i am a furry (and a massive simp) whos intrests vary between several fandoms.
>>Currently Hyperfixtating on: Beastars, My hero academia, MCYT/ Hermitcraft, Trolls, DHMIS, gravity falls, undertale/deltarune/all the aus that come with the ut fandom, Mystic Messenger, so much anime, COD, Trigun<<
pfp made by my online bestie: @tacticalanklebiter3000
shoot me a message or an ask anytime you want!
ASK GAME: send me a few photos of your dog and ill try to guess the breed/ breeds they might be.
(please include a photo of your dog standing next to a common item so i can size compare, and good lighting so i can see coat colour well)
COMMISSION ME!: ill draw a little doodle of your dog or fursona for 5$ (must have cashapp) (maybe ill eventually open real commissions)
Update: I plan to open real commissions sometime soon!
(Just need to put a portfolio together)
:D thanks for reading! enjoy my chaotic unorganized blog
(i just repost a bunch of shit all day with the occasional vent post)
⟢ boyfriend!hawks who definitely walks with his arm resting on your waist his hand in your back pocket
⟢ boyfriend!hawks doesn’t own a car cause he flys everywhere but loves carrying you so it’s fine. you don’t mind either cause you trust him with your life but you also like teasing him and play with his feathers
⟢ boyfriend!hawks likes when you sit on his lap. if you don’t sit on his lap he has you close to him, arms reach at all times. he always has to be touching you, doesn’t matter where or who’s around. could be his hand resting on your thigh, knees grazing each other’s, arm around you, hands on your waist literally anything; as long as he’s touching you.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is a softy at home. he loves coming home and laying his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair. he even drifts to sleep sometimes.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is a thigh/ass man for sure. he loves using your thighs as a pillow and will even bite them. he is always touching your ass and smacking it every chance he gets.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks will grab your hands and dance with you around the house.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks will wrap his wings around you if you’re really cold. especially outside, he’ll use them to block the wind/rain from you.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks lets you preen his feathers for him if he’s too tired. is he worked up after and need to fuck you? totally.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks likes taking you out at night and flying to the tops of building and just talking with you. doesn’t matter what the talk is about or what building, just as long as you’re with him.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks feather play.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is an EATER idgaf. he will always want to eat you out but he loves it when you fully commit and sit on his face. he loves holding you down and eating until your crying.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks i feel will use his feathers to keep yours hands up and/or keeping your legs open.
⟢ boyfriend!hawks is a sensual pleaser. he loves going slow and is real rhythmic. he knows how to use his hips and likes “making love” rather than a dirty fuck (he’s always down for a quick and rough fuck though)
Someone like my comments and reminded me of something
And it's the facts of, if you think that it's okay to think someone is a pedophile/predator and send hate and death treats based on ONE(1) drawing of fictional characters. There's something really wrong with you and you can suck my fucking ass.
in order to preserve my internet privacy i’ll have to start feeding everyone misinformation about myself. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t breathe. i don’t blink. i don’t have “blood”
unfortunately, classifying all points as definitively false also presents your audience with data. you gotta present a mix of unverifiable information in a broad range of veracity. I don't have blood. I DO have teeth. How many teeth? 53. I subsist primarily on synthesized potassium compounds and sleep in my closet three nights a year
Headcanons about us overstimulating the boys until they go dumb pls? 🥺👉👈
Oh ho! I like how you think, read more for NSFW, the reader is gender neutral and I kept their anatomy vague. There's talk of a "hole" but no explicit reference to any type of genitals.
Also so I don't have to repeat this for each boy, there is a safe word in place so they can always legit tap out if they need to. Remember to practice kinks like these safely
Overstimulation | 🔞 Minors DNI
Classic Sans :
Let it be known Sans is not someone that loses his composure very easily, he remains calm, collected and confident even under some extreme pressure
So it makes you rather proud when you have him whimpering, panting and moaning beneath you like a bitch in heat.
You loosely tied his wrists to the headboard of the bed, placing yourself happily in-between his legs to play with his cock at your pleasure. Sucking, stroking, licking, milking orgasm after orgasm out of him, strains of his cum littered on your face and chest
A borderline devilish smirk on your face as you do so, one that really completes the look you have going on right now
There is a part of him that's trying to act like you aren't getting to him as much as you actually are, but it's not really an act he can put up for long.
Especially as you make him cum again and he nearly cries from the oncoming wave of pleasure, hips bucking wildly as you pull your hot mouth away from his aching member
"holy fuckin' hell you're gonna be the death of me at this rate-"
You giggle as you watch the fresh load of cum spill out of him, idly collecting it with your hand as you go down to massage his seed around your hole, you don't need much preparation to be honest but it's a little show to put on for him
You can see his dick twitch pathetically despite another whimpering erupting from him
"You you wanna fuck me?"
"y-yeah..."
He's so cute like this you almost consider making him cum again and really beg before you let him inside you, but you have some mercy on him and position yourself properly. Feeling accomplished at the relieved groan he gives once he's finally penetrated you
You ride him for the next several rounds, while it gives you some much needed relief you're still hellbent on uttering pampering your boyfriend, making sure he finishes plenty. He's basically an exhausted bag of bones who might as well be brain dead by the end of it
You're there for after care, soothing him, cleaning him, cuddling him, always double checking to make sure you didn't actually go too far.
Which he always just chuckles at before teasing you, "really know how to make a skeletons day night huh?"
Underswap Sans :
He's been such a good boy lately and you can't help but want to utterly spoil him, he's normally so hellbent on pleasuring you after all. So why not make tonight all about him?
And with your special touch? The poor boy is utterly pubby in your hands.
You hold him tightly in your arms as he trembles and whimpers, roughly plunging the vibrating fleshlight up and down on his cock. Enjoying all the cries that escape from him as he cums again and again and again, the poor boy cannot fucking cope. Especially when you keep the toy tightly down then rock it back and forth on his pelvis
He moans your name like a fucking mantra, face completely flushed as he nuzzles deep into your chest basically seeing stars at this rate
He starts to beg and moan that it's too much, that he physically can't cum anymore, that he can't take it before you soothe him, tell him that he's doing great, how pretty and cute he looks all the while, that you love him, that he's such a good boy and you nicely ask if he can just cum one more time
And before you know he's already finished again, whimpering all the while
Eventually the toy is removed the thing oozing with his seed, you make eye contact with Sans as you take a deliberately slow lick from it
Just like that his previously completely used up dick is hard again.
"You want more?"
"f-fuck me properly...please....please....please-"
How can you deny such a sweet request?
He goes for several more rounds before he actually is finished though, once again surprising you with his stamina especially during aftercare where he seems mostly recovered.
He is now dead set on "repaying" you for this and you can't help but just give him a little kiss on the forehead
Underfell Sans :
This man? This man right here?
Does not bottom often and it's very rare he lets you have any form of control when you are on top, so when he does let you switch it up? You go all out, he's tied up good and you tease the hell out of him. Taking your time with his body, massaging every spot that earns a moan, biting certain tender areas and your movements being slow delicious torture on his cock
And he's an utter brat about it the entire time
Constantly squirming, cursing like a sailor and demanding that you fucking get on with it already only for you to giggle then proceed to just take your sweet time
You take pride and joy over slowly breaking that haughty attitude of his, first time he cums he just scoffs, the tenth time he cums he starts to get....desperate...
Definitely makes you work for it, but you know how to press every button by now. What really gets him going is when you slowly run his member across your soaking wet hole then move away once he attempts to jerk his hips toward it
Especially as you cum alongside him, pleasuring yourself while the other hand works his dick. Getting him so close to where he wants to be but not letting him.
"y-you evil f-fucking bitch! i-i swear when I get my fucking hands on you when i get my hands on you when i-"
"Boys that use that language don't get to be inside me, try again."
He cums three more times, before nearly sobbing then properly begging to have him fuck you and be your little boy toy for tonight
And you enjoy every second of the sight.
Rest assured, though, he WILL have his revenge. Maybe not tonight but soon.
Horrortale Sans :
You gotta be bold as fuck to want to overstimulate this man, let alone overstimulate him to the point his mind goes blank from pleasure
He's a bit of a wild card even outside of the bedroom when he's perfectly calm, having him experience multiple orgasms? You're gonna drive him beyond feral
He needs to not only be restrained but muzzled because he will start biting and biting hard once you two get deep into it
You ride him, roughly without any regard for pace, taking full advantage of the fact that his restraints don't allow him to properly match any of his thrusts, always pulling yourself off of him the moment he cums and all you hear are the lowest growls out of him
It's quite literally like watching a caged animal slowly go insane, he growls, he grunts, he desperately attempts to get out of his restraints and at one point you're worried he'll almost break them outright then he'll be set upon you
Which turns you on more than it should honestly, but until that actually happens you keep your focus on giving your unhinged lover more and more pleasure until he simply can't take it anymore.
He's not much for conversation during this, then again he wasn't exactly the biggest on pillow talk period but you make sure to praise and tease him all the while. It's not entirely clear if he hears everything you say between orgasms but there are certainly times where his body clearly reacts
And it reacts violently
You do finally let him finish inside, earning what can best be described as a primal yell from him that outright echoes off the walls
He passes out once he's reached his limit, you unrestrain him then work on caring for him, but about half way through cleaning him up his socket suddenly lights up and you're pinned down before you know it
You're in trouble <3
Underlust Sans :
You two always like to test limits, experiment, and generally see the best way to fuck each others brains out, this is definitely not the first time you've pulled this kind of stunt on him
And if there was ever one word to describe him, it was resilient
He has a lot of experience with this kind of thing and a lot of natural control over his body especially when it comes to sex so it's a definitely a case of go big or go home
He's not only tightly bound, but blindfolded with a vibrating cock ring on the highest setting with another toy being thrusting roughly in and out of his rectum, you deliberately controlling every movement of course
And he loves you taunt you about it, "this the best you can do baby? might just fall asleep over herrrrreeeee-!"
A particularly harsh thrust of the toy gets him to cum mid sentence tongue sticking out as she starts to drool rapidly
Rest assured you return his energy, asking if he's really got it altogether, teasing him by pointing out how violently his cock is throbbing is twitching and smugly asking if you're officially too much for him
It's fun banter, but it gets harder and harder for him to keep up especially as you get more aggressive in your approach in utterly dominating him.
And he won't lie it's hot as shit especially you seeming so eager to abuse him until he's basically your little fuck toy built for your entertainment, drooling like an animal and the perfect picture image of a needy little slut
Your little needy slut
By the time he uses the safe word and taps you, he immediately starts brain storming ideas for the next session you have together. Most definitely planning to return each moment you made him cum without mercy personally
Kinktober Day 4: Somnophilia/Lazy Sex feat. Horrortale!Sans
Horrortale!Sans/Reader
Additional Tags/Warnings: None
Summary: Axe is not a patient man
A/N: Also on Ao3
The Sun – The heart of the solar system, the giver of heat and light, champion of all life…
…and too fucking bright in the morning.
You bury your face deeper into your pillow, throwing the duvet over your head for good measure. It’s your day off, and you’re not taking that for granted, dammit. Especially not when your giant skeletal lover is snoozing so soundly at your side, his firm warmth enveloping you as he pulls you up against his chest. It’s not often Axe finds sleep without the trouble of nightmares, even after coming to the surface, so having the bass-y rumble of his snoring behind your head is more of a blessing than an annoyance.
Darkness alleviates your tired eyes beneath the covers, enough to pull you back down into a dreamless sleep.
You bob in and out of consciousness, each stir being met with the comfort of darkness, warmth, and the soothing hands of your bedfellow caressing you back down into sweet, dozing bliss. It’s sinfully comfortable, the type you’d give up all your worldly possessions for in order to slumber this thoroughly every night.
The scent of smokey pine and wet earth wraps around you like a cocoon as Axe holds you closer, rustling you awake in the early morning light. His massive hand rests on your stomach, under your bunched-up, oversized sleep shirt. You place your hand over it, sleepily reveling in the sturdy, inhuman thickness and unnatural warmth of his bones that span protectively over your abdomen.
“sleep, mate.” His baritone voice is like bootsteps on gravel, rough and crunchy with sleep as his breath fans across your ear.
Axe strokes his thumb over your stomach, and his teeth press gently against your head. You let the giant lull you back down into unconsciousness, a purring sound against your back like some throaty lullaby as he sighs into your hair.
You’re not sure how much time has gone by when you wake again. Sunlight beams through the slats of the shades, falling over the bed in hazy golden stripes. The shadows are still long as the sun hangs low in the sky, hardly above the horizon in its daily ascent. For all you know, you could’ve slept a full twenty four hours, teetering over a thin line of consciousness for an entire day. You feel drowsy enough for that feat to have been the case. Though, with how sleep usually goes for you, you could’ve slumbered through a century and you’d still wake up feeling tired.
There’s actually only one thing that you’re certain of at this very moment, you realize as you rejoin the land of the conscious and blink away the dreamy shapes in your vision – The fact that there was not a dick inside of you when you were last awake.
Axe must have felt you stir, because he brings a finger up to your lips, sighing into the back of your head. His other hand slides upward from where it was pulling aside your underwear to steady on your hip, keeping your backside flush against him.
“relax,” he rumbles behind your ear, smoothing some of your hair back.
You inhale sharply through your teeth as his hand moves from your hip to your stomach, his fingers splaying over the soft flesh and guiding you down his length. His girth splits you apart, leaving a burning stretch in its wake that gradually turns to a satisfying fullness with each inch.
“Couldn’t wait til I was awake?” you ask playfully before sucking in another breath as he probes deeper.
Axe’s chuckle makes his cock jolt inside you. “no… too pretty.”
The grasp on your stomach becomes just a bit harsher as Axe urges you the rest of the way, fully sheathing himself and pulling your ass tight against his pelvis, where heated bone presses against your skin. The satisfied groan that Axe lets on reverberates against your back like a roll of thunder.
Axe’s hand creeps over your stomach, sliding lower until it rests lightly on your pubic mound. His middle finger strokes over your clit in long, drawn-out motions, gliding it through your folds then drawing it back slowly. Each movement causes your back to involuntarily arch, which in turn makes your hips rock against his cock as it buries itself impossibly deeper.
“had a good dream.” A puff of warmth ghosts over your neck.
The drowsy rasp sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh, yeah?”
“mhm.” His finger swirls over that bundle of nerves. “went something like this.”
With an agonizingly slow roll of his hips, Axe draws back then bumps his pelvis against you, settling into a leisurely rocking motion accompanied by the melodic creaking of the bed under your jostling combined weight. The curve of his length massages your walls in all the right places, the tip of his cock just barely bouncing against where you end. The slight discomfort is covered up by the pinch of his teeth digging into that sensitive juncture between your neck and shoulder.
“tastes sweeter than in my dream.” Axe runs his tongue along the small indents his teeth left in your skin, before clamping down again with a satisfied hum.
Your fingers search for something to hold onto, something to goad Axe into going faster as each sluggish thrust sends sparks throughout your lower belly. You reach back to feel at his head, avoiding the sharp, tender edges of his broken skull. He purrs at your touch and leans into it, his pace picking up in excitement at the contact. You can always count on his affinity for having his head stroked to come in handy.
With each languid roll, you can feel your climax fast approaching, but still oh-so distant. You need more speed, more pressure – or maybe a bit of both – but the hand over your stomach has you locked in place, barring you from riding him at your own chosen rhythm. Your body twitches under his grasp, searching for more stimulation as your peak comes just within reach.
Axe grins into your shoulder, feeling your squirm against him as he slows to a stop, hilting himself all the way inside you. “want to know how my dream ended?”
You nod, a stuttered breath that’s something adjacent to a “yes” falling from your lips.
He resumes his movements, still slow and deliberate, but with renewed focus on the precision of his fingers. Two wide phalanges circle over your clit in double time, and his tongue finds that sweet, sensitive spot just under your jaw, the two parts of him swirling in tandem to make you come undone.
And you do. Your orgasm ignites in your core and surges through your body in trembling convulsions. You make an attempt to say his name, but whether you manage to say “Axe” or a strangled “Aghk” is up in the air as you ride out your high.
The throbs simmer down to a pleasant tingle, spreading through your body from head to toe with each thrust as Axe chases his own climax. Your head feels fuzzy as he finally, finally picks up the pace (only after you don’t need it anymore, of course), and you can’t help but groan into the overstimulation pounding against your walls.
Another orgasm sneaks up on you and rips through your system, dampened by your already raw state, but intense nonetheless. Even through the haze that sets into your mind as it washes over you, you can feel Axe bite down on your shoulder once again, rutting into you with forgotten regard for your comfort as he spills into you. The growl that vibrates in his throat is nothing short of animalistic as he keeps you still until the last drop.
You’re left a heaving, panting mess as Axe goes slack around you. Despite the sensitivity of your spent sex, you still whine when he pulls out, already missing the fullness of his cock.
“Better than your dream?” you huff, feeling a groggy warmth settle over your loosening muscles as you feel yourself floating back to dreamland.
Axe snuggles up behind you, his forehead bumping against the back of your neck. “dunno, woke up hard before it got this far.”
I absolutely love that one-shot you did with Horror!
Would you be willing to do another one but with Horror learning about periods? It's such a funny idea to me, given the headcanon that he can smell blood. I think his reaction to learning what it is would be hilarious.
-🪻
well. that went well. (~600 words)
As it was that time of the month, you did what any reasonable person would do the moment you stepped into their house: collapsed face-first onto the couch, cheek buried in the cushions, soul temporarily leaving your body.
With every ounce of willpower you had, you tried to ignore the tight, curling pain in your abdomen. You also tried—less successfully—to ignore the growing urge to throw a cup at Axe’s skull, because it had already been ten fucking minutes since he arrived and he was still pacing the living room, rummaging through cabinets and tossing things aside like a man possessed.
Something shattered.
That was it.
You lifted your head, glaring daggers. “Okay. What the hell are you even looking for?”
“a carcass,” Axe replied flatly, yanking a book from a cabinet and tossing it over his shoulder.
“A what?”
“carcass.”
A lamp followed, sailing cleanly over your head before exploding somewhere behind the couch. “prob’ly forgot to throw it out. ya don’t smell that?”
“You keep dead animals in your cabinets?”
“and ya don’t?” He snorted. “humans.” He straightened, glaring into the cabinet like it had personally betrayed him, face scrunched in deep concentration. Then he clicked his tongue, slamming the cabinet door closed. “nothin’ here. fuck. why the hell do I keep smellin’ blood?”
Pause.
“…You can smell blood?”
“of course i can, i just can't fucking find—” Axe cut himself off. Slowly, he turned to you, eye sockets narrowing at your awkward tone---and before you knew it, he was in front of you.
Hands on your shirt.
Trying to pull it off.
What the—
What the actual—
“Sans, what the FUCK are you doing?!” you shrieked, kicking wildly. Your foot connected with his face, but all that earned you was Axe grabbing your ankle and shoving it aside as if it were nothing. You squealed louder, twisting away, one hand desperately yanking your shirt back down while the other shoved at his chest. “Sans—What in heaven's name—?!”
He caught your wrist mid-flail. “ya bleedin’ again, aren’t ya?” His grip tightened. “out with it. where.”
“Again—YES, OF COURSE, I’M BLEEDING!” you screamed. “I have my period!”
“and i have a comma every time i go to sleep,” he snorted, unimpressed, all the while as you pressed a hand against his face forcibly keeping distance. “the hell are ya talkin’ about? i can smell ya from my room. put a bandage on it now or i'm gettin’ pap.”
“Ban—Bandage? I can't bandage--Wait. You—”
It clicked.
With one hard shove to his shoulder, you finally pushed him back. “You don’t know what a period is, do you?!”
Axe deadpanned. “punctuation.”
Then he reached for you again.
“No!” you yelped—and without thinking, without any kind of goddamn filter, you blurted the first thing that came to mind that you were sure he’d understand.
“I’M IN HEAT!”
Axe froze.
Completely. Utterly.
His crimson eye flickered towards you.
It flared once.
Twice.
And the realization of what you just said hit you like a truck.
Your face went nuclear.
“W-Wait—no, I mean—”
POOF!
In an instant, Axe was gone.
Gone.
The silence that followed was instantly shattered by your scream.
“Wait—Sans, SANS—It's not like that! Come back, I CAN EXPLAIN! SANS! SANS!”
-0-
"BROTHER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING CROUCHING ALONE OUTSIDE OUR HOUSE AND FACING THE CORNER WHILE BLUSHING MADLY? ARE YOU MISSING Y/N THAT MUCH THAT YOU ARE NOW FLIRTING WITH OUR DRAINAGE PIPE?? WOWIE, THAT'S VERY SAD!!! EVEN FOR YOU!!!!"
May I request something soft and fuzzy with underfell Sans and a partner having a rough go at it with their period? No worries if not!
hello hello hello! thank you for this cozy little wish! i think rus is a little clumsy in terms of verbal communication - not to say he doesn't yap, because he does, a LOT, but more than he just speaks without thinking and even his inside voice is a little mean, hehe. he's still a very good partner and he tries very hard... i always see him with the dog-shaped upturned heart nose! he's very ouppy to me...
UNDERFELL!Russet/Roughin'It!Reader
he’s trying his best!!
he knows somethings off the moment he lets himself into your apartment. your whole place feels… dim. you clearly haven’t flit around setting up all your usual mood lighting and mild-scented candles, there’s no yummy smells in the kitchen, and you always rush to give him a nuzzle when he comes over. (it’s kind of the highlight of his evening, not that you need to know that, so why is it not happening?)
okay. this is bad. where are you if not kissing his face right now? (or scolding him for not taking his shoes off – he’d be happier with you here chastizing him, as opposed to the quiet of your living room.)
of course, all his totally-not-fears of you being mate-napped are proven false when you stumble out of your bedroom! now the fear is that someone hurt you, because your eyes are so dark and puffy and your lip is quivering even as you try to smile at him, and you’re hunched forward and wincing every so often, and you smell like pain-sweat and – oooh it makes sense now.
“damn, babe, you look like shit!”
what the fuck did he just say to you.
“i mean, uh –”
you have to forgive him because he’s flushed bright red, his grin wavery and apologetic. he can’t help that he has no tact… dumb of ass. dumb of heart. sweet of intent? maybe? you certainly think so, at least.
you totally forgot that he was gonna crash at your place over the weekend. you let him know that you wouldn’t be hurt if he wanted to go home, you really won’t be good company right now, but then you lean forward, an arm folded over your stomach and your teeth grit, and he’s already decided that he can’t abandon his packmate to suffer this alone.
you just gotta… tell him how to help. he really doesn’t understand much of what’s happening – he knows what’s going on, in the general way, but he’s never been with someone going through it, and he needs a little direction. while you give him a run-down of what would help best, he herds you back to bed, plugging your heated blanket in and snorting at you when you curse yourself for not realizing that was the problem, and then he’s off on his being a good boyfriend quest.
he knows you feel like shit because you still haven’t given him trouble over wearing his shoes inside :o( (he takes them off before he comes back though, don’t worry!)
he’s gotten into his own treat-reserves to bring you a few suitably chocolate-y offerings as well as some savory snacks made entirely of magic – he knows how pure monster food can help with pain in humans, so he’s determined to at least get you to have a few bites of something, even if you’re too nauseous for a proper meal.
he’s also got one of your microwavable plushies under one arm, which automatically earns him a ticket into your bed. when you scoot aside, his tail gives a short, low wag, his grin widening as you let him settle in with you – well, he settles you in with him, wrapping up around you and burying his face in your hair. he gives a soft huff, like a dog settling in for bed, and you wiggle back against him, one side of his ribs warm where he had held your plush.
you can hear his tail against your bed, a steady thumping, and you tell him that you’re glad he came, soft and genuine, and you thank him for taking care of you.
you miss it, tucked under his chin, but he flushes the most lovely shade of merlot. he really can’t grapple with how honest you are, and the grateful love in your tone feels a little too real to try to reply to. instead of trying, he gruffs back that you better not mention it to anyone ever, and then, a bit softer, adds that he’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if he just left you, so he’s doing the minimum, don’t get all soft on him –
as he grumps at you he’s just nuzzling at the top of your head over and over though... he's just bad at accepting praise and love...
once you’re all situated – your plush clutched to your stomach, his chest to your back, your aching body covered by your heated blanket, a snack in one hand, – you decide that maybe, you’re starting to feel a little better. even though you’re certain this isn’t how he intended to hang out with you, he seems just as happy as you are just to snuggle and watch movies on your laptop…
:o) i hope you like napping for like a week ‘cus with that heated blanket he can snooze for dayyyys
AHHHH i just finished reading my granted wish and it was so amazing!!!! it literally made my night :)
i saw in the tags u were welcome to me requesting a spicy part 2 of bear and his chompers obsessed reader, so i’m here to say that i would loveeee a continuation of part 1!!! the way you wrote him was just so lovely and i can tell you have a lot more thoughts about him to share!!
(also your wishing theme is sooo adorable EEEK im actually very excited for your blog its so adorable!!)
hello hello hello! thank you for another wish! is this the part where i confess that i spent my entire day working on this? writing bear makes me so shy that i kept starting, stopping, erasing, trying again... in the end, i can only hope that this is to your liking! it took a direction i've never gone with bear before, and i hope he is as sweet as the first!
HORRORTALE!Bear/ChompersObsessed!Reader
Warnings for sexual content, sexual language, handjob, mouth... touching?, and just general thirsting over bear! 2k words because i love him! 18+ please!
This has absolutely woken something up in you.
(Bear doesn’t know who you think you’re fooling pretending otherwise.)
It’s only been a few days since you first got up close and personal, and you haven’t been able to drag your eyes anywhere but his face. He knows you aren’t looking him in the eye. It doesn’t upset him, no, no, he’s fully aware of your little… interest, and if he’s being honest, he’s pretty sure that having your hands in his mouth woke up something in him, too.
You just don’t know how to approach him about it, okay? You know that Bear can be a little sensitive about certain things, and you have no idea what you were thinking, putting your little probably-delicious hands all over him like that. What if he didn’t like it as much as you did? What if you read into it wrong and he was actually uncomfortable, but just wanted to make you happy? What if –
He can tell you’re getting into your own head about it, and it’s him taking pity on you when he says, “if you… if you want to do the… the mouth again, then… i don’t mind,” with an hopeful tilt to his head and a slow, shy wag of his tail.
You have no clue how he’s doing it. He’s so tall you hardly go up to his lowest rib, and so broad your hands don’t touch when you reach around his chest. He has the most frighteningly accurate darkvision you’ve ever been hunted by, blunted fingers that leave bruises against your hips when he grabs too eagerly, teeth so big he could take off your entire hand –
– and he’s being cute on purpose, and you wish it could say it wasn’t working, but his puppy-dog eye and pleading posture are really all the encouraging you need to believe he actually wants to do this, and you find yourself back in your bedroom and straddling his lap, the familiar position of a pillow under your rump with your hands already back on his face.
He opens his mouth far quicker than he had the last time, (when he had still been just a little shy himself,) and you waste no time in getting your thumbs hooked in his cheeks and flattened against his premolars, forgoing your previous caution. He’s got his legs half bent, your body pressed more to his pelvis than his femurs, and his palms rest on your thighs, relaxed. (You trust him to give you a smack if he wants you to stop – having a safeword is important, after all!)
Using your thumbs, you press downward; Bear responds positively, letting his jaw creak open wide enough for you to see his farthest teeth. Stars, if you had first thought he could just bite through your wrist, now you’re certain he could crunch through your entire humerus – you’ve never seen teeth so huge, and despite the cracks in a few, you have no doubt that not a single one would break. (You wonder, distantly, if those give him any trouble, but then decide better than to ask. In a moment so intimate, you would hate to bring up any bad thoughts.)
Satisfied with your visual inspection, you readjust, moving forward into tactile exploration. You rub your thumbs on his molars for a while before you use your index finger on one hand to feel over his premolars, pulling forward to loop around a lower canine. You pull gently, testing how much give he can offer you. The cuspid doesn’t wiggle so much as a fraction, but Bear moves downward so eagerly that you are momentarily stunned by the bloodmoon of his eye, blown huge and wavering.
What is he thinking, you wonder, when he looks at you like that? You open your mouth, intent on vocalizing this curiosity of yours, and then you jump when his hand shoots up, his palm cupping your jaw with a gentleness that seems impossible for him to possess. (You aren’t surprised, however – he has never given you a reason to expect anything else from him.) You are surprised, however, when a porcelain-bone thumb as big as two of your fingers dips against the corner of your mouth.
“can i…?” his tail thump, thump, thumps against the bed behind him, and you have no reason at all to deny him, especially considering that you’re already trying to get your other hand around an upper canine, and so you smile encouragingly and part your lips. The sound he makes when he ghosts over your incisors is an odd one. It’s not exactly bad – maybe a coo? – and then he murmurs a soft, awed, “so small,” and you give a slightly smothered snicker, your face so flushed that you’re certain he can feel the heat radiating from it.
Only small compared to HIM, you think, considering you can’t speak around the phalange currently stroking over your molars. You tug on his canines, back and forth, shaking him slowly side to side, and he makes a sound somewhere between a heavy sigh and a rumbling growl. It doesn’t seem to be a bad sound; his sockets are half lidded and he’s entirely still, aside from the digit running over your tongue, and so you give one more firm tug before before feeling out the back of his lower incisors.
His magic buzzes like poprocks against your fingers. You pull back to his canines at first, surprised, and then lean your body forward, elated, at the glow of denim blue behind his teeth. You knew he had one! He’s been holding out on you what the fuck!! You have to draw your face away from him to make this opinion known, swallowing thickly before you can speak, but it’s worth it to feel him laugh under your fingers, to feel his smile widen against your palms and he blushes the prettiest shade of weathered blue.
Unwilling to lose your opportunity – (and your boldness,) – you whisper-chant out an excited gimme, gimme, gimme, giving up your hold on his upper cuspid and reach deeper into his maw. Your first note is that his tongue is cold – you’re surprised by the chill that meets you when you flatten your fingers over it. (The same texture as all the other ecto he’s shown you before, smooth and a little slippery – he’s literally been robbing you, not showing you this sooner!)
Bear pats at your thigh with a desperation that makes you recoil. He doesn’t let you get very far – his hand, the one not glossy with your spit, that had been on your leg, grabs your hip with enough force that you hiss through your teeth. Unable to give him space completely, you settle for drawing your arms to your chest, already forming an apology that dies before it reaches your lips.
He doesn’t look upset.
His face wears an expression you haven’t seen before; his eyesockets are big and round, his grin odd and strained, and his breathing comes out rough and fast through his still-parted jaw. You would be worried for him, if he wasn’t also flushed a shade of blue so incredibly bright that you swear he’s literally glowing. (You’ve met that shade of blue quite a few times – and it is not a bad one.)
You ask if he’s okay after the silence presses on for a beat too long, and when he flickers his eyelight to your face, you add, coyly, that if he’d like to stop…
He does not.
There’s no way, you both come to the conclusion, for you to have your hands in his mouth while he’s on top of you. (Well, no way safely, as you are not willing to risk your fingers in some thrust-involved freak accident.) You love Bear, you do, but he’s…
Well, he gets carried away sometimes! And you don’t blame him for that, but you aren’t willing to give up your precious dexterity just to get some action with your boyfriend.
This is much safer! probably. You’ve stayed in your position, straddling his lap, your knees wide on either side of his pelvis, except your pillow has been relocated to somewhere off the side of the bed and his legs aren’t drawn up as close. It gives you a bit more space, which is necessary, now that his magic has gathered in the form of a pretty semi-translucent blue shaft that rests against your stomach.
One of your hands drifts down, smearing your fingers over the pearl of white beading at the rounded head before you squeeze from tip to base. His cock is cool to the touch, and, just as you had guessed, the same sort of texture as his tongue. (Is he similarly sensitive in his mouth, too? Was that why he was so worked up? You would need to ask – or, maybe, test that theory yourself.) His body jolts at your touch, his teeth parting again to huff out a cold breath, and you slip your fingers on your free hand between his incisors.
He looks like he might already be coming undone when you set some semblance of a rhythm; you press back against his furthest molars before drawing forward, the pad of your index stinging as you drag it over a cuspid. His hips jerk when you thumb another bead of pre-cum down his length, your hand moving quicker with the added wetness, and his hands, pressing into your hips, are most certainly leaving bruises as he fights to keep his jaw slack for you.
You’re making a mess in your underwear, but it’s hard to focus on your own want when Bear is making those sounds, pants broken by soft murmurs you can’t hope to understand, spoken like prayers under his breath, When you pair a firm tug on a canine with a slow, intentional stroke, he gives a ragged moan that vibrates the bones in your hands and makes your soul sing.
You circle your thumb around the head of his cock and his shoulders shake, your name bubbling from his throat as he ducks his skull lower, closer to you. The new perspective lets you see that pretty denim blue again, and with far more accuracy, you manage to catch the tip of his tongue between your fingers. You distract him from your catch by speeding up the hand between your legs, leaning forward to let him grind against your belly, and he sighs against your face, something close to gratitude in his next rasping whine.
You pull your hand from his mouth, and he allows you to bring your prize into proper view. broad and flat, smooth to the touch and the same pale blue as his shaft, perfectly sized to fit between his lower cuspids – oh, oh wow, oh he’s really cute, holy shit. Content with your new knowledge, you go back to thumbing at his premolars, lazily fishhooking him as he ruts into your palm. You have to keep your legs tight against his femurs and pelvis to keep your balance with both your hands busy, his rocking jerky and uncoordinated – but he is good, and he keeps his jaw slack, his teeth refusing to close around your prodding fingers.
You know he’s reached his peak when his eyelight vanishes completely, his entire body shuddering with a strangled growl as he spills over your hand. You tug downward on his premolars with your index and middle fingers, pulling him close enough to spatter kisses over his entire face, and use the added cum to give a few more lazy strokes. (He’s drooling, the poor thing, sticky blue at the corner of his mouth where your fingers are resting, and you pull your hand from his mouth and grin at him.)
You’ll need to take a shower, considering your thighs and belly are streaked in white, (and you will not just scrub down with a rag, thank you very much,) but for now, you let Bear close his undoubtedly achy jaw before he drags you out of his lap and into the bed to show you a little… appreciation ;o)
okay, so you’re definitely not the only one into the teeth thing.
hiii!! could i request a drabble with horrortale sans x a reader who is fascinated with his teeth?? could be nsfw or not, completely up to you!! :3
hello hello hello!! thank you for your wish! my secret is that... i really love horrortale sans! i call him bear, and i'm a little enamoured with him... i hope how much i adore him is shown in this! this was a wonderful prompt and i feel like not enough people talk about skelle chompers
HORRORTALE!Bear x Teeth-Curious!Reader
listen. you’d be a fool not to have something for this toothy guy’s whole maw situation. i’m right there with you, don’t worry, we can be honest around here!!
Bear isn’t dumb. Sure, he talks a little slower than most skeletons, his puns are a little late and his memory is a little fuzzy, but that wicked sans intelligence is still there, that innate brilliance they all share.
All this to say, you aren’t fooling anyone. He notices the moment you stop paying attention to what he’s saying to watch the way his grin shifts when he speaks. He catches the second that your eyes flit down to watch him while he’s having a snack, desperate for a peek of his mouth being open.
Well, all you had to do was ask!
You approach him about it casually, but as we previously determined, Bear is smart. He can see the flush at your cheeks, the way you scuff your foot against the ground and sway on your feet – you’re shy about this, which is totally ridiculous, because he is so happy that you aren’t scared of him and want to get closer to him!
Of course, what he says is “uh,” followed by, “yeah, if… if you want to.”
You worry for a moment that maybe that was less enthusiasm than you had been hoping for, but then you notice how his tail sways behind him, and his smile is all soft edges and broad grin, and his cheekbones are darkened in a dusty blue, and you realize that he is chuffed! A lot of Bear’s happiness indicators are nonverbal, but you swear you’re getting better at understanding them!
That brings you here. You’re straddling his lap, your knees on either side of his pelvis, with a pillow wedged under your ass to give you a bit more comfort than his thick femurs provide. It also gives you a big of leverage, and you don’t need to reach up as high to get to his face, which is tilted down helpfully toward you. Your hands start at his cheeks, the porcelain-softness of his skull smooth under your fingers, and then you draw your fingers towards the raised edges of his smile, feeling the way he nuzzles so gently into your curious fingers before his maw opens for you.
His canines are sharp. They’re where you start, the soft pads of your thumbs pressing firmly against the points, the pressure divoting your skin. You loop your index fingers around each one and give a light, experimental tug. There’s no give, but Bear does let you pull him just a bit closer, his breath cold as graveyard mist against your probing fingers, his eyelight blown and wavering at the edges.
That’s a good reaction – you’re certain of that.
You continue to explore, flattening your thumbs over his blunter front teeth and then fishhooking his cheeks. There’s no give there, either – you can’t see any indication on the outside of his face that you’re figuring out how impressive his molars are. (you’re absolutely, without a doubt, certain that he could it would take one bite to crush your fingers into splinters and paste. he does not bite you, however, and you have no fear that he will.) He’s so interesting, and you have no idea how he moves his face the way he does considering he seems so impossible to manipulate – you pull downward on his jaw, gentle, to get a better look.
You’re deaf to the heaviness of his breathing and blind to the way he dips lower to you, so close that you can see into the pitch darkness inside of his skull. (How does eating even work for him, you wonder, and where does it even go? You need to do more research on magic food.) Idly, you release his cheek with one hand, pulling away just enough to run two fingers over his lower incisors. His canines are definitely his biggest teeth, as long as your pinky finger, and you give another swipe over their points before you pull away.
He stares at you, his eyelight blurry and unfocused, before his jaw clicks shut again. Rewarding his patience, (and his gift of satisfying of your curiosity,) you lean forward, giving a few exaggerated mwahs as you pepper kisses over his vacant grin. It seems to spark him back to life, because he smiles with that puppy-eyed love he gets with you and nuzzles you back with an enthusiasm that nearly hurts your nose.
You’re certain that this didn’t awaken anything in you.
AUPRIL DAY 14 - MELATONIN [ft. HORRORTALE!SANS (AXE)]
Even on the lowest brightness setting with the blue light filter cranked all the way up, your monitor is still burning your retinas to a crisp. You take a long blink, squeezing your eyes shut until you see spots and gather the tiniest bit of moisture from your tear ducts before squinting them open. It does about as much as fighting a fire with a water gun as the dry, itchy sensation sinks its talons right back into you.
But oh, you’re just so close to being finished with this project, the one you’ve been working on for the past few days. It’s almost there, almost fully refined, almost ready to be posted for that sweet, sweet validation from strangers on the internet that keeps you going through the low-motivation days. Just another line, you’re almost there…
Your hand hovers over a keystroke when you feel a prickle at the back of your neck, the fine hairs there standing on end to the pull of a silent, cold presence looming over you. Slowly, your eyes unfocus from the screen, and you tilt your head back.
Axe towers over you, his jaw hard-set as he stares down, unmoving, a statue of bone. The seeping glow from his engorged eyelight casts over his skull, highlighting the cracks in his skull with a blood-soaked hue. You might’ve screamed if not for the adorably irritated squint in his sleepy sockets.
“bed,” he grunts, strained and gruff. He must have just woken up.
You force an apologetic grin. “I’m almost done, I’ll be there in a bit.”
“bed,” he repeats forcibly.
“I just–”
Your excuse is cut off into a wobbly, undignified drawl when his massive hands yank you upwards with the finesse of a parent lifting their toddler from a high chair. And, still like a toddler, you twist and struggle as he lugs you down the hall, away from your dreadfully self-imposed deadlines that had been corrosively eating away at– wait, actually, this might be a good thing, you reluctantly reconsider.
Axe kicks the bedroom door shut behind you and, with a baritone heave that tickles your ears, you’re dropped unceremoniously smack-dab in the middle of the bed. You rebound off the springs with an oof punched out from your lungs. With a resigned sigh, you turn over and start to crawl to your side, figuring your bearish warden won’t be letting you out of this cell until morning.
The breath you had just been recovering is steam rolled right out of your chest when a dinner plate-sized palm squashes you down to the mattress, leaving you scrambling like a bug under someone’s thumb. Your irked protest is halted about as fast as your movements when the hand slides down to join his other at your hips and drags you right back into the center of the bed.
“Excuse you?” you huff once he’s flipped you to your back with the same amount of effort as you’d use to flip a pancake.
Axe offers up a brusque grumble in place of actual words, as though that solves anything.
Before you can make another attempt at what you thought he wanted from you – that being actually going to sleep – Axe brings your thoroughly indented pillow to you, methodically fluffing it before fitting it snugly under your head.
You’re not sure if you should be appreciative, annoyed, or utterly bewildered by his preening. You don’t get a chance to choose, though, because your brain activity flatlines when he climbs on top of you. Oh, man, is this why he was so dead set on getting you in bed?
Apparently not. Instead of ripping your clothes to shreds and tiring you out the fun way, much to your disappointment, Axe reaches up past your head and starts pawing at the duvet, scrunching it up and packing it around the contour of your body.
He’s nesting you. In his groggy, half-awake stupor, having woken up to his mate missing, he’s gathered you up, plopped you down, and started to arrange the sheets with your sole comfort in mind. Some deeply buried animal instinct seems to be at the wheel currently, if his just-barely cracked sockets and reflexively slow and meticulous movements are any hint.
When the sheets – comforter, sheet, and unfortunately, the fitted sheet as well (you’re already dreading trying to put it back on) – are all collected and rumpled at your right side, Axe collapses against your left, curling himself to your body, completing the circle of comfort. He’s already asleep when his heavy arm drops around your waist, evidently having expended the last of his energy.
That arm is a heavyweight champion’s dumbbell across your abdomen. You won’t be leaving anytime soon.
He thinks about it, about curling his fingers around the band across Johnny's neck and tugging it while the Scotsman chokes on his cock. But he isn't so desperate for it that he can't wait.
With his back to the wall and Johnny's thigh between his legs, he feels no better than a horny teenager. Grinding down on the man's thigh and panting into the crook of his neck while his sergeant utters filth into his ear.
"There ye go, darlin. Take wit ye can get."
Simon is aware that the humiliation is causing both the tips of his ears to burn red and his cock to jerk in the confines of his boxers, but he can't voice his complaints without risking them getting caught fondling each other in a cupboard.
And it's difficult to feel irritated when every roll of his hips bleeds the tension from his shoulders.
His shirt is stuck to his back, skin damp with sweat, and his breath is wet against Johnny's neck, not that the man voices any complaints about it. In fact, he offers his encouragement by grabbing a handful of Simon's arse and gripping so tightly that the pale skin will likely bruise even under his jeans.
"This wit ye were aw up in a fuss fir? Too hard up fir it? Poor lamb."
For a man Simon has repeatedly brought to tears, Johnny has no problem with being a condescending little prick. Even when Simon is crushing his thigh between his legs like a vice in his desperation to get off.
He resents that Johnny is so familiar with him in the biblical sense that the man can recognise the spasm in his lower back as he tries to keep a steady rhythm, the familiar grunt of a man desperately trying to stay quiet.
"Gonnae cum in yer drawers on the clock? Dirty wee fucker."
Simon feels no shame about sinking his teeth into Johnny's shoulder, biting the other man's shirt, and wetting the fabric with his saliva as he cums. It's almost worth the aggravation of dampness that spreads through the boxers he has to wear for the rest of the day.
