner’s luck,” you demurred. “I don’t think a small dagger is going to be of much use with the rest of whatever those were.”

“Looks like I’ll be headed out at first light alone then, to complete the task,” Geralt mumbled, with a comforting look at you before turning attention back to Lambert.  “I’d welcome your assistance with this one.”

A barmaid approached to set another tankard of ale in front of your new red-headed table mate and you didn’t miss the way her hand traced over his shoulder and her eyes met his as she walked back toward the counter to continue serving other customers.

“It’s a good thing you’ve found your bed for the night, since we’ve just taken the last one,” Geralt grumbled with a hint of tease. 

“Unless you need my assistance with anything else?” Lambert’s tone was clear and they both turned their gazes slowly toward you. 

It was a choice. You hadn’t asked for this, but you were being offered an option. Heat filled your cheeks and you cast your eyes down with a sudden shyness. Though two entirely different men, your dream from the other night was somehow presented to you on a platter, and yet…

“I don’t think I’m anything Geralt can’t handle on his own,” you replied, aware this was your call and no one else's.

With the sleeping arrangements out of the way, you spent the next hour or so enjoying stories of training and fighting. If your ears didn’t deceive you, several of their completed jobs seemed to include gratitude delivered by way of sexual favors, sometimes alone, sometimes together. They were cheeky and sly with the language, but the innuendos were there and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it. 

You waived off another round of ale and professed you’d much rather find a tub of warm water to sink into for a bit. Geralt agreed and you both said your goodnights to Lambert.

Settled into the room, you were surprised to find there really was a wooden tub full of tepid water. A large cauldron hung over a roaring fire and you watched as Geralt used a rudimentary crane-like contraption to hoist the pot over the tub and dump its boiling contents into the water below.

“It’ll warm the water for a bit, so you should take advantage now, if you were serious.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s room for both of us,” you mentioned with a little sadness.

“We can take turns, just don’t stay in too long,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. “Do you need any help with your garments?”

With your corset already removed, all that remained was to unlace the heavy woolen skirt and lift the flowing linen gown underneath it over your head. Geralt was a huge help nevertheless and your body shivered as you imagined his fingers tracing every inch of you, not just your waist or the lucky bits of leg that received his touch as he bent to grab the hem of your dress.

He held your hand as you stepped into the tub and sat down, knees bent against your chest. How would he ever manage to fit himself in here? you thought. While you swirled the water around you, you watched as he turned away to unbuckle his leathers and disrobe as well. You were right about his ass. 

You smiled a little to yourself at how comfortable getting naked with him was and then you smiled wider when he turned to face you once again, approaching you in all his glory and settling down onto a stool next to the tub with a washcloth in his hand.

Geralt offered to help you wash off, then dunked his hand into the water when you accepted. He ran the soft rag along your back, down your arms, across your chest. He took a few moments to run the soaked cloth along his body as well when the water began to cool much faster than you’d hoped, leaving no opportunity for him to sit in the tub himself. When he “dropped” the rag while dipping it back in the water for another pass, he didn’t hesitate to reach deeper into the tub, fingers searching the bottom for the cloth but finding your bottom instead. He leaned forward to complete the kiss you had asked for with a lick of your lips and smiled into your gasp when his fingers made their way between your legs.

“You know,” he started after pulling away from your hungry mouth, “I do feel as if I owe you a bit of gratitude myself.”

“Why, whatever do you mean, Geralt?” you gently taunted with a fake bit of naivete.

“You were the hero tonight. You deserve a reward.” He stood from the stool, exposing his hardening length, and helped you to stand.

“And will you be my reward?” you purred, clasping your arms around his neck as he lifted you out of the tub.

“Gladly,” he replied, slipping his hands eagerly down your side body and around your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. He captured your mouth again with a searing kiss as he walked toward the bed and deposited you on your back, legs splayed wide and waiting for him.

“Maybe you could finish what you started.”

He dove to the bed next to you and cupped your cunt with a rather large hand.

“This is just the beginning,” he promised as he bent two fingers and slipped them inside. He watched your face with intent as he pumped his fingers in and out, teasing more and more slick from deep inside you. He kissed you when he added a third finger, swallowing the moan that ripped from your throat. 

You couldn’t control your hips if you wanted to, bucking up into his hand, trying to pull him in deeper, trying to find the grind that would let you explode. His lips on your jawline, his tongue on your neck, kisses on your collarbone before he nuzzled into you and whispered how good you fucking smelled from here already. All these words of praise and touches of desire sent you right over the edge with an urgent need to crawl back up and do it again.

He must have been expecting you to take some time to recover because he was off guard when you pushed at his shoulder and sent him to his back so you could sit up and swing your legs over his. Settled on his thighs with an eye toward his very large erection, you smiled and made clear your intentions.

“I want you, Geralt. All of you.”

“However you’d like,” he grinned back, one arm tucked behind his head and the other reaching to stroke himself. 

“Fuuuuuuuhhhck,” you moaned, watching how he handled himself, sure saliva was probably dripping from the side of your mouth. “Kinda like that.”

You scooted back down his legs and leaned forward, eager to let him feed you the cock he was keeping hard for you. As with every other host, it was going to be impossible to take him all the way, but you were going to give your best effort on the parts you could reach. His hand motion shortened as your mouth took over servicing the head and a few inches of length. You let your tongue swirl around the tip and dripped saliva from your mouth to give both of you something to slide over. 

Your pussy was still yearning for touch and since you didn’t need your own hands for the blowjob, you let one travel down your body and between your legs to trace along your folds. You rubbed two fingers over your sensitive clit, curling to dip them into your warm, wet opening a few times before returning to focus attention at the nub. 

“I can help with that, if you’d like,” Geralt grunted breathlessly, the arm behind his neck reaching now for your body, prodding you to turn. While you continued to lave over Geralt’s prodigious member, you crawled around to find your knees on either side of his head and when you felt his hand smooth over your ass, you didn’t resist the pull.  

You moaned around the cock in your throat while Geralt wrapped his lips around your pussy and licked his way into your slit. Eventually, he let go of his dick and wrapped both hands around your thighs, holding you close against his face and lapping in tandem with the bob of your head.

On more than one occasion you found you could not concentrate effectively on the head you were giving, since the head you were receiving was so mind blowing. You found you had to lift your mouth off his cock and beg for more, scream for him to make you come. When he did, you were able to return to pleasuring him, since he didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry to move you away. Instead, it was as if he were playing a game called ‘how many times can you come on this tongue.’

It became abundantly clear that you were never going to be able to return the favor. Geralt was not interested in coming down your throat, so when you felt like you couldn’t handle one more tender lick, one more urgent suckle, one more flick of the tip of his tongue on your sensitive pearl, you begged off. Pleaded for mercy.

“I’m not done,” he called from the other end of the bed. “I still owe you my gratitude.”

You peeled yourself reluctantly away from his cock and eased yourself around again, to lay alongside him, chest heaving and thighs shaking.

“I can’t fathom how one Krak deserves more than you’ve already given, but I’ll gladly take it, if only you’ll let me rest a moment.” You draped an arm over his chest and drifted your fingers through the dusting of hair you found. 

“Perhaps some water?” he offered, reaching for a cup and the pitcher by the bedside. You shared the cool liquid, quenching one thirst while another still burned hot and needy. 

“How long can you last? Surely I’m not that bad at oral.”

His laugh was so bright, it was as if the room was suddenly aglow.

“You are excellent at that. I just have a lot of practice not letting go until I’m sure my partner has reached the absolute peak. It’s a point of pride.”

He wasn’t arrogant about it, just matter of fact. He was here to serve. 

“What if we simply waited until you were ready again? Surely that wouldn’t take forever.” You trailed your fingers down his chest, through the patch of hair at his abdomen, and onto his still rock hard length. Feeling how firm he was, letting your hand trace the veins, your thumb nudging the helmet of the head, you couldn’t help but be hungry for him again.

You found yourself straddling his thighs once more, eyeing his cock, begging for him to fuck you now.

“Do they have condoms in this time, wherever we are?” If an ancient Greek labyrinth had condoms, surely this medieval inn had them, too. You were still in the hotel after all. He chuckled and nodded toward the nightstand, where you found a plain wooden box that revealed what you were after when opened.

Geralt made to take the packet from you, but you resisted. “Allow me, please.”

You tore open the package and worked the rubber onto the tip, then rolled the sides down and checked the fit. You let him make a final adjustment, but when he leaned up as if to roll you over, you protested.

“I’m good right here,” you purred, grabbing ahold of his sheathed cock and lifting up to position yourself right above him. You set him at your entrance, still dripping from your several orgasms, and lowered yourself good and slow. You were getting used to the size of these men, but that didn’t mean the start didn’t require some care.

Your eyes closed almost involuntarily once you’d taken him to the hilt and you sat motionless for a moment, feeling your core loosen around him. You began a steady pulse, up and down, as you opened your eyes to see him staring up at you with desire. He rested his hands on your hips, neither speeding you up nor slowing you down, just feeling the motion, feeling you. 

After a few more strokes, you grabbed his hands and slid them up your body, pressing the palms of his hands against your breasts and tossing your head back at the sensation. He was more than willing to continue cupping and squeezing without your guidance which allowed you to set your hands on his thighs behind you, providing even more leverage for your rise and fall. Now you sped up. 

“Fuck, Geralt, this feels so good,” you cried out.

“I can make it better,” he countered, slipping his hands around your ribs and pulling you forward, chest to chest as he captured your lips once more. With his hands firmly holding your head in place, he began to buck up into you and when it seemed like it was going to be to much, he let his hands drift down your back and onto your hips again, to hold you place while he set a punishing pace, thrusting ever harder and deeper into your pulsing core until he finally exploded with a roar. It wasn’t your peak, but you weren’t complaining in the least. He’d fucked you through several tiny orgasms, each ebbing and flowing with ease. If there was nothing more, no additional gratitude the rest of the night, you’d be just fine.

But he was having none of it. He lifted you off and laid you to the side, urging you back against the head of the bed and lifting the covers for you to climb under. Once you were comfy, he left the bed to deal with the condom removal, grabbing an apple and knife from his bag on the way back. You sat and conversed while he fed you thin slices of sweet fruit, taking his own bites after every third for you.

Geralt was easy to talk to. Not overly wordy, but happy to chat nonetheless. Although you wanted to ask questions about the hotel, you knew it would be wildly inappropriate so you stuck with the script for the scene. What would it take to clear the rest of the Kraks? How dangerous would it have been had he gone alone? What’s the most danger he’d ever gotten into? The most fun? How often, exactly, had he and Lambert been thanked simultaneously?

That question was designed to reignite the passion in the room. You weren’t disappointed. The mere telling of the experiences got him rock hard again and it was with delight that you let him take the lead the rest of the evening. Once he’d donned another condom after feasting on your pussy one more time, he took you on your back, legs wrapped around his waist so he could grab at them when he needed to open you wider or lift your leg over his shoulder to find that one final deep spot that had you panting his name and coming hard around him. He took one more lingering kiss, then pulled out and tidied up, joining you back under the covers for a final round of pillow talk before turning in for the night.

Somehow, with the knowledge that the physical part of the evening was over, the air in the room changed and the conversation did as well. He wasn’t overly concerned with keeping the topics to the scene, but you found yourself second guessing if you should ask anything at all about Walter. It seemed rude, even though Mike had been completely open about it. This stay wasn’t that one. 

You’d booked an overnight and Geralt hadn’t needed to bend time for you, if that was even something he could do, so you had no direct in with a question about his possible gifts. You could maybe ask why Lambert had called him Wolf, since they were both from the same school. But in the end it was Geralt who brought up Walter, without realizing what he was doing.

“I lucked into this spot. The hotel had just lost one of their best hosts, and the guy was booked solid weeks out. They’re still trying to find another werewolf to take his room, but in the meantime they contacted me and set up this level.”

“How did they find out about you?” you asked, trying to keep your heart rate from spiking at the hint of information about Walter.

“The way they find out about any of us, I suppose. Word of mouth.”

“Do you know what happened to him? The guy before you?” You didn’t think you were holding your breath, but Geralt’s answer told you otherwise.

“Not a clue. I try not to get caught up in the gossip. Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to faint. That’s a real skill since you’re already laying down.”

You tried to take a breath and laugh it off at the same time, asking your next question with a feigned indifference. “There’s gossip in this hotel?”

Geralt’s laugh was infectious. “There’s gossip at every hotel, but this one's something else. I think the vampire is the ring leader. I try to stay away from it. Keep my head down. Take care of my guests. And I shouldn't have even said that. Please forgive me.”

It was obvious he wasn't going to give up much more information, if he even knew anything specific to begin with. You tried to stifle a yawn, but Geralt noticed and stood up to blow out the candles illuminating the room, leaving one small oil lamp burning. When he returned to bed, you curled up into his warmth. You felt a little bad about imagining it was Walt you were snuggled next to, but it didn’t stop you from drifting asleep with a smile on your face.

You opened your messaging app as you were about to step out of the cafe where you’d gone for a latte the next morning after dropping your bag at home.

sendmeanangel: you’ll never guess who showed up to get coffee this morning 

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[susandsnell]

Re anachronistic feminist characters, you are absolutely right and you should say it.

Maybe people who want to read "write women who sew" type stuff should just go do that instead of trying to make every single female character fit into their worldview. Because I don't want every character to be Eloise, I'm fine with variety, but a lot of people seem like they can't stand even one woman challenging gender norms.

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

Thank you so much! Ideally, you'd have feminist characters more representative of the feminist or proto-feminist views of their era where the work is going for historical accuracy to honour the different points of where we were in history and also acknowledge the flaws of the movement at different points in time (1994's Little Women versus the hilariously bad 2019 version comes to mind), and certainly there's an element of repetitiveness in this character type, but this is seldom if ever the criticism I see. The truth of the matter is that in fact many early feminists did denigrate work designated as feminine, but we can acknowledge this as misdirected anger at having one option deemed valid.

Instead, we've somehow arrived at "wanting to be treated with human dignity is internalized misogyny because it really cramps my ability to romanticize the past". As you say, nothing wrong with valuing the labour more frequently done by women, but the fact of the matter is you can do that and show that there were always many people who resisted or did not fit into the tight boxes that society forced them into. Instead of, you know, ridiculing them for wanting to break the boxes while enjoying the fruits of having to fit into fewer boxes than our predecessors precisely because of women who loudmouthed and fought back and didn't fit into certain people's fantasy of being a submissive little princess. The kind of girls you made fun of and ostracized in high school, one might say.

To address a particular point you raise that I think is the most important in this entire ongoing discussion:

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

I keep saying it, but a certain type of liberal feminist are now using "NLOG" the way it was socially acceptable 10-15 years ago to call someone a lesbian/homophobic or transphobic slurs because they didn't wear makeup or want a boyfriend. It is absolutely high school bullying mentality and has gone from an imperfect attempt at addressing internalized misogyny to active misogyny and latent/often overt homophobia and transphobia.

This is what the numbskulls making video essay after video essay about the apparent 'NLOG crisis' fail to grasp. The Heathers and the Plastics are not 'demonized for being feminine', they are accurate representations of how under patriarchy, social capital is gained through strict, obsessive adherence to white, Western beauty standards (which corporations can profit off of endlessly by manufacturing infinite insecurities, so bonus to the rich girls) and excelling at heterosexuality and pleasing others, and this system self-reinforces by the 'winners' bullying those who do not conform as easily. Jo March, queercoded dynamo that she was, took nothing away from the sisters who were happier with more traditional lifestyles because she wanted better for herself and the girls of the future, and represents so many women who fought for just that. You're not actually an intellectual for thinking Daphne Bridgerton has more value than Eloise because she was designated the season's Diamond, a literal in-universe (and true to life) Prize For Being Correctly Female, and unquestioningly accepts being paraded around like an ornament and smiling at being auctioned off to the highest bidder while Eloise fought back, criticized, and wanted an education more than any boy until they forced heterosexuality upon her. You are in fact a vanguard of the very patriarchal system the franchise even presents as backwards, because you don't want anyone raining on your arranged marriage fantasies.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing feminist, about snarking girls who do not like or for whatever reason, cannot or will not perform conventional femininity.

There is a certain sour-grapes defensiveness that comes from beig ostracized and punished for Failing At Your Gender if you weren't good at what was expected of you/resisted it. Femininity is derided, but it is also imposed (the two work in tandem to oppress women); and if you fail at its imposition, it's natural to try and gain protection by participating in the derision. Hell, I theorize that people who proclaimed themselves "not like other girls" in the contemporary age often did so out of resistance at the fact that we're supposed to perform (cisheteronormative) sexiness from the time we hit our teens, and of course the panopticon self-reinforcement that is how Other Girls treat you if you, an adolescent girl, shirk performance of femininity in any way. Certainly, I've also read much about GNC girls (of various identities) and neurodivergent girls equally having turned to this, which makes sense, as they're frequently targets for such bullying.

I do also think - and have personally experienced - it was an often imperfect articulation of queerness in many cases. The societal ideal of women under a patriarchy is cisheteronormativity; our value is derived from our appeal to men, and from the time we start maturing, sexual availability and appeal to men is the highest virtue. Therefore, women whose sexuality is not limited to men - or heaven forbid, doesn't include them at all - 'fail' gender, and accordingly often feel a sense of alienation and ostracism from other girls when they don't get as excited about dating boys. Also, in many cases (anecdotal I admit from people I know, but still significant), people who had a phase of asserting they "weren't like other girls" were in the process of discovering that they weren't girls at all!

And in some cases - again, I've mentioned that I was an Eloise for all the handwringing about how girls of that era wouldn't say that or do that and it would never occur to want more than what they had (...okay, so why are things different now?) - it's a frustration from the outspoken feminists and reformers at not being able to get other girls on board with us, because deviation from expectation will make you the weirdo who gets punished and rejected because ugh, annoying! As one historical costuming youtuber I won't name so charmingly puts it in her godawful video essay, "the women who made a big show of fighting back were freaks." (Way to convince us you care about feminism...)

All this to say the anti-NLOG brigade have utterly worn out my patience, and at best seem ignorant of the battles that have won us the freedoms we have today because it's not fun to consider how your escapist fantasy might be problematic (understandable, you don't always have to reflect on this to be aware), and at worst? They're getting the chance to be the mean girl in high school again/that they never got to be, they're just dressing it up in the bastardized language of feminism.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

It's Flawless, Really Something

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Language, flirting, a pervy parent, non-academic activities in the classroom

2.6k words

Teach Me Tonight Masterlist

“Did you save me that biscuit?”

Roy Kent leaned forward, hands on the plastic table, and smiled at you. His eyes were bright, and his black leather jacket hugged him deliciously; he was perfect, you thought. Stupidly, ridiculously, wonderfully perfect.

“Only if you’ve got exact change,” you managed to joke, holding out your outstretched hand.

Roy looked surprised at your teasing reply. Surprised, but also pleased. After your talk with Leanne, you’d made the terrifying decision that you were going to flirt with Roy Kent. You liked him, you knew that much. He clearly liked you, at least a little. And if he was ever going to ask him out, he, like any other man, needed a little encouragement.

With a content chuckle, the coach reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of quid, definitely more than the cost of one chocolate chip cookie. He pressed the money into your hand, curling your fingers into a fist as his warm grip lingered.

Despite your immediately wavering bravery, you held his gaze, not caring that he could probably see the way you gulped at his touch. “That’s a little too much, Coach,” you hummed.

“Consider the rest a tip,” he answered, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go. “For exemplary service.” He tilted his head at you. “How long’re you here for? Do they let you take a break, or do I need to call the union?”

“Maybe another half hour and then I’m pretty much done.” You smiled, not caring that there were students, and parents, and other teachers flittering around. “Why? You want to buy me a lemonade or something?”

He shrugged and picked up a chocolate chip cookie. “Or something,” he echoed with a wink. “Have fun.”

You watched unabashedly as he walked away, to where his sister and Phoebe were waiting for him. He handed the cookie to a bouncy Phoebe, while his sister waggled her eyebrows at him. Roy gave his sister a shove before glancing back at you, his smile widening when he caught you staring.

As you were wondering whether Leanne would kill you if you left her alone, Mrs. Seling rushed over mischief all over her face.

“Teresa’s dog got sick,” she said in place of a greeting. “We need someone in the dunk tank, just for twenty minutes until it’s Mrs. Halpern’s turn. Can you do it?”

Shit. The damn dunk tank. Every year, teachers brokered deals and offered bribes to avoid having a shift on the stupid thing, treating it like the torture chamber it was. The water was gross and weirdly warm. The air was freezing cold when you were soaked. Students lined up in droves to try to dunk their teacher into the water, and, worse, dads lined up to see the results.

Of course, Lee chose that moment to absolutely betray you and busy herself with selling brownies to a student’s grandmother, leaving you only able to smile weakly at Karen and mumble, “I guess.”

So, there you sat, hating the fact that you’d chosen today to wear a light-colored shirt to go with your jeans, but thankful for the fact that your students had terrible aim. Phoebe O’Sullivan stood among the gaggle of children who were desperate to see you fall into the tub of water that you tried not to think too hard about; her uncle stood not far, eyebrows raised in amusement, trying not to think too hard about how you’d look once you got dunked.

Normally, Roy thought of you as cute, pretty, adorable. An absolute distraction. But the thought of you in a soaked shirt, material clinging to your body… fuck, he needed to get his thoughts under control. After all, he hadn’t asked you out yet, hadn’t kissed you yet. But fucking hell, his mind was racing as he tried not to turn into a teenage boy with fantasies of a beautiful teacher in a wet t-shirt.

“Uncle Roy, you should try!”

Phoebe’s little voice dragged him out of his increasingly adult thoughts. “Hmm?” He stared at the ball in his niece’s outstretched hand, quickly comprehending what she’d just said. “Oh. Sure.”

He stepped up after watching one of Phoebe’s classmates throw a very wild pitch. Your eyes found his, carrying a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. He knew he could hit that stupid red target; he was a retired athlete, after all. A flick of his wrist, and you’d be soaked from head to toe.

But he saw the way Jack Price’s dad was leering at you, the way that fucker always did when his wife wasn’t around. And he felt that tightness in his chest again, the tightness he’d had that day at the zoo when he watched that skeeze put his hand on your shoulder. No way was Roy going to let slime see his personal fantasy.

Besides, you’d probably appreciate Roy not dunking you, right? It’d be rather gentlemanly. And you seemed like the type that wanted a gentleman. And Roy wanted to be what you wanted.

So, he gently tossed the ball, shrugging at you when it hit the backboard instead of the target.

“Thank you,” you mouthed, warming away that tightness in his chest. The relief and gratitude on your face was worth looking like he couldn’t throw a damn ball, as well as the fifty pence the ball had cost.

As he pondered how he could leverage his chivalrous gesture to finally ask you on a date, someone tapped his shoulder.

Jack Price’s dad smiled at him, that stupid, sharkish smile, tossing a ball up and down. “Guess you’re not as good at pitching as kicking, hmm?” he joked, as if they were the kind of people who joked with each other. “Watch and learn.”

Your gasp was sharp as you felt the bench disappear from under you and were instantly underwater. Dammit. You’d almost made it the full twenty minutes dry as a bone. Fucking Mr. Price and his fucking cricket hobby. You came back up rapidly, cheeks burning as the kids cheered on the sight of seeing their beloved teacher soaked.

To add insult to injury, Mrs. Halpern stood beside the dunk tank, ready to take your place. You clambered out of the dunk tank, shivering in the approaching evening air. All you wanted to do now was go home, shower, and put on your warmest pajamas. Never mind letting Roy Kent buy you a lemonade. You were cold, wet, and, admittedly, a little embarrassed by the way your shirt clung to your skin.

But you grabbed your things and put on that fake smile for your students who giggled over your misfortune and tried to make a speedy exit. Unfortunately, Mr. Price slowed down your plans.

“No hard feelings, right?” he hummed, eyes everywhere but your face. “It’s for a good cause, after all.”

Instinctively, you crossed your arms, attempting to hide as much as you could. “Of course,” you murmured, making a pathetic attempt to sidestep him.

He blocked your path, eyeing your figure. “Need help with those wet clothes?” he whispered as his hand landed on your shoulder, the way it had at the zoo.

“Oi.”

As you shrugged off Mr. Price’s hand, Roy Kent approached, peeling off his leather jacket. “You must be fucking cold,” he mumbled. Pointedly ignoring Jack’s dad, he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders. “How about that lemonade?”

“Thanks,” you sighed as Mr. Price scampered away. “But I should probably head home. Need a shower after being in that thing.” As you spoke, you did your best to ignore the feeling of Roy Kent’s jacket hugging you, enveloping you in the scent of whatever wonderful cologne he was wearing, a cologne he’d picked out in the hopes of bumping into you today.

“Sorry the jacket’s not more comfortable,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you can just give it back to me Monday. Keep you warm on your way home.”

You shook your head. “I have a sweatshirt in my classroom. I can just throw that on.” Seeing the slight disappointment in his brown eyes, you swayed forward slightly, batting your eyes at him- something you weren’t sure you’d ever done. “Walk me to my classroom?”

There was that smile. That fucking smile, the one that was bright enough to make you forget Roy Kent’s infamous rage, the perfect smile you wanted to kiss right off his bearded face. He kept on smiling as the two of you slipped away from the fall festival.

He liked seeing you in his jacket. It was just big enough to look cozy wrapped around your shoulders, and he cherished the way you tugged it tightly around yourself. Admittedly, he was a big jealous of the way his jacket got to be wrapped around you. He wondered if it would smell like you when he got it back; probably like the dunk tank water, unfortunately. Maybe he could offer it to you again sometime. Maybe even after a date.

You quickly unlocked your classroom and led Roy in, trying not to flinch when you heard the door close, silencing the already distant sounds of the festival. Neither of you bothered with the lights, instead letting the last of the sun softly illuminate the classroom. Roy followed you to your desk, wondering if you wanted him to leave or stay, and hoping beyond hope that it was the latter.

“Oh, here.” You slipped off his jacket and handed it to him. “Thanks again, Coach. Very chivalrous of you.” Your smile was probably the most confident he’d seen, playful and teasing. It was probably his favorite smile.

“Any fucking time,” he breathed. He was fighting so fucking hard not to stare at you. He knew he wasn’t a married dad like Mr. Price or the others, and he was pretty sure you liked the way he stared at you- but still. He didn’t want to be grouped with them, a creep who ogled you like a piece of meat.

But fuck, you were making it hard. That shirt clung to you like it wanted you even more than Roy did, flaunting the body you usually covered with cute dresses and jean jackets- a body Roy really liked. You pulled your dripping hair up in a clip you found on your desk, exposing a neck that Roy was sure would look great with a few marks on it. And you gazed up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, as if you were going to ask him a question.

He cleared his throat. “You headin’ home after you grab your sweater?”

You nodded absently. “Probably.” You took a tiny step back, hitting the edge of your desk. “You sticking around?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m with, uh, my sister and Pheebs.” Despite his best efforts, his eyes wandered. Fuck. “Sorry,” he muttered, wincing when he realized how obvious it was; he might as well be drooling.

You cocked your head at him. “For what?”

He shook his head, ears burning with shame and, if he was being really honest, desire. “For fucking…. Staring.” He made himself look you in the eye, which was somehow worse. “’m sorry.”

To his surprise, you smiled. “Don’t be. I… I like it when you stare.”

“Do you?” His voice was quiet, as if he thought being any louder would scare you off. “Why?”

You shrugged and hopped up onto your desk. “Because it’s you,” you said simply. Feeling dizzy from the way Roy looked at you, you reached out and touched his hand, grazing his skin with the tip of your finger. “You’re… you’re the kind of guy a girl likes to have staring.”

There it was. Since the first day of school, when he saw you in your little white sneakers and jean jacket, he’d been waiting for a clear sign that you were just as infatuated as he felt. And now, in your dark classroom, with your eyebrows raised and your hand on his and your lip caught between your teeth, Roy finally had his fucking sign.

He took a step forward and settled himself between your knees. Watching you carefully, he put his hands on your waist, digging his fingers into the soaking material of your shirt. You tilted your face towards him, finally giving him permission to do the one thing he’d been desperate to do since the moment you met.

Your lips were soft, even softer than Roy had let himself imagine. He had often wondered what kind of ChapStick he watched you apply on warm afternoons; cherry, he realized. Fucking cherry. For the rest of his life, he knew, whenever he tasted cherry, he’d be thrown back to this moment, kissing the pretty teacher in her classroom, amazed that someone so sweet would kiss someone so fucking miserable.

And kiss him you did. You brought your hands to the back of his head, pressing your chest flush against his. His hands fisted at your shirt, tugging it up a little so his fingertips could brush over your soft skin, still wet from the dunk tank, but quickly heating up as you deepened the kiss. Roy let you take the lead; he waited until your lips parted to open his own mouth, and your tongue was the first one to tentatively flick against his.  

He groaned softly into your mouth and let one hand cup your face, thumb caressing your heated cheek. He could get used to this, Roy thought. Used to your cherry-flavored kisses and hands in his hair and body pressed against his, and used to your sweet smiles and shy giggles and bright eyes. He wondered briefly what other things he could look forward to getting used to.

“We,” you huffed into the kiss. “We should go before-” Your breath hitched as Roy’s mouth wandered to your jaw. “-before someone sees us.”

He sighed against your skin. You were right. Roy knew you were fucking right. This was a school. You were in your classroom. As exciting and tempting as it was to keep going, he needed to respect that. After harshly pressing his lips to yours one more time, he pulled back.

“Let me take you out,” he all but begged. “On a fucking proper date.”

Your smile was brilliant. “That would be lovely, Coach.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, the hand on your waist giving you a gentle squeeze. “I think you can call me Roy now.”

“Right.” You giggled, that adorable bashfulness returning, somehow even more endearing now. “That would be lovely, Roy.”

Fucking hell, his name sounded good coming out of your mouth. It sounded so good he couldn’t help pulling you in for another kiss, a slow, tender one.

“Any chance you’re free tonight?” he breathed.

You nodded. “I just need to go home. Shower away the dunk tank.”

Roy did his best not to let his mind wander to that shower. “Right. Right.” He cleared his throat. “And I’ve got to drop my sister and Phoebe at home. Think I could come around at eight?” He kissed your jaw. “We could go get a drink. I can stare at you some more.”

“Sounds perfect.” With a teasing shove to Roy’s chest, you hopped down from the desk and grabbed your sweatshirt from where it hung over your chair, quickly pulling it over your head.

The two of you ambled out of the classroom wearing matching grins and blushes. It was a good thing your classroom was clear across campus from the festival, because it was painfully obvious that the two of you had just been pawing at each other.

“Be ready at eight,” Roy hummed, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And get ready to be stared at all night.”

“Looking forward to it.” You leaned forward and kissed his lips quickly. “See you in a bit, Coach.”

Roy growled at you, a playful, sexy sound.

Your laugh warmed his chest. “Roy,” you corrected as you squeezed his hand. “See you in a bit Roy.”

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[leafofkudzu]

Happy soon-to-be Spring, everyone! I hope this short month has treated you well, because the first Saturday of March is approaching fast, meaning it's time for another art party hosted by my guild, Verdant Shield [VS]! I ran some numbers and realized we've only had one party in charr lands, so it's time to rectify that imbalance over at the coziest little guild trek target, Anya's Strawberry Patch in Diessa Plateau!

For those who aren’t familiar with art parties, they’re a concept carried over from Final Fantasy XIV - in-game get-togethers for artists/writers/creatives of all types to hang out, chat, and create together! Get your favorite character/look together, head to the location, find someone that catches your eye, and create! Afterwards, everyone posts their creations in a shared tag (ours is #VSArtParty) so others can see, interact, and share! Tl;dr: the ‘goal’ of an art party isn’t to be drawn, but to draw others, and share with the community!

Time and /squadjoin information is under the cut, but will also be posted again via reblogs as the squads go up on the day of the party!

Location Information:

Anya's Strawberry Patch isn't a PoI on a map, but it is a guild trek target, which means the wiki has a reference on how to get over there. To save you a click, it's a little jumping puzzle to get into a pipe behind the Town of Nolan in Diessa Plateau (take Nolan Waypoint), but if you have a mount you can just go directly to the pipe without having to do any fancy footwork. Pass through that and it'll spit you out basically right on top of the party location! I'll be marking the pipe entrance via squad markers like in the below image, so if you can't find it just hop into squad and it should light right up!

Time & Squad Details:

As we always do, we’ll be having two parties - one on EU servers and one on NA ones - with an hour break in between. People tend to arrive early and/or jump between accounts as soon as the break comes up, so don’t be surprised to see tags and announcements going up ahead of schedule!

The first party will be on EU servers and begin at 9pm Central European Time (aka 3pm Eastern Standard Time or 4 hours before in-game reset). I’ll be hosting on my EU alt account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Stormcaller Nell for an invite.

The second party will be on NA servers and begin at 7pm Eastern Standard Time (aka 1am Central European Time or at in-game reset). I’ll be hosting this one on my main account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Lorn Dustpaw for an invite.

Closing Words:

Sorry for the delay in getting this post out, I've been away on a trip and just got back! I also may have spent more time than I should have trying to decide which character(s) I wanted to host with - I'm jealous of you guys who do character polls leading up to things. :P

Anyway, I say this every time but really truly thank you everyone who comes out to these, you guys are what makes these things fun! I look forward to seeing you all on Saturday, take care and see you soon! ♥

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Some Much-Needed Downtime TBH

ok I kinda read these species-swap chapters quickly without commenting 2 nights ago bc I REALLY wanted to catch up to the show, and honestly I didn't have much to say? It was a fun showcase of some different species talents, and introduced multiple fun problems for the characters to solve [takes notes in DM]. But it didn't seem to move either plot or characters forward much. Some notes:

Honestly it's surprising that there's only been 1 count of food poisoning so far, when they're trying SO MANY new things. One must credit Senshi's cooking skills!

This might be the single funniest joke so far:

I've seen multiple posts saying Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be feminine by dwarf standards, and I'm genuinely BAFFLED by that take because it is SO obvious that Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be 1. the Hottest Man You Have Ever Met, and 2. HAIRY. We have seen 0 other elves with facial hair. I dug up that showcase of different elves and 0 of them have facial hair. In the Tolkienien lore from which all modern fantasy, or certainly this sort of fantasy, is derived, exactly 2 elves in the history of the world are said to have had facial hair. Elf!Senshi has a tiny little moustache. Elf!Senshi isn't feminine, he is the HOTTEST, HAIRIEST bear in the metaphorical gay club.

...it's possible that he's more of a himbo than we realize, though.

I don't know what's up with Kensuke and I AM worried that it's being directed by the demon. I want it to be Laios's friend so bad...

It occurs to me that "the winged lion is actually the demon at the root of all of this" is probably the biggest spoiler I've gotten, and I didn't even realize how huge a spoiler it was because I DIDN'T get spoilered for the fact that, so far as the characters know, the lion is supposed to be a helpful god. Don't play with spoilers, kids! Even if you want to read the juicy meta!

This initial fight with the gargoyles is probably my new second-favorite "Laios is really quickly analytical and problem-solving in combat" moment (the living armor fight is still #1). He sees how everyone is failing, prevents more problems as he can, realizes they can't win and puts together what pieces they need to get out. In group social dynamics, he's a mediocre leader at best, but he's a superb combat tactician.

Laios is just living in his own little after-school special, and I love him for that.

That first panel is definitely support for the theory that the 50-60yr life expectancy of "short-lived" races like tallmen, orcs, kobolds and halffeet is shorter than it should be, relative to their ages of maturity, because the long-lived races control and hold most of the resources. It's even possible that their ages of maturity SHOULD be even older, but social conditions force them to become "adults" at a younger developmental age than dwarves, gnomes and especially elves!

Panel 3 is Marcille mentally shoving Chilchuck higher on her list of Lives to Extend by Whatever Magic I Can Learn.

I love how the way they figure out that the mushrooms' effects are easily reversible is literally by thinking through the greater social worldbuilding implications of the effects.

^This is the single most Dad we've ever seen Chilchuck...topped only by that 'carry child like a football' a moment later. Actually, he yeets Marcille a LOT while tall - here, over the jump in the travel montage, with Laios to make a loop for the gargoyle...which I'm dead certain is an indication of how he physically treated his daughters. Those kids got casually, affectionately tossed like salad.

.

AND THAT'S WHAT WE CALL FRIENDSHIP.

...okay maybe I did have several thoughts about those 2 chapters.

.

"[Falin] was much tougher than I was. I hear she and our parents still write to each other" is SUCH a line for painting a picture of Laios and Falin's childhoods, and Laios's feelings on it.

.

you can keep your Kabru Wink(TM)s, I am weak only for the Laios Fond Little Smile(TM).

.

I love how Senshi is still musing on this soul = egg metaphor, and I LOVE how both times now that we've seen Laios genuinely lose his temper, it's because someone was saying "why are you just being excited about eating monsters when Falin is in danger?!", and he's snapping because he is fucking NOT dismissing his sister in favor of eating monsters, he is doing EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER to save her and it just so happens that the only plans with a smidgen of success involve leaning into eating monsters. And by trying to stop him from that, you're stopping him from saving Falin.

.

Laios, how tf do you remember the Wink? I'm 99% sure Kabru never once winked in your interactions; I WAS looking for it. Was he just exuding wink energy? (I mean...yes.)

.

The dramatic irony jokes in this chapter are on POINT. Chilchuck: "There's no way this thing still works" [tram door slams shut on his heels, cars immediately starts moving]. "You won't find a military company in the dungeon" [smash cut to Shuro, Namari and Kabru unhappily leading the Canaries into the dungeon]. Impeccable.

Stopping this one here in preparation for going nuts about implied elf-related worldbuilding in the next chapters!

[twig-tea]

Love Sea Ep 2 Thoughts

Love Sea is, as of ep2, my favourite show airing from Thailand right now.

In addition to being beautiful, and sexy, this show is funny. And I appreciate so much that sex is being treated as a fun thing people who choose to sometimes engage in together rather than as a proxy for/declaration of love (it can be that too, but we get that a lot, and that's not all sex is or can be).

Rak and Mut start off in ep1 by being clearly attracted to each other, maybe even curious about each other, and in some ways having fun getting one over on the other, but they don't really like each other yet. In episode 2, they have sex and then more sex and they are intrigued. They spend more time together over the episode, have a few real conversations, and we get to watch them start to actually like each other in real time. It's fantastic.

I also want to shout out the way this show is highlighting the importance of supporting local business when you travel, and safe sex (one day, I pray, someone will not open a condom with their mouth, unfortunately today was not that day), and being respectful of one another's out statuses (checking in on whether each of them was concerned about being seen with another man before doing any public canoodling was a fantastic touch, especially Rak understanding that there were higher stakes for Mut because this was his hometown). I also love how this show is handling its class dynamics so far, it is very intentional and I'm enjoying watching it play out.

This show has also laid some groundwork for future plot stuff that I am very excited about.

There was a moment in this episode where Rak talks about being an author and how some readers criticize his work for being unrealistic, when he writes fantasy so of course what's happening should be unrealistic. In addition to this moment feeling a little like MAME was staring directly into the camera, it also is interesting in the context of Rak's panic-attack-flashback when he remembers his mother telling him that he should not love anyone to avoid being abandoned like his mother; he then later says love is a figment of our imagination.

Well, guess who's a fantasy BL author? I'm assuming he's going to write this fantasy and will need to be brought around to believing that it can be true. Luckily Masamut is an experienced guide.

We've also got context that Rak's father said he'd stay if he were paid, which means Mut has set himself perfectly as someone Rak can trust to stick around, because/as long as he's being paid by Rak. The trick will be in getting him to believe that he won't be abandoned as soon as he stops paying.

Finally, Mut mentioning his father kicking him out when he was 15 had me very curious--what did they not see eye-to-eye on?

I'm admittedly still unsure what's happening with the GL side couple; the fact that Muk was excited to be kissed by Vi, things aren't quite what they seemed in ep1.

Very much looking forward to watching all of this unfold in this gorgeous show over the next several weeks!

[queer-ragnelle]

hello..👋👋

as someone who wants to get into arthurian legends.. where do you think I should start? is there a precise canon to follow? oh and.. this might be a stupid question but.. how would you describe guinevere's and lancelot's relationship...? i personally really like them because of what I've heard online, but i got shamed for liking it a while ago from people who really hated guinevere and said gawain or galehaut(not sure if i spelled it right) would be better for lancelot..

Hello anon!

I have a Beginner’s Guide to Medieval Arthuriana pinned on my blog. There’s no precise canon to follow, but you’ll get the most bang for your buck reading the works of Chrétien de Troyes and the Vulgate Cycle. Much of what Chrétien developed ended up in the Vulgate, like Lancelot rescuing Guinevere from kidnapping, but there are more elements added from other stories, such as Lancelot’s upbringing in the lake which originated from Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikoven. On the other hand, Yvain’s journey as Knight with the Lion doesn’t make it into the Vulgate, so that’s worth reading on its own.

Regarding the part about people shaming you: block them if you haven’t already and anyone else who does so in future. I’m terribly sorry those people were unwelcoming as you begin to read and learn about Arthurian Legend. Let that not reflect on the community as a whole—there’s many lovely people here that’ll be happy to help you along. I hope you’re able to cultivate a positive online experience to the best of your ability and start enjoying the legends with us! :^D

But back to the fun stuff—I also really like Guinevere/Lancelot! My favorite dynamic is when Arthur is included too, but Guin is my number one pick for Lancey. ;^) It’s hard to describe them in so few words but I think it’s important to establish that they’re friends. This is an oft overlooked aspect that really deserves attention. They care for each other deeply. She helps him out of his madness and he helps her out of danger. This is something Arthur couldn’t do for either of them, much as he wanted to. That’s what makes the pair special, to me.

As for shipping wars about medieval characters….kinda ridiculous! And shaming other people over it is just abhorrent. I’m sorry you had to deal with that! Personally I enjoy Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot and Galehaut/Lancelot. I think it’s obvious I favor Gawain with his wife Ragnelle lol but Gawain/Lancelot is fine too. Gawain can have a little Lancelot. As a treat. I even enjoy “crackship” type pairings, like Bedivere/Lancelot or Kay/Lancelot or maybe a little [unrequited] Agravaine/Lancelot, and if the author or filmmaker chooses to write her in a positive light, Elaine/Lancelot as well. But that’s just it—there’s certainly no such thing as a “better” person(s) to couple with Lancelot. It’s literally fake. It’s fiction. It’s for fun! Doesn’t sound like the people you’ve encountered were having very much fun and put that on you, which was wrong.

Here I’d like to mention I run a discord server called the Arthurian Theater Server. Every weekend I stream TV shows and movies, mostly Arthurian, sometimes random fantasy. But it’s more than visual media—my friends and I share resources, character playlists, art we made, stories we wrote, we’ll liveblog retellings or newly discovered medlit translations, and discuss anything else Arthurian! We have custom made emojis for all the knights and ladies, a variety of original art stickers of the characters provided by several members, and an array of sounds bites ripped from films and TV for the soundboard to be played while streaming. Tumblr can be a little hard to navigate with the unreliable tag system, so this server is dedicated to an organized and moderated exchange of ideas and content. You’re welcome to join us!

Let me know if you have any other questions, it’s never a bother. Take care!

[starlightseraph]

sighhhhh…

i saw a post claiming that being uncomfortable with some of the wild rpf blogs is homophobia (or rather, that we’re only so uncomfortable with the rabid david/michael shipping because they’re both men, and not by georgia/anna stuff because they’re women), and i find that very funny.

firstly, most of us are queer to begin with, and while being queer doesn’t mean you can’t be discriminatory to other queer people, it’s important to mention.

secondly, the reason no one’s weirded out over georgia and anna is because no one is actually shipping them. it is very clearly all a joke. the whole making out thing (which i’ve now seen brought up as evidence that we’re not as uncomfortable with f/f rpf) is literally in response to neil gaiman’s tumblr joke about dottie and sadie, who are fake characters that he uses to deflect from people wanting spoilers. the fandom has imagined them as being played by georgia and anna. they won’t be, because dottie and sadie aren’t actual characters in any fictional work. no one’s saying that georgia and anna, the real people, should make out, we’re making a joke about a fake storyline that only exists in several posts on tumblr.

we’re not grossed out because the the david/michael shipping is m/m. we’re grossed out because these are real people that are being treated like puppets to serve some fantasy. not hypothetical characters created for the purpose of a gag that will never be in any official form of media. not characters in a show who don’t actually exist. actual fucking humans.

rpf stands for real person fiction. fiction. i’m not even sure this qualifies as rpf anymore; no one’s treating it as a fun, made-up story, they’re presenting it as an “investigation” into the real lives of real people. people who are strangers, people who we know almost nothing about.

rpf very often morphs into this, and i really think it’s in a class of its own.

it’s one thing to write silly little stories on ao3 using the names and personalities and likenesses of real people, it’s a completely different thing to dissect every single thing you see about someone and to come to a conclusion that just so happens to perfectly fit your ideal of their lives.

i find even the purely fictional rpf to be a bit strange and uncomfortable, but i don’t have any real moral objections to it. when it bleeds into reality, though, and the wishful thinking of fans presents as a vast, complex conspiracy, that’s straight up creepy. like i won’t even go into why it’s creepy, it should be obvious. celebrities are genuinely afraid of people like this. they’re afraid of the rumours, they’re afraid of stalkers, they feel like they can’t even have innocent fun without it being “proof” that their marriage is just for show. they hate it. i hope all these blogs know that david and michael would all but certainly be very unamused by all of this. they’d probably be a bit terrified, and also embarrassed that anything they did could possibly be interpreted in these ways. no celebrity ever signs up for this, the extent of the obsession some people have is impossible to comprehend until it’s in front of you. even if they’re used to it by now, why, in the name of god, would you pile on?

please, touch grass. smell the roses. leave the parasocial echo chamber. do something to reacquaint yourselves with the real world and how real people function. if you’re really fans, leave them and their loved ones alone.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

janus turning roman into his wallet and using him to pay for things. roman feels continuously full from the coins and money, and feels like he's being fingered or stretched open whenever januss fingers dip inside of him

Wallet

Roceit (Roman x Janus) Warnings: inanimate transformation, wallet transformation, fingering, edging, overstimulation, handjobs, premature orgasms

"I want to go out," Janus proclaims, waltzing into the master bedroom where Roman was folding his clothes on the floor, with a laundry basket set to his side. Roman tilts his head up, smiling at Janus as he lines up the sleeves of a dark red shirt and presses the fabric into a flat fold. "Out?" he asks, playfully. "Out where?" "Out shopping," Janus elaborates, bending down to run his hands over Roman's shoulders. "I could use a new shirt or two." "Use? Or want?" Janus grins, and kisses the side of Roman's head. "Neither. Both. Whatever fits your fantasy more." Roman's cheeks go pink. "What fantasy?" "The fantasy of being used just for your money, rich boy," Janus clarifies, and pulls away from Roman entirely, this time to sit back on their bed. "Don't tell me you don't get off on being treated like you're just cash and cards for me to spend. We've had whole sessions revolving around it, love."

Roman stands up too, smiling shyly but blushing wildly as he moves towards Janus. "Suppose we have. Why should the past warrant future usage of my wallet?" That comment has Janus's eyes twinkling in mischief, and he smiles in such a way that Roman just knows he's walked himself into one of Janus's intricate (and sensual) schemes. "Who said I'd be using your wallet?" Janus asks. "You don't have money," Roman counters, as Janus pulls him closer by his collar, and into a soft kiss. Against Roman's lips, Janus muses "well I never said I wouldn't be using your money, just not your wallet." Roman presses another kiss to Janus's mouth, and then blinks his eyes halfway open, mumbling "that doesn't make much sense." And then Janus is pulling away, and pulling his phone out instead. He holds it close to his chest, between himself and Roman, and quickly opens an app. "Have you heard of inanimate transformation?" he asks, while conveniently logging into an app made specifically for transforming (obviously paid for by Roman's card, of course). Roman looks a little confused. "No. What is it?" "You'll love it," Janus assures him, before sitting up and pushing Roman slightly away, so that he's standing far enough for Janus to point his camera at him. He snaps a photo of Roman's body, enters in his height and weight, and then is taken to a list that he scrolls through with intent. He already knows what he wants; he just needs to find it. "What is it?" Roman repeats, sounding a bit more excited at merely watching Janus become so invested in this... thing. And Janus glances up at him. While doing it without explanation would be fun due to Roman's surprise - and the app's failsafe that would reverse all transformation if any discomfort or displeasure is felt - Janus knows Roman's curiosity is intense, and decides he deserves a basic rundown at the very least.

"Inanimate transformation is exactly what it claims to be," Janus vaguely describes, with a sly wink. "You'll he turned into something inanimate - of my choosing, of course - and will be completely at my mercy. Still able to see, think, feel, but unable to talk or move."

Roman flushes, but purses his lips. "That doesn't sound very sensual," he mumbles, which just has Janus laughing outright at him.

"Needy boy," he scolds, which has Roman pouting and moving back towards Janus, who lets Roman kiss at his face with little complaint. "Trust me, doll, you'll enjoy it; I'll make sure of it. Okay?"

"Okay. I trust you."

"Good, good." Janus pushes Roman away, and clicks on the item he desires Roman to be. Amongst more interactive things like fidget cubes or controllers, and more intimate options like underwear and socks, Janus wanted something that had both a use and would be unassuming if he were to fumble with it or carry it around permanently, especially out in public, which is where he wants to go.

And just as he said, he wouldn't be using Roman's wallet to pay for the things he wanted. His money, yes, but not the wallet itself.

No, instead - as he watches the loading bar progress across the screen - he'd be using Roman as his wallet, and he guarantees that each fold of his pristine leather and pockets are going to feel so much pleasure it'll be overwhelming.

Roman feels warmth overtake him as his body tingles, as though all of it is falling asleep simultaneously, his atoms dispersing and condensing until his literal matter has shifted from flesh to fine leather, from a functioning person to just pockets made to hold valuables. It's dizzying, disorienting, and hard to process as Roman's line of sight falls from Janus on the bed to beneath the mattress, as he lays limp on the ground as just an inanimate object.

He can see all around, as though his eyes aren't bound to a specific place, but trying to speak is futile, and trying to move is pointless. He can just lay there.

Roman watches with anticipation as Janus leans over the edge of the bed curiously, and shivers internally at the way Janus grins when he sees him.

"Look at you," Janus murmurs, as he grabs the reddened leather wallet from off the ground, though he does have to dig it out of Roman's clothes (of which Roman literally shrunk right out of). Roman's new body is thick, perfectly capable of holding as much cash or as many coins as Janus wants to stuff him with, and no doubt durable.

To Roman though, it's a shocking and sudden onslaught of new sensations. Janus grabbing him nearly gives him vertigo from how quickly he's being pulled off the ground and into Janus's hands, and the fact that Janus's palm basically envelops his entire body. When Janus presses the pads of his fingers into his fabric, it feels like his skin is being massaged. And when Janus squeezes, it feels like pleasant pressure.

"I'm assuming this doesn't hurt," Janus says, as he presses his palms tightly together with Roman's new form squished between them. "I adjusted the settings on the app to minimize your pain. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable at all, considering you'll be stuffed into my pocket most of the day. But there's no harm in double checking."

If it did hurt, and Roman was uncomfortable, then he would merely change back. No harm done. 

Janus opens the wallet up, rubbing his thumbs over the inner wallet, before he does what he's most excited about - shoving his fingers into the pockets. 

As soon as Janus's digits slip into the biggest pocket where bills would go, Roman lets out an internal cry. Mentally, he's assaulted with pleasure, so much it's mind breaking. It's as though he's being fucked open by each finger pressing inside of him, and as Janus's fingers pet against his inner seams, Roman feels as though he's going to orgasm immediately.

But he can't.

And that's what's fun about it.

"Still feeling good, I presume?" Janus inquires, though Roman remaining as a perky little wallet gives him his answer already. He really has no idea just how good Roman's feeling though, nor how badly he already needs to come. "Good, good. I believe you're familiar with your cards, right? I'll be needing them, and you're just so good at carrying them normally that I think you'll be even better at carrying them now." 

Janus's words are teasing and playful as he grabs Roman's discarded wallet and begins to pull out the cards and cash from it. He lays them all out, before grabbing the cards one at a time, and slowly sliding them into Roman's slits instead.

Roman is filled with utter humiliation as he's quite literally filled with his own cards, because he knows it's such a mundane thing. An outside observer would have no idea that Roman's actually a person. So many people are going to see him and have no idea that he's trapped in an ever-looping state of ecstasy, and that exhibitionism, that voyeurism, with no real risk but all the payoff turns him on way more than he'd like to admit.

Add to that: the helplessness.

He can't move at all; he can't even squirm a little! He can do nothing to stop the pleasure and he loves it. Roman is left with his own sounds of pleasure echoing within his own mind. Each card inside of him makes him feel more and more full, and Janus is just talking to him like it's nothing.

Surely - at least to some extent - he must know how Roman's feeling, but if he does he doesn't let it show, and just chats him up while casually giving Roman the most intense pleasure he's ever felt.

"I sure am lucky that you make such a good wallet, hm?" Janus asks, as he takes his sweet time pushing every single credit card, gift card, and store-specific member card into Roman's pockets. "I have plenty of space, and you're already holding your cards in place so firmly! And your leather is so nice. Honestly, Roman, I might just have to keep you like this!"

Janus smirks to himself as he pictures how Roman would react if he actually could. With Janus slowly easing each card into Roman, and occasionally pulling one out and deciding he likes it better in a different pocket. Every once in a while he pretends to be distracted by just how nice Roman's inner lining is, and runs his thumbs along the seams and over the interior, while murmuring that Roman makes such a "high-quality wallet."

But alas, he does still want to go out today, and so wraps his teasing up in just a few minutes. Though, those few minutes feel torturously stretched out from Roman's perspective.

He was already feeling so close just from Janus continuously touching him - consistently feeling up his compressed body or stuffing him full of items. He has no idea how he's going to last the rest of the day, let alone the rest of this prep-time!

And that prep-time is filled soon after Janus finishes with the cards, deciding to grab Roman's hefty amount of cash.

"I plan to spend quite a bit today," Janus claims, as he thumbs through the stack of bills, with 50s, 20s, and 10s, flicking by Roman's face at an indecipherable speed. Roman feels a pang of jealousy with how intimately Janus is fiddling with the bills. "I might even need to go to an ATM to get a bit more cash. Not all stores accept cards, you know. Especially in a mall." Janus sticks his tongue out and, under his breath, mutters "stupid outdated storefronts."

He then pushes Roman's cash compartment open, and very carefully pushes the bills into it, filling Roman up more than the latter thought possible. As Janus's fingers and bills press into the pocket, he feels like he's being fucked into more intensely than with the cards, and as Janus playfully dips his fingers in and out of the bulging compartment, Roman's overwhelmed with that pleasure. Coins are dropped into him next, and as they jostle around they feel similarly to that of an intense vibrator, and Roman internally moans at those sensations too.

Roman couldn't ever possibly achieve this amount of pleasure this quickly if he was a person. He's ridiculously sensitive, and he loves that, but he quickly finds something he despises.

He already feels as though he's been brought right to the edge of an orgasm, but despite his needy cries filling his own mind, he's unable to ever achieve relief. And he further cries in despair when Janus heads out of the room, claiming to need a glass of water. He's set down so calmly on the counter, and ignored as Janus fetches a drink before his and Roman's endeavor. And Roman is stuck feeling pleasured.

He tries to convince himself that if Janus just kept touching and toying with him for a few more seconds he might be able to come, but he has the creeping suspicion that that won't be the case, and that he'll be left on the edge for much longer than he wants to be.

Still though, in his desperate state he can't help but want more under the false pretense that it'll give him the relief he craves. But Janus ignores him and gets water, leaving him stuffed full, frictionless, and helpless to watch as Janus takes his time hydrating before they go out.

To some extent, Roman even feels like he might burst! He's full of cash and coins and cards, and the culmination has him fuller than ever. But he was made to be a bulky foldable wallet, and so Janus obviously wanted to make sure he was full! He's about half as thick as his own wallet - which carries the same amount of stuff as Janus is forcing him to carry - but obviously way more sensitive. And he's been folded shut like it's nothing, even though he's barely staying closed.

"There," Janus sighs, after he's chugged a glass of nice, refreshing water. He grabs Roman's body, and runs his thumb over the front of it, where a fancy "R" is embroidered. Janus smiles as he rubs it. "Look at you... nice and full. How do you feel? Full, I imagine?"

Roman can't answer. He tries to - he really tries to - but he's unable. But he's feeling so, so full, and so, so good.

"I do still want to go shopping," Janus then says, as he squeezes Roman absentmindedly. "Though... you know I despise driving. Is walking okay? It'll be a quick trip, I promise. And it's warm out today; you know I enjoy the sun against my scales."

Janus feels a bit silly talking to an object, but he's sure Roman appreciates the acknowledgement. And as he gets ready to go, he slides Roman into his back pocket. He can feel just how full the wallet is as his pocket is tightly stretched to its limits to make room for the bulging pouch. 

Roman feels intense pressure around him as he’s pressed firmly into the pocket, with his body folded closed around itself and all of his holes, pockets, and slits filled to the brim. It’s pleasure in his ass, in his mouth, against his body - pleasure anywhere and everywhere that can realistically be pleasured. And once Janus starts walking, the coins inside of him start bouncing around, clinking against each other in the miniscule space they have, making Roman internally cry.

It’s like a vibrator buzzing inside and around him. He’s so close; he needs to come! He needs to! And he can’t. And Janus leaves the house.

It’s truly not too far of a walk to the mall, as their house was just a block or two away. And luckily the mall was the store Janus was keen on visiting, as he wanted to do a bit of window shopping! He also couldn’t pass on the opportunity to walk around while purposefully neglecting and tormenting his lovely boyfriend.

He’s aware that Roman is probably aching with need already, but the day has hardly begun! And Janus doesn’t intend on ending their play session any sooner than he has to.

Roman, for now, is still desperately holding out hope for an orgasm.

This is the fastest he’s ever gotten close! Every part of his body is being stimulated, even though he hardly has a body anymore! He’s just a wallet to be pried open and used, stuffed full and folded, and crammed into pockets, and it feels so good.

Due to the constraining nature of Janus’s pocket, Roman can’t see anything, and so can’t gauge how close they are to the mall. And it’s not like Janus is going to talk to a wallet, especially while out in public when people can see him! He’d look crazy! So Roman’s left anxiously awaiting his next opportunity to be useful. And surely, surely, when he’s useful, he’ll be granted the privilege of coming! 

Roman can just barely tell when Janus actually arrives at the mall, and the only reason he’s able to figure it out is due to the chatter of other patrons that Janus passes. Luckily, that noise dies down when Janus steps into one of the shops.

It’s one he frequently visits for general skin care, and as Roman hears the muffled sounds of Janus picking up items and setting them down, he swells with anticipation. Thrill runs through his inanimate body as he waits in utter agony to be used.

Janus takes his sweet time looking around the store. He picks up products, sets them down, and picks them up again, solely to torture Roman. He knows what he needs, of course - he’s pretty fond of his typical brands and isn’t interested in experimenting - but he has time to dawdle.

And by the time Janus finally reaches the check out line, Roman feels like he’s about to burst. He cries out as he’s grabbed, begging Janus mentally in a desperate mantra of ‘please! Please! Yes, Janus! Please, I need it!’ even though his pleas go unheard.

As Janus’s fingers grip his form, he wishes he could rub against them, though he’s instead forced to hear as each product is set against the counter. The beeping is torture as it slowly rings out rhythmically, but it further builds Roman’s delusions. He’s confident that as soon as Janus sticks his fingers inside of him, he’ll be met with sweet pleasure and instant relief, and then he’ll get to experience the build up to an orgasm all over again! Will he get to come every time they go to a new store? He’d be in pleasure heaven! Yes! Yes!

Janus is informed of the total once everything is rung up, and begins pulling out the money. He purposefully fumbles with the wallet and the dollars, though to the cashier it just looks like he’s debating between cash and card.

Since there’s nobody in line behind him, he even takes a minute to subtly rub his fingers against Roman’s seams, before eventually deciding on grabbing bills and paying with cash.

His fingers are inside of Roman for as long as they possibly can be without it seeming weird, but after just a few seconds of Janus’s digits thrusting in and out of him Roman is coming to the daunting realization that he feels permanently stuck on the edge. He’s not getting any closer to release than he was when Janus was touching him previously.

He sees a sadistic glint in Janus’s eyes as he pulls cash from Roman’s cash compartment, as though he knows what sort of torture he’s inflicting, and in response Roman cries out in pure, unfiltered need.

‘No… no, no! Janus, baby, please, it feels too good! I need more! I need to come! I’ll do anything!’

He’d be embarrassed if he had an actual voice to plead, but he doesn’t. And so Janus can’t even hear his shamelessly slutty bargaining, nor can Janus fully process just how edged Roman is.

So Roman’s left to watch as Janus pays for his things, and then pushes the receipt and spare change into Roman’s folds before closing the wallet once more, and stuffing it back into his pocket, depriving Roman once more and making him sob in pleasurable despair. 

After his items get bagged, Janus walks off to the bathroom. He checks each stall to make sure they’re empty, and then sets his bag down beneath the sink, pulling his wallet out. He holds it up to the mirror in order to let Roman watch while Janus runs his thumb over the outer leather, specifically caressing the embroidered “R” on the front.

“You’ve realized you can’t come by now, I’m sure,” Janus muses, pressing the pad of his finger into Roman’s body. “Do you find that torturous? Are you desperate yet?”

Roman can’t answer, but he sure as hell tries. Yes, he’s desperate! Yes, he needs to come! But Janus can’t hear his plight, and ignores his edging anyway, as he opens Roman up and slides a few of his cards back and forth, before closing him again, resisting the urge to give Roman more intense pleasure just to tease him.

“There’s a great coffee shop on the other side of the mall,” he comments, as though he’s having a casual conversation with his boyfriend, and not talking to a dumb, inanimate wallet. “There’s a closing store on the west side, too. I saw a coat there last time I was here that I’d love to have. I’m sure you won’t mind buying it for me.” Janus’s finger stalls, depriving Roman of any touch despite the pressure that comes with being firmly held. “You know… a mani-pedi also sounds nice. I haven’t had my nails done in a while. Sure, as a wallet you’d be crushed beneath me for most of the procedure, but you’re just a wallet, so what do I care?”

The idea of being ignored for an hour or two as Janus gets his nails filed to perfection is a fantasy that makes Roman cry, because he knows being sat on will negate the brief pleasure he gets in passing. The coins inside of him won’t bounce if Janus is still, and his inner pockets won’t be fingered open if Janus has no need to pay during the manicure.

He tries to plead with Janus, but Janus can’t hear him, and wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

What does it matter what Roman wants? He’s just an object. He’s just something to be carried around and used to Janus’s liking. 

And usually, Janus is absolutely an in and out shopper. He’ll go the path that gets him in and out the fastest! But with the way he’s talking, Roman’s afraid that Janus will spend his entire day in the mall! It’s cruel and mean, and undeniably hot, even if Roman doesn’t want it at all.

Roman would squirm if he could. He desperately wants to grind and touch himself and finish, but he can’t. And as he’s tucked back into Janus’s pocket, he lets out a cry of pleasured displeasure, knowing he’ll be stuck on the edge yet again.

Luckily for Roman, Janus really doesn’t want to spend more time in the mall than necessary. He got his skincare products, and he wasn’t lying about wanting a new coat, but his mani-pedi can fortunately be reserved for another day. He does begin walking off towards that store though, once again filling Roman’s mind and body with the overwhelmingly delightful sensation of coins jingling around inside of him. 

To Roman, time is measured in significant moments, and any time spent not giving him attention is stretched out until his neglect feels like it’s going on for hours, with nothing but the full feeling inside of him keeping him sexually satiated (as satiated he can be without relief, of course).

However, he quickly becomes excited again when he hears familiar beeping once more, as the coat Janus wanted to get is scanned, and the security tag unclipped. Roman would be writhing desperately if he could move, knowing that at any moment he’ll be pulled out and used again. He’s so excited, and it makes him feel humiliated, because he knows the pleasure he’ll receive won’t give him relief. And yet he still wants the pleasure anyway.

Janus pulls Roman out of his pocket and sets it on the counter, waiting to pay as his coat is neatly folded and placed into a plastic bag. As the cashier bags it, however, they turn towards Roman and gasp “that wallet is so cute; where’d you get it?”

Although surprised, Janus fights back a cheesy smile at the compliment. “Oh, this?” He slides the wallet forward, letting the cashier innocently admire it. “My boyfriend actually got this for me. Truly, I kind of love it, but I have no idea where he bought it from! I believe he said it was one of a kind… so he must have gotten it custom-made.” Janus leans over the counter as the cashier brushes their thumb along the embroidery. “That’s his initial stitched into it. Cute, right?”

“Your boyfriend got you a wallet with his initial on it?” It’s more a probing question as opposed to any sort of judgement, but Janus merely snickers at the comment.

“He likes to be appreciated,” Janus explains, his amusement clear in his voice. “I don’t mind. It’s a sturdy wallet, and that’s all I ask for. Besides, I’ll always think of him when I look at it, and that’s always a bonus.”

The cashier sighs romantically. “Aww. That’s sweet.”

They pass the wallet back to Janus, who pulls one of Roman’s cards from a slit and pushes it into the card reader, though Roman is still bursting with other visas and capital ones just begging to be used. Another day, perhaps. Still, one card being taken from him leaves him whining and begging for it to fill him once more. Being empty in the slightest is torturous, as though he’s being denied his purpose! And he cries out in delight when Janus slowly pushes it back in, before whimpering as he's shoved back into Janus's pocket. 

 Janus is handed his bag after, and waved bye by the cashier as he walks out, which has Janus frowning a bit as he leaves the store. He only has three bags - two filled with body products and one with the coat - but it's three bags too many! If Roman were human, then he'd carry the bags for him, but unfortunately Janus was left to drag the (relatively light) bags home himself. 

That's right; he was on his way out of the mall. Not that Roman could tell. 

Roman moans as his form is pressed and shifted within Janus's pocket, bills folding and rubbing against his inner walls. He doesn't even process that Janus seems to be walking a bit longer than normal, though he does mentally perk up as he hears a door open. Was Janus going back to the bathroom or something? Malls don't typically have doors. And then Janus's bags are hitting the ground, and Roman seems to realize they're home. Janus sighs in relief as he flops onto his bed, kicking his shoes off while pulling Roman from his back pocket and getting himself comfortable as he flips the wallet open. 

"Hello, love," Janus murmurs, grinning slyly. "Did you enjoy our little trip to the mall? I know I did." 

'Please!' Roman cries out, pleading with Janus to touch him now that they're in the comfort of their own home. 'Please, I need it! Janus, please!'

"Let me get those bills out of you, yeah? They belong in your actual wallet, after all." 

'No, no, no!' 

Roman cries as Janus makes good on his word and slowly pulls the cash out of Roman's cash compartment, setting it on the nightstand with the intention of packing it into Roman's wallet later. The coins come next, with Roman being shaken until he's moaning in disorientation as the pennies and dimes fall out of him, leaving him feeling emptier and emptier, with the cards being slid out last. Janus takes his time rubbing his thumb along Roman's inner slits as he carefully pushes each card out, and sets them aside as well. One by one Roman's left desperate as all of the items that gave him purpose and pleasure. And then he's empty. And it leaves him needy and sobbing. 

"There we go!" Janus says, as though Roman isn't begging to be filled and touched, even though his pleas never reach Janus's ears. "All empty. Now I don't have to worry about ruining your cash." 

His words are almost missed by Roman's noisy being, but Roman isn't able to miss Janus undoing his pants and shoving them down just enough to get his cocks out. Janus gives them a few strokes with his free hand just to get himself worked up, and then brings Roman closer, cupping his body with his palm and pushing one of his cocks against Roman's inside slits and pockets, where his cards once were. 

Janus then closes the wallet just enough to get a grip, and begins to slowly pump it up and down his length, groaning in the process. 

"Fuck, Roman, even as a wallet you're still a great sex toy," he praises, as Roman's form is pushed up to the tip of his cock, and then dragged back down, rubbing against his shaft as it slowly gets slick with the pre beginning to roll down from Janus's slit. 

And Roman can't help but moan as his insides are stimulated by Janus's rubbing. He can taste Janus's cock and the salty pre that's lubing up his length in its entirety; he can taste Janus, and he can feel him so intensely too. And as he's squeezed around Janus's cock, he only feels better. He's worked up and up, rubbed so intensely that he almost forgets how empty he feels, until he quickly reaches his peak. And he's held at it. Held, and forced to wait. 

Janus moans himself as he strokes himself with both hands - one for each cock, although one of his hands is also gripping Roman - and works himself towards an orgasm. Though, he's not too quick to come, and slows down once or twice while he feels himself getting close. 

"Keep feeling this good and I might just not even turn you back," Janus mutters, as he pushes his face into his shoulder. One of his eyes stays peeked open in order to stare at Roman's inanimate form swallowing his cock the way a wallet would swallow up cards. "You can just stay my perky little wallet forever. What else are you good for other than holding my money?" 

Roman cries out desperately at Janus's words as Janus compresses his body tighter around his cock, and tries to squirm as he watches Janus's cheeks go pink and his breath hitch. 

Janus's hands speed up around his cock as his body feels hot. He really does think Roman makes a magnificent wallet, but he can't help but picture Roman's face in place of the leather object, being rubbed against Janus's cock and tortured due to his own pleasure being neglected. And that pathetic desperation that Janus knows Roman is experiencing is what finally pushes him over the edge, leaving him groaning quietly as he comes, coating Roman's body in semen until he's drenched and ruined by it. And then he's dropped onto the bed, left tasting Janus's mess with every crevice and fold present on his inanimate figure. 

Janus shifts his position, and Roman cries needily as he thinks Janus is getting up, only to feel that dizzying warmth and tingling spread over his body again, until he's grown into a human once more. He's nude, though he is coated with Janus's come from the face down, with semen streaking across his pretty flushed face, with the excess dripping down his neck and pecs. 

His eyes are brimming with tears as he immediately and shakily begs "please! Please, Janus, touch me, please!" 

His arms tremble as he leans forward onto them, and Janus lets out a soft, genuine laugh as he guides Roman to lay back by setting a soft hand on his breast to push him backwards. But Janus's palm grinds over Roman's sensitive nipple, and Roman's body - which just spent the past hour or so being delectably abused - is incredibly sensitive, and so this bare minimum amount of pleasure has Roman spiraling over the edge and coming quickly and untouched, his cock twitching as come spurts out of him in intense streaks, dirtying the comforter and Janus's pants in the process, as Roman falls back against the bed and cries out in pleasure. 

Even Janus is startled by the sudden orgasm! But he didn't torture Roman all day just for their pleasure to end this soon!

"Oh, my poor, poor dear," Janus begins, in mock sympathy, as he leans over Roman. Roman looks up at him with tears running down his face. He's shaking, and his breath is quivering just as much. "Is that all you have in you? I thought you'd want a proper orgasm!" 

"I do," Roman weakly insists, his voice desperate. "I do, please! Please, please, please!" 

Janus's eyes shine in amusement. "Really? You think you can handle it?" 

"Yes, yes, yes!" 

"Alright, love. Anything for you. Especially after you've been such a good wallet for me today. You were so good for me, Roman, holding my cash and my cards so well!" Janus wraps his hand around Roman's limp cock, and feels it slowly firm up in his hand as he strokes it. Roman moans in sensitivity, his body overwhelmed and oversensitive, but still willing to take whatever else Janus is willing to give him. "You're the best wallet I've ever owned! Did you like it, Roman? Being completely at my mercy? Being filled up and folded and kept safely in my pocket?" 

"Yes, yes," Roman gasps, hardly able to catch his breath. 

"Did you like being admired?" Janus squeezes the base of Roman's cock, and watches as Roman's back arches off the bed. "It seems that I wasn't the only one who found your form cute." 

"Yes!" Roman moans, bucking his hips needily into Janus's curled fingers. 

Janus smiles, and leans down to kiss Roman's jaw, purposefully avoiding any of the areas stickied with his come. "Good boy. Good wallet. Did you like being edged? Feeling pleasure, but being unable to come? I know I liked imagining your desperation. And it was all worth it, wasn't it? Because I'm being so generous and letting my pretty little wallet come now, aren't I?" 

"Janus!" Roman cries, more tears streaking down his bright red cheeks, as his hand grabs onto Janus's free hand, gripping it as though he needs something to keep him grounded. "Please! Oh, please, please, please!" 

"Come, dear," Janus urges him. "Nothing's stopping you." 

And Roman does. Quickly, suddenly, and forcefully, coming again despite only being touched for just a few moments. A strained noise comes from his mouth, guttural and full of pleasure, and once his orgasm has been milked out of him, he's going limp against the bed, with stuttering, breathy cries being the only thing coming out of him from that point on. 

Janus gives him a few minutes to breathe, before lovingly squeezing Roman's hand. 

"Do you want a bath, my Roman?" he quietly asks, and watches as Roman makes a noise of affirmation, but doesn't make an attempt to move at all. Janus can only picture his exhaustion after being edged for a prolonged amount of time. Longer than Janus has edged him in the past, anyway. Janus rubs over Roman's knuckles and up his forearm, and stays giving him gentle love until Roman's able to be guided into sitting up. He gives Roman encouraging praise for doing that, and even helps him stand after. 

A bath will be nice for both of them, especially in their big jacuzzi tub. And Roman can't help but admit it feels nice for him to hold Janus for a change as they cuddle in the warm water, both of them taking the time to relax beneath the bubbles and recoup their energy after a very eventful day. 

Though it's only a matter of time before Janus wants to revisit the app, and Roman will be more than happy to indulge him once he does.