#bear naked beading
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Hop on over to the online shop at:
Canadian-Indigenous-Arts.com
Then just click on the link that says “Online Store”!
#canadian indigenous arts#canadianindigenousarts.com#ottawa613#great lakes regions#Anishinaabe#assiniboine#métis#metis dot art#metis beading#metis#beaded jewelry#bear naked beading#bead earrings#beading#beading to heal#healing by beading#indigenous handmade#indigenous arts#indigenous#indigenous peoples#indigenous crafts#indigenous people#indigenous culture#indigenous art#indigenous peoples day#mmiwgawareness#mmiwgcanada#indigenous heritage#métis nation#native art
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Deadly Nightshade
(help me find the Suguru artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)
A Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.
Suguru swallows an aphrodisiac curse, and finds the reader when his entanglement becomes too much to bear.
Warnings: *MONSTERFUCKING*, Loss of control (Suguru), rough but consensual, throat-fucking, Suguru's cursed technique...but sexy, tentacle shibari, cum as cure
(AU!Adult Suguru who never left Jujutsu High timeline)
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"Will be late home. It's a big one. Go to sleep without me, baby. You'll be tired."
Suguru finished tapping, looking up to the abandoned industrial site with wary interest, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He felt beckoned into this concrete jungle in a way he found unsettling; the Curse was clearly disguising its true potential, hiding in plain sight...but calling in back-up (likely Nanami or Higuruma at this time of day) would only put them at risk. And, they were tired.
With an internal spiteful sting at having lost his evening with you, which Suguru suppressed, black eyes flat and expressionless, he stepped onwards into the plunging lush foliage and exposed steel beams.
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Suguru's apologetic text filled you with disappointed longing. Loneliness and worry quashed your appetite. All your hopes and plans for a soft, touch-filled evening curled up on the sofa with him, were wiped.
Sighing, lovelorn and resigned, you took yourself to bed, your face snuffled into Suguru's pillow and the soft-spiced smell of him, to lull you into sleep.
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Suguru staggered through the door, leaning back to close it, gasping, sweating, clawing his jacket and shirt off his body. He burned from within, like the nine circles of hell.
After swallowing the curse, the roiling forest had disappeared with it...but Suguru soon felt its many limbs stretching within him, caressing the deepest parts of him, blighting him with this ungodly pain--
--no...not pain, Suguru thought vaguely, now naked except for his hakama, beads of sweat dripping from chest to belly as he teetered towards the bathroom. White-knuckled hands clasped the sink-- Suguru caught himself in the mirror, ripples of desire thrumming through him with every frantic beat of his heart, his raven hair free of its tie and framing febrile eyes--
Suguru retched, his shoulders heaving with exertion, retching again, his rigid cock crushed against his thigh as he collapsed forwards, seeping pre-cum and shaking and moaning, thinking of you in your bed you in your bed you in your bed--
Out of control I'm out of control got to take it back got to--
Something in Suguru snapped.
The lights flickered out one by one, from bathroom to corridor, as an eldritch forest clawed its way back out of him.
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You awoke in a fever dream, your sigh condensing and hanging heavy and humid in the earthy hushhushhush of a tropical forest, teeming with life.
What a strange dream, you thought. You did not notice how this set you apart from true dreamers, who would not find anything unusual about waking on a bed of moss and monstera. The duvet felt warm and springy with foliage beneath your fingertips, your toes, your body.
You had slept, and these uncanny tropics had grown up around you. Not one surface was free of queerly animated vines, yawning tropical flowers, and thick verdant leaves. Unable to see where one room began and another ended, your little home suddenly stretched for miles and closed in on you all at once.
You stepped gingerly off the bed, your feet settling on dewy leaves, splitting the fine low mist that clouded there. As you stepped to the doorway, you did not feel the hissing black tendrils, more creature of the deep than plant, that reached longingly after your feet.
Led only by curious patches of bioluminescence, eerie and golden, you moved to the living room, blinking, certain you were ill. A familiar voice, soft and dangerous, came forth from the shadows.
"You're awake. Good. I'd have fucked you while you slept, but they wanted you squirming."
With a gasp and a cry, you felt yourself become intangibly bound and suspended, feeling the rush of smooth tendrils snaking around your chest and bare thighs, wrists and ankles. Wrists tied behind your back, and legs folded up until your heels touched the backs of your thighs, your legs spread, you hung at face level to Suguru, who stalked out from a patch of hazy light.
Suguru had always held a haunting grace, a soft, untouchable masculinity, an unwavering abstract sensitivity. But, approaching you now, his black eyes were flat, sharklike, predatory. He had not hunted you, but had, instead, waited for you on the outskirts of his web.
In only his hakama, fine black tendrils tattooed his skin, animating him as he panted, desperate and sweating. The tendrils seemed to be soothing him, stroking, constantly moving over his rigid cock, his chest, his throat. As your own tendrils began to offshoot from the black wet-velvet vines that bound you, creeping under your clothes, circling round your nipples and creeping towards your core, a whimper broke free from your throat.
"Shhhhh, shh, shh, I need you wet if you're gonna do this for me, sweetheart."
Suguru stepped to you as if you catch your voice in his hands, sliding one finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He shivered in contrary to the inferno inside him, gripping his weeping cock with a roughened moan. As Suguru stroked your tongue, he reached down to undo his hakama, letting the coiling vines pull them from his body.
Suguru pressed against you now, lifting your top so he could rut his weeping cock against your belly, still examining your mouth with his fingers. You felt them tremble against your tongue. The last shreds of your Suguru were the only thing holding him back from taking you with bruising force. The vines coiled through your top, your underwear, shredding, removing, until you were naked, suspended, entwined.
Suguru's black eyes feasted on you, one hand stroking his cock with an iron grip, pre-cum wetting his fingers, and the other hand grazing over you, stroking the peaks of your breasts, your ribs, slipping between your puffy lips to see how ready you were for him. Carnal instinct took over, and he pressed himself back against you, his cock leaping in his hand.
Suguru shivered again, skin to skin with you. He knew, instinctively, that the itch at the base of his skull would not-- could not-- become dormant until he had completely spent himself inside you.
"You know I wouldn't ask more of you than I know you can take," Suguru cooed, soft and persuasive against your lips. You felt a tendril slip over your mound, slipping between your wet folds and coiling snugly around your clit, massaging it, rolling it. You mewled into Suguru's mouth, and he swallowed it down hungrily, kissing your sighs and whimpers off your lips.
"Oh fuck, baby-- you feel so wet--"
With a jolt, you realised that Suguru's hands clasped you by the hips, nowhere near your core.
"You can't feel tha-- how can you--" Suguru bit your lip, punishingly hard and you squeaked as the tendril that pleasured you so tenderly squeezed your clit in reprimand, simultaneously.
"They're mine," Suguru hissed, "just like every godforsaken curse I swallow," and he pulled you lower so your core settled on his cockhead, the vines acting in symbiosis with him to drag your thighs apart, "just like you're mine. And you'll help me...won't you?"
You felt a thicker tendril snake up the inside of your thigh, ghosting at your entrance. With savage force and a growl of warning, Suguru ripped it aside, pressing his cockhead inside you just enough to prevent any other intrusions.
Suguru's orgasm hit him with obscene force and he collapsed into you, stuttering his hips just once, before cumming with a shout, his seed spattering into your entrance and puffy lips, dripping down your bound thighs in thick white streams. Suguru's moans elongated into staccato whimpers, before descending into a hiss of unbridled rage.
"That did fucking nothing," he growled, tangling his fingers into your hair, yanking your head to the side, sinking his sharp canines into the front of your throat. His cockhead still leapt just inside you, spurting weak trickles of cum, and Suguru almost cried to feel absolutely no relief from the burning need throbbing through his body.
You felt the vines squeeze around you, your nipples clamped and rolled until tears filled your eyes with ethereal blurred lights. Suguru reached his long arms behind you, grasping the tops of your shoulders to slam you down against him, impaling you, gasping and wildly overstimulated, onto his cum-lubricated cock.
The tendril rolling and flicking over your clit picked up speed, and you came, twisting against your restraints, crying Suguru's name. Suguru stared hungrily down to where he bottomed out in your pussy, watching and feeling it clench around his cock with shuddering bliss.
As the tendrils continued to work on your nipples and clit, your pleasure becoming frantic and painful, making you squirm and pull away from them, Suguru landed a stinging slap to your arse.
"Fucking take it. What good are you if you can't milk this thing out of me? More." Suguru lifted you just once, cruelly slamming you down again, warning you against your squirming, needing beyond need for you to clench around him again.
"Suguru-- please-- it's too much--" Your needy cries broke off into agonal gasps as you came again and Suguru's head dropped back, jaw slack as he felt your pussy clench and contract, sucking cum from him, surely enough to relieve him, surely--
"No, I-- no--" he panted, his eyes frantic, watching his seed leak out of you, now floppy and malleable in your corseting vines. Digging both hands into his hair, scratching at his own scalp, then moving his fingertips to his tongue to suck them with a ragged groan, Suguru grasped at straws for any stimulation to purge him of this monstrous need.
As he gripped himself, clutching and agonised, his eyes feverish, you could only moan stunted little moans as the vines around you lifted and dropped you, thrusting you savagely onto Suguru's length, still impossibly hard. You leaned forwards, kissing Suguru with urgency, trying to claw him back to you as his vines fucked you against him. He nipped at you, biting, no longer the gentle man you knew.
"Not hard enough-- shit, you can-- can do better than that--"
Finding some strength again, Suguru's hands dropped to your hips, kneading the plush fat there, trying to squeeze you around him, and he added to the strength of his vines, lifting and slamming you back onto him.
So lost were you both in chasing his release, neither of you noticed the forest around you gradually withering, fading and dying. The bioluminescence waxed and waned, throwing strange, marionette shadows around the room.
You were thankful for the embrace of the vines, unable to count how many times you had peaked from the constant stimulation of vines, masturbating you while Suguru kept your cunt and belly constantly filled. Suguru gasped and murmured into your neck, all unintelligible, unreasonable demands of you, and pleas for release.
As Suguru came with a ragged cry again, filling your aching pussy to the sound of wet, squelching thrusts, you felt the tendrils around your breasts and clit wither away, leaving your buds swollen and tender.
Suguru could barely stand, supported by a few remaining vines, still staring into you, so hungry but so spent. You felt him pull his cock out of you, dripping with his own seed, and you cried out to feel his cock replaced by a thick-tipped vine, pressing against your cervix, shunting his seed up into your belly.
Suguru's eyes rolled back to feel this bizarre vicarious pleasure, lazily letting the vine thrust his cum back into you, as the others twisted you, tilting so your back was parallel to the floor, your head tipped back, mouth level with his cock, still so red and aching.
"Is your throat tighter than your pussy?" Suguru pondered aloud, drunk and swaying with divine ecstasy as he fingered the sides of your jaw, slapping his cockhead against your lips and tongue. When you stuck out your tongue invitingly, swiping its tip across Suguru's slit, he gasped, shuddering and gritting his teeth.
"Let's find out," Suguru hissed, sliding his cock into your mouth, letting you taste your combined arousal, before thrusting with an injured moan into your throat, squeezing you, feeling the ridges of his cock move inside you as you gagged around him.
Pulling out enough to let you breathe, Suguru gripped you by the head and neck, grunting as he rutted into you, his pleasure doubled by his vine fucking his cum back into your pussy. Suguru's eyes fixed, fascinated, on the wet slip of this extra appendage inside you, how you reflexively humped against it as if it was his cock, how you mewled and whimpered at its intrusive tenderness.
As you twitched and shuddered, convulsing with overstimulation, Suguru came for the last time in a soundless gasp, his knees almost buckling beneath him as wave after wave of please rolled through him, washing away the dreadful, burning itch running through his brain and spine, leaving him exhausted, but finally un-fogged, finally in control.
With little warning, you were released from your bounds, and Suguru caught you, cradling you against him, and lowering you with a fractured groan to the floor. He sunk onto you, his mouth on your neck in prayer, kissing and soothing, blessing you with his relief.
"Would've died," he insisted, kissing your hair, your eyes, your nose, spooning you against him as the last remnants of this unwelcome forest embered away, rising like ashes on rising heat to fade into the night, "would've died-- died if you hadn't--"
You shushed Suguru, plaiting his fingers with yours across your chest as he shivered and heaved against you.
"Not...not your fault," you yawned, leaning into his kisses, "but like I keep telling you...you can't eat all of your problems away." Suguru laughed softly, nuzzling you.
"No...can fuck them away though, apparently."
Sticky and intertwined together on the floor, Suguru surveyed the cracked floorboards, the walls rended by vines, and trickles of damp running down from the ceiling. Lips puckering in dread against your neck, Suguru whispered.
"What, uhm...what do we tell the home insurance company?"
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By far the most unhinged thing I've ever written. I'll see myself out.
#pseudowho#suguru x reader#suguru smut#suguru geto#geto suguru#jjk suguru#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#jujustsu kaisen x reader#geto smut#jjk geto#geto x reader#jujutsu geto#suguru#tentacles#consentacles#monster fucker#hentxi#suguru geto smut#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto#geto fanart#suguru geto x you
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CW: Sexual content, voyeurism
Thinking about Anakin who’s so hopelessly obsessed with you that he installs a camera into the beady eye of your favourite teddy bear. He streams the live footage on his datapad and watches it day and night, reassuring himself that he does it solely for your protection. “Goodnight sweetheart.” He’ll mutter to himself as he observes you tossing and turning in your plushy bed, thighs squeezing needily around a pillow.
Sometimes he’ll get lucky and you’ll prance around naked for a while after a shower, giving him the chance to fist his cock desperately as his eyes are glued to the screen, brightness turned up all the way to not miss a single detail. Beads of water roll down your damp body as you bend over your chest of drawers searching for a pair of panties, unknowingly giving Anakin a perfect view of your pussy. He cums to the sight every time, imagining how much better you’d look with his seed dripping from your entrance.
When you bring someone over, he watches you getting pounded into the pearly sheets and his eyes sting with tears- still, he can’t peel his eyes away from the damn screen. He admires how your pretty little face scrunches up and your eyebrows twist and turn at every thrust. He knows it should be him making you feel like that. He knows it will be soon.
#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker#star wars fanfiction#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker smut#anakin x you#anakin fanfiction#star wars smut
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These Destined Ends
Part 4
Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?
Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: a striptease?, female masturbation, hints at incest/sexual abuse, mentions of killing, he fingers you at the dinner table, public humiliation aplenty
A/N: I made it exactly *checks clipboard* three parts without smut
The garment bag is composed of the finest fabric you’ve ever seen. Your pulse hammers at the thought of whatever might lay within — what could Feyd-Rautha have possibly chosen for you? You eye his usual all black garb.
Zipper cool to the touch, you glide it open, pushing aside the garment bag to reveal your present. Bile rises to your throat at the same time you feel a familiar swoop of desire in your stomach, a summation of your relationship with Feyd-Rautha so far.
The dress — if it could even be called that — shimmers seductively, black, and somehow inlaid with thousands of glittering beads. Two slim straps keep it secured, dangling, from the hanger. And there’s remarkably not much else to comment on: the straps descend daringly low, barely enough to cover your decency.
A belt encircles the middle of the dress loosely, and you can only imagine how it would withstand even the slightest of breezes without exposing you. You swallow, deliberating.
“Where is the rest?”
Feyd-Rautha reclines back in the chair. “Wife, why would I disguise your beauty with useless fabric? It would only pale in comparison.”
“I hardly believe this is acceptable dinner attire,” you point out, surprised at the coolness in your tone.
“It’s rude to refuse a gift,” Feyd-Rautha says. “Will you deny me the pleasures of gifting my wife for the first time?”
You bite your tongue to keep from lashing out. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to play.
Clearly this was his retaliation for your bold behavior, you just hadn’t expected it to come so swiftly after his arrival, or in the form of public humiliation. Normally you wouldn’t dare wear such an affront to fashion, or your sensibilities.
“Very well. I would be remiss to…deny you.” You look to Asha, who has presided over the entire interaction with wide eyes. With a smile, you say, “I would like you to undress me now.”
Her mouth opens, then snaps closed.
The upper level of the antechamber positions you higher than Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes have taken on the delighted glint of someone encountering a worthy opponent in the arena. Asha nervously obeys your command as you hold your arms out to your sides, allowing her to undo the difficult laces of your dress. The only sound in the room is the sound of it pooling at your feet.
“I hardly think my husband’s generous gift will allow for underclothes,” you laugh. Asha then begins removing your thin chemise from over your head. She tugs it up over her arms and your breasts slip from the fabric, leaving you entirely naked in the glow of the black sun.
Desire unfurls between your legs. You don’t even have to glance at Feyd-Rautha to know that he is fully captivated by your performance, at the sight of your naked form. In any other situation you might’ve been ashamed of your nudity; the curves you found unseemly, or the dimples of cellulite in the soft flesh of your thighs and ass.
But, beholden by the na-Baron, you were resplendent.
“The dress now, please,” you order Asha, voice breezy and carefree.
Feyd-Rautha’s gaze bores into you, sears your skin like its own personal brand. You loathe to admit that you’re actually enjoying this. Your thighs are slick with revel in your own cleverness, in wresting the control from the man determined to wield it over you.
Asha covers you with the dress, laying it gently over you — nipples hardened and skin flushed with self-admiration, in satisfaction of capturing Feyd-Rautha’s attention so wholly.
Asha moves to fasten the belt next but is interrupted. “Let me,” the na-Baron orders.
Which unspoken, is understood as: leave us. Your friend ducks her head and disappears from the antechamber. You silently thank her for closing the door behind her.
Feyd-Rautha approaches you slowly, measured in his movements. A predator reconsidering its prey.
So then why are you so eager for him to devour you?
He stands infuriatingly close to you without actually touching you, absurdly concerned with the so-called belt hanging at your waist. It vexes you that he refuses to meet your eyes, refuses to give you what you so ardently seek.
“I should strip this from you. Tear this dress from you with my teeth and bind your wrists,” he says, tugging at the belt, agonizingly composed, his breath fanning your face. “Show you exactly what you deserve for pulling a stunt like that.”
His fingers are deft as they fasten the belt. He doesn’t touch you once.
“Did you not like it?” You ask, breathless.
His proximity intoxicates you, takes you by the hand and leads you into a fathomless darkness. And yet he won’t look at you, won’t touch you, just turns simply on his heel of his boot and says over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at dinner.”
The smoldering shower water blasts between the blades of your shoulders, sluices over you and scathes your aching flesh. But it’s not enough, not a fit replacement for touch, for his touch.
Your fingers slip between your thighs and find your pleading cunt. A breathy noise escapes you, and you begin pumping your hand, no time for the attention you usually afford yourself — you’re desperate to rid yourself of this feeling, wash it away in the drain and pretend it never existed. Your release comes fast, insipid, and once your legs have stopped shaking with the effort of your touch, you wrench off the water.
And there you stand, cold and wet, cunt swollen and certainly not satisfied, but at least you can direct your thoughts from —
You slam your fist against the shower wall. Pain, leftover from Feyd-Rautha’s boot, quivers through you like a bow across the string of an instrument. How dare you let yourself become so entangled in him, in his game, in his inescapable command. You are a fool.
Quickly you towel yourself off and step back into the sorry excuse for a dress, warding off any traitorous thoughts belonging to Feyd-Rautha. You have no clue when dinner actually is but you won’t be caught shivering and spent. You apply a simple, dark makeup and leave your hair untouched, determined to set yourself separate from the rest of the Harkonnens in attendance.
And when the scents of food and the clatter of guests float through the antechamber, you take it upon yourself to join the others. You follow the din of a party, a sound you are accustomed to from your time on Caladan, and traipse into the Great Hall to find it already engaged.
The long table usually void of company is brimming with noblemen and women dressed in various shades of blacks and whites, and every single one of them turns and stares at your entrance.
Not even the strictest training can prevent the flood of embarrassment through you. It’s so prominent and all-encompassing that your entire body goes rigid with fear.
“Ah, the Lady Y/N,” a booming voice calls. “How lovely of you to join us at last.”
At the opposite end of the impossibly long Hall, the Baron lifts from the table on his suspensors and effectively stamps out any fleeting hope you had of going quietly into the night. Or perhaps dying on the spot. He hadn’t given you enough time to decide which.
“Come, take your place at my side so that you might meet your court and feast with them on this splendid occasion,” the Baron says.
Surprisingly, your limbs do work, and you somehow carry yourself past the leering eyes in your scanty dress and sit upon the only empty chair at the table. If you weren’t so completely mortified, you might’ve taken the time to glare daggers at the man beside you; Feyd-Rautha lounged regally at the right hand of the Baron. To your utter displeasure, he looked disgustingly wonderful in a dark tunic and pants, his lips reddened by the wine.
It looked a lot like blood.
“I apologize, your Baron, I had no intentions of causing a scene or demeaning your gracious invitation.”
The Baron eats in a ferocious manner best likened to a savage beast, wild and without abandon. Repulsion churns in your belly as you are forced to watch, doing your best to mask your horror as he gulps down his food in large, greedy mouthfuls. A smudge of sauce graces the corner of his unsightly mouth.
“There is no need for apologies, Lady Y/N, as long as it does not happen twice. No court is ever won over by a careless Baroness,” he says icily.
“Where were you?” Rabban asks next.
Rabban sits to the left of the Baron and across from you, fixing you with a glowering look. It’s not lost on you that he is already tormented by this, demoted to the less favorable side of the table in favor for his wicked brother, who replicates Rabban’s probing glare, no traces of awareness that he had been the exact reason for your tardiness.
“We met initially in the salon to give you time to appear. Tell us, where were you, wife? What demands did you have grander than this celebration of our upcoming union?”
Your molars might grind into dust by the end of the evening, if you survive it. You smile sweetly at him. “I suppose I was preoccupied with preparations, na-Baron. Your…gift is not easy to slip into alone.”
“However taxing, you look splendid,” the Baron says. He drains the rest of his goblet. One massive hand descends on Feyd-Rautha’s thigh, strangely intimate. “Nephew, will you fetch me more wine?”
Feyd-Rautha’s face storms over. “We have servants for that, Uncle. Besides, have Rabban do it for you. This banquet is for my benefit, after all, I should be allowed to enjoy it.”
The Baron studies him critically then, more sober than you thought possible. “Very well. Rabban?”
The mountainous man snatches the goblet from his uncle and vanishes to find a servant. You’re prompted to heap some of the food on your plate then, disconcerted by the lingering hand of the Baron and Feyd-Rautha’s obvious resentment.
Dinner passes without a hitch, your tardiness smoothed over by your status as the future Baroness. A small grace for such a tremendous burden.
You entertain the guests with stories of Arrakis and spice production, fielding their endless questions with as much charm and elegance as you can muster. And, frankly, it’s not as horribly daunting or tedious as you feared it to be.
The last course is coming to an end when a man strides up to the Baron with an expression of self-importance. He’s dressed similarly to the other Harkonnen guards but there’s something different about him — where the Harkonnens you know are arrogant about their strength, he hides it well. You immediately start to eavesdrop.
“The Emperor needs you for an urgent matter,” the strange man whispers into the Baron’s ear.
The Baron nods as if he’s been expecting this, and then without a word abandons his feast and glides after the man.
Feyd-Rautha had been surveying the party when you ask him, “What urgent matter?”
He sips his wine. “I don’t know.”
Ha, you think, he had been eavesdropping too. You frown. “He didn’t tell you?”
“My uncle does not tell me everything,” Feyd-Rautha replies. There’s a trace of anger in his voice, but it’s difficult to tell whether it’s pointed at you or the Baron.
Either way, this irritates you. You decide to provoke the beast. “What, like you don’t tell me when our engagement dinner is?”
Feyd-Rautha’s gaze cuts to you. “You’re upset.”
“Yes I’m upset,” you hiss. “I thought I warned you not to humiliate me again. Tonight was inexcusable, you filthy —”
“Ah, careful, wife. You must mind your words before our court. And my oafish brother.” He indicates Rabban with a slight incline of his head. You spot the older Harkonnen approaching with quite the entourage and you scowl. “Don’t make that face. Remember, this is a joyous occasion.”
“How could I forget?” You mutter miserably.
At your side, Feyd-Rautha is a study in beauty. Not in the classical sense, of course, but that of something devastatingly cruel and dangerous, the glint of a newly sharpened blade or the ocean during a storm. Breathtaking, in both senses. Unwittingly, you trace the slope of his brow, his handsome nose, the cushion of his plush lips, and you feel the familiar flicker of attraction.
“Where were you?” Feyd-Rautha asks without looking at you, still watching the party.
“Hm?” Did he know you were studying him? “What did you say?”
“I asked where you were. Before.”
“Oh.” There’s something in his voice that suggests that he knows exactly what you were doing. Your moment in the shower emerges unbidden in your mind, of your hand between your legs and his name in your mouth. You answer as flippant as possible, “I was waiting for you.”
Feyd-Rautha finally sets down his goblet. Rabban is taking his time returning, regaling his entourage with an undoubtedly riveting story, so the na-Baron must feel secure in your privacy.
“You forget that those are my quarters too, wife, and the walls are very thin.”
Shame creeps up your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, is that right?” Feyd-Rautha grabs the bottom of your chair and pulls you closer to him. Any outside observer would simply think you’re having a regular conversation, which you suppose is the point, but there’s nothing regular about the way he slides his hand across your thigh and dips down to your heat. “Then I didn’t hear you touching yourself, whimpering and pleading for me? For my fingers? My cock?”
“I thought I was —”
“Alone?” He clicks his tongue. “If you didn’t intend for me to hear, then should I not give you exactly what you were begging for?”
It’s only too easy for him to nudge your dress aside and acquaint himself with your cunt, slide his fingers along your swollen lips and tease your entrance. You inhale sharply, without permission. He takes that as an invitation to delve a finger into your slick cunt.
“Feyd —”
“Tell me you don’t want it.”
You swallow, throat working. Rabban is finishing his story, evident by his boisterous laugh and then beckoning his entourage to the table. Feyd-Rautha keeps one finger inside you, unmoving, a sensation unfolding within you that you certainly won’t be able to ignore.
The rest of his hand cups between your thighs, a reminder to you, as long as you yield to him.
“Just say the words, and I won’t,” Feyd-Rautha says, his lips on the shell of your ear.
You’re frozen in indecision. When Rabban rejoins you, you’re sure that Feyd-Rautha will revoke his teasing hand. But instead he rocks his palm against you and drives his finger, then another, deeper inside you with dizzying ferocity.
You grip the edges of the chair, the force of his fingers cleaving through you, invoking a wave of pleasure that ripples throughout your body. It takes everything in you not to cry out.
“Brother, you remember my friends,” Rabban says. His cheeks are reddened by the spice-laden alcohol and he is oblivious to what’s occurring underneath the table. “Uriens and Ze’ev.”
Feyd-Rautha says smoothly, “Of course.”
“Uriens, Ze’ev, this is the Lady Y/N,” Rabban introduces you. He indicates each friend in turn — Uriens, a man of notable stature but a blank gaze, and Ze’ev, slightly smaller and sporting a sneer.
You dip your head and hope it’s enough to count as a greeting. You don’t trust your voice, not with Feyd-Rautha’s ministrations. Your cunt pulses with each one, clamping down on him, even the slightest of withdrawals enough to ruin you. Fortunately for you, or not, Feyd-Rautha shows no interest in stopping, curling his fingers in and out of you with agonizing precision.
“We wanted to speak to you about tomorrow, actually,” Uriens says.
Feyd-Rautha’s eyes narrow. “What about it?”
“What —oh! What’s tomorrow?” You ask. As soon as you speak, Feyd-Rautha pushes another finger in to join the others, spurring your body to jerk in response. You suppress a shudder.
Uriens, Ze’ev, and Rabban look too intent to notice your falter. Uriens explains, albeit with less enthusiasm, “We want to partake.”
Feyd-Rautha’s jaw flexes. His pace slows as he considers this request, and it’s almost more torturous than his persistent thrusts.
“No,” he finally says.
Rabban’s face darkens with anger. “Why not?”
“Traditionally those who partake do so because they are interested in the hand of the wife.” His tone veers dangerously close to a growl. “Are you telling me that you wish to take her from me?”
Uriens eyes widen. “No, na-Baron, we —”
“We understand the ceremony is purely customary. We ask only for a chance to partake in the revelry,” Ze’ev cuts in.
“There is no killing,” Feyd-Rautha says.
Uriens and Ze’ev nod. “Yes, na-Baron.”
“Then I don’t see why you shouldn’t partake.”
You bite back a moan as Feyd-Rautha then resumes his ministrations. You ask, “What’s tomorrow?”
You’re impressed that you manage to keep your voice even.
The Harkonnens exchange glances as if they’re reluctant to answer you. The slight one, Ze’ev, says, “Dessid aperr. The Crucible.”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Feyd-Rautha says.
Your indignation overcomes your pleasure, and you glare at him. “It does if my hand in marriage is being fought over.”
“The Crucible is a ceremony dating back to Emperor Shakkad the Wise,” Uriens eagerly says, jumping to please you. “When a Harkonnnen of noble standing is to be wed, they will engage in a battle against the other noblemen for the hand of the bride. To ensure that the strongest bonds are forged.”
Feyd-Rautha pumps his hand violently against you, and you feel your orgasm building. You grip the chair even harder. “I would like to partake.”
“The brides are not permitted to watch,” Uriens says. Rabban and Ze’ev both glare at him.
“I don’t want to watch. I want to fight.”
“Absolutely not,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.
“Why not?” You ask. You hope the breathy sound of your voice comes across as petulant and not aroused.
Rabban answers, “That’s how it’s always been.”
Feyd-Rautha glances at you. He must know that you’re close, can feel it in the way that you clamp around him. “Wife, is that what you want? Tell me.”
“Y-Yes,” you stammer.
He says, “Tell me that you want it.”
“I want it,” you breathe out, both of you aware of what he’s actually referencing.
More words form on your tongue but you’re unable to say it — your pleasure mounts as Feyd-Rautha buries his fingers inside you with swift finality and your orgasm seizes you. It’s white-hot and dazzling as it tears through you, walls contracting, his fingers stroking you to the end. A shudder racks through you.
Pulse hammering and your thighs trembling, Feyd-Rautha withdraws his fingers. He rises abruptly to his feet. Horror dawns on you as he then pushes his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. Without so much as glancing back at you, Feyd-Rautha says, “Very well. Don’t be late this time.”
You stare after him. The aftershocks of your orgasm rumble through you — you can’t believe that he just did that then left you to deal with the aftermath. Uriens and Ze’ev stare at you in equal parts confusion and shock, while Rabban sneers at you, seemingly more aware than you thought.
You clear your throat. “Well, that’s been settled.”
“Something has been settled,” Rabban replies. His expression is nearly impossible to read, but the comment makes your cheeks heat up.
“You hold considerable sway over the na-Baron,” Ze’ev says.
You stand, smoothing down your dress and trying to maintain some semblance of composure. It’s difficult when your thighs are still slick, the memory of his fingers imprinted in your mind.
“I will be the na-Baroness,” you remind Ze’ev. “I hold considerable sway over everyone here.”
And with that you leave without excusing yourself, feeling the burn of their gazes on your back. It’s suddenly too warm in the Great Hall for you, the sweaty, lingering bodies suffocating. You’re not quite sure where you’re going. Certainly not after Feyd-Rautha. Though you can’t stop the way that your heart skips hopefully when you feel a hand grab your arm.
“What are you doing?” Asha hisses, spinning you around. “The party isn’t over.”
Post-orgasm clarity is eluding you. You shake your head. “I know, but —”
“Also, what was that shit earlier?” Asha asks. She adjusts her hold on a tray laden with champagne glasses. “There was some weird tension in that room. Don’t involve me in your weird — whatever, with the na-Baron again. Do you hear me?”
You nod stupidly, although you’re not entirely sure it’s a promise you can make.
Asha studies you. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you lie. “But I’m going to retire to my quarters. Can you cover for me?”
“Yeah, of course,” Asha says, obviously not convinced.
You huff out a breath. “I’m going to need the rest if I’m participating in the Crucible tomorrow.”
Asha nearly drops the serving tray. “The what?”
“I’ve been invited,” you say, which is also a lie.
“What?” Asha presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “What is wrong with you, Y/N?”
To avoid her gaze, you take to scanning the party. You know perfectly well what’s wrong with you and you’re searching for his face even now, despite the fact that he’s the last person you want to see. You sigh. “I wish I could tell you.”
Part 5
Taglist:
@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123
#dune#feyd rautha#feyd x reader#feyd x you#fanfic writing#writers on tumblr#writing#fanfic#feyd smut
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Crimson bride
(Yandere Damian Wayne x twin sister reader)
( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)
Summary: Your life is going to end horribly, your will to live is slipping away, will your only hope come to save you?
Tw: mentions of violence and abuse
The smell of blood and incense had filled the air, your lungs could hardly bear the responsibility of bringing you oxygen under the pressure of your stress, not that they could easily filter the smoke in the air anyway. It felt like the air was on fire, with each breath your body shuddered slightly, your body could hardly bear the burden of keeping you alert. The beads of sweat slithered down your spine, making the already uncomfortable rags even more unbearable. You were just 11, why were you stuck in a room full of adults in dark long robes...you were not sure...or perhaps you knew what was going to happen, but you didn't know why on earth you were there. You eyed the sacred blade in the hand of the leader of the group, the light of the candles shimmering on its uneven blade, and swallowed your saliva down your throat that now had turned extremely dry. You could already feel the pain in your chest. Dear God, if you hear me...please help!
The dark monks' chants echoed in the chambers, and the puddles of red wax candles under the feet of pillars carved with different images of unholy creatures, seemed like oozing puddles of blood to you, already boiling with crimson liquid of life right out of hell, where they hailed their master from. The veil on your head was thin enough for you to recognize people's faces, well, at least the ones who didn't have a mask on, and your terrified eyes spotted the figure of your grandfather standing behind the leader, himself holding a golden bowl at hand. You gritted your teeth at remembering his words. The memory is still fresh for you, it was just two months ago when he was having a drink with the leader himself in his boudoir, with you present by his side.
"She's a fitting lady Ra's...I give you the credit of having good hereditary genes..." the leader spoke in his smooth voice, his eyes scanning you up and down. You knew how the way he looked at you was inappropriate but you still stayed, holding the tray of drinks, standing by your grandfather's side, if you were going to flinch even for an inch, your mother wouldn't be happy. "She is..." your grandfather hummed, rubbing his chin before he chuckled "What is it old friend? You seem too interested in my child..." the words spoken made your shoulders stiffen slightly, your fingers tightening around the edges of the tray. "I am...but not for what you think...she is too young for marriage for a mortal man..." his smirk grew wider as he continued "But she's at the ripe age for being gifted to our dear lord...she'd make a decent bride..." you could see Ra's hold on his glass of drink tighten, what did his friend mean? Did he want to marry you off to someone? You wondered, but your confusion soon turned into horror as the leader continued "Her heart fits the unholy bowl perfectly" Oh no...you had heard from your nanny that this man was bearer of bad news but this...this was unpredictable! Your head turned to your grandfather to see how he'd respond...please say no, please say no, I've been a good granddaughter...please say no! "What price do you offer?" And with that, your whole world shattered, you felt like life was slipping away from your shell of being as he negotiated the price of marriage, did he...did he just agree on making you a sacrificial lamb?!
You snapped out of your thoughts by feeling the extremely warm hold of the leader on your naked arm as he pulled you away from the corner of the damp room, the metallic chains on your weak ankles clinking loudly as you dragged them on the floor, your feet already bruised by the rough edges of the old tiles on the floor, leaving red trails of blood. He walked you to the alter, your heart skipped as you saw the white dressing of the stone bed, flower petals spread on the surface, how hauntingly fitting for a bridal bed... The man stopped you right before the altar and started chanting in a language you didn't know a word of. But whatever it was, it was working...because the tiles under your feet started to turn unbearably hot, the circles and symbols drawn onto the walls and the floor turned bright red, oh dear God...if you hear me...please help! You had lost your hope a long time ago, but still, you wanted to hold onto a sliver of hope, maybe your grandfather would change his decision at the last minute, or perhaps he would come...but no...how could Damian come to the other side of the world that quickly? He was just a child, like you, sure, he was a capable boy but still, he was just a boy. His words circled in your mind as the priest poured a warm liquid on your body that painted it red, its sweet aroma filling the air, unbeknownst to you, it was a poison that through skin pores penetrated the body and ran into your blood, slowly relaxing your muscles until your heart would stop, this way, if the demons preferred to have your body whole, you'd still be dead. As you felt your skin itch and your vision turn slowly blurry, Damian's voice echoed in your mind "I will come...I promise...I promise!" His voice was filled with determination, but you knew he'd be late. It was already too late...
They helped you lay down on the alter, the wet veil sticking to your face, slowly suffocating you, but you were too weak to move on your own, your eyes were closed, as if the liquid had sealed your eyelashes together, and the voices around you were turning into distant murmurs, your hands limp as they crossed it on your chest. It was too late...and he hadn't held up to his promise...your lips formed a pout, unable to cry, hardly latching onto the task of breathing, your breaths became labored. Soon your chest would be cut open and your warm paralyzed heart would be put into that golden bowl, and then thrown into a fire...you had hoped things would be different, but you knew from the very start, that you were unwanted, and one day, your family would give you up if they have the chance to do so.
Your ears couldn't detect the loud sound of the explosion of the tear gas in the room, how the cult members shouted and pulled out their weapons but were disarmed quickly by the man in black and a few younger ones. You didn't notice them until someone yanked the wet veil from your face and wiped the clotted liquid off of your nose and mouth, putting an oxygen mask on your face "Y/N!" The voice seemed familiar, but you were too weak to respond "Y/N!" He cried for your attention, his trembling hands shaking your shoulders, his voice muffled by his mask, his hold was pushed away from you when you felt a sharp pain on your neck, the detoxing liquid surged in your veins forward by copious amounts, yet you were already unconscious to see your father cry silently as he held your body close to his chest. Poor girl...poor poor girl...he wished he was there sooner.
Your nanny had pulled the small phone behind her apron with trembling hands, she knew your actions had consequences, but she wanted you to feel happy, so she'd do anything in her power to ensure it'd happen. You quickly snatched the phone out of her calloused hands and started to take the number you had repeated over and over in your mind since the moment you had snuck into your mother's study and had found it deep in her files, it was the Wayne Manor's, where your Damian lived with your father. You were separated since birth, him getting most of the attention of your mother, well the one who was to be her weapon, you were too weak to fight from the very first moments you had started to walk, but still, you tried to have a connection with your twin, who even if neglected your attention or bullied you, still felt a twinge of sibling love deep down. It was not until when he was sent to live by his father that Damian had found out how much he dearly loved you, and how much you meant to him. You dialed the number, hearing it slowly beep, one...two...three...you could hear your nervous breaths into the phone, and four "Hello?" You stiffened at hearing Damian's voice, moving your lips to speak but you couldn't, the sheer luck of having him pick up the phone himself was too much! "Hello?!" Damian's voice turned sour with annoyance, you knew he'd hung up quickly so you finally spoke "Hi..."
"Y/N?!" Damian's voice had turned from annoyed into one of surprise and concern, you spoke softly, asking how he had been doing, smiling as he quickly stammered to answer you, but then, when he was rambling on about missing you, you smiled sadly "Hey...I wanted to tell you something..." you interrupted him "Hmm? What is it?" He had asked with curiosity "Please, forgive me if I've done you anything wrong...okay?" "W-wait...Y/N..what do you? What is happening?!" "Grandpa wants to marry me off...to death..." and there was silence, a very uncomfortable silence. "I will come..." his voice was now filled with determination "I will come, I promise!...w-when's is the ceremony?" "Within two weeks-" the phone had slipped off of your hand when your mother's stinging slap met your face, you turned to look at her with wide eyes, trembling as you heard her crush the phone under her feet.
Your eyes opened up to a white light, with warmth surrounding your body. Were you in heaven? You naively asked yourself, but when the pain washed over your body, you knew you were still alive. "Hi..." Damian's voice made you turn your head to his direction at your side, your neck strained from being motionless for too long. He was holding your hand tightly, and your blurry vision could find the outlines of his face in what you could recognize as crying. "Welcome back..." his voice trembled as he sniffled, adjusting the oxygen mask on your face. You blind a few times to make your vision better, still, it felt a little blurry, but you could at least recognize you were somewhere dark, which you'd find out was the Batcave in the future, and Damian was sitting on your side. Your lips curled upwards slightly at how he held your hand to his chest, looking at you affectionately "Sorry I was late..." he spoke softly "But I will make things right from now on, I promise" he promised, and he would do anything in his power to ensure that.
#yandere#yandere batman#yandere dc#yandere x reader#yandere batfamily#yandere bruce wayne#yandere robin#yandere Damian wayne#yandere bat family#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfam#yandere batboys
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Plushies : Bonus
Joel Miller x F!Reader
Plushies Series Masterlist
Lactation, Bump
Can be read as standalone
Notes: Starting to think Plushie!Joel and Belly bump/lactation!Joel are in fact, the same Joel x reader couple but at different points in their lives. Plushies takes place when they're young and dating and breeding kink happens after they've been married or at least moved in and long term committed. So here's a fic that joins the two!
Warnings: assisted masturbation, stuffed animal masturbation, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, language
18+ ONLY
- - - -
You hadn't exactly planned on getting pregnant. You wanted to switch birth control plans to another dosage to help alleviate some of the hormonal side effects of your current brand. Joel did not take the news of having to practice safe sex for at LEAST 6 MONTHS too kindly.
Anyway, that was 4 days ago when you had officially switched over your pills. You now find yourself pinned in full mating press with Joel over top you, your ankles locked around his ass as he's already dumping an extra big load of his seed deep inside you after YOU had ripped the condom off his dick in a desperate haste to have him inside you 10 minutes ago.
And when you had to bare the news to Joel, oh my FUCK was he elated. He fucked you every way till the cows came home. He kept insisting the plushies stay ON the bed each time you made love so the baby (which you had to remind him was no bigger than a seed at this point) had a soft and loveable daddy that liked soft and loveable things.
Once the initial wave of morning sickness and irritability passed, you were just as much of a horndog. He'd come home and find you sitting on your giant Costco teddy bear, humping its legs while hugging it. He could see the small but new little bump in your lower tummy clearly pressed against Teddy's large cotton stuffed one. Joel made you ride so many plushies, asking you how each one felt as you gushed on them, all the while gently planting his palm at your tiny swell.
Sometimes you wondered if he was actually asking you or if he was asking the baby which one felt right.
He'd fuck you with you you on top, pushing two plushies against your tits to "practice feedings", loving the way your sensitive nipples rubbed against the beaded noses. Or planting you on your back with a soft flat plush under your back so you were comfortable as you spread your legs wide and welcomed his fat cock into you again.
Joel would find excuses to massage you as often as possible, making you sit in his lap, back pressed to his chest as he rubbed your shoulders, your aching and swollen tits, and of course your little pulsing pussy, who was just dripping of her own accord whenever. It'd be the perfect opportunity for him to peer over your shoulder and rub a stuffed animal between your legs, loving how each week, he could see less and less of the plush and his hand, slowly becoming obscured by the growing baby on the way.
Joel's naughty appraisal was off the roof. Only difference was now babygirl, kitten, whore, slut, were replaced with baby momma, little momma, momma hen, or just straight up Mommy (THAT one surprised you the most).
And oh HELL did he eat up his Daddy appraisal, constantly reminding you "fuck yeah, Daddy fucked ya up so good, put a baby in ya" or "Papi's gonna keep you round all fuckin year, pump ya full of baby batter" with "Love breedin ya, gonna make me the happiest fucker in the world" and "Daddy's gonna give you a whole fuckin kintergarden".
At night, when he thought you were asleep, he'd brush your hair lovingly, hand caressing your naked round belly, surrounding you in plushies and whispering to the baby, asking which one they like best, gauging based on how much the little feet kicked up inside you to feel the stuffed animal through your skin. He'd kiss your tummy, and barely above a whisper, tell his baby how excited he is to meet them soon.
Least to say, as unexpected as it was, Joel was thrilled to be a dad.
-
"No peeking."
"Joel I can't even see, please move your hands, I can just close my own eyes."
"No no, I got you OH NOT RIGHT THERE ok right—ok perfect. Aaaaaand—" he removes his palm from your eyes.
Your eyelids flutter open, adjusting to the bright light. Joel had just finished building the baby room, complete with custom shaved and engraved wooden crib he spent all week making.
You instinctually caress your growing belly, smiling in awe. "Oh Joel, it's so—" your eyes scan the room, lost for words at his beautiful work.
He rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your middle securely over yours. "Ya like it?"
You loved it. Soft and sweet, touches of little details in the woodwork, spoiled with bunnies and floppy ears, a smoothly sanded rocking chair in the corner, cloud brushed skys painted on the walls. You glaze over the crib before something catches your eye, doubling back. You seeing the contents inside more clearly, a cotton pink blanket, some onesies, and--
Your infamous Kitty plushie.
You smile drops as you rush and bend over haphazardly with your swollen belly in the way, snatching the plush out of the crib like it was diseased. You hold your arm out and stick it right in front of his face. "Joel what the FUCK is THIS doing in here??"
"What? It's your kitty! For the baby!"
"Not THIS kitty! This one's— its— filthy!"
"I washed it. Like in the actual machine. Not the tub. It's clean."
"She will never be clean of her sins, Joel Miller."
"Oh now its a she?"
"Burn. This." You growled, the animal helplessly jiggling with each word.
"Being so harsh to Kitty, she don't deserve that," he said, taking it from your hands and cradling it gently, kissing its squishy head.
"Burn it or I'm buying that pregnancy pillow and kicking you on the couch where you can share with Kitty for the rest of the year."
"I'll go get the wood for that fire."
#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#last of us fanfiction#last of us smut#joel miller fanfiction#plushies!joel
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⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞
⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist
⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: masturbation, praise, dirty talk, sexual tension
"Show me how humans do it. How you like it", you said, meaning to make it sound like this was for an educational purpose, but Spider had gotten this look in his eyes as he gave you a lazy grin and said, "Okay", yanking his loincloth off like being naked is the most natural thing to him. Like you’re the strange human that can’t bear a little skin and he’s the Na’vi. And then he sat down naked against a moss covered log, sprawled out like he owns the place, his dick hard against his stomach.
"Kinda like this", he begins to explain.
He doesn’t look embarrassed, you think, shifting in your seat, cross-legged with your back against a tree and still fully dressed. But somehow you’re the awkward one.
Your heart is beating too fast, your tail nervously thumping against the soft ground and this is all wrong. You shouldn’t fool around with a human, a demon, should’ve stayed curious and not ask him about the sky people’s biology which ultimately lead to questions about his dick and if it was retractable too and then somehow, eywa knows how, to you asking him to jerk off in front of you so you could watch. Your natural curiosity be dammed!
Spider shouldn’t be on display, way over there, sliding a hand down his bare stomach, over painted on stripes, to curl around the base of his cock. He shouldn’t be making you watch the way he rubs his thumb over the crown, the way his hips hitch into his fist and his face creases in a moment of pleasure.
You shift again, trying to get comfortable, and Spider smirks at you. There’s heat spreading in your core, an ache under your loincloth, and you untangle your legs to spread them, running a hand over the thin fabric between your thighs just to take the edge off. Spider watches, then gives his dick a squeeze from root to tip, arching his neck, and you can see the light gleam off a bead of pre-cum leaking from his slit. You swallow hard, dainty fingertips rubbing over the outline of your clit slowly.
"I like it slow", Spider says, huffing a little, and you’re not entirely sure if he was talking about himself or you, because his eyes are completely fixed on the way your run your fingers over your clothed cunt. "At first", he adds, then tugs at his cock, like he has a million years and you aren’t absolutely dying over here. He rolls his balls gently between his fingers with his other hand, pulls down slowly and lets a moan slip out.
You embarrass yourself a little by echoing it, but his cock seems to jump in sympathy. Then he jerks it a little faster, and you can’t help but pull your loincloth to the side, to insert two slender digits into your seeping entrance. Spider shivers at the sight.
"I like having my cock sucked", he says ever so nonchalantly, "like it when it’s messy, so—“ and then he sticks his tongue out and let’s spit fall onto his palm, before closing it around his shaft, coating it in the clear liquid. He’s rocking into the pleasure, just a little, and then works his fingers over the head of his dick, feeling it leak and pulse, and you nod. You’re listening.
"Fuck, that’s it”, Spider sighs, and he spreads his knees farther apart. His balls hang heavy and full between his thighs, and his dick -not retractable, by the way- is standing up big and hard from his fist, and your mouth is watering. You swallow again, rolling your hips up into your hand to try and get your fingers deeper inside, curling them a little higher and then you moan, loud.
"You good?", Spider chuckles, but there’s a strain in his voice, like he’s trying to sound calm and collected, but he’s not. Not by the pace he’s stroking his cock right now.
"Spider", you whimper, but you actually meant to say, this is crazy, just get over here and fuck me, but you kind of trailed off and whimpered instead. Your face is hot and you can feel sweat running down your spine, and your poor little clit is throbbing with your own heartbeat.
Spider’s hand is working faster and faster, slick with pre-cum and spit, sliding smoothly up and down his thick shaft. Every other stroke ends with a little twist of his fingers that rubs the underside of his cockhead, and he licks his lips as he stares at you, eyes open, gaze intent.
You can’t stand it any longer, the waiting, the watching, the wanting, and you can barely catch your breath.
"You’re gonna come, huh?", he chuckles, throwing his head back for a brief second, exhaling shakily, before he looks back at you again. "Yeah, and then I like– oh, fuck– I like it just fast and hard at the end, I like to, to fuck my fist, imagine it’s a pretty na‘vi girl sucking me off. Or bouncing on my cock. Fuck, you look good baby, gettin’ off on watching me."
"I’m not–", you start to say, but that’s stupid, because you totally are, and you’re so close it physically hurts to hold it back.
"Shit", he groans, his hand a blur, his face creasing in concentration, "I’m gonna come, oh fuck, I’m gonna–"
"Hmh, me t-too", you nod, rubbing your clit frantically. "Yes, fuck– ohh, fucking hell", Spider chants, fuck, fuck, fuck and then he comes.
You love the way his pink cock swells up hard and massive, the thick, sloppy spurts of cum, and the noises he makes as he kicks his hips up and shoots all over his belly, working himself through it with one hand still jacking his cock and the other clamped tightly around his own leg. His thighs work as he fucks his fist, muscles bunching, his abs rippling, and your own orgasm hits you like lightning shooting down your spine, soaking right through your loincloth, shuddering helplessly as you hump your palm, wriggling your fingers against your clit.
It takes an awful while for you to catch your breath after that, and while your gaze still seems unfocused and hazy, Spider already cocks his brow at you, proudly displaying his stamina as he gives a lazy stroke to his cum slicked and already half hard dick.
"Now that this question is out of the way", he starts, his lips parting into a sharp grin, "do you want me to show you how we humans fuck?"
#lunaskinktober2023#spider x reader smut#spider x reader#avatar spider x reader#spider x y/n#Spider x female reader#miles socorro x reader#miles socorro#avatar spider#avatar the way of water#atwow#avatar 2#avatar
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BEING COURTED
━━━ : © NERVOUS.D
#SYNOPSIS— headcanon on being courted by Tsu’tey
#WARNING(S)— none
#CHARACTER(S)— Tsu’tey Rongloa Ateyitan
Tsu’tey would be confused by the different approaches on how humans attract a potential mate or in human terms to woo a potential suitor. He would start out by doing what he was taught to attract a mate in his own terms. He’ll start by doing small gestures first, offering you his own food from his plate during clan meals. Offering his first batch of prey he catches and dedicating them towards you. Prancing himself like a peacock, puffing out his chest and showing off his skills. These actions are to show how much of a reliable mate he can be.
The second stage of courting would depend on your attitude towards the first courting stage. Seeing how you praise him for his catch and compliment him he’ll start taking bigger steps. He’ll present you with his own hair beads offering them to you, even going as far to hunt exotic animals and offer their feathers to you. If he sees you thanking him for his gifts and even offering your own hair beads/feathers he’ll be more than delighted to wear them and prance them around with his clanmates.
The last stage of courting is intimate. It’s not something that can be officially spoken about in front of others seeing as it’s a sign of vulnerability and trust. (The queue is a vulnerable part of the Na’vi body. It can enable mental communication, emotions/feelings etc.)Tsu’tey would probably take you to the tree of souls and offer to do your hair/brush it/to braid it/decorate it with his own trinkets and gifts to you. To let someone else take care of such a vulnerable part of the body is a sign of trust and acceptance(in human standards it’s implications of bearing their own naked body to their partner and trusting them not let any harm fall upon them) Tsu’tey would be ecstatic in your acceptance and overwhelmed in your faith in him. He’ll take this moment very seriously and make sure no mistakes happen in this precious bonding moment.
However this all depends on your knowledge of being courted by a Na’vi. If you were to be a rather oblivious to his implying attraction towards you he would begrudgingly go to Jake Sully for help. Tsu’tey would try to court you in human standards. He finds himself confused by human mating customs. But he can find the beauty in it, such as giving flowers. He can decorate your hair with flowers weaved into your braid. Plans ‘ dates ‘ as humans calls it. Takes you to pretty scenery’s or takes you hunting with him. Going flying with him on his ikran anything that seems like a bonding moment with you.
The last step would probably be offering you a ring wedged with pretty rocks surrounding it, a makeshift ring. He would offer it to you, bend down on one knee and gazing up at you. By that time I’m sure you would of caught the drift of his attraction towards you.
#avatar#avatar x reader#na’vi x reader#na’vi#tsu'tey x reader#tsu’tey#courting#headcanons#scenario#dreamwalker
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septem peccata mortalia - gluttony
warnings: mdni (18+), oral (fem rec), fingering, use of sex toys, overstimulation, face riding, grinding, slight perv neighbor!ghost, bit of food play
a/n: ok finally another chapter, not proofread cause i had to re-write half of it and i’m still mad
masterlist
The beaming sun invades your vision, forcing your eyes to squint as you step out into your backyard, the heat bearing down from the sun meant, abandoning all planned tasks for the day in favour of sitting out by the pool.
Settling into your chair you turn to grab your book, running your finger across the pages as you open up the sound of bubbling from the pool filter, filling the air alongside the chirps from a few birds.
The cloudless sky meant the sun became unbearable in a matter of minutes beads of sweat sticking to your skin is your chest gets heavy with the thrum of your heart.
Discarding, you’re reading, turning your legs to the side and pushing from your chair, letting out a deep breath as you move toward the steps of the pool.
Dipping a foot in to test of water, it was cool enough that it had goosebumps forming on your skin, a pattern of ridges moving up your thighs as you let your body sink in deeper.
Movement next-door catches Ghosts attention, he wasn’t ignorant to the existence of his neighbors. In fact, he was well aware of you, the site of your near naked form had him dropping whatever task he was occupied with as you moved into his sight.
The view of your body wading in the pool, a sight reminiscent of something he had seen so many times before. The thoughts plaguing him, the first time was purely by accident, catching a glimpse of your naked farm through the thick pane of glass as you changed of hurting his keys quickly as if you could see him sense his stare on you.
The occurrence grew more common, for weeks he would just watch your curtains, pulled back only for his eyes to see, imagining how you’d feel, the sounds you’d make, how you’d taste. By now he couldn’t even be bothered to stop looking, the fear of you catching him gone, replaced by the warmth that gathered in his chest at the sight of you, the feeling of his blood rushing below the surface.
His dark gaze is glued to you as you dip below the surface of the water emerging as the drops of water trickle down your warm skin pooling between the valley of your breasts, your wet hair slicked back, allowing him a view of your face, warm and flush.
He watches as you tilt your head to the sky, giving him the perfect sight of your neck the skin he so badly wanted to kiss, to nip at he feels his pants grow tighter with the thought.
Watching you aimlessly move through the water, completely oblivious to any prying eyes, it was cruel, a pure temptation, how beautiful you looked, even when it was just you.
His eyes stay glued to you as you move closer to the edge of the pool, moving up the steps as you leave, a trail of water in your path your skin damp.
He watches the way your hips sway, the curve of your ass, the way your breasts jump with every step as you walk into your house.
He huffs a breath to himself, adjusting his pants as they grow tighter. Cursing himself as he notices the mug of tea on the counter, previously hot has now grown cold.
He turns back to his tasks, attempting to occupy himself as he thinks of you, images of you flashing behind his eyes, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could be without you, only knowing you in passing, living without the warmth of your skin.
It’s a knock at the door that drags him from his thoughts, moving toward the wood frame he’d taken aback as he opens the door, your comparatively small frame standing in the way, your hair still damp as you smile at him. Body now clad in a tank top and skirt, anything to keep the heat at bay, he fights to keep his gaze from your chest, the fabric of your top giving him almost allowing him to perfectly see the shape of your nipples underneath.
“Simon right?”
He nods
“Normally i’d never do this but, the air conditioning in my house is broken, if it’s not too much trouble do you think I could stay here, just till it’s cooler out”
He looks apprehensive, as if he was trying to figure out if you were really here or if you were some manifestation of his mind, the gears in his head spinning impossibly fast, making any sort of coherent thought impossible.
“Is your family home?”
He curses himself internally for how creepy that must’ve sounded but you make no face of disgust, simply shake your head.
“Parents are out of vacation, I understand if you don’t want me here, normally i could suffer the heat but it’s insanely hot out”
“Is it?”
You let out a small laugh, he raps his fingers on the door, every part of him wants to say yes, wants you alone with him in the house.
He opens the door, allowing you to slide in beside him, the scent of your skin wafting to his nose, a mixture of chlorine and whatever coconut scented sunscreen you had applied.
The house was practically empty, it almost looked staged, no pictures of heirlooms around, simply decorated for utility.
“You have a beautiful house”
“It does the job, not much for decorating”
“I can tell” You smile at him, he feels the warmth spread in his chest at the sight.
“Are you married?”
The question takes him aback, “Why?”
“No pictures”
He looks around, the bare walls giving away no information about him, “No, not married”
“No girlfriend?”
He can’t tell if your just being neighbourly or trying to interrogate him, “Just me”
“No kids, no girlfriend, what do you do all day?”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone in the neighbourhood has a family, you’re kind of the outlier, so what do you do”
“I work”
“And when you aren’t working?”
“I - read” He fights the urge to answer honestly, admit to the hours he spends watching you, thinking of you, imaging coming home to you and how you’d keep his bed warm while he was away.
“What books”
“All kinds”
“Any I’d know?”
“Maybe”
You move closer to him, close enough that if he moved a few inches he could touch you, could kiss you.
“Can I see?”
He weighs the question in his mind, you’re practically begging to be alone with him upstairs. He doesn’t respond, simply pushes past you to the stairs and moves up them, assuming you’d follow behind.
You reach the top, looking around, more bare walls. He stands at the entrance of a door, “They’re in my bedroom” He phrases it almost like a warning, as if once you enter you’re allowing yourself to him, you look at him with rounded eyes, standing at his side as he turns the knob.
He lets you into the room, watching at your eyes scan over the shelves, fingers brushing over the spines of a few books as you examine them.
“Any you’ve read?”
You grab one from the shelf, “This one”
“Good choice”
You smile lightly, returning it to its spot before moving further into the room, a dark book on the top shelf grabs your attention, reaching for it.
He stands behind you, his chest flush against your back, the hard press of his cock on the curve of your ass as he reaches above you, pulling the book from the shelf and placing it in your hands, you stare up at him with rounded eyes, you breaths shallow as your fingers wrap around the object.
“Thank you”
It comes out as a whisper, his stare pins you down, the cool air doing little to settle the heat rising on your skin.
“No problem”
The book is old and worn, like he’s read it a hundred times over, you scan through the pages quickly, flipping the paper over before closing it.
“Haven’t read this one”
“Take it”
“What? No”
“It’s yours”
Heat flushes your cheeks, holding the book to your chest you thank him with a smile. Your eyes scan the room, everyone so neatly placed, the bed perfectly made, not a speck of dust to be seen. You place the book down carefully, moving around while he stands watch, keeping an eye on your movements.
There’s nothing to even indicate that he sleeps, crisp sheets tucked into place on the sides of the bed, all curtains drawn except one, you move toward it, the sun lighting a path.
Standing in front of the window you look out,
“You can see my room from here” The statement is nonchalant but it has Ghost sweating, fearing that he’d be caught.
“Can you?”
“Mhm, right in”
“Never noticed”
“Here, look” You urge him over with a wave of your hand, he appears beside you, his large form almost suffocating. “See, that’s my room”
“Y’should probably close your curtains”
“Ah, you think someone’s watchin me?” The words come with a small laugh, you keep your gaze outward but his eyes widen, his heartbeat racing. He says nothing in response, his breath held in his chest,
“Probably not, isn’t much to see”
“That’s not true” He speaks without thinking, his eyes on you as you turn to him, brown furrowed in question. “I just mean, you’re very pretty”
“Oh” It’s your turn to be nervous, his body caging you against the wall with his stance as his dark eyes look into yours, your gaze darting around to avoid the eye contact. “Thank you”
“I see you, you know, around the yard, the house, you always look pretty”
“Didn’t think anyone really noticed me to be honest, I tend to keep to myself”
“I noticed”
His eyes stay on you as the words fall from his lips, his tone softer as you turn your head to look at him, close enough that you could count the freckles on his skin, one move and you could trace the scars on his face.
He moves closer, his chest almost touching yours, with one heavy breath you could close the gap, you place a hand to his chest, soft fingers splayed across his skin, you can feel the beat of his heart under the flesh.
“Can I?”
The words come from him in a whisper, his need growing stronger with every second as he waits for your response.
You reach on your toes as he leans down, his lips pressing to yours, pushing his tongue past them to savour your taste, humming against your skin. He pulls back with a chaste breath, wet lips inches from yours as he opens his eyes.
“I need you sweet girl”
The words shoot to your core, the sight of him flush and breathless all too much, nodding you push at the band of your skirt, revealing your body to him.
His palms trace the expanse of your thighs, his body kneeling before you, even at the height he still looks massive, your frame dwarfed by the broadness of his shoulders as his dark eyes look up at you.
His rough fingers leave goosebumps on your skin, the arousal in your core pooling as they near, teasing and circling the flesh, he keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers dip below the band of your panties, pulling them down to reveal your weeping core, your slick glistening the skin.
He turns his stare to your cunt, his tongue darting to wet his lower lip as his fingers spread the skin, smearing your slick over the flesh, gathering it on his digits before pulling them to his mouth, sucking the flavour from them with a hum that has butterflies swarming in your core.
“Knew you’d be sweet, my perfect girl”
He stands up to his full height, his hands on your waist as you watch with heavy breath, he lowers his head so his mouth his beside your ear, the warmth of his breath fanning over the skin as you squeeze your eyes shut.
“Tell me what you need”
Sucking your lip between your teeth you clench around nothing, “Need you, please Simon”
“You want me to taste you?”
“Want you to taste me”
“M’not sure I can control myself love”
“Don’t want you to” Your breathy response flips a switch in him, his arms locking under your legs to lift you, moving toward the bed as he placed you down, you help him lift your shirt from your chest, giving him view your your breasts, he wastes no time in attaching his lips to one, nipping at the raised bud as your hands roam his back.
He bites at the skin leading to your core, licking a trail down as your body vibrates in anticipation. In one fluid motion his attached his lips to your clit, encasing the bud as he hums around it, sending shock waves through your skin, your fingers rushing to grab at his hair, tugging on the roots.
He swirls the bud with his tongue, flicking the muscle over it, the sounds from you only spurring him on. He trails two fingers up your thigh, teasing them around your hole before pushing in, past the first knuckle.
He pumps the digits into you, bending them to graze against your sweet spot as your hips arch into him, chasing his touch. You’d be embarrassed about how quickly he made you fall apart if it wasn’t for how good it felt, every part of him working in time to snap that band in your chest, a string of moans escaping your lips as your thighs twitch around his head, keeping him between your legs as he works you through your high.
He relaxes you slowly, his lips glistening with your slick as you stare at him, chest heavy with your breaths, you move to push off the best but his hand pins your chest down, dark eyes warning you to stay still as he reaches behind you.
“Need more”
He leans over you, his lips crashing into yours as he kisses you, it’s greedy and full of want, the way his tongue slips past your teeth to twist with your own, the taste of your cunt fresh on his lips as you swallow the saliva in your mouth
He pulls back, a string of spit connecting the two of you as he lowers himself back between your legs, you don’t question him as he settles back into position, his breath fanning over your core as your slick drips down your legs.
“Taste so fuckin good love”
You mumble something incoherent as his tongue delves into your core, collecting your spend in his mouth and swallowing it with a satisfied grunt, his hands knead at your skin as his tongue pumps into you, your flesh damp with sweat as your hips move, rocking into his mouth.
You gasp as you feel a cool object press against your leg, trailing up and down the flesh, from the angle you can’t see what it is but the confusion quickly dissipates as you hear a click, and feel the vibration of the object on your skin.
He teases the toy along your inner thigh, building your anticipation as his tongue works you open, leading it toward your clit slowly.
Your hips twitch as it makes contact with the bud, circling it as the vibration ignites your nerves, your head pressing back into the mattress as your fingers dig into his scalp, thighs locked around his head as the warmth in your chest spreads.
He grunts into your core, lapping at you, intent on devouring ever last drop, savouring your taste like it was his last meal.
“Si- Simon, m’gonna cum”
“Give me another one love, cum in my mouth”
You obey his command, your orgasm tearing through your body, writhing under his grip as his hand presses against your stomach, keeping you attached to him, milking your high from your body.
It’s a whimper that signifies that you’d come down, your skin feeling fuzzy as he peels his lips from you, his chin dripping in your juices as he creeps over you, body resting over your form.
You watch him with hazy eyes, your mouth dry from being open so long, his arms snake under your back, holding you to him as he flips your body on top of his, his back resting against the mattress while you straddle him.
You feel his cock through his pants, the rough denim grinding against your core as his hands plant themselves on your hips, rocking you back and forth.
“S’too much”
“You can handle it”
He grinds your sensitive cunt against his clothed core, the seam of his pants falling between your folds to rub against your bud. Your hands falling forward to rest on his broad chest, holding yourself up as he moves your body, moving his hips in time to set a slow pace.
Your face contorting in a mix of pleasure and discomfort as his hold on you reignites that flame in your stomach.
He rolls his hips against you, your clit catching on the fabric with every moment, weak moans falling from your lips as he watches you.
If your orgasm wasn’t building so deeply inside you the notion that you had surely ruined his pants would cause heat to flush your face, but the firm grip of his fingers on your skin combined with his whispered coos has your body on fire.
He eyes your movements, keeping notice of the way your hips twitch, the change in your moans as you reach your peak, within an instant he pulls you off him, the prospect of your orgasm torn from you cause a sob to escape your chest.
He tugs your thighs up his frame, settling your body atop his face as your hands reach for the headboard, grasping at the wood for balance.
“Wha- what are you doing”
“I want to taste every drop of your orgasms, now sit”
The anxiety of the thought escapes you, the heat of his breath over your wanton cunt too much as you settle against his lips, your thighs straddling his head as his hands roam your form.
His tongue makes quick work of bringing your orgasm back, licking touch stripes through your folds as your slick drips down his tongue, sucking on your clit like it was is own honey flavoured sweet.
He could stay there for hours if you let him, just feeling your body writhe under his touch, the sounds you make only for him, tasting you, he wished it would last forever, that your flavour would linger on his lips for an eternity.
He nestles his nose against your clit, how tongue working around your hole, darting in and out, circling it as he devours you.
You grind your hips into him, ignorant of any sort of pressure on his face, grunts of pleasure from his lips vibrate against your core heightening the pleasure the erupts from your stomach.
Your fingers dig into the headboard, your back arching backwards as you chase your high, squeezing your eyes shut as your reduces to strangled moans.
You cum with a sob, his tongue licking any remnants of your spend as he works you through your third orgasm, your legs numb as you fall forward, head braced against your arms as you try to catch your breath.
He shifts from under you, letting you fall against the bed as your limbs splay out, your chest heaving as your vision blurs.
He stands from the bed, eyeing your wracked form,
“Don’t move, I’ll be right back”
You watch with heavy eyes as he rushes out of the room, brushing the hair that sticks to your forehead before he appears in the doorframe.
He reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it from his frame before slotting himself between your legs.
You close your eyes for a moment, trying to regain your thoughts as you feel something drip onto your skin, peering down strings of sticky amber fall on your warm flesh, trailing a line down to your core.
He smears two fingers through the fluid, placing them in front of your lips as you part them, allowing the digits in as your tongue swirls around them, the sweet taste or honey mixing with your saliva as you swallow.
He grins above you, his fingers trailing a wet line between your breasts before he leans down, his tongue darting out to lap as the sticky liquid, the sensation of the muscle against your flesh forcing goosebumps to the surface, your nipples hardening against the cold air.
He continues to lick at the honey, moving back down to your core, collecting it on his tongue and letting it drip from the muscle onto your cunt, watching it slide between your folds before dropping down, flattening his tongue to collect it, his eyes on yours as he swallows the mixture.
“So damn sweet”
Words escape you, too worked up to form a coherent thought, reduced to whimpers as he delves back in, lapping at your slick, as the honey pools on your skin.
You wriggle under his touch, your hips twitching away from him but he plants his grip firm, holding you down as he licks at you.
“S’too much”
“Just one more, give me one more, please”
He looks at you with pleading eyes, with tears pricking yours, you can see the way his hips grind against the mattress, he got such pleasure from tasting you, enough that he was getting off on it, your flavour alone enough to send him over the edge.
Deep brown eyes begging you for another orgasm, how could you deny him, when the sight of him grunting into your core would haunt your dreams for weeks to come.
He pushes two fingers into your core, grinding them against your sweet spot as your fingers cling to the sheets, gripping them hard enough you were confused by how they hadn’t ripped yet.
Your body consumed in a layer of sweat, hair surely tied into knots from the way your head shifting against the sheets.
He keeps his eyes on you, round eyes watching every muscle in your face contort as his hips grind into the mattress.
Weak whimpers from his lips hit your core, the sight of him combined with every one of his moments bringing you to the edge, you dig your heels into his back, keeping him flush with you as you squeeze your legs shut.
A wracked sob from your throat escapes as you cum, your spine arched from the bed as he sucks at your clit, his fingers keeping you high as he forces you to ride it out.
He squeezes his eyes shut, his hips stuttering against the bed as he groans, spilling into his pants as he finishes, one day he’d feel you clamp down on him but for now, he just wanted to taste you for hours.
He detached from your core, resting over your frame, eyes roaming your weak form as he leans down to kiss you, the remnants of your spend lingering on his tongue as he loses you softly.
“Such a good girl”
He takes pity on you for now, letting you rest for a moment before he scoops you from the bed, weak limbs dangling under his hold as he walks to the bathroom.
He sets you down slowly, allowing you to hold onto his shoulders for balance as he strips his pants from himself, his own mess smeared across his legs as he helps you into the shower.
He lets the water run for a moment before it gets warm, turning the head to let the water fall over your chest, watches the droplets wash away the mess on your skin as your hands hold him.
He keeps a hand on your waist, keeping you steady as the water warms your flesh, soothing the ache in your muscles as it washes over you, the steam seeping through your nose, aiding the dryness that has settled in your throat.
Time passes quickly as you close your eyes, allowing him to maneuver around you, his hand always on you, keeping you aware of his presence.
Your peace disrupted as the shower turns off, a cool air breezing over your skin as the door opens, he reaches for a towel, drying your skin before wrapping it around you.
A small amount of strength restored to your limbs as you step out carefully, his gaze on you as you lean against the counter. In the light you can see him fully, every ridge of muscle that hid under his shirt, the dark ink that graces his forearm, your eyes wandering to a glimpse of his length, eyes widening at the sight.
“Don’t worry love, we’re done for now”
Hi hand finds your cheek, tugging your focus to his face, his cheeks flush from the steam as you look at him.
“Do you want to stay?” He forms it like a question but the answer is clear in the way your hand wraps around his wrist, your body pushing forward into his on its own accord.
Nodding lightly you smile at him, “Could I?”
“It’d be a shame to send you back to a home with no air conditioning”
“Wouldn’t it?”
A small laugh from your chest breaks the tension, his thumb running over your warm flesh as his hand settles on your lower back, pushing you toward the bedroom.
He lets you settle into the bed, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he shifts beside you, damp hair wetting the pillow beneath him as he snakes his arm under you, your body shifting to turn against him, the warmth of his chest spreading across your back as his arm wraps around your stomach, keeping you close.
He settles his chin behind your neck, his breath fanning across your damp skin as he settles in, you can feel his heartbeat, slow and steady as his eyes drift shut, the ambience of his breathing making your eyelids feel heavier than ever.
You fall asleep next to him, legs tangled between his as his arms hold you close, keeping you stuck to him.
For a moment Simon wakes, his body sticky with sweat as he peels himself from you, his focus on your sleeping form, soft breathing letting him know you were in fact asleep, and real.
His lips dry, he darts a tongue to wet them, smiling to himself as he taste the slightest remnants of you on the skin, running a hand to brush the hair from your shoulder as he plants a soft kiss to your shoulder, sliding back into his position behind you.
#cod mw2#simon riley x reader#simon riley#cod mw x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost cod#ghost x reader#mw2022#simon riley fluff
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Pushing With A View
The sun was streaming through the huge window when Tanya woke and felt down her massive pregnant frame. She was warm under the covers but her body was restless. The gentle ripplings of early labor was turning into something stronger and more powerful. Tanya rubbed her throbbing orb as she tried to sit up. She was slammed back into the sheets with a mega stab of agony. She ran both her hands over her contracting core and panted heavily. The pain was twisting and expanding rapidly. Another sharp pain exploded that travelled all the way to her pounding opening. She thought to herself in sheer panic, "This is it!"
The laboring mother felt feverish as she initatively felt between her legs and pressed her fingers inside her folds. It was damp! Her waters had broken while she slept. She rocked on the sheets for a brief time, playing with her clit. She was enjoying the pleasurable sensations when the next surge exploded. Tanya threw her head and yelled from its violent shock wave. She opened her folds again to felt a massive dome pressing towards her entrance. Her mind was spinning. Her thoughts went insane. "It is time! I need to birth! I need to push!"
Tanya pulled back the quilt with shaking hands to find her quaking belly rocking wildly. The intensity of the present contraction was breathtaking. Her middle was covered in beads of sweat. She gasped and panted frantically as she clutched the fitted sheet underneath her naked form. Tanya breathed faster and faster as the surge increased its savage bombardment. She gripped the cotton material with tight fists. Tanya grew desperate as the surge became unbearably stronger. The pain suddenly erupted in a tremendous peak. The laboring woman bellowed and threw herself against the pillows. She cried again as the need to bear down commenced. She could feel the heaviness in her vaginal cavity as she pushed against it with incredible determination. The head was huge! The need to free it was her only priority now. She squirmed and grunted aggressively as more efforts followed with strong pushing groans.
Tanya struggled to arrange pillows around herself when a brief break was granted to her. She was sweating profusely with cold, clammy hands as Tanya prepared for the next onslaught. The birther didn't have to wait long. The next brutal pang took hold with full ferocity. Tanya went back to work with focus and strength.
The pushing was hard and exhausting! With each incredible effort, the enormous head slammed against her burning lips, spreading her wide and open. The small attic room filled with cries of birth as the progression lead to screams of sheer terror. The torturous contractions came relentlessly. The battle of childbirth was taking over completely. The painful surges raged through her stretching core. Her baby was aggressively trying to escape through her slowly, opening passage.
Tanya grunted loudly before pushing against the gigantic shape of the head. Grunting sounds rapidly companied agonising cries. Tanya frantically moaned and panted as she rose and shoved down on the birthing head with all her physical stamina. The stinging, shooting sensations exploded all through her vaginal cavity as the mega sphere grow wider and wider......
Her hands clutched the sheets with great fear. When the pain grew too much to handle, the preparing mother pressed her long fingers into her aching clit. She rubbed wildly, bringing on orgasmic pressure to power the need to keep birthing her entrapped offspring.
Birthing screams filled the entire upper floor of the estate. Howling cries vibrated off the wooden walls as more of the head became visible between her thighs. Tanya was driven mad with the excruciatingly strong efforts. It was coming! It was so close! It was about to erupt any moment now.
Tanya spread her legs as wide as she could as the worst pain gripped her womb with unimaginable torture. She pushed against it with the loudest shout ever. She roared out at the top of her lungs as the pain repeated. She bore down as her entire body exploded into a million pieces. Orgasmic pressure along with birthing agony forced her open fully. The head erupted forward. She gasped as the rest of the baby kept birthing out of her vagina.
The baby cried between her legs as her son announced his arrival. He was gigantic, healthy and full of energy. Tanya quickly cradled him in the surrounding sheets and blankets. She nursed him agsinst her chest as she slowly regained her composure.
Wow! What an incredibly powerful morning! She smiled weakly as her partner's footsteps followed with the opening of the attic door to discover his morning surprise!!!
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Lucemond time travel fix-it au with a twist where a 11-year-old Aemond and his 30-year-old self switches bodies.
Older!Aemond is happily married to Lucerys. They have three children and Lucerys is nursing their youngest.
Youger!Aemond just got his eye gauged out. Poor boy.
It all starts at that fateful night on Driftmark. Aemond claimed Vaghar but lost an eye. The pain is too intense, the hurt too deep, the humiliation too intolerable, and most importantly, the indifference in his father’s eyes is too much to bear. As the maester is sewing his flesh back together, Aemond blacks out for a bit.
When he wakes up next, he finds himself in a strange place. He’s lying on a massive bed; the unique ocean scent tells him that he’s still on Driftmark, but the surrounding is completely different from mere seconds ago. Did he pass out longer than he thought? Did his mother put him to rest? Why is his face not hurting? What is the warmth on his left?
Aemond doesn’t have to wonder any longer, because the warmth shifts and Aemond hears a small yawn as he feels hot breath on his neck.
“Why are you up, Aemond?” A mop of brown curls emerges from Aemond’s blind side. It’s a boy, no, young man with soft features and sleepy eyes the color of honey wine.
Aemond doesn’t know him. Seven, he never sleeps in the same bed with anyone else. And he certainly doesn’t cuddle.
“Who are you? I demand you to get off my bed and identify yourself.” Aemond says, his voice deep and resonating, nothing like the voice Aemond is accustomed to.
This is NOT his voice.
The young man frowns, sleep disappearing from his eyes. He studies Aemond for a while before slips off the bed. The young man fishes an oversized tunic from the floor and throws it on. The tunic comes down all the way to the middle of his thigh, and Aemond belatedly realizes his companion is completely naked. So is Aemond.
“Did Aegon give you something nasty again? I am going to cut off his balls.” The young man spits, pacing around the room to light the candles.
Aegon, right, that’s a familiar name. His older brother is constantly horny and drunk which annoys Aemond to the core, but now he would die to see a familiar face again.
“Here. Drink some water. Does your head hurt? Do you feel like vomiting? I can have the maester prepare some tonic for you, or do you prefer some warm soup?” The young man returns to the bed with a goblet in hand. He offers the goblet to Aemond before leans down, pressing their forehead together to feel Aemond’s temperature.
Aemond’s breath catches in his throat. Never is someone so caring to him. Not even his own mother. Alicent is always civil and aloof. She is more Queen than mother to him. Aemond can’t remember the last time someone showed such affection and devotion to him.
“How do you feel? Talk to me, Aemond, beloved, you are scaring me.” The young man brushes a strand of silver hair from Aemond’s forehead, his touch so tender that Aemond doesn’t want him to stop.
“Who are you?” Aemond asks again, this time barely a whisper. This is a dream, Aemond is sure of it. Maybe the maester gives him too much milk of the poppy. That’s why he would have this strange but incredibly vivid and addicting dream. He is afraid if he asks the wrong question, the caring stranger would disappear and he will be left alone with pain again.
The stranger chuckles, as if Aemond just did something silly but endearing.
“I can’t believe you are so hang-over that you forget your own husband.” The stranger says. His eyes twinkle, small beads of sweat gives his skin an inviting sheen, and Aemond could see red bite marks scattered all over his chest, especially around his nipples.
“Husband?” Aemond repeats, rather stupidly.
“That’s right. I am your husband, Lucerys.” The young man kisses Aemond on the lips as he reveals the truth.
Aemond’s whole world starts to spin. No. It cannot be. This is merely a milk of the poppy induced dream. There is no way he would marry Lucerys of all people. The boy who just took his eye.
But, come to think of it, Aemond now sees a pair of big doe eyes, unruly curls, plush lips, full cheeks, and a cute button nose. All those features scream Lucerys to him.
“What year is it?” Aemond mutters.
“Are you sure you are all right, love? It’s 140 AC.”
And just like that, a 11-year-old Aemond somehow transfers into the body of his older self almost 20 years later.
Bonus:
121 AC, Driftmark
Aemond (turns to the maester): Can you look at my husband Lucy, eh, I mean my nephew Lucerys? I think his nose is still bleeding.
Everyone looks shocked except for Lucerys.
Lucerys (sniffles): Are you hurting too much uncle?
Aemond: It’s not too bad. Come here, you can kiss it better.
Lucerys (stumbles toward Aemond)
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“Come on, my little crybaby.”
Eddie Munson x female reader
summary: hot day in hawkins. eddie shaves your legs, you play in shaving cream and the water hose, then have sex in the woods.
warnings: language, so much fluff it might make you throw up, eddie shaves reader’s legs, stereotypical differences in men and women about shaving, quoting from the graduate, sex in the woods, giggly sex, teasing, decrophylia. i gave eddie christopher as a middle name lol.
taglist!
@phantomxoxo @imdoingbetternow @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @eddiemania @eddiemunson @ohlovelyhollow @tessiemessie @rovckwells @lillianofliterature @delilahtaylorsverson @aa-li-yah @ches-86 @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @catherinnn @flowers-and-tsukki @your-starless-eyes-remain @kellysimagines @blowing-mikey @underthebatcape @noturmom15 @supercalifragilisticprincess @tripthlightfantastic @itiscj @edzmunsonswife @hearts4laura @ultimate-sdmn-trash @chaos-incorp @livasaurasrex @mic429 @averysblog @antigoneidk @avobabe87 @lexthemess21 @nothisispatric @heeyitsg @genuine-possum @imangy @fvcking-gxddess @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @justaproudslytherpuff @no0neknowsm3 @cosmic-lavender @bellasfavoritesweatpants @cheri86 @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @ahzysauce @softyutae @kaqua
1987 would be known as the hottest summer in Hawkins, Indiana. There was never not a day where the sun was bearing down without a single cloud in the sky for coverage. And to make matters worse, mostly everyone’s air conditioners weren’t working to the city damaging electrical towers, so everyone in town had to suffer.
Most kids and parents spent their days at the city pool or playing in the hose out in the yard, or get drunk at the bar. The ac didn’t work at the bars, either, but people still went. Eddie’s trailer had to have been the most scorching place all of town. After all, he lived in a tin can for shits sake. There were box fans all over the living room, but that only blew hot air around, so it didn’t do much to help cool anyone down.
Eddie worked a few days at the radiator shop with Wayne, while you worked weekends at the library in town, so you both spent most blistering days squished together in the kiddie pool in his back yard with cheap, packaged lemonade he found in his cabinet. You couldn’t exactly go fully nude in public, but you’d get as close as you possibly could without the law being called.
Today, Eddie was sprawled out on the living room floor in just his blue checkered boxers, skin sweaty and sticky, dark curls glued to his neck and shoulders. The tv was playing the price is right in the corner, and you, had one leg propped up on the sink as you shaved your legs, dots of white shaving cream decorating the floor. Your hair was tangled in a fallen bun, your clothes, or lack of, only being your short biker shorts and a black sports bra.
“Goddamn, son of a bitchin’ piece of fuck.” You muttered under your breath, struggling with your balance as you shaved under your ankle.
Eddie cocked his head to look over at you, blinking away sweat. “Cut yourself again?”
“No.” You huffed. “Just don’t like doing this in here.”
“Why can’t you do it in the bathroom?”
“Because it’s too fucking hot in there.” You sent him a glare, one that made him roll his eyes as he sat up dizzily. The heat made everyone feel sickly. He coughed as he stood, wiping a bead of sweat as he came up behind you.
“Here,” He took the razor from your hand. “Sit. I’ll do it.” He gave your ass a light tap as you twisted and lifted yourself onto the counter tops. He put his hand under your knee and you pressed your foot against his rib, your leg streaked with shaving cream and water. He turned on the sink for a moment to wet the razed, bringing it up to your thigh and slowly dragging it down.
You hummed in satisfaction at being able to relax, leaning against the cabinet doors as you admired his naked chest. “Being a woman sucks.”
He chuckled, going over your knee. “That right?”
“Yes.” You grumbled through sweat. “You men don’t understand how difficult it is. We have to shave everything, and I grow back so damn fast I have to basically do it everyday.”
“Well, you know I’d still love you if you had harry legs.” He caught your eyes with a smirk, leaning over to rinse the razor under the tap. “Don’t matter to me if you want to rock a seventies bush or not. You never complain about mine.”
“You’re just saying that.” You crossed your arms, jutting your lip out in annoyance. You raised your brow as he put your left leg down and picked up your right. He was surprisingly very good at this. “None of my exes would be interested in having sex with a ten foot yard pole if I wasn’t completely shaved.”
“Yeah, well your exes were assholes, babe.” He raised a brow at you for a moment. “You can be as harry as you want to be with me, sweetheart. You know I don’t give a shit about that stuff.”
You grew flushed under his stare, feeling embarrassed. He waited until you nodded before he went back down to your leg. You went back to admiring him, thinking about how good he was to you. The bulge beneath his boxers was prominent, and you eyed it shamelessly. A bead of sweat dripped down your exposed stomach, and you shimmied uncomfortably in the heat.
“If you want me to finish, honey, you’re gonna have to stop staring at me like that.” He didn’t look at you to know that you were ogling him, a small smirk tugging at his top lip.
You grew increasingly aware of just how close to naked the both of you were, even though that was pretty much your normal attire for the past few weeks. Still, his crotch was only a few feet in front of yours, only covered by shorts that barely covered any skin. “Just admiring.” You said with a playful shrug, sneakily reaching your hand back to grab the bottle of shaving cream.
“You mean distracting.” He shook your leg to keep you still, squinting his eyes in concentration as he inspected your skin for more hair.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you noisily squirted more into your hand. “Need some more of this?”
“Yeah- maybe just on your thigh right th- ooof!” The loud splat of the shaving cream in your hand landed smack dap in his face, covering his forehead and his nose, white dots on his lips.
You howled with a laugh that shook your shoulders and you dropped the can, the look of pure shock and awe on his face.
“So that’s what I get, huh?” He placed a hand on his hip, bringing up the other to attempt to wipe of the disaster. “Try and help my girl out and I just get mistreated. You’re a real brat, ya know?”
You fake pouted and jutted your lip. “Aww, my poor baby, come here.”
“No, huh uh!” He jerked away in playful defiance, grabbing the small hand towel by the stove. “I see how it is.”
“Oh, come on, you crybaby I was kidding!” You tried to keep from laughing, hopping down from the counter to step up behind him.
“Eddie- AH!” You screamed and jumped when shaving cream was smacked across your lips, smudging your cheeks and dripping down your neck. “What the fuck!”
Eddie beamed happily, sticking out his tongue and placing his hands on his hips. “Suck it up, crybaby.”
You cringed and spat out with a shake of your head. “Ugh- gross! That shit got in my mouth!”
“Aww, my poor baby, come here.” He mocked you, taking a step, but only to smother your face with the white foam on his hands. He cackled as you screamed, smacking your ass as he bolted out the door.
“You fucker!” You yelled through giggles, practically loosing your balance from the force of his hand. You slipped on your footing as you tried to chase after him, face bright red through giggles as you followed after him. “Eddie!” You ran down the steps, wincing when you stepped on the gravel with your bare feet. You payed no mind to the fact you didn’t have much covering.
You ran around into the backyard, the blades of grass hot under your skin. You continued to wipe away shaving cream of your body when yet again, you screamed. You were knocked down again when Eddie sprayed you with the hose. The hose on full blast. “Eddie!” You screamed from the ground, jaw hung open in dismay. “What the hell!”
His hair was wet on the ends from spraying you, and he blew on the end of the hose like he was putting out the smoke from a hot gun. “If you’re gonna mess with the master, sweetness, you’re gonna have to up your game.”
While the water felt nice, you weren’t done playing around. “Well, are you at least gonna help me up?” You craned a brow.
He chuckled and tossed down the hose, holding out his hand for you. Halfway pulling you up, he let go, sending you back on your ass. You yelped and watched as he reared his head back in laughter and took off down the backyard hill towards the woods.
You couldn’t even say anything, just gasping in shock as you struggled to stand. “Edward Christopher Munson!” You chased after him.
You almost debated going back for shoes when you stepped over rocks and limbs as you entered the woods. You and Eddie spent a lot of time down there. Even spent the night sometimes by the creek. It was romantic. And while a lot of the trailer park kids went down there to play, you pretended it was your own special place. It was grassy and mossy on the fallen tree trunks and rocks, and dandelions decorated the forest floor.
“Eddie!” You twirled around with a smile. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” You already knew he was trying to scare you, and you shivered slightly from the cold water now that you were in the shade. “Eddie!”
“Boo!”
You jumped when his hands grabbed your shoulders, twisting you around and pushing you back until you pressed up against a tree. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, locking your lips together as he knocked your knees apart. You kissed through smiles, sweat and leftover shaving cream. His tongue swiped over your teeth and he pushed his torso between your thighs, making you groan from his erection. You grabbed his hip and pushed yours against him, fisting his curls tightly.
“Somebody’s happy to see me.” You reached down palm him through his boxers. “Seducing me down here to get your dick sucked, Munson?”
He littered kisses on your neck, biting softly when you lightly squeezed his cock. “Oh, baby, you’d know if I was seducing you.” He licked the shell of your ear. “Would you like me to seduce you?”
You erupted into giggles that made him smile against your skin, and you rolled your hips into his as tree bark scraped against your back. You were sure you’d have blood when you were finished.
You moaned sweetly in his ear, your stomach fluttering to life that made your head spin. “When do- ah, when do you think the ac w-will be back on- on?”
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He chuckled, pulling away to push your hair out of your face. “Ac units get you going, do they?”
You never felt insecure with Eddie. Not really. But still, self doubt always crept it’s way in from time to time. You blushed deeply and he saw your eyes flash for a moment. You looked nervous.
“What’s wrong?” He narrowed his eyes, thumb tracing your lips.
“Well,” You swallowed, briefly glancing down. “I’ve not- well, I didn’t finish shaving. You know- well- down there.”
He stared for a minute to see if you were messing with him, then he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” He brushed your hands away to kiss you passionately, tilting your head back onto the tree. Your noses squished together and your tongues tangled. He reached for your thighs and gave them a light tap, signaling you to jump.
You quickly discarded your shorts and panties and jumped, your bodies slick and wet with lust and perspiration.
“God, I love you.” He husked against you, barely pushing down his boxers so he could pull his cock out. “And your hair.”
You whimpered as he lined his cock with your slit, adjusting his hold with you. “I love- oh,” You saw stars when he pushed into you, your muscles pushing and pulling to adjust to his girth. “Fuck, fuck,” You winced, gripping his shoulder.
He pressed his lips against yours to shut you up, and thrusted into you slowly to give you time to adjust. He kissed you slow and sweet, rocking your gently. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close, tears already brimming your eyes at the fullness in your belly.
“You’re so good to me.”
He smirked at your shaky voice, his lips against your jaw as he put more force into his hips. He reached up to grab hold of your arm. “Because you’re my good little girl.” He buried his face in your neck as he thrusted sharply, and you squealed as your bare back scraped against the back, your bra being the only protection you had.
“Oh, fuck!” You yelped, your legs shaking with his pace. He grunted hotly into your ear, holding your hip in place to keep you from squirming so much. You hoped to god no kids would come down for an afternoon swim, because you were not being discreet whatsoever. You panted loudly through tears that leaked down your neck.
Scratches and small cuts formed on your back with each thrust, your stomach coiled and you whimpered loudly when his rough hand came down to your clit. You didn’t feel insecure about your pubic hair this time. Eddie’s eyes pierced into yours, glossing over from ecstasy and pleasure. He pressed his forehead against yours, thrusting harder and needier, sloppier as his orgasm got closer.
“Eddie, I’m- god, I’m gonna cum-” You sobbed, eyes fluttering open and close. You felt blood drip down your back, your skin stinging.
He nodded quickly, gasping as he kissed you hard. “Cum with me.” He rubbed quick and sloppy circles on your clit and you shook and cried, your body convulsing as your orgasm took over. Your eyes went blind and you hyperventilated in his arms, legs around him squeezing as his cock shot his load into you.
“Fuck.” He cursed, biting your shoulder as you squeezed his cock. Your tears hit his shoulders, and you almost thought you were going to faint from how quick your head was spinning.
When he moved to pull away, you squeezed his arm. “No, don’t.” You swallowed. “I don’t think I can stand.”
He laughed breathily and kissed at a tear, nodding.
“And I think my back might be bleeding.” You patted him, eyes closing from exhaustion.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” He gently pulled out of you, causing you to wince at the emptiness. “Turn around, let me see.”
You shook your head. “Can’t stand, Ed. M’ serious.”
He chuckled and tucked himself back into his boxers, picking you up gently to carry you back up to the house. You laid your head on his chest and smiled. “Come on, my little crybaby.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson angst#stranger things#stranger things season four#joseph quinn#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson smut#eddie my boy#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n
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Party Of One + Ten
Prompt 20: Orgy
Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader
Description: When the portals to each timeline crack open, thanks to Liu Kang, you discover that there are several different versions of every person in existence. You realize just how different they all are from each other when you meet with ten versions of Syzoth, all living very different lives and having completely different personalities. Although they do share one thing in common: they want you. Not wanting to choose between the men—in fear that they would rip each other apart out of jealousy—you decide to take them all at once. After all, why have just one when you can have them all?...
Warnings: Orgy (Ten Guys, One Girl), Oral (Male And Female Receiving), Multiple HandJobs At Once (Male Receiving), Nipple Play, P In V, Unsafe Sex, Creampie, Breeding...
Word Count: 807
Main MasterList: 🖤
Kinktober MasterList: 🖤
Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @queenkhepri, @bihansthot, and @mmeerraa.
⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒
Of all the things I saw coming from this timeline split, I never would have imagined ten different versions of Syzoth. Some were gods, some were Titans, some were villains, and some were heroes. It was quite confusing and shocking, staring at all the same faces but with eyes that had each seen different lives. It made me realize that anything was possible and that the unknown ran deeper than I knew. But one thing I did know for sure: they all want me.
It started out as a fight between the group, all arguing over who would get to claim me as their forever mate. And eventually, it became physical as well. Afraid for the men and their well-being, I quickly threw myself in the middle out of bear desperation.
"Stop! Please, stop fighting! There is enough of me to share!" I exclaimed loudly as I stepped in between the men, hoping for it to put an end to their little war.
The men took a moment to contemplate my suggestion, but then their lips slowly formed wicked grins in sync, as if it had been planned all along to share me. Suddenly, I was being crowded by the group, and it didn't take long for me to figure out my fate.
Not too long later, they had me laid out naked on a large bed. I could barely even comprehend how much pleasure I was receiving from each man. I had a cock in each hole, a skilled tongue at my clit, two pairs of lips at my throat, a pair of lips wrapped tightly around each nipple, and a cock in each of my hands.
I pumped furiously at the cocks in my grasp while swallowing around the one shoved down my throat. The men did so well to keep up with each other's pace; it was impressive! Breath hitching as each of them entered me once again, I began to tremble as my climax grew near faster than it ever had before. Lips sucking and teeth nibbling at my nipples had me arching my back, pushing my chest into the face of the two men at my breasts. It was all I could do since my hands were occupied since my hands were occupied at the time.
Each side of the tongue on my clit massaged the little bead so nicely, working so hard to bring forth my climax. In fact, they all put in so much effort to make me feel good. At first, I thought they were working as a team. But as time went on, I couldn't be sure if that was still the case or if they were competing to see who could make me feel the most pleasure.
The air in the room grew hotter by the second and filled with the sounds of my moans—muffled by a Titan's shaft—the squelching sounds of our juices spilling and mixing as one, the sharp and consistent slapping sound of skin-to-skin contact, and the feral growls of the men surrounding me. The pressure within my lower half was building, and I began to struggle to keep consciousness as the pleasure was too much to bear.
That coil within grew tighter and tighter as seconds passed. As they all pushed in at once—all cocks and tongues hitting every sweet spot at the same time—that coil finally snapped. I screamed as my orgasm raptured through me, and I was so high on the moment that I didn't even realize that I was writhing and struggling against their firm grip on my form.
I couldn't handle it anymore—I couldn't keep up at all. And when they all came—releasing all their seed on me, around me, and within me—almost at the exact same moment, I fell completely limp, like all the bones in my body had turned to jelly. I could no longer move or make a noise; the only sound leaving me was a wheezey breath as one of my new lovers pulled his member out of my mouth.
I just laid there covered in hot, milky seed as I began to fall into a deep slumber. The last thing I heard were the voices of the men who would watch over me as I slept.
"She's so precious."
"She'll be the perfect mother for my brood."
"Filling her with a whole clutch should be easy, if we hadn't already."
"I can't wait to make her my forever mate—my queen."
"She sure did good tonight. I can't wait to do this again."
"She looks so peaceful right now—so soft and fragile."
"I could watch her rest like this forever."
"It really is so nice and calming. She's so easy on the eyes, too."
"Beautiful little girl, how you've brought color my blackened heart already."
"Sleep tight, princess. We shall be here when you wake."
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#mortal kombat 1#mk1#mortal kombat reptile#mk reptile#reptile#reptile x reader#mortal kombat syzoth#mk syzoth#syzoth#syzoth x reader#kinktober 2023#SinnamonsSpicyFics
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Humanized Spider Thoughts
So... this makes me even more sad that his canon storyline but here I am thinking about it.
What if the Recoms / the RDA had made attempts to "humanize" Spider? How would that go? How would he react? How far would they go? How would the family react?
SO I'm going to try to keep this somewhat close to how Quarritch does respect Spider to a certain degree in canon but like his human memories and frankly RDA's orders make him think this is the best course of action.
So yeah, recoms hold Spider down as he attempts to bite and snarls and eventually begs them not to cut his hair. They don't really listen obviously, chopping off his locs in one go. They force wash his hair and his body clean of blue paint and scrub so hard that even the usual residue from the plant substance that stains his skin (think henna) goes away. Spider's left with kind of a mismatched chop of baby curls atop of his head and without his stripes, he feels more naked than he does in just his loincloth. They force him into human clothes (tank and cargo pants). The only win he gets in that situation is that he continues to kick off the boots they give him and they give up trying on that front.
Quarritch had a bit of a war in himself as he watched this process. Like from the person he remembers himself to be from the human memories, he should be all for this, but there's something in him that hates watching Spider scream and struggle so hard against the recoms and scientists that eventually he has to be sedated just for them to be able to finish his hair in peace. There's something horrifying in seeing the emptiness in his eyes as Spider sees his own reflection for the first time, when he moves to touch his hair but his hand hovers just above the cut ends, freezing there and something in his expression just breaks. (Miles is behind the one way mirror during this point so Spider isn't masking as much as he would if he knew he were there).
It's that pull of regret in Quarritch's gut that makes him save the few beads from the locs they'd cut off of Spider's head and secretly snag what he didn't know was Spider's small songcord he'd made himself and keep them on his person. He thinks about throwing them away multiple times but he never does.
Spider can't touch his hair during those few months, flinches whenever someone else accidentally brushes against his head (with him being so much smaller than the Na'vi it happens a lot). He can't bear to look at himself in any reflective surface because it makes him queasy. He hates the human clothes that make him feel more "other" and "outsider" than he already does, but every time he escaped in those early days to paint stripes on himself, the recoms would clean him again and shove him a shirt, and eventually Spider gave up, thinking it was better to just stay like that than to keep getting manhandled every time he tries to cover himself.
He's glad Quarritch lets him stay barefoot. He thinks it would have killed something more of him to be unable to feel the forest soil at his feet, the tickle of moss between his toes, the familiar grooves of tree bark as he jumped through the branches. It was his one constant reminder of Eywa's presence in everything, his sole salvation.
He becomes very quiet, way quieter than he's ever been in his life. The only times he perks up a bit is when Quarritch asks him to teach them about the Na'vi and a little of his old zest for life comes back when he's allowed to speak Na'vi and relive his days of tracking game in the forest.
Still, he tends to zone out a lot and violently flinch back to himself before getting a haunted look as he looked down at himself. Quarritch hears him cry at night when he thinks no one is listening, quiet, muffled sobs where he goes to touch his hair and his hands twitch away violently. Then go to hug himself only to have to same reaction and dig his hands into the dirt instead. It makes him feel so unpleasant watching it.
The experience of being forcefully stripped of his Na'vi - ness combined with the mental probing of his mind he was subjected to make Spider retreat into himself if only to protect his own mental state. Him zoning out it really him immersing himself in any pleasant memory he has in the forest, of Kiri painting stripes on him, Neteyam ruffling his hair, flying on an ikran with Lo'ak. He wraps his mind in the memory of lying on the forest floor at Kiri's side, breathing in the smell of the forest, letting it fill him up from the inside and pretending that he could feel Eywa cradling him, a Sky person, in its embrace, that he'd somehow tricked the Great Mother into treating him like a Na'vi and accepting him.
It gets worse when they get to the ship though. All his feet feel are cold human metal and he hates it. He can't smell anything but human sweat and protein bars and fuel when he's in the ship and it makes him physically sick. He's kind of just a walking shell at this point and what breaks him further is when they question the Ta'unui clan, when he's made to interpret for them, when Eywa's people see him and his humanized appearance for the first time and it makes him want to crawl inside himself and die. Then he has to watch them shoot an ilu, burn down villages, hunt a tulkun (one of the most beautiful creatures he's ever seen) while he's THERE and he LOOKS LIKE THEM.
He starts existing in a haze that his memories can barely protect him from anymore, sleeping whenever he can just to escape the feeling of existing like this. To say it scares Quarritch is an understatement. He's terrified to his very core when he compares the fierce fighter he met that fateful day in the forest and the ghost of a boy in front of him. So much so that before they try to draw out Jake Sully with the Tulkun hunt near the villages, Quarritch comes and gives him the beads and songcord he salvaged at the beginning of his captivity.
It takes a second for Spider to even realize what they are as he tries to crawl out of the numb state of mind he's drowned himself in. It's only when Quarritch leaves them next to him and exits the room that he recognizes them, parts of the person who was taken away from, forcibly changed. He recognizes the bead that Kiri had made for him, the one Neteyam had swiped for him from Jake's faulty attempts, and his sad excuse of a songcord. He's scared to touch them at first, as if they'll dissapear if he reaches for them, but he aches for it, and he holds them to his chest for hours. He keeps them on his person at all times. He can't actually put them on anything because of how short his hair is and the fact that he's terrified someone will take them away from him if they see them, so he stuffs them in a pocket of his cargo pants and can constantly be seen patting that pocket to make sure they're still there.
He's only roused to action again when he sees Lo'ak and friends held captive on the boat and it's like a cold bucket of water has been thrown in his face. It's spurring him, yanking him out of his own mind long enough to try and get to him.
But it takes Lo'ak a second to even recognize him, and in the brief moment they have together, his eyes widen and his voice kind of breaks as he sees what they've done to Spider, what he's become, and he can barely say "what did they do to you?" before they're pulled away from each other.
His best friend barely even recognized him, had been unable to, and that breaks Spider further when he didn't even think that was possible. It convinces Lo'ak even more though that they have to go back for him.
Spider still manages to crash the ship though, he's holding onto that rush of adrenaline he'd felt upon spotting Lo'ak as tightly as possible before it fades away and he retreats back into his mind. Lo'ak and Neteyam come back for him, and Neteyam cannot believe what he's seeing. He's seized by a furious, raging anger the likes he's never felt before when he finally gets a chance to look at Spider, to see the circles under his eyes and how he has thinned, to see his shorn curls and the clothes and the glassy look in his eyes. But he doesn't have time to do anything or say anything, he just has to get Spider out. He just has enough time pull him into a fierce hug that has Spider choking up before he's ushering them off of the boat.
And NETEYAM LIVES IN THIS AU BECAUSE I SAID SO, I CAN'T HANDLE SPIDER'S HUMANIZATION AND NETEYAM DYING OKAY IT'S ONE OR THE OTHER
So Neteyam just shot in like the shoulder or something or frankly maybe Spider sees it and jumps in front of him and he gets shot in the arm, nothing fatal or life-threatening. I'm going with the Neteyam is shot one for the rest of this.
They do leave him behind though to go back for Kiri and Tuk. Jake barely has time to kind of register just what fate he left Spider to when he sees him but he has to shove that down immediately because he has to go save his girls. Spider is honestly barely holding on mentally at this point. So many of the people he loved had seen him in this state, looking so human, in a state he hated himself in, and now Kiri of all people was about to. But he has to go save her and Tuk, there's no choice in the matter.
Kiri cries doubly hard when she sees him because not only does she understand how deeply what they've done has affected him but like her mom has a dagger to Spider's throat, about to kill the one person she feels most at home with, the boy she loves.
Gonna skip over the next part cause this is getting too long but Spider still saves Quarritch if only for the care he showed him and giving him back his beads. He still leaves him but now he doesn't know what to do. He's kind of lost who he is and he doesn't know if he can or should go back to the Sully family. He keeps swimming in their direction because he can't really stay in the middle of the fucking ocean while he decides. Unbeknownst to him though, as the Sully family gathers back together and takes in the fact that they're all alive, it's Neteyam who's like where the fuck is Spider? He hasn't been able to stop thinking about what he saw because damn it, he had already felt so guilty about his parents' choice to just leave the boy behind and hadn't stopped thinking about, but seeing what they'd done to him had ignited that ten-fold and he'd be damned if they lost him again.
Kiri snaps to attention then because she knows too and her and Lo'ak dive back into the ocean at their parents' protests to find Spider.
It's Kiri who comes upon him first. He's been treading water some ways away from where they were struggling to decide what to do and wanting nothing more but to STOP THINKING. He wants to duck underwater when she sees him but he's just so goddamn tired and she's swimming towards him with such purpose that he just lets her grab him and lets himself pass the fuck out.
Part 2 coming immediately after because this is getting too long
#Meena's humanized Spider AU#Neteyam lives#Spiri#Trauma#Spider Socorro#Quarritch#Spider Avatar#Avatar 2#Avatar the way of Water#Neteyam#Tuk#Lo'ak#Jake Sully#Neytiri#Sully Family#kirishima eijirou
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cw: bodily injury. depression. violence. vengeance themes.
You kneel, shoulders hunched over your toilet bowl, the sour taste of stomach acid still lingering on your tongue. Despite the minutes of retching that felt like hours, you have yet to stop shaking, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. It's the third time you've woken up screaming in the past couple of days, and you are afraid to stand up, save you catch a glimpse of your own still swollen and battered face in the mirror and lurch anew.
You can't go on like this.
Legs semisolid and cold like refrigerated Jell-O, you clamber up to your feet. Now that your nausea has abated for a moment, you might as well attempt to go back to sleep. Unlikely, but you can still dream.
Your one-bedroom apartment is frigid in the wee hours of the morning. Shivering, you limp back to bed and curl into fetal position under paper-thin sheets. If you sleep with anything heavier, you panic and feel as though you are suffocating; any less covered, and you feel insecure and naked, like someone could snatch you away at any second. Again.
Izuku had warned you early on that you could be a target at any time, and it had explained his cautious, slightly-too-tight hold on you always, but the optimistic part of you had always tried to encourage him to trust the safeguards he put in place for you. You'd convinced him that you were strong, and that you were careful, and you'd be fine. Once he'd promised you and himself that he could protect you, always, you'd both breathed out in relief.
Things would be fine, you told yourselves.
This, however - this, you hadn't been quite prepared for. Getting lifted on your way back from your job, drugged and thrown in the back of an unmarked vehicle, and waking up bound and gagged staring into masked faces with unconcealed, greedy smiles, had never been part of your life's plan.
He'd promised to protect you.
Where was he now?
Every bone in your body felt splintered, and every muscle in your body sore. It's still hard to breathe, and it is a miracle that you can still move. Your assailants, whoever they were, had said they were just “sending a message”, which is presumably why they’d let you live. Once they had finished torturing you, they’d tossed you in the back of an alleyway like Saturday’s trash. You dragged yourself home, monitoring the bruises that bloomed darkly on your face for anything suspicious enough to suggest head trauma. Anything short of those signs and you wouldn’t go to the hospital. There was nothing you’d be able to explain to the doctors anyway and the idea of being proven wrong felt too much to bear. Plus you're too afraid to leave your house anyway.
All you can think about is the strength of the deadbolt on your door, and whether the door is even locked or not, but you feel too drained of energy to get up and check it for the fifth time today. It was an incredible thing to be so weak and yet so emotionally activated. You wonder if this was what it was like to be prey, finally terminally exhausted by your predator’s chase and laying down to accept death.
A tear, maybe a couple, maybe several, escape your eyes before you finally drift off to sleep.
---
The next morning, you wake up encased in warm, strong arms. Your body kicks into sympathetic overdrive and you shriek, kicking and screaming as the embrace only grows tighter.
“___, it’s me! Babe, calm down, listen... Breathe, baby..." He calls your name again, whispering it softly. "It’s okay, it’s just me.”
Izuku's voice despite attempting to be soothing is as alarmed as you are as he pleads for you to calm down. Once you stop fighting him and start crying softly instead, he nuzzles his chin into your neck, whispering kind, reassuring statements in your ear in between gentle kisses.
“I’m here… I’m here… I’m sorry, but I’m here now, babe. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” He repeats over and over again. You are still sobbing uncontrollably, but now you have shifted, and your hands cling to the fabric of his shirt. His scent is familiar and safe, and you're at home as you cry into his chest. You don't think of the fact that he's back in Tokyo earlier than he should be or wonder how he has entered your home as much as you had deadbolted the door and barricaded it with all your furniture. You can’t exactly describe how you feel; it isn't relief or reassurance that he brings, but a validation of what you had been through.
You don’t remember how long you stay in his embrace like this, but it feels like forever.
Izuku doesn't ask immediately who hurt you. Instead, once you’d stabilized enough for him to release you, he finds a comforter to wrap around your body, quickly passing his eyes over the length of it, taking in the extent of your injuries. This time, the pressure wasn’t too much for you. You sit still, your body numb, staring into nothingness. He disappears for a moment, and when he returns, he's carrying a bowl of soup which he feeds you wordlessly. You don't look at him as you open your mouth every so slightly.
It's too quiet in your apartment. Your mind races but with no thoughts.
Izuku sets down the spoon once you stop accepting it.
“___."
Your eyes focus in his direction. The worry is gone from his face, and now a chilling calm has taken its place.
"Do you remember what they looked like?"
His voice has the type of evenness to it that seems contradictorily off-kilter.
You don’t respond. He doesn't press you. Instead, he spends the rest of the day with you, watching you carefully. Every time he sees you wince as you move, you can see his fists clench and unclench.
There's somewhere he has to be, you think. Then you say it out loud.
"Izuku, you don't have to watch me like a hawk. I'm fine. I've been fine for the past few days."
You're lying and you can tell he's upset that you are from the look on his face. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and a muscle in his jaw tense.
"You don't look fine," he mutters. "Why didn't you go to a hospital?"
"Didn't want to."
The answer is couldn't.
He gives you a long look, but he doesn't press it.
----
Once night has fallen, he has had enough of seeing you suffer. A few phone calls are made in hushed tones on the balcony. You try not to listen in, but he's talking to the police department, then other heroes. Gathering information. Someone says something that causes him to snort from his nostrils, but then you can feel it, the little static in the air that betrays the use of his Quirk, small electrical discharges flowing from his fingertips.
Izuku returns from the balcony and slides the glass door. You look at him and blink, wondering if he'll tell you anything. He smiles at you, but it looks somewhat pained.
“I’ll be back.” He reassures, kissing you on the forehead. “I’ll right this.”
Your eyes widen. You don't want Izuku to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to form the words to tell him to stay.
Or even to ask 'how'?
Despite the fact that he leaves, you finally fall asleep, exhaustion overcoming you faster now that you've had even a second of relief from stress. You're not exactly sure how long he's gone this time, but you bolt awake when you hear the doorknob turn yet again, your heart thumping hard in your chest.
The first thing you note is the thick, unmistakable coppery smell of blood permeating the room, enough that your stomach turns.
You can't see Izuku well enough in the dark aside from his green eyes that glow ever so slightly, and the ever-persisting static from his twitching fingertips, barely perceptible.
"Izuku?" you ask. He looks almost forlornly at you, then disappears into the shower.
He's in there for nearly an hour.
Once Izuku steps out, once he's done washing himself free of dirt and grime and blood and whatever else, he curls up next to you, anchoring his arm against your waist. You are facing away from him, and your heart still beats terribly fast in your chest, and you can't bring yourself to tell him how much him touching you makes the pain in your chest worse.
Clothing soaked in red rests on your bathroom tile. Your love will never be squeaky clean again, no matter how wholesome his image is.
He doesn't have to tell you what he did, but you know.
“I love you, ___. I’ll never let someone hurt you again.”
You nod understanding, but you wish you didn't know.
#izuku x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#thoughts: izuku#cw depression#daydreams: bnha#cw violence#mimi's notes
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Discipline
Sub!Joel Miller x Dom F!Reader
Based on @vivian-pascal suggestion because I was craving a lil writing snack drabble.
Warnings: sub Joel, dom reader, masochist / Sadist themes, riding crop, pain, brief ball torture, praising language for Joel, hands free orgasm, premature ejaculation, Choking
18+ ONLY
- - - -
"Shhhhhh. You're doing so well."
He swallows a thick wad of spit that had been pooling under his tongue. The chair creaks as he shifts uncomfortably while you drag the riding crop softly over his angry member.
Joel grits his teeth, only barely peeking at the way the leathered end teases his slit before he's leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
"I didn't bind you for a reason," you say calmly. He steadies his breathing, focuses on your voice and not the sensation of your touch.
A painful lash strikes his bear chest again unexpectedly, making him yelp. It burns red across his breastbone. Searing into his flesh along with the previous ones whose ebbed sting had only just dulled moments ago.
"What do we say?"
"Th-thank you, Mistress."
He clenches his unbound fists against the arm rests again.
There's physically nothing stopping him from standing up, ripping the riding crop out of your hand and throwing you to the floor, taking his pent up arousal and pain out on you. The only thing that's keeping his naked ass in the chair, cock stiff and weeping between his legs and hands veering on sheer willpower kept to their sides is the desire to make amends.
You had told him numerous times to stop abandoning his patrol partner in favor of wolfing it alone. And today once again he didn't listen, nearly being surprised by a raider group had it not been for Tommy's team being within a 50 yard radius at the time.
He didn't learn when you told him. Didn't listen to you. Didn't understand why you needed him to obey.
And you couldn't explain to him why it'd break you if something were to happen to him.
So instead,
He was going to learn the consequences of his mistakes.
In a different way.
Wack! Another whip, this time right across his nipple.
"AUUghH! Haahh!" Joel groans through watered eyes, gulping away his short breaths. He lurches forward, mouth agape, blinking away his near tears and shaking his head. His cock mocked him. Pulsing in desperation to be touched, to have mercy as a drooly bead of precum gathers at his slit.
"Please," he whines quietly.
"Hmm?" You grip his throat and push him back flush against the chair, staring down at him. "Did you say something?"
He shakes his head quickly, avoiding your eyes in humiliation.
But your fingers pressed around his esophagus tighten threateningly.
"I asked you a question. Did. You. Say. Something. "
"P-p- please" he hums again weakly.
"Please what, baby boy?"
His cock twitches in response. "Mmmmmm. More."
"More?"
He should ask for you to touch his cock. He wants it more than anything. More than water or love, or ice to his sore nipples. But he's learning good because the words that escape him only make you prouder:
"More--hit me more."
You laugh maliciously. The riding crop comes down on his inner thigh, just barely grazing his balls.
Joel shakes in pain and pleasure, eyes rolling back to the whites, teetering on the edge, his body truly unsure what it's supposed to be feeling. You roll the crop over his cock again, up and down the underside, tracing the bulging angry veins while his lips quiver with a smirk, his body tight and tense from your control.
He wants to fist his cock. Wants to to push you down and gag you with his dick, ram into your throat until you're passing out. He wants you to take his balls in your mouth as he pumps himself and spills all over your face in creamy white, marking you, claiming you.
"You have such good manners today," you praise.
He nods enthusiastically. He USED to want those things, but fuck. He wants to be your good boy even more.
And when you bring the crop down hard right across his balls, he's singing praises through his smiling moans, his cock twitching freely and giving way, shooting hot ropes of cum into the air, right into his open lips and over the red markings of his chest. His body shakes violently through his delicious yet illegal orgasm.
He's feeling so fucking good now when you tut him in disapproval.
"Looks like you clearly need another lesson in discipline."
- - - -
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