#polyester paswg

AHHHHHH ONG THIS WAS SO JUICY TYYYY @bju3c0re @maofsydbsk

GoodBoy!Polyester at least gets a couple minutes of afterglow before the other shoe drops—he’s even a little soft with you; kissing up your body while he whispers sweet nothings.. Licking up your sweat before he reels back and bites! into the relaxed muscle of your neck,, His mood flips dangerously, kneading your sides like an anxious animal and swearing through the chunk of you he’s trying to take home with him—his wings and weapons itch to release at the phantom threat, but they’d hurt you! And for nothing! You’re a squishy little human; it’s almost scary how pessimistic he gets when you leave to shower—you could leave him at any time if you were to die and go to hell because of him, because you dared to love outside of wedlock, and it’s terrifying.. He’ll hide it to keep you safe, just like his true nature, until he can convince dear ol’ dad he needs another set of wings! ʚ♡ɞ

“.. Aren’t you supposed to pee after? ‘Swear I’ve heard that,, You ever thought of getting married? To me? Fuckkkkkuh, can I get pregnant???”

GoodBoy!Polyurethane goes from nutting to instantaneous shame like a balloon popping in church—his orgasm’s not even ruined, either; he’s still vibrating and so, so warm, but a tear comes to his eye when you reach up his chest to cop a feel—is it this body he’s constructed that you like, or his mind? Will you stop loving him once you learn the truth; that he was never yours because he’s owned by a higher power, that he’s damning you? He can’t help but feel conflicted about his tears; he’s literally never felt better, but if he’s caught sinning, what will he have to go home to? What would father think of him enjoying himself rather than furthering the mission?.. Maybe it’s some earthly rite to get a little rebellious once in awhile, and if you’ve “corrupted” him, then hell’s way worth staying by your side ʚ♡ɞ

nun reader who is also the Polytwinks' boss, pretty much how Garterbelt is responsible for the Anarchy sisters... 👉👈 (can be NSFW or not, ur choice pookie)

imagine the twins doing everything to get a praise or some "treat" from you for completing their job, asking for cuddles and just being two jealous and needy cry babies who want attention from their boss :((

Polyester x Fem! Reader x Polyurethane

Nun! Reader, Clingy Poly brothers

Ever since the angel brothers descended to earth, heaven assigned you as their overseer for the time being before they ascended back to heaven. You thought nothing of them when you first met, and neither did they.

But as time goes on, your relationship has improved quite a bit in your opinion, but it seems like they have gotten needy.

Polyester and Polyurethane have once again succeeded in the mission you assigned, as well as whining at your feet begging for some kind of attention from their mentor.

"We've done a good job right~?"

"C'mon, reward us!!"

From the brothers perspective, they saw you as a woman who is difficult to please. You never acknowledge their good doings that much, only praise them with short words such as 'good job', 'great work'. At rare times, you even treat them to a meal. But it was never enough as their attraction for you grows and their crave of any kind of affection does so as well.

They were begging at your feet and clinging onto the hem of your skirt as they whine. You're completely unfazed at this point, already grown used by their antics. At times like this, you can only sigh as you reach down and start petting their heads. From this view, it looks like two pets receiving affection from their owner.

From how prideful they are, you're surprised by this action that the brothers are displaying. Who knew such egotistical brothers would throw away their pride just to receive some reward from you? They might probably not care at all what people think, including Panty and Stocking, if they saw them acting this way.

However, this doesn't seem to satisfy their touch-starved mishap.

. . .

You have finally heeded their demands and have found yourself being squished between the angels. The three of you moved to your bedroom, doing absolutely nothing and only cuddling with each other.

In all honesty, you were expecting more than just a cuddle. So you were a tad bit disappointed. And it also seems like the brothers have a sense of what you are thinking, or was it written all over your face?

"Expecting more~?" Polyurethane teases, whispering seductively against your ears.

You don't know what his talking about.

"You can't fool us, love. Just look at your expression." Polyester giggles, kissing your neck.

You can feel their hands roaming around your body making you squirm under their touch. From the looks on their faces, you can guess what they're about to do.

"Can we?"

...you let them do what they want.

And we all cheered ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Hope you have a Good day! Love your fanfics!

AWWWW THATS SO CUTE THANK YOU LOVE/p

I’ll do a NSFW part and a SFW part so people can read what they like! Ty for the ask and thank you so so much for the compliments! + this one is LONG I had things to write

Poly twins x GN! Affectionate! Reader

Polyester x gn! Affectionate! Reader

SFW

Polyester was used to people loving him and craving him. He pulled attention. He thrived on it. But you were different. You didn’t just say you loved him. You showed it. Relentlessly. Every single day.

He’d be walking down the street with you, sunglasses on, already feeling himself, and suddenly your hand would slide into his, fingers lacing tight. No hesitation, no shame. Just love.

And Polyester would blink down at you, thrown off every time. “Babe… you know you don’t have to hold me like I’m about to vanish, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

You just beamed up at him, eyes shining. “I like holding you. It feels safe. And I wanna keep you close.” That made his heart skip a beat.

He pretended to sigh, tipping his head like you were such a burden, but then his hand would squeeze yours tighter, thumb brushing your knuckles, and his grin would give him away. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll let you keep me close.”

It didn’t stop there. When you were tired, you didn’t flop on the couch alone. No, you climbed onto him, arms looping around his neck, begging softly, “Carry me?” like you weighed nothing.

And Polyester never missed a beat. He’d scoop you up bridal style, spinning you once just to hear you laugh.

“See this? Lightweight. Could carry you forever, easy,” he bragged, flexing just because he could. “Bet Heaven’s jealous I got such a beautiful S/O.”

He loved it. Loved the way your head tucked against his shoulder, the way your fingers clutched at his shirt like he was your anchor. He wasn’t used to being someone’s soft place to land. He wasn’t used to being adored like this.

So when you whispered against his neck, all tender and sure, “I love you, you know that? So, so much,” it knocked the wind right out of him. His usual cocky comebacks failed. Instead, he hugged you closer, his voice quieter than he meant it to be: “Yeah… I know. And I…” He paused, smirk returning just faintly, softer than usual. “I love you too, clingy ass. Don’t ever stop.”

And he meant it. For every kiss on his cheek, every handhold, every desperate cuddle, Polyester soaked it all in like sunlight. He teased you, sure, and acted like you were too much sometimes, but he was addicted.

NSFW Dominant, rope kink, worship

Polyester always thought he had sex figured out.

He was smooth, cocky even, and he’d call it “easy,” like everything else in his life. But then you came along. Sweet, affectionate, insatiably loving. You didn’t just want him; you worshipped him.

And Polyester had no idea what to do with that.

It always started the same way: you pressing kisses all over him, hands wandering like you couldn’t get enough. You’d pull him down into your lap, murmur against his lips, “You’re so perfect. I love you. Let me take care of you.”

The man would smirk. “Oh, baby, I know. You can’t help yourself, huh? Who wouldn’t want to worship me?”

But the second your lips trailed down his torso softly, his head would tip back, breath catching in his chest. Because you weren’t flattering him for show. You meant it. Every kiss, every touch, every whisper. It made something coil hot in his chest and lower.

That’s when the ropes came out.

He didn’t tell you right away. Polyester had always been loud about everything except this. The urge to bind, to control in the most physical way possible. It wasn’t about cruelty. It was about the sight of you, completely given to him, unable to move except where he allowed. The first time he admitted it, his voice was lower than you’d ever heard. “I… have been thinking 'about tying you up. Real neat, real pretty. Would you… let me?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“Anything you want. I trust you.”

That undid him.

So now, when things got heated, Polyester’s hands always went for the ropes he kept hidden away. Smooth, practiced knots, binding your wrists to the headboard or looping around your thighs just enough to hold you open.

He’d step back to admire his work, eyes glinting.

“God. Look at you. My perfect little display.”

And when you whimpered, tugging against the ropes just to test them, Polyester’s grin widened. He’d climb over you, pressing his weight down, whispering against your ear, “Don’t worry, baby. I got you. I’ll give you everything. You just have to take it.”

The dominance wasn’t cruel; it was intoxicating. He’d guide you with firm hands, make you feel every second, dragging out your pleasure until you were begging, shaking, and cumming. And the entire time, you worshipped him back.

“Poly, I love you, I love you so much.”

Every word hit him like a live wire. He’d bite his lip, hips stuttering, because, fuck, no one had ever made him feel like this. Not just wanted. Not just craved. Loved. And his mask would shatter, leaving behind something rawer. More desperate. His voice dropping, whispering raggedly against your mouth: “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

When you obeyed, breathless, adoring, repeating it until your throat went hoarse. Polyester knew he was ruined.

After, he’d always untie you carefully, kissing the red marks the ropes left behind. His hands, usually so careless, were slow gentle. He’d cradle your face, brushing his thumb over your lips with a smile too soft to be fake.

“You really are too much, you know that? Always loving me like I hung the damn stars.”

You’d only smile, pulling him down into another kiss. “You didn’t hang the stars; you are my star.”

And Polyester could only laugh against your lips, hiding the way his chest ached with something frighteningly tender. Because he’d never thought he’d want to be worshipped like this.

But with you, he never wanted it to stop.

Polyurethane x gn! Affectionate! Reader

SFW

Most people brushed Polyurethane off, called him annoying, and told him to grow up. But you didn’t just put up with him; you embraced it. You loved him loudly back. And for Polyurethane, that was everything.

Your mornings together always started the same way: tangled up on your bed, him refusing to let you get up. You’d try to stretch, mumble something about needing to shower or make breakfast, and he’d just bury his face into your neck with a muffled, “Nooo… stay. Five more minutes. Please. I’ll make breakfast; just don’t move.” And half the time, he really would try to make breakfast. Burnt toast, unevenly scrambled eggs, cereal that overflowed the bowl. But you always kissed his cheek anyway, calling him perfect.

The two of you had traditions, little rituals only you shared. One of his favorites was painting nails together.

Polyurethane loved colors. He’d lay out a rainbow of bottles on the floor, sit cross-legged, and hold out his hands like, “Okay, babe, make me pretty.” And you would. Carefully painting each nail, blowing on them to dry, and kissing his knuckles when you were done. Occasionally you matched him. You usually picked softer colors, but whatever you chose, he’d grin wide and declare, “Couple nails! Everyone’s gonna be jelly!”

Later, when his brother would glance at his messy, multicolored nails, he’d hold his hand up proudly and say, “Yeah, my partner did these. Cute, right?”

Shopping with him was always an adventure. Polyurethane never just browsed. He tried on everything. Hats, sunglasses, and shoes that clearly didn’t fit. He’d parade out of the changing room, spinning dramatically, asking, “Do I look hot, or do I look HOT?”

And no matter how ridiculous the outfit, you always clapped and told him he looked amazing. He’d laugh, blushing, then grab something for you and insist you try it too. “Matching outfits! We gotta commit and match all the way!”

You gave in more often than not because seeing the way his blue eyes lit up when you stepped out in something he picked made it worth it. But what mattered most to Polyurethane wasn’t the clothes, the nails, or even the attention. It was you.

The way you slipped your hand into his without hesitation. The way you reminded him, over and over, that he was loved.

And he gave it back in his own way. If you were ever quiet, or your smile faltered even a little, Polyurethane was on it immediately. Wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his cheek to yours, whispering, “Hey. You good? Want me to make you laugh? Want ice cream? I’ll do anything, just don’t frown.”

Because if there was one thing he wanted in this world, it was simple: to keep you smiling.

Nights ended the same way they began. With him clinging to you like a second skin, whispering into your hair as you drifted off:

“You’re everything to me. Don’t ever forget it, okay? I’ll keep you happy. Promise.”

NSFW Submissive, whiny, moans, edging

Contrary to what everyone thought, Polyurethane wasn’t some alpha, dominating lover. No, the second things turned intimate, his whole persona cracked, and all that energy turned into desperate, needy submission. He lived for your affection.

The first time you pushed him back on the mattress and climbed over him, his breath hitched, cheeks flushed bright red, and he whimpered when your hands pinned his wrists down.

“Y-you’re… you’re really doing this?” he stammered, already hard just from the idea of you taking control.

When you kissed him and rolled your hips against his, his legs trembled, and he gasped so loud it made you laugh. That laugh alone made his eyes water with pleasure. “Fuck... You're teasing me, love.”Polyurethane was loud.

Every thrust, every kiss, every touch pulled noises out of him. Moans that cracked, high-pitched whines, and needy begging. He wasn’t embarrassed, not with you. If anything, he wanted you to hear how good you made him feel.

Sometimes he cried. Not from pain, but from the overwhelming rush of being touched or even edged. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he gasped your name, trembling under your hands. “Don’t stop! Please, please don’t stop. I can’t- I need you.” And you didn’t stop. You never did.

He had a high libido, almost insatiable. Some nights one round wasn’t enough. He’d pull you back down with shaky hands, already leaking, voice breaking as he begged, “Again. One more time, I can take it, I swear.” And he always could. Even when his thighs trembled and his chest heaved, he wanted more. He needed more. Because nothing compared to the way you ruined him.

The whiniest parts of him came out when you edged him. When you slowed down just before he broke, or when you pulled your hand away after he’d been begging for release.

“Nooo, don’t do this to me. I’ll be good, I promise, just- just let me cum, please, I’ll do anything.”