Note: “Imagine how greedy Ross Humboldt gets over your body when he can tell you’re pregnant with multiples.” Contains sex pollen, too.
It was late by less than two weeks. How Mr. Humboldt knew he was a father again was beyond you. Eight days. A week and a day since he’d successfully inseminated you. Which Ross claimed would result in “a whole brood of ______-Humboldts!”
A father again and again and…
The lush grassland wanted to share its fecundity with its guests. Or subjects. Whatever it deemed you two. You weren’t a member of the Church of the Black Rock. Ross was. Initially, you didn’t like calling him by his first name. Who would, in your circumstances? Pretending he was still married to Natalie didn’t help. (You’d tried.) “Till death do we part” and all that. A normal union whose vows might not apply to Ross’s new marriage.
“I haven’t even taken a test.”
“But you are,” Ross insisted with a smile. Ignoring the ridiculousness of your statement. There were no pharmacies out here.
Dodging his caresses wasn’t an option now.
Not that you wanted to. There wasn’t much else to do. A bag of books to fight ennui. Some convenience store fare. Your leash was shorter than ever after the escape. Which had been too easy. Ross slept like the dead after screwing. Maybe the Tall Grass thought it tamed you. Or it liked to tease. A yawning path tempted you out of the maze. The church remained fixed even as you jumped up one, two, three, four times. Heart thumping, you made a break for it. Thankful that with everything/-one lost, your keys remained pocketed.
Find a station. No, not a police station. A gas station. Nobody rational will believe me. Becky, Cal, Tobin, Travis. All gone. Whether from the mortal plane or just the Grass, who knows? And what plane is the Tall Grass the entry for, anyway? Fairyland, limbo, some fresh hellscape? Okay, found a station.
After that, you were on autopilot. Waking up in the passenger seat to Ross racing back down the way you came. “Racing” was a bit strong. Just going a bit above the speed limit. Nothing a typical suburban dad wouldn’t do on the way to a beguiling destination.
“Picked up some groceries while you were out.”
It wasn’t stated like a question. You had one or a dozen, but swallowed your queries. The Tall Grass wasn’t so isolated. Not like Ross and me and babies makes one, two, three… It shouldn’t have been able to reach out that far. Pollen, maybe. Your new family was rooted here. The idea of rhizomes reaching out miles upon miles, seeking your footfalls… Because you had been barefoot. Shoes long lost to the Grass during Ross’s wooing. You hoped the convenience store clerk didn’t notice. She either hadn’t or was too polite to say anything. Too bad there hadn’t been a drive-through.
“Good,” Ross continued, “you’re going to need all the nutrients you can get. Need to keep your strength up. For all the fucking.”
A giggle bolted from your mouth. The sky was darkening but you spotted a Plymouth Fury. So you were entering the Tall Grass where you’d exited. For the last time, probably.
“And the birthing, of course. I’ll help with that.”
“Like you did with Becky?”
It just slipped out. Ross smoothly parked your vehicle. For a wild second, you imagined plowing through the vegetation. Mowing it down. Ripping open packs of snacks, scattering, and stomping on them. Their saltiness ensuring nothing green grew there ever again as you smooshed them into the ground.
“Now, ______,” Ross chastised, rolling down your window. Like you needed fresh air. “I’m not a certified midwife, but we’re going to have help. I want our babies to be safe and healthy just as much as you do.”
His tone made you feel childish. Throwing a temper tantrum wasn’t going to help. Your face flushed further as he poked at your panties.
“Look, all those hormones aren’t just making you wet. They’re also giving you nesting instincts.”
“They are?” you asked, snapping your eyes away from the Grass. The blades of which sought you out like sunlight. If it wasn’t dusk, you might have noticed the large clumps of pollen wafting through the air. If it wasn’t dusk, and Ross hadn’t been massaging you through your underwear.
You shut your eyes and inhaled.
“Let me do the errands in the future, okay?”
“Ross, someone might see usssss.” Your plea quickly turned into a hiss of pleasure. He’d pulled aside the soaked cotton to reveal your warm cunt. His thumb teased your slit, making you try to push yourself onto it. Mr. Humboldt’s current favorite hole of yours leaked onto his hands.
“We got a gusher!”
Your thighs tried to rub together, but your spouse quickly withdrew his thumb before prying apart both soft limbs.
“Uh uh. Take your skirt off.”
You nodded, obediently unbuttoning. However, the skirt was actually part of a dress with a differently patterned top and bottom. As soon as Ross caught sight of your soon-to-be swollen breasts, the last thread of his restraint unraveled.
“Fuck, I’m so greedy for your body.”
His face burrowed into your tits, supported by a front-fastening bra. Once unlocked, they sprang free, ready to get sucked by Ross for nine months straight. And afterwards. His hands stayed on your legs. Squeezing them tighter and tighter, till you cried out. Wanting to suckle each nipple, but unsure which to start on, he nuzzled the cleft of your breasts.
“Twins mean double the milk. And quads-!”
He groaned, unable to resist your now yielding thighs. Or your puffy nips or the fact you had an unfilled gap hot and dripping. You hadn’t been penetrated for almost half a day, which was a problem. Unless asleep, Ross knew you needed at least a couple fingers inside your warm hole. Preferably a cock, though. He needed to be stretching you out for childbirth. Make it feel almost weird not to have something inside you.
(The fact that’s not how vaginae worked wouldn’t occur until post-nut clarity. Ross was just that psyched for you to deliver quadruplets.)
If your nethers got too sore, he’d love to sandwich himself between plump tits. Plumpening tits.
“Ross, take me inside the grass.”
Your husband complied, leading you by the waist. The tips of your nips hardened, reaching out for the Grass’s blades. Ross matched your smile as the greenery encased you both. Looking forward to ______’s birth canal getting plugged, overflowing with cum, bearing brood after brood after brood. You were spot on about the Tall Grass’s desire to share its fecundity. About making Mr. Humboldt’s length swell only at the thought of worshiping your arable body.
Letting you go had been a fun experiment. Ross would be in charge of grocery shopping from now on, though. It didn’t need you to touch the Rock. Not yet. Not with its pollen keeping you compliant and, more importantly, aroused.
The newlyweds were enjoying their stroll to the center of the contiguous United States. You absentmindedly fingered your coochie, prepping it for more breeding, while one of Ross’s hands slid up to work a nipple.
Yeah, you were going to enjoy maternity.
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*walks you out of the sun*
Song of the day: “Destroy Everything You Touch” by Ladytron.
Working on Ross Humboldt request. Hopefully it’ll get posted this or next werk.
On season six of The Walking Dead. Never thought I’d love a piece of zombie media as much as I love this show. It’s not exactly rewatchable, but it’s so hard to resist binging. But some things bother me:
Where are the vultures? I guess there are no maggots wriggling inside the walkers because they’d just eat them. But all those corpses and no scavengers?? (╯*□*)╯︵ ┻━┻ I
Where’s the homemade armor? If I were in the zombie apocalypse, I would dress like after Tweedledum and Tweedledee decided to do battle.
Why is the walkers’ style so drab? Look up any screenshot of a walker herd/horde. I understand why production would want to avoid logos, but why bland everything? If I was ever zombified, my only hope is that I would be less generic than everyone else. Also, if they’re going to shoot me, I want Carl Grimes to take the shot. Because Carl will put me down clean.
Just started watching The Second Best Hospital in the Galaxy to fill the Tuca & Berta-shaped hole in my heart. Horsejack Boman wasn't doing that.
So far Drs. Klak and Plowp are my faves. Keke Palmer was great in Scream: Resurrection and Nope, plus she’s talked about being a member of the PCOSisterhood.
Klak is relatable, but I decided to ween myself off Lexapro. As an anxiety med, it worked great for years. Until I got cavities from dry mouth despite drinking water all the time and avoiding added sugar. Plus it was getting harder and harder to fall asleep.
Now I’ve made great strides with my mental health. It’s sunny enough for me to comfortably go outside. I’m going to the gym once a week, not just walking my dog only in the evenings and avoiding sitting. (Reading while standing in place on break worried my coworkers for some reason.)
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Mood.
guy sitting by a fire
in a manuscript of jean de wavrin's "anciennes chroniques d'angleterre", flanders, c. 1470-90
source: Paris, BnF, Français 75, fol. 198r
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hey there! have you done any fics/reads on adam stanheight from saw? ive been dying for a. very overstimulated adam.
Hello hello. Adam tag and Saw tag. Now that I’m caught up with the movies—X was great—I should do more Saw imagines. So many characters who’d look good sexually overstimulated.
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St. Vee Day
Song of the day: “Cute Aggression” by Nicole Dollanganger.
Hope everyone had a decent Valentine’s! I was supposed to go out on the 13th, because Shrove Tuesday, but the weather interrupted that plan. (At least I got Ferrero Rocher.) Lately I’ve been keeping track of local events so I can plan cute non-work outfits.
Blog-related goals:
Post more longer imagines. 500+ words, like school essay length.
Post more imagines for characters played by celebrity crushes. David Dastmalchian keeps accidentally popping up in movies I’m watching. The Boogeyman, Last Voyage of the Demeter, Dune rewatch… For some reason Piter didn’t stand out to me the first time?? (Probably because Leto Atreides. ) His matter of fact way of speaking is so attractive.
More would involves and N/SFW alphabets?
Just get through the inbox. XD
Post ranked 2023 movie list. It would have been posted back in January, but I keep watching new ones.
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2024 Reader Insert Smut Masterlist
Note: And lists. Request rules. Go to Settings, scroll down to Community labels, and adjust as needed. Tumblr automatically filters certain content.
Ross Humboldt from In the Tall Grass
Serleena from Men in Black II
Gorman from The Walking Dead
Lalo Salamanca from Better Call Saul
Top 10 Hottest Characters, Part XIX
Eddie Munson and Vecna from Stranger Things 4
Diego from Saw X
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Request: “what about serleena using Male Reader as nothing but a breeder to repopulate her kind andy you have no choice in the matter not that you mind.”
Imagine Serleena using you as a breeder, giving you no choice in the matter. (Not that you mind.)
You could have easily gone the way of Serleena’s snack. Had you actually presented a threat. The mugger hadn’t really been a threat either, though. More like an annoyance. Or a convenience, because your alien queen was sated prior to meeting you.
Not sexually sated, of course. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in the position you were in now. Serleena knew, from the moment her eyes locked on your bewildered expression, you were going to repopulate the Kylothian race. And there was nothing you could do about it. Lay back and think of Earth.
She didn’t bother gloating much. Once it was clear you understood your role as breeder. ______ ______: intergalactic sperm donor, you mused. “Deliverer” might be more apt. Straight from the tap to her paps. Not that Serleena currently allowed you to use her mammary glands for anything other than foreplay. If you came on them, gave her a pearl necklace, wasted your Earthling seed in any way whatsoever… Your mate would be irate.
“Pregnancy won’t halt my husbandly duties?”
Kyloth’s mating norms weren’t known to you. She told you, precoitus, you were going to procreate with her many, many, many times. Even if she delivered a large brood, Serleena planned on having her way indefinitely. Postcoitus, she laughed as she withdrew your slack penis. Giving it one last pelvic squeeze. Milk-ing your human appendage to the last drop. Tendrils reabsorbed into her supple skin. She didn’t bind you during the first session. Just caressed your limbs a little. Make sure you knew she was a queen. Ruler of not a military state, but a conqueror species.
Her chest would swell, which she would smugly throw in your face (literally). If you didn’t want a tentacle encircling your head, muzzling you, then you better get licking.
Serleena laughed. You weren’t a husband. Just because she was a queen, didn’t make you a consort. A concubine, at best. Still, you lucked out. Even Kylothians were capable of pair bonding. She had imprinted on you and you alone. But that just meant your only objective was pleasuring Serleena.
“Your purpose is to inseminate me as many times as I say,” she groaned once, knickers parted to the side whilst straddling you. Sometimes, Serleena couldn’t be bothered to remove her heels or lingerie. Her impeccably manicured nails tapped against her thighs. Toned, but hiding the horrific power of the Kylothian queen. She’d just depleted your balls not an hour ago, and was annoyed you weren’t fully turgid again as soon as she walked through the door. “You’re a tool. And when my womb is teeming with the next generation of Kylothians, you’re a toy. You get to actually put that mouth to good use.”
Every once and a while you fantasized about hers. Something about being slick with alien discharge more often than not really beefed up your sperm-count. Seminal fluid in general, really. Her maw was capable of swallowing vast quantities of, well, anything. You saw that the first time you met.
Nighttime in Central Park. Scary even before the ground shook. The magazine slipped from your grasp. Serleena sensed your fingerprints. Particularly fresh on the two-page Victoria’s Secret spread. You noticed her first. Tendrils carefully oozing out, like a botanical Hydra. Growing then constricting. Shifting Serleena into a suitable form to be inseminated. Of course her primary objective was the Light of Zartha. But she was horny. Ovulation did not halt just because she wore a human guise. On the contrary, she now had more erogenous zones on her exterior. May as well pick up a living sex-toy on the way.
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I now it’s not X Reader, but I’m imagining the encounter between Edgar and Kerb in MIB going a lot… differently. By that, I mean they fuck in the barn since it turns out Kerb is in a rut, and he’d like something to fuck and Edgar… well, he guesses it beats dying, even if he’s saying that he ain’t gay the whole time. Edgar’s potbelly is bulging out even further on Kerb’s colossal bug cock, and it only gets more prominent when Kerb cums in him and makes his gut swell like a balloon with his seed. I dunno, just surprised no one’s written anything like that yet.
Edgar is so ungrateful. Doesn’t appreciate Beatrice. Doesn’t appreciate buggery. Xeno-buggery.
It is kinda odd there’s not really an Edgar/Kerb fandom. FurAffinity has some decent Edgar the Bug art, but a lot of it contains stuff I’m not into. If there was any plain ol’ Kerb-on-Edgar (or any human) that would make me so happy.
Anyway, that scenario. 🥵 Monster-on-guy, size difference, cum-inflation.
Most of my fave M/M ships have at least one non-human member lol. Stupid sexy space invaders.
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The smiling entity from the new smile movie
All those mouths lol. Imagine him giving oral. Nah, that’s too wild. Better play it safe and have him possess Joel.
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Hey so you know the one Blumhouse film "Truth or Dare?" Could you maybe write for Calux? The demon in the movie? I was thinking something like: It's finally our turn to be asked "Truth or Dare". And Calux possesses one of the boys and dare us to him him have his way with us?
Dear god I need therapy. 🥲
Yes! I’ve written for Calux. And I’m thinking Lucas for this request. Always down for cute characters being subject to demonic possession.
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Imagine how greedy Ross Humboldt gets over your body when he can tell you're pregnant with multiples.
Yess, pregnant sex. It wasn’t enough for Ross to touch grass. He had to touch ass. And become more fertile than everyone else.
(Off topic, but I actually read the novella a few months ago. If I was involved in the production of the film, at no point would I have tried to omit the hippie characters.)
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Note: Cullen Moss also played Shoupe on OBX. Corrupt authority with pretty eyes. Anyway, sorry for neglecting the inbox. Going to try to finish some requests soon.
Imagine Gorman agreeing to stay away from Joan and Beth as long as he gets you.
I’m not sure why you even bothered asking me, you pretended to say, Dawn’s in charge of who boinks who around here.
He thumbed your tongue, which promptly retracted. A coquettish lick? Smile widening, Officer Gorman swooped in.
Her iron fist’s slackening, you continued. It was hard to shut your brain off. To just daydream while he performed all the cavity searches he wanted. Your thoughts refused to leave Grady Memorial Hospital. At least Gorman could only have his way here. No driving you to remote locations for backseat banging. Misuse of police equipment might still occur. Or not.
Dawn’d cream her well-ironed pants if she knew about Woodbury. (Happier times.)
As long as you complied, no handcuffs, right? If he tried dirty talk on a walkie-talkie, you’d seek him out in person. Beth and everyone else would find out you were Gorman’s... girl. Eventually. Comply, and he might agree to be discreet. Hickeys, other bruises; they could be hidden. A broken spirit couldn’t. Yours couldn’t. Not from Beth. Speaking of whom…
He was friendly to her, at first. Surely he won’t be too sadistic?
You shuddered. A wet thumb ceased rubbing itself against your nipple.
“Sensitive, huh?” Gorman straightened, a saliva strand linking your frown to his smirk. “Nipple-play’ll work just fine.”
“And titjobs?”
“And titjobs,” he affirmed.
Your heart lightened. It was sad that this hunger was the least horrific kind you’d faced since the outbreak.
Whatever you put me through, can’t there at least be orgasms?
“I- I’m good with my mouth. Or so I’ve been told.”
The leer told you that was the right thing to say. In this situation. He wasn’t a cherry hound. Maybe even liked his ladies experienced. But Officer Gorman wasn’t going to have any more ladies. Just you. You would make sure of that.
“I’ll be sure to return the favor.” He went in for another peck. It almost felt nice. The way your tongues meshed. His hot palms against your stiff peaks. Blood flowing to your extremities. Adrenaline as the result of anything other than the threat of being devoured alive.
But isn’t that what he’s doing, too?
At least he left his gear. This would be “vanilla.” Batons are for beating rotters, not beating off. You giggled. Coinciding with his high beam tweaking. Sure making them puffy. Hopefully, your chest would be the only sore thing. That day. You needed to be prepared for whatever perversions-
“God, I can’t wait to see you wriggle around on my cock.”
Then he burrowed his face in your valley. Thumbs still pinned on your caps.
At least he left his gear.
“Condoms.”
You knew even your __-cups couldn’t muffle his hearing. Yet he didn’t stop administering sloppy kisses and licks. Not until you ran a hand up and down his back. His face was flushed. Unnannoyed, though, because his thumb and forefingers continued pinching. Hard.
“Trojans are in short supply. Bareback’s out of the question… unless you want to give me a kid.”
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y'all gimme your opinion(s)
I've been in a pretty severe writer's block for a loooong time (obviously) and it's made writing requests basically impossible for me.
i was planning on redoing the blog, anyway, but i was gonna wait until i got caught up. i don't think that's going to happen tbh. so i think i might purge the request list, and set it up to where i open requests for a brief time, and only for characters i feel inspired for at that time. does that make sense?
so it could be like requests open until a certain day, then closed. or a select number of spots open. but still, only for certain characters. i feel like it might help.
anyway, what are your thoughts, readers?
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Imagine after co-showering, Lalo asks you to wake him up in an hour by sitting on his face.
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Hi. First I wanted to say I love your works.
Second I wanted to ask if you were planning on making a master lost so it's easier to find your fics.
I am sorry if it comes off as mean I just wanted to know.
Thank you!
This blog has master lists. The pinned post is one.
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Note: Ten hottest live-action characters, part nineteen. Frenchie’s great. Not one, but two characters commented on how upset he would be to find out he missed Herogasm. I wish I missed it. :(
10. Robert Montague Renfield (Nicholas Hoult) from Renfield
Cutie, aside from the whole live entomophagy thing.
9. Jacob Rose (Oscar Nuñez) from Lucky Hank
Get yourself a man who’ll appreciate your confusing poetry then eff you on his desk.
8. Topper Thorton (Austin North) from Outer Banks
Jealous but (initially) patient boyfriend who actually goes goblin mode.
7. Salesman (Gong Yoo) from Squid Game
Too cute to wear a mask.
6. Kevin Bernard (Anthony Anderson) from Law & Order
I don’t watch this show regularly, but he’s so soft looking. 🥺
5. Zach (Kyle Gallner) from The Walking Dead
Was no one going to tell me Gallner was in TWD??
4. Frenchie (Tomer Capone) from The Boys
“He loves to be punished when he’s bad. It makes him hard.”
3. Tyler Galpin (Hunter Doohan) from Wednesday
Pretends to be a nice guy, while actually bloodthirsty, and transforms into a grotesque monster.
2. Lalo Salamanca (Tony Dalton) from Better Call Saul
Remember when he had a fender bender with that guy at the north gate? I want Lalo to [REDACTED] all over my face and neck like that milkshake on that guy.
1. Jim Chee (Kiowa Gordon) from Dark Winds
Are actual FBI agents this husbandable? Him and Agent Cooper, man…
Note: Previous part.
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Note: Disgusting monster porn. And one-sided romantic rivalry.
Imagine Eddie witnessing you have psychic sex with Vecna.
Your glazed eyes weren’t the result of anything he gave you. The only non-organic thing Eddie wanted in you was a condom. If you were high, he’d have to wait till you came down.
Even with your head in the red clouds, you were on cloud nine.
Henry stood before you. The “real” Henry. The pre-Upside Down one. Both forms were pleasing, though. Which you admitted. He knew that, even without probing your mind. It was the first time you looked flustered. Before, you were intrigued by his appearance; now you were going to be obsessed. That too was obvious. Both of you, alone. Or so he thought. For all his psychic power, Vecna’s love was stronger. Well, mostly er0s at that moment. It was strong enough to keep him fixated on you.
Biting your lip, you promptly unzipped your sly. Before your thumbs could hook into themselves your panties, tentacles shot out. No longer half-lidded, your gaze latched onto Henry, who’d allowed his facade to slip a little as a tentacle smacked your backside. More of a love pat, really.
Message received, you shot back, about to step out your panties. Instead, two tendrils swathed your calves, lifting you off the ground. The undergarments have to go, ordered Vecna. Impatient for the first time. He slipped them clean off, making sure they didn’t snag on your shoes.
Leave those on.
You were only upended for a few moments as his “limbs” encased and caressed your limbs. Elevated (and compliant), it was like being a marionette. What was that song Eddie liked? “Master of Puppets.”
“Obey your master,” rasped Vecna. A wet appendage pushed past your unwary lips.
The gaped mouth was due to shock. Yeah, that’s it, Eddie thought. Thigh massaging against thigh was hard to ignore. There’s no way she’s into this. That scene from Ghostbusters where the ghost lady blew Dan Aykroyd’s character sprang to mind. Something was pressing your tongue down.
This was a wet dream.
He smiled. Of course he’d have one about cute ______ ______ sooner or later. Tongue squirming against an invisible cock. Eddie just wished he was the one getting deep-throated.
As soon you thought about your friend, the Upside Down’s lord knew it wouldn’t be enough to just slither into your holes. Claiming them permanently for himself and himself only. He needed to worm inside your brain. The telepathy had up to now been mostly nonintrusive. Now he would need to keep you occupied. Just him and your mutual interests. So far he hadn’t let you put two and two together. You didn’t know Henry created the Mind Flayer.
And you and him could have had so much fun with Flaying. Sometimes he fantasized about letting humanoid or posthuman minions couple with you. A Flayed horde encircling you. Nervous, dutifully parting your legs and lips for his pleasure anyway. Two of his infested melding together… Maybe like that newspaper editor and his underling had.
Your face engulfed by an amorous Demogorgon’s petals. The razor-teeth leaving you unmarred, because your countenance was graced by a thick coat of eldritch emission-
Facial.
Henry shrugged. That was one way of putting it. His love was enjoying the wet daydreams he was pumping into her head. While simultaneously pumping his member-
A member, you corrected. the metalhead far from your joint minds.
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