#UNF *bites fist*

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Bringing this back.....for many many reasons...

Vincent Price - The Mad Magician (1954)

#vincent price #the mad magician #1950s movies #open shirt #shirtless #that chest tho #*bites fist* #he about to make me act tf up #hes so sexy #out there lookin like a fucking snak #bicon #bisexual #god #unf #damn daddy #horror #old horror movies #vintage #movie #actor #handsome #gif #gifs made by me #gifs #gif set #sexy actors

[sadnesslaughs]

Space orcs? No, no, the Trappist system guys are space orcs, they’re fucking terrifying. Humans are, like, space goblins at best.

“A FUCKING GOBLIN? That is what the galaxy thinks of me?” Drake pointed at his wanted poster, his index finger poking the ‘space goblin’ nickname the UNF military had given him. The nickname was all wrong. A man with his modest bounty was at least a space hob goblin at worst. A goblin, though, that was insulting, even by his low standards.

“I don’t know. I can kind of see it. Small, rough around the edges, always angry and mouthy. A space goblin suits you.” Sting touch Maxa laughed, his arms crossing over his chest, with his tentacles soon following, crossing over his arms. The six-foot five grey alien finding this extremely funny.

“Knock it off, Maxa, he’s clearly hurt by it. It’s normal for people to get bad nicknames on their first bounties. On my first bounty, they called me the Blackhole of Venus. Since all my targets vanished.” Hakz the Blackhole of Valia, said. The seven foot blue alien, smiling at her friend, trying to lift his spirit.

“What was wrong with that nickname?” Drake muttered, wishing he was the Blackhole of something.

“I’m not from Venus, I’m from Valia. How bad is that?”

“Yeah, awful. I feel horrible for you. How do aliens even know about goblins? Why did we teach you about them? Couldn’t we have taught you about dinosaurs or something? I could have been the T-Rex of Earth.”

“Or the chicken of Earth?” Maxa offered.

“A CHICKEN IS NOT A DINOSAUR.” Drake argued, giving Maxa an annoyed shove.

“Aren’t they related?” Maxa laughed, the nudge not moving him at all. “Blame your kind. They introduced their culture, that includes goblins.”

“But I’m not a goblin. I don’t steal mone….. I mean, I don’t hit people with….Ah, shit.” Drake was struggling to think of things he didn’t share in common with goblins. Apart from the obvious green skin. “I don’t bite people.”

“Um.” Hakz didn’t want to bring it up, but felt it needed to be mentioned. “Didn’t you bite commander Harthorn last week?”

“Wait? You bit Harthorn?” Maxa crouched, holding his stomach as he laughed. “N-no wonder you’re the goblin, you must have pissed him off. We need to get you a muzzle.”

“Gra!” Drake let out an angry screech, which didn’t help the goblin comparison. “He was going to take me to a cell, so I bite his hand and ran for it. THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME A GOBLIN.”

“Can…Can…Can’t breathe.” Maxa wheezed, unable to stop laughing.

“I believe you.” Hakz nodded, an action that only made Drake feel worse. It was the same response a mother would give to a child that had told them a fantastical fictional story, which wasn’t the response he wanted right now.

“I’m not though.”

“Yes, I believe you.”

“Pl…please stop. I can’t… hurts so much.” Maxa was now on the floor, slamming his fist into the ground. The laughing stopped when Drake raised his leg, driving the tip of his boot into Maxa’s side.

“Why am I not considered intimidating? I scare people. I scared every damn merchant on that last ship.”

“That’s because you had a gun,” Maxa said, holding his side as he got to his feet. While he should have been mad about the kick, he was honestly happy to have stopped his laughing fit. The laughing hurting more than any human kick.

“No, it isn’t. I would be scary without a gun. I’m intimidating.” Drake puffed his chest out, hoping for confirmation. Silence only followed. Maxa looked to Hakz, who gestured him not to speak. “Guys?” Drake had never felt self-conscious about his size before. He was of average height among humans, but he wasn’t currently around humans. He was between a Drelian and a Brild. Two species known for their impressive builds.

“You carry yourself with confidence.” Hakz offered, not wanting to bring down their new bandit friend.

“What is his gun called confidence now? If so, you are carrying yourself with confidence, then.” Maxa grinned.

“This is unfair. We can’t all be big aliens. I worked hard for my bounty. I should get the respect I deserve.” It was hard being one of the new space races. You were already at a disadvantage and the title of space goblin wasn’t helping.

“You’re on a poster, you should be happy. Not many people get a physical poster nowadays, most only end up in a database. Your face is on every wall of this city. Isn’t that enough for you?” Maxa sighed, tired of the topic. He had his laugh. Now he wanted the human to get over himself.

“Next time, you will get a better nickname. I’m certain of it. Until then, you’re our space goblin.” She said, that earning a weird look from Drake. Drake not finding the term as endearing as she intended it to be.

“If you’re that upset, why don’t you go put in a complaint to the UNF? They have an office here.” Maxa joked.

“You know, maybe I will.” Drake took three steps before realizing the joke, returning to the bounty board in a snit. “Ha-ha. I need a drink. Come on, you two coming?”

“Of course. We can talk about our next job there.” Hakz started walking to the Dirty Shot, a seedy bar that preferred to keep its cliental private. Maxa and Drake followed, Maxa deciding to give one more comment before they sat down.

“Yeah, I would love to join our little space goblin for a drink.” Maxa saw Drake glare at him, stomping his way to a seat in a huff. Maxa sat across from him as the three went about their drinks and business.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #writer #story #scifi

[wellitsnotorigami]

Purely powerful. Perpetually potent.

Are we talking about the product or her?

#jodie comer #noble panacea #last one of these today I swear #her arms are *chef's kiss* #those shoulders #unf #her clavicle #that beautifully perfect symmetrical face #that swan-like neck #*bites fist* #i want to count the freckles on her back #with my tongue #wellitsnotorigami gifs

[hotdamnhunnam]

He Calls Me Honey Tits

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Here’s the third and last part of you and Arthur being lovers during his time in the whorehouse! In which this cheeky bastard slathers honey on your tits and teases you and pleases you until you’ve never been so damn aroused 🙃🍯💦

Pairing: King Arthur x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, Brothel Boy Arthur being a cheeky little shit (licking honey off your tits, eating you out and denying you his dick until you beg for it)

Word Count: ~2.2k

… Continued from Part 2 [Read Here]

“How may I be of service, honeybee?”

The beaming blue-eyed bastard leads you to his bedchamber and softly shuts the door. Though he’s the brothel boy it feels like you’re the whore. You’re far more smitten in his presence than you want to be.

Sensing the indignation fuming off your body, Arthur smirks as if it’s funny. “Anybody ever told you that you’re lovely when you’re huffy?”

Suddenly, your cunt lips feel swollen and puffy. Slick as if this cheeky thief had dipped his finger in your honey. Try to stay composed and classy. “You can’t work your charms to get your petty crime past me. This is about the money.”

“But of course it is. Just business.” Arthur winks and it’s without a doubt the wickedest shit you have ever witnessed.

Keep your wits before he sucks you deeper into this—whatever this shit is. “You said that we could meet at your place to sort out the fucking payment. Here I am to fucking claim it.”

“Ohh, she bites,” he taunts like he has any right. “Such nasty language from a mouth so nice. Love, what’s your price? Just name it.”

“I am not your love!” you furiously huff.

“Not yet. But I’d bet just the thought has got your honeypot all wet.”

Did he just—he just—sweet mother of Jesus—

“Mmm, I’d love a taste,” he teases. Sea-blue gaze mirrors the lust that’s written all across your face. “Can’t let such honey go to waste.”

“You’ve stolen quite enough already, I daresay.”

His voice is steady, yet his cock is raging madly as he steps so close that you can almost feel it. “Didn’t steal it. You just let it slip away.”

All your dignity and self-restraint, that is. Such is the picture that his passionate words paint; he’s driving you to fucking madness. Sheer destruction through seduction is this little bastard’s favorite game to play. And he won’t stop until he’s buried in your honeypot today.

***************

Just how this sweet sticky mess ended up spread all across your tits, you can’t quite say.

Fuck it. You’re naked on the boy-whore’s bed with honey slathered on your bare breasts and your cunt is dripping buckets. Blue eyes own you where you lay. Somehow the bastard has convinced you that for what he stole from you today at market, shameless pleasure is the best way to repay.

The session started with a fight over the jar that he had thieved. He taunted you until he wanted you more than he could believe. More than his station in this house even allows. Voices raised, daggers from your gaze. Aroused. Amazed. 

Saw how his thirst aligned with yours, as shouts and hisses flung between you turned to roars, and pinned you down onto the bed with feral force. Paused to make certain you were both on the same page. A man of care and caution though the beast in him may rage.

And here and now with words unspoken that blue gaze of his explores. Impales you to the core, seeks out your secret inner whore. All set to free her from your inhibitions’ cage. The truth of you that any other man including your own lawfully wedded pig always ignores.

Do you want to fucking engage? 

Of fucking course.

And so you do. Fire and water all at once, this man’s effect upon your cunt, flaming and fluid. This is what true pleasure is, you think as he attacks heavy and hot. Slut for the once and future king of fucking Camelot. Already his, as he claims your lips in a cataclysmic kiss, crashing together in a spell of breathless bliss.

He tastes of courage. Hunger, unfed all the stronger. Poor boy forced to live on stolen scraps and half-full bowls of porridge. Forced to fight and fuck and forage. Forge his way through filth without the faintest clue his royal blood doesn’t belong here. Here with you he’s poor no longer.

First few minutes of your time spent in his bed the boy-whore shatters you to bits.

And now you’re here with stolen honey smeared across your naked tits.

You gasp a giddy laugh at how ridiculous this funny business is. “You cheeky little shit!”

He smirks and lets the now half-empty jar of honey clatter to the floor. Hovering over you all set to make damn sure... that you will always and forever be his filthy little whore. “You know you fucking love it, honey tits.”

No fucking use denying it.

Arthur as well had stripped his shirt off earlier, in those first few seconds of this passionate blur, so you can see and feel the sculpted muscles of his abdomen and chest. He is a god and nothing less. Those chiseled ridges rub against your honey-covered skin and make a fucking mess. His mouth descends deliciously on yours again as skillful hands knead at the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Sweet little goddess,” he breathes out amidst the kisses and it’s too much to be honest. King among men making you feel like his queen. “Swear you’re the loveliest damn thing I’ve ever seen. The loveliest.”

The purity—he’s doing you so dirty, loving you so clean. Feel you belong here with him surely, more than anywhere on earth you’ve ever been.

Your fingers fist twined in his glorious gold locks. Hips bucking frantic to seek friction up against the fucking hard bulge of his cock. Still sheathed in cloth as he’s not yet disrobed his lower half, to free his raging shaft—likely to burst right through the fabric since he’s so massive and solid as a rock.

With every second that huge cock of his grows harder, taking your desire farther. Inner slut escapes the cage that he’s unlocked.

“Ughh—fuck me, Arthur...” you cry out, needy and loud, all honey-smothered, hot and bothered. “Fuck...”

His focus shifts off of your lips down to your neck and then your chest and suddenly he starts to suck.

Your mouth gapes wide to make a sound but has no luck. 

Choking on air as you surrender to his touch. He’s just too much. Soft lips squeeze tight around your nipple, slurping honey as it dribbles. Grinds the stiffness of his meat against the wet heat of your crotch. Glittering blue eyes glance at you beneath the gold fringe of his lashes, as your body throbs and thrashes. Getting off on the effect he has because he loves to watch.

You moan and whimper, one breast lavished in attention from his slick tongue while he works the other with his skillful fingers. Swipes his thumb across your stiff peak as he teases at the other with the pearl ridge of his teeth until your senses fall apart. “Please, Art...”

The bastard chuckles in a breathy little huff. “Don’t worry, love. Promise I’ll fuck you good and hard,” he reassures you meaning it with all his heart. “Just thought I’d better whet my appetite to start.”

Of course he’d crack a stupid fucking pun, while you’re coming undone. Scrapes his enormous bulge against your aching cunt, with a deep grunt, reminding you what you both want. How hard he’s gotten and how wet you are. You’re seeing fucking stars.

Flattens his tongue against the valley of your cleavage now to slobber up the sugary gold mess that’s gathered there. Licks slowly upward as he owns you with the bright blue of his stare. Honey spreads all across his trimmed blonde beard and sweetens every hair. 

Of all the men upon this earth no one has ever been so fair.

Dips in the hollow of your throat, and you damn well nearly explode.

And then those luscious lips are back on yours again. Lose track of where your breathing ends and his begins. 

The taste of honey should be overwhelming sweet, but something sweeter yet sparks into being where your soul and his so intimately meet. The hunger only this can feed. Each on the road to being everything the other ever needs. Perhaps not so just yet, but in the moment you first met, he’d planted that passionate seed.

Already want him now to plant another seed deep in your hole. Already know that someday he will fill that role.

But not today—today is all about pure pleasure and the game he came to play.

To claim you as his whore in every goddamned way.

Between kisses you plead with him although it’s such a struggle now to talk. “Please, Arthur—fuck...”

He snickers. That majestic bulge of his harder, and bigger. “Mmm, so pretty when you’re begging for my cock.”

Those words—the sheer filth has you so aroused it hurts—you shut your eyes for fear they’ll pop out of your sockets.

He reminds you now of how you had denied him when he’d asked you for a sample of your product. Shut that door and tried to lock it. On his own terms he had gotten his hands on it, taking what he wanted. Dirty and dishonest. “Wouldn’t let me taste your sweet honey at market. Seems I’ll have to steal that pleasure from your honeypot myself before I fuck it.”

Oh, that’s obscene—wait, does he mean—what—shit...

Upon the bed he shifts, sudden and swift, a blaze of sex, until his lust-crazed gaze is level with the slick between your legs. And that’s when the truth of it hits.

Young Arthur’s hunger for your cunt is even stronger than his hunger for your tits.

The two of you have kissed and licked most of the honey from each other’s mouths by now so that his tongue is mostly clean. And that’s exactly as he wants it so that he can taste the flavor of his lovely future queen.

He’s a complete whore for your flavor. Buries his beautiful face deep in your folds like every precious drop was made for him to savor. All at once delicate yet dominant, as he feasts on your cunt. Art makes an art of it, worshipping every part of it. 

Your wetness glistens as it gushes out across his gorgeous features from the second he descends; and yet with him the peak of pleasure’s not the end. Rather the very fucking start of it.

You shout his name, loud without shame, your inner slut unleashed with only him to blame. Your body and soul absolutely his to claim. The stolen honey and the money were just all part of the game; he knows that this is why you came.

Needless to say you need his cock inside you now but he intends to make you beg. He could spend days continuing to feed facedown between your legs.

One of his hands has wandered down to his own crotch to give himself the stimulation he deserves, now as two fingers of his other hand are pumping in your hole, while he devours your cunt whole, lips latching tight around your tender bud of nerves.

Your thousandth wave of pleasure rolls. Scream for his cock until he’s finally stripped himself naked and mounts you with his rippled muscles pressed against your curves.

And now at last uses your body for the purpose it was put on earth to serve.

Your tight hot cunt is so completely fucking soaked, he nearly chokes and almost spills his load inside of you at his first fucking stroke. 

Catches his breath and bites his tongue, knowing he can’t hold off for long. Till now he’s never known true home. The women of this brothel housed him and raised him since he was young, yet though he’s grateful for their love he never quite seemed to belong. With you he does as though he’s been here all along. Feels like the whole world is his kingdom. Kingdom finally fucking come.

You’re feeling everything the same. Someday his queen for now his filthy little slut. The flood. The flame. The fluid heat as you’re split open on this man’s majestic meat until you feel his power beating in your blood. The beast in each of you untamed. Such fucking force. His power is all fucking yours. Of fucking course.

Kisses you long and deep and hard, until the white hot bliss that’s burning through him shatters into shards. 

Pulls out in time to take his meat in his own fist and spray his seed across your stomach and your chest. Painting you like a work of art. Pearly white gleams against the honey gold that still clings to the soft skin of your breasts. Just from the feel of being coated in his load your throbbing cunt pulses until it falls apart, convulses in a rush of pleasure rooted somewhere in your slutty little heart. You’ve never felt so fucking blessed. Of all the moments of your life to date this is without a doubt the fucking best.

Yet this is all just how it starts. Your days here in the boy-whore’s bed have just begun and you don’t doubt he’ll take you to new heights of ecstasy for all the fucking rest.

He’s feeling everything the same. Smiles and calls you by your name—honey tits. 

Knows you fucking love it. Though at first you’d claimed the reason for this visit was just business... clearly that’s not what this is. Business has turned to pleasure just as you both wanted it.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did! 🤗💗

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#charlie hunnam #king arthur #king arthur legend of the sword #arthur pendragon #king arthur smut #king arthur imagine #king arthur fanfiction #charlie hunnam smut #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #king arthur x reader #king arthur x you #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon x you #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #brothel boy arthur

[trashytummiez]

I hope this is cool with you, can i request kinda a pov thing of rubbing killer croc's tummy after stuffing him to the gills with good food.

Discovery Channel had nothing on Killer Croc.

Watching him eat was a sight you couldn't look away from. When the reptile was gone you had gotten him every assortment of his favorite fast and heavy foods as thanks for him letting you stay in his lair. Burgers steaks and entire racks of ribs were all laid out on Killer crocs mattress with a tarp beneath it all for him to stuff himself. He was a messy eater the way he chomped down on everything he grabbed a hold of and shoved into those jaws of his. They'd tasted human flesh and swallowed men whole multiple times so even the thickest beef couldn't stand a chance against the apex predators jaws.

Killer Croc would take these massive bites that only took seconds to pulverize anything in his mouth. Then he'd swallow heartily which made grapefruit sized lumps wetly sink down Croc's thick throat with a visual ripple. It wasn't long before all that food began to flood his scaly belly. Crocs hard as steel abs stretched out along with his scaly tummy the more he filled himself up.

You watched him pig out and listened to all the greedy slurps and gulps he made in between his incredibly piggish open mouthed chomping of all that food. But his lack of table manners and the way he rapidly ate didn't gross you out like it would anyone else. It legitimately got you hot under the collar and fanning yourself. Especially watching that thick and muscular stomach extend into a glutted scaly beachball that weighed Killer Croc's already tight jeans down under its weight. He ate so much so fast that his pants button eventually snapped clean off giving his big scaly tummy extra room to push out the more he devoured.

Killer croc greedily scarfed down everything in just a few minutes. All that food was packed into his belly and gurgling heavily from his digestive tract making steady work of all that food.

"Unnnnngh man I'm stuffed..." Killer croc moaned then slumped back while his enormous belly sloshed like it was full of a really rich stew muffled behind his scales. Croc gave his swollen belly a heavy pat then he burped so loudly that the whole lair shook.

"...Excuse you," you said with a blush so intense that you looked as though you ate a red hot pepper.

Killer croc simply smacked his lips contently and leaned on an elbow while rubbing the side of his immensely bloated belly with one hand. "Mmmm what I'd give t'be able t'eat like that every day..." Croc mused. He smirked cheekily back at you and licked his scaly chops. "Bet ya'd wish fer the same thing huh."

"You'd go broke in a week if I fed you this much all the time," you said.

Neither one of you would've minded one bit.

Croc's teasing worked though. You eventually placed your hands on his bulging belly. The scales on his tummy felt softer and more stretched out than the rest of his coarse body. The way it churned felt and sounded like a washing machine with too big a load circulating inside.

The feeling and sight of it mixed with how noisy Croc's belly was made your knees weak.

Then you began to rub it.

Your hands smoothed over the vast scaly tummy riding up to the highest roundest crest of Killer Croc's stomach then slid down under the curve of his underbelly. His belly was so big that you needed to actually lean up against it so you could stretch your arms out wide enough to rub over all of it. Your hands roamed under Croc's ribs and over the thickest area dead center of his stomach. Those fingers of yours kneaded into that scaly churning tummy digging into them to ease whatever cramps you felt in his stomach muscles.

Killer Croc himself was enjoying every second of this. He groaned pleasantly and stretched his claws out with how relaxed your ministrations were making him. Then you stuck your finger inside of his belly button. It was thinned out and made a little more shallow from how stuffed to the brim Croc's stomach was but it was still deep enough that your finger went a ways in. Your finger fondled his navel firmly and sensually digging it around inside.

Even for a creature his size and appearance Killer Croc had a very sensitive belly button. And the treatment you provided it made hiis eyes roll to the back of his head as he moaned heavily at the sensational treatment you gave his tummy. He sighed heavily letting his warm dank breath waft over you as his clawed toes curled with euphoria.

"...God damn yer somethin' else..." he groaned pleasurably.

So was he the way he could eat just so much in one go and leave you with so much belly to love.

Your finger traced out of his navel while you leaned in closer and kissed it. Then you continued lovingly and idly stroked his prominent girth in an intimate sort of way. Your hands cupped the sheer heft of his weighty underbelly and pushed. Croc's tummy folded into itself slightly as you jiggled his engorged belly up and down.

You shuddered at the feeling and sound of Croc's belly sloshing so thickly as you jiggled it around. All that jiggling was also circulating a lot of gas in Killer croc's tummy as well. Croc winced when he felt a great deal of pressure brewing in his chest. Then he smacked his chest with a meaty fist and expelled a booming burp that echoed throughout the whole sewer system surrounding Croc's lair.

BBRRRUUUURRRRAAAAAUUURHP!!!!!

You shuddered as you felt that burp reverberate throughout your whole body from how powerful it was.

"Unf...oh man," Killer Croc huffed while his tummy gurgled thickly. He managed a grin back at you. "Heheh. Lots more where that came from, ya know..."

Like you needed any more incentive.

Still cupping his underbelly you gripped into its softest portions and shook his big scaly stomach around some more. Killer Croc savored the feeling of his tummy getting shaken around until more gas bubbled its way up. He threw his head back and gave a huge burp that roared out of him like a shotgun blast. The another rumbling burp rolled out of his mouth a second later followed by a choppier weaker one after that.

BAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRROOOOOOOORRRAAAAAHP!!!!!!!

BBBRRREEEEEEEEUUUUUUUURRRRRRHP!!!!!

HOOOOOOUUUuuuurrrr-UUUUUuuuuuuurrrrrhp!!!

You bit your lip and suppressed a moan of your own. It drove you wild how unbelievably gassy this reptile could get when he was so full.

But nothing made you weaker than Killer Croc grunting and slapping his hefty belly as hard as he could to work up this massive rumbling burp that caused every bone in your body to vibrate with its sheer power.

BBBWWWUUUUUUUUUUUURRROOOOOOOOORRRAAAAAAAAAHPPP!!!!!!!!!!!

Croc groaned breathlessly. He was so relieved to get that one out that he flopped lazily onto his back and let his massive tummy sway above him.

"Gruuuoooooaaahhh mmmmaaaaaan that was a good one..." Killer Croc mused breathily.

"...You're telling me," you replied in a tone that made it impossible to hide how unbelievably aroused you were.

You crawled over Killer Croc sitting on his lap and leaning against his giant pillowy tummy while rubbing into it. Croc hummed contently to himself while you tended to his tummy. Occasionally you pressed down on his belly making Croc burp a few more times.

"Thanks for this Waylon," you finally said.

"Uh? Thanks fer what? Yer the one who's rubbin' my belly after fillin' it with a meal fit fer a king," Croc replied.

"You know...for giving me a home," you said then more intimately you traced your finger across his belly button again making Croc moan some more. "And for...indulging me a little with all this." You gave Croc's tummy a few pats for emphasis.

Killer croc hiccuped at the pats then smirked at you. "What makes ya think yer the only one into this?"

He folded his muscular arms behind his head and arched his back with a big beastly yawn that made his belly stick out more in your face.

That was as subtle a way of telling you to "keep rubbin'" as you were gonna get. So you continued rubbing the stuffed noisy belly of Killer Croc well into the night and beyond.

#kink fic #killer croc #waylon jones #reader #belly kink #stuffing #bloated #burping #burp kink #belly rub #stomach noises #hiccups #killer croc x reader #navel play

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Succubus!Rosaria x f!reader, overstimulation please?

Here you go, Anon(❤´艸｀❤)

Die a Little Death

Summary: As a nun of the Church of Favonius, it was only right for you to help the needy. Be it a normal citizen of Teyvat or a succubus by the name of Rosaria.

--

The soft and sweet sounds of sex echoed within the stone walls of your room in the Church, your clothes were crumpled and soiled from the sex. It didn’t stop Rosaria from her ministrations though, her tongue swirled inside your pussy, drinking your love juice as she brought you to another high.

“Sister Rosaria~!” You cried out as you came once more, the night was no longer young and you’ve lost count of the amount of times you came from her mouth alone.

Rosaria wiped her mouth, licking the residue with her tongue and looking at you with a fond smile, she only ever showed within the confines of your bedroom. A well fed Rosaria was even more beautiful compared to her everyday unfed look. There were no bags underneath her eyes, and her sickly pallor was gone.

Her eyes showed her youthful energy that made her even more charming in your eyes but such energy was spent most of the time making you come in a myriad of ways.

“That was the 15th time you came with just my mouth,” She informed you as she took a devious glance at your pussy that was twitching from all the action it had received “This time, how many times would you come from my fingers alone?”

Fear and arousal mixed within you as your body moved on its own, spreading your legs wider as you became a bitch in heat. Whether it was an effect of her succubi powers or your lust for her didn’t matter. With your legs wide open and exposing your pretty cunt to her, Rosaria didn’t waste any time and easily inserted three fingers inside your loose cunt.

You moaned from the pleasure, feet curling when she hit your spot, drool slipped down the corners of your mouth as you felt another intrusion on your pussy. You glanced down and saw the familiar sight of Rosaria’s succubi tail, it’s blunt end inserting itself inside and sending you a jolt of pleasure not unlike that of a strong dose of aphrodisiac.

You felt your vision turn into white as your orgasm hit you. The soft sound of Rosaria’s laughter entered your ears. Her sweet kiss to your lips was a balm to your overly sensitive body.

“I think you’d be able to take my entire fist” You heard her say but your limbs were too soft and your brain too muddled with lust to properly respond.

You felt her tail slip out of your pussy, the soft rustle of sheets making you aware that Rosaria was moving around. Despite that you made no move in opening your eyes until you felt and tasted her wet pussy on your face, mouth instantly opening to lap at her intoxicating taste.

“Good girl, make sure to drink me up properly” She ordered as her mouth sucked on your clit and her 4 fingers went in and out of your pussy, prodding it without any care. The walls of your pussy convulsed with each intrusion, each touch sending you closer and closer to your next orgasm.

Rosaria alternated between sucking on your clit and placing kisses and bites on the most sensitive spot on your inner thighs, her four fingers curled inside you as your tongue licked and explored her wet pussy.

Her cum dribbled down your face, making you more and more lustful as you slowly regained a bit of energy to grind your face down her pussy. Rosaria’s loud moan only served to make your lewd acts feel more heated. Enjoying the thought of getting caught having sex while still wearing your habit.

The mere thought was enough to make you wetter which didn’t escape Rosaria’s notice. As you drowned in your lustful thoughts you remained oblivious to the effects of your nightly feeding program to the Succubus.

Her mere touch was now enough to send your body to orgasm, each night spent with her had slowly turned your body into a perfect food source, slowly making you more and more erotic. Rosaria had perfectly observed the effect you had to the rest of the civilian populace of Mondstadt and even some of the Knights.

Your obliviousness only made the lustful stares you evoked more potent and more tasty to her. Though she made an effort to not touch you within Mondstadt’s walls, Rosaria knew that you had grown attuned to her stares. And now, within the privacy of your room, Rosaria allowed herself to drop all pretense of humanity. Drowning you in her powers, turning your entire body into an erogenous zone.

Rosaria came unto your face, her back arching as she felt your mouth sucking and drinking her pussy juice, her batlike wings fluttering with each jolt of pleasure that came up her spine.

Her orgasm made her limbs soft, however her pride as a Succubi made her stay firm as she repositioned herself in front of your pussy. Her hands were wet from your slick and Rosaria knew that you definitely could fit her entire fist.

“Fu~!” You sucked in as you felt another intrusion inside your pussy, “Rosa-!”

Your entire body clenched as her fist moved back and forth inside your loose and sopping wet pussy, you came once more this time without any cum. Each move of her fist had you begging her, you didn’t know if it was to stop or to move faster and harder, all you knew was that your entire pussy felt full to the brim.

You panted and moaned her name, far more devout than your songs and prayers offered to Lord Barbatos.

Your legs were shaking as Rosaria wringed out another orgasm from your. The thought of your pussy feeling raw later in the day lingered at the back of your mind but the thought was quickly dispelled when you felt the front of your habit torn.

A cryo dagger had ripped it in the center, exposing your ample tits to the cold air of Mondstadt’s night. But before you could even complain to your beloved, she had thrust her fist hard, making you moan louder than usual as your pussy clenched and you came without any cum.

Rosaria looked at you and saw that you were passed out, face stained with her cum and your drool, your chest area was soiled with sweat and cum and your soft and large tits carried traces of wetness. Your nipples were erect and just so tempting that Rosaria couldn’t help but suck on it.

‘Somehow’, Rosaria thought, ‘there was something titillating on seeing your messed up and soiled habit from all the sweat and cum from your voluntary “feeding program”’.

“Rosaria?” You called out to her weakly, you were thoroughly drained after all. All those orgasms and nightly exposure to her succubi nature had led you to developing a body that was meant to be fucked thoroughly.

“Sleep, I can still feed from you even when you’re not awake.”

You smiled at her and did as she said, unaware of what you were about to subject your body to. That night as you slept deeply, Rosaria wasted no energy in sucking your tits, licking your nipples and biting them until they were the most sensitive part of your body, no different from your pussy.

Her teeth gently scraped it, before sucking and leaving bite marks on your areola. Then she left a mark underneath your breast making a trail down to the area where your uterus was, and left her sigil on it. The womb tattoo that would ensure that no one but her would be able to fuck you. The intricate design in the form of the heart and bat wings would only be visible to her. A mark of ownership to the Church of Favonius' most helpful nun.

Your moans became lewder and lewder with each orgasm Rosaria wrung out from you, and yet you remained sleeping even when a mere lick from her was enough to send you to another orgasm. By the time Rosaria was content and satiated, the morning sun was high up in the sky and you were still sleeping soundly.

She smiled at you lasciviously as the thought of how sensitive you would be today sent a jolt of pleasure to her already wet pussy.

‘I’d have to lure you out today’ She thought as she made plans to accommodate your body that would now experience the consequences of last night’s overstimulation, ‘it wouldn’t be nice if Kaeya got wind of what I was up to.’

Later that day, you did your best to assuage everyone’s concern over your flushed cheeks. The usually soft cloth of your habit felt rough on your perked up nipples, the cotton of your panties rubbed your clit as if it was the rough leather of Rosaria’s gloves. Your pussy kept on clenching with each step you took.

You knew that if you didn’t make it out soon, everyone would see you come and you had no want nor need for such an embarrassing ordeal. Sir Kaeya had already grown suspicious of your activities with Rosaria, after all and you weren’t quite sure what the cavalry captain would do once he learned of what exactly you and Rosaria were up to at most nights.

#rosaria x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact rosaria x reader

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: implied Mason x Detective

Rating: T for language

Word Count: 615

AO3

—

Unsettled

Heat beats steadily down on his skin. Mason thinks he might be on fire and he prefers it that way this morning. Edith’s face on that bounty lingers and he can’t shake the dread in his gut. He much prefers to be distracted by the way she’d look here in the clearing, sun shimmering on a nice sheen of sweat. But his mind refuses to cooperate.

Ava’s fist is coming for his face. Dodges a fraction of a second too late. His jaw’s knocked loose. He cracks it and squares up. Smirks. There’s satisfaction in forgetting about that damned poster, focusing on the pain. He always was the slowest healer.

He curls his finger, coaxing more.

Ava complies.

“I worry about the people I love.”

“Unf,” Mason grunts as Ava slams a palm into his side.

Am I one of those people? Is that why she ran off the other day?

What do I care.

Mason shakes his head. Pushes back his wavy mass of hair and ties it off. Takes the offense. Throws a blow at Ava but she snatches his arm, twists it behind his back, and shoves it upward. Then she wraps her free arm around him in a headlock.

“You are off your game today, Mason,” she says.

He lets out a gargled mess of words. A string of what-ifs blown out in a breath. Ava relinquishes her grip.

“What were you saying?”

He refuses to repeat any truth. Doesn’t even get why it came out in the first place.

“It’s too fucking hot.” Hardly a lie.

Ava squints as her seemingly omniscient eyes roam his face. He can read the line of doubt between her pursed lips. “Alright. Take a break then.”

Mason stalks off towards Nat and Felix who are wrapped up in a hug.

“Ugh,” he groans. “I’m going back to getting beaten if you’re going to subject me to that.” He waves a hand at them.

“I would never dream of it,” Nat replies with a whisper of a smile that suggests otherwise. Thankfully they let go of each other for his sake.

Mason wanders away to look for a shaded spot. But he can still hear everything too clearly. The birds, the wind rustling in the branches, the steady bubbling of a stream somewhere nearby or far off–who fucking cares–and their voices that cut through it all. He digs into his pocket and thumbs a loose cigarette. Pulls it out. Savors it on his tongue. Sweet and earthy with the slightest cool bite.

Felix comments about wishing Edith was there and Mason silently agrees. She’d make it stop. The thoughts, the noise, the weird fucking way his skin feels like it’s trying to melt right off. He lights the cigarette. Nat states what he’s been thinking for hours. But he won’t admit it. Refuses to identify it as worry. Draws in a breath, smoke simmering in his lungs for half a second. Blows out the word concern.

Mason says not to worry so much. Edith has already been through some shit and proven herself capable. She’ll be fine. It’s words to console the niggling voice in his head as much as anyone else. But of course, the rebuttal Ava sends his way stokes that feeling in his gut. That sinking, twisting, swirling mass of concern. It worms its way through him from the inside out and he wants it gone. He closes his eyes. Relishes in the sizzle just as the ash falls to the ground. Smoke in. Worm out. Or that’s how he imagines it.

“There’s been a kidnapping. Time to head out,” Ava says after depositing her phone back in her pocket.

He flicks the cigarette to the ground and stomps it as he follows after the rest of Unit Bravo.

Good, another fucking distraction.

#twc #bear writes #Mason x Edith #agent m #Nat sewell #Ava du mortain #felix hauville #okay I forgot to cross post a bunch of my twc things on AO3 #so excuse me while I play catch up over the next couple weeks

[heyiwrotesomethings]

You Laugh, You Lose (But Really You Win)

Emi Fukukado (Ms Joke) x They/Them Reader

A/N: Prepare to get Rickrolled in the most loving way possible! Your quirk is Compulsive Competitiveness. It pushes your body past its limits to achieve any goal as long as it's presented as a competition. Unfortunately, it can’t work if the competition is physically impossible to do. However, you could find loopholes. For instance, if Hawks challenged you to a flying competition you could try your luck piloting an airplane! Like with any quirk, this one has its drawbacks. Overexhaustion will cause fever and intense drowsiness! Hope you like it! Word Count: 1,665

(Y/n) had been diligently grading papers in the Ketsubutsu Academy teacher’s office when they heard a distinct peel of laughter coming from somewhere down the hall. They rolled their eyes and smiled, turning to the next page of the paper they were currently grading, fully aware that they would soon have their hands too full to continue. Sure enough, a few moments later the door slid open and Fukukado Emi slipped inside. She snickered and waved to the students laughing in the hall before fully entering and closing the door behind her. She didn’t take long to notice the other teacher in the room and quickly made herself at home by sitting on the edge of their desk. She kicked her feet out playfully and beamed down at the other teacher who had yet to look up from their papers.

“Hey there sugar plum! Do you like raisins?” Emi asked, completely unprompted.

“Good afternoon, Emi. Did you get Shindou You’s recommendation letter for that internship done yet?” (Y/n) asked, their eyes still scanning the paper before them.

“Aw, come on (Y/n),” Emi whined, poking at her colleague’s head, “Answer the question!”

“I don’t know,” (Y/n) shrugged, finally looking up from their papers. “They’re tolerable I guess. I don’t go out of my way to eat them.”

“Okay, how do you- how do—“ Emi fought to speak through her own giggles and (Y/n) had to bite the inside of their lip to keep from doing the same, “how do you feel about a date?” Emi finally got out before breaking down into full on laughter, a light blue aura rolling off her skin.

(Y/n) snorted unable to control themself. Their hand reached to cover their mouth as their own laughter escaped to join Ms. Joke’s. “Emi,” they tried to admonish, “that wasn’t fair! Using your quirk to make me laugh at some cheesy pickup line that probably took you two seconds to find on the internet! Have you no honor?!”

“Hey, what are you talking about? That was totally hilarious!” Emi pressed her hand dramatically to her chest, a dazzling smile over her lips as the blue aura receded.

“It doesn’t count and you know it.” (Y/n) spoke with finality. “If you want a date, you have to make me laugh without using your quirk. That was the deal remember?”

“Why did I agree to such a thing?” Emi moaned and slouched over (Y/n)’s papers, laying across the desk with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re the one that came up with it.” (Y/n) deadpanned. “If you proposed a date like a normal person I would have said yes two weeks ago.”

“Why not just laugh then?” Emi asked, booping (Y/n)’s nose with a gloved finger.

“Because I’m compulsively competitive. You should have considered my quirk before making that wager.” (Y/n) reminded, swatting Emi’s hand away.

“Just you wait, (Y/n)! You better find something nice to wear this weekend because I’m going to catch you off guard before the week is out!”

“That’s what you said last week,” (Y/n) smirked, “and the week before that.”

“I mean it this time! Prepare yourself!” Emi clenched her fist righteously.

“Alright,” (Y/n)’s smirk softened, “now, could you get off my desk please?”

“Oh yeah, sure!”

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of their nose as they watched Emi purposefully remove herself from the desk in the most exaggerated way possible. It was going to be a long week.

***

(Y/n)’s quirk, while not as flashy as other hero quirks, was not one to be taken lightly. Their compulsively competitive quirk allowed them to push themself passed their limits physically and mentally as long as it was a task posed as a competition and wasn’t too outside of the realm of possibility. No contests to see who could breathe the most powerful fire ball if you can’t breathe fire in the first place. However, their quirk did help them achieve the highest grades when they were in school and even when faced with stronger opponents they managed to come out on top more often than not.

Of course it didn’t come without drawbacks, a high fever and dizzying fatigue could be quick to follow depending on the intensity of the competitive event. And although Ms. Joke’s little game came with very minimal risk and required little effort on (Y/n)’s part, weeks of steeling themself, preparing for any quip or improvisation, was starting to take its toll. Even though (Y/n) would love to just give in and go out with Emi, their quirk was not one that could simply be turned off whenever they wished. There had to be an outcome.

“You okay, Sensei?” A concerned student asked once (Y/n) trailed off for the third time in their lesson.

“Hm? Oh yeah, sorry everyone. I’m just not feeling well today.” (Y/n) admitted. “Where was I?”

“Search and rescue in rural settings. Are you sure you’re okay, teach?” Another student asked, watching (Y/n) lean heavily against the podium.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just that Fukukado-sensei has been really testing my limits these last few days.” (Y/n) explained. They didn’t bother to omit the reason for their condition since Emi had been anything but subtle in her attempts. Many of them had been grand public jests anyway. It would be hard to find a single student who didn’t know what was going on between the two teachers.

“Yeah, I thought she had you for sure when Fatgum came in as a guest speaker and she followed him around with a tuba all day.” One student recalled.

“Or when she climbed to the top of the flagpole at the school entrance and the back of her pants got caught so the fire department had to come get her down.” A student from the back giggled.

“Let’s not forget that failed bend and snap attempt when she almost threw out her back trying to seductively pick up a pen.” Someone else added.

“Yes, yes. Hilarious. She’s lucky Fatgum is such a good sport,” (Y/n) sighed, fighting themself internally not to laugh at all the shenanigans their colleague had gotten into, “Now, back on the topic of— wait, do you guys hear something?”

Sure enough, somewhere down the hall, muffled music could be heard steadily growing louder and more clear as the seconds progressed. Before (Y/n) could get to the door and see what was going on, the door slid open and Emi stormed in with a large boom box over her shoulder and a microphone in her hand with a long chord that was attached to nothing dragging along the ground.

(Y/n) bit the inside of their lip hard as they took in the ridiculous outfit Emi was wearing that made her look like a poorly put together hammerhead shark. Emi wobbled into the classroom as best she could with her legs confined in the fabric of her outfit and rose her flipper holding the mic to her lips to join in with the song playing over her shoulder.

“We’rno strangers t’ looooove, ya know derruuules n’so do I. A f’ll cermmitment's whert’m thenkin’ ooooof. You wouldn' gettis frem any otter my!” Emi sang loudly, horribly off key and changed the words just enough that the song was still familiar but sounded like complete nonsense. As she continued on she waddled closer to (Y/n), occasionally tripping but somehow managing to save herself as she continued to ‘sing’.

The students in the classroom were howling with laughter and (Y/n) could feel their skin growing hotter as they fought not to join in. They couldn’t hold for much longer, but they sure as hell were going to try.

“Ner gonn give oo erp, ner gonn lert oo derrrn, ner gon rune arund n’ dezert you. Ner gonn merk moo my, ner gonn smay smoosmy, ner gonn tellalie n’ dirt coup!”

(Y/n) could taste blood in their mouth from biting their lip so hard. They covered their mouth tightly with one hand and the other braced tightly against the podium as their quirk pushed them passed their limits until- they couldn’t hold it in anymore!

(Y/n) laughed so hard that tears fell from their cheeks. Emi saw this and smiled brightly, continuing to ‘sing’ as she basked in her victory until (Y/n) spoke between bouts of wheezing laughter.

“Cah—catch me.”

“Huh? Oh!” Emi dropped her boom box and mic to the ground with little care and caught (Y/n) in her shark fins before they collapsed to the ground. “Are you okay?” She asked, all previous cheer replaced by worry.

“I’ll be okay. My quirk over exhausted me,” (Y/n) explained between deep breaths, “I hope you don’t mind waiting until next week to collect your winnings because I’m a little too sick to function in public right now.”

“I’ve waited this long. What’s one more week?” Emi smiled, “Although I do feel bad. This is kind of my fault after all.”

“You could come by my place and make me soup and grade my tests while I sleep, that would make me feel better.”

“Way to take advantage.” Emi huffed, “Alright, not really the kind of date I had in mind, but it’s a start!” Emi hoisted (Y/n) into her arms to fully carry them and addressed the waiting students, “Okay guys free period, go nuts.” (Y/n) gave Emi a tired, warning glare, “Okay, well, don’t go nuts, but do whatever you want... within reason. See you Monday!” Emi then awkwardly shimmied out the door. One of her hammerhead eyestalks caught the doorframe on the way out which earned another round of subdued giggles from the class. As she made her way to the nurse’s office, Emi smiled down at the sleeping teacher in her arms, excited to see where their relationship would go.

Bonus:

“Oh shit!” Emi cursed as she tripped forward, unable to regain her balance with the added weight in her arms. (Y/n) jolted awake as they came in contact with the cold, unforgiving floor.

“Emi!”

“Sorry!”

#bnha oneshots #mha oneshots #bnha x reader #mha x reader #emi fukukado #ms joke #emi fukukado x reader #ms joke x reader

[writefightandflightclub]

A cut above the rest (Poe Dameron x reader)

Author’s note: I JUST REALISED THAT REBELS MUST STILL GET HAIR CUTS AND OMFGJDJDJJRJDJ CAN YOU IMAGINE CUTTING POE DAMERON’S HAIR? IT WOULD BE A FUCKING SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE.

Summary: five times you cut Poe Dameron’s hair.

You can skip the Prologue at the beginning if you prefer and go right ahead to “Haircut One”.

Warnings: it’s pure fluff and mild angst, sweetie.

(GIF by @youngavengervic​ THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE)

Prologue (skippable- start below at “Haircut One” if you so wish)

Poe: “Oh, Sorry.”

A man appears in your makeshift salon. You look up from your datapad and your cup of steaming caf.

You: “You are?”

Poe: “Poe. Poe Dameron.”

He reaches out to shake your hand in greeting, since he’s introducing himself.

You: “Uh, I mean, why are you sorry?”

Poe: “Because I disturbed you.”

You: “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you, Commander.”

Poe: “You have?”

You: “You didn’t, by the way.”

Poe: “What?”

You: “I saw your hair from across the base.”

Poe: “Uh-huh. Wait.”

He grabs your shoulders.

Poe: “Shall we start over? I’m here for a haircut.”

You: “I know! That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Poe: “Is it? Right. So is the droid around?”

You: “The droid’s around but how about a human touch?”

You reach below your waistband.

Poe: “Woah, ma’am, I’m flattered but...”

Your hand emerges from your apron with a pair of scissors.

Poe: “Oh.”

You: “I’m Y/N. Y/N YL/N. Do you want a haircut then?”

Poe: “Sure.”

Haircut One

Poe sits in your salon chair and you stand behind him, running warm water into your makeshift, upcycled cockpit basin. You press your palms to the top of his shoulders, tipping him back gently until his head comes to rest on the supportive tubing, the back of his hair dipping into the water. You prop his head up with an open palm as you douse his luxurious hair in warm water and a sweet smelling concoction. He closes his eyes and you look down at his wet curls, pulled back from his face, the thick brush of his lashes and his strong features. Boy, he’s handsome. And you hear he knows it.

You suddenly feel a little self-conscious that you are massaging his beautiful head, especially when it begins to illicit a satisfied hum from him. You bet there are a lot of people on base who have dreamed about running their fingers through the Commander’s hair.

You hope he’s enjoying it, being able to take a rare moment away from his duties, have someone take care of him for a change. From this angle though, you can see his fists are still clenched on the arms of the chair, his brows still tense.

“Just relax, Commander,” you say soothingly.

“I will if you will.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Poe.” he explains, with a warm smile.

“Ok, Poe.”

You keep massaging his scalp, your fingers weaving in his hair, around his temples, his neck. Maybe you wash his hair a little too long, partly because you really want to see his fists unclench, which they eventually do. Partly because you do not mind this view of him blissed out under your fingertips. At all.

“Ok.” You tap his shoulders again, softly, guiding him up and wrapping a cloth around his hair before any drips can sneak their way down beneath the collar of his shirt.

He lets out another satisfied hum. “Thank you, that was nice.”

“It was.” you agree. Oh planets, did you actually just say that? Nope, no way out of it. You think you catch amusement blooming across his face but, kindly, he does his best to hide it.

You tousle his hair until it’s damp, then urge him quickly over to the salon chair in a vague attempt to leave your embarrassment behind. You wheel your stool up close to him.  

You begin to rotate around his head, fondling his hair with your fingers, pulling at sections with your fingers laced into his curls. You concentrate hard on looking at his hair and not right into his eyes, especially as you place your hands on either side of his face, checking the symmetry, only arms-length away. You are equally careful that your hip doesn’t press too earnestly against his shoulder as you stand to clip the strands you can’t reach seated.

You snip conscientiously away at his tresses, very aware that his eyes meet yours with interest whenever you are in front of him, even through the mirror when you’re not.

Finally, he asks, charmingly enough to just about get away with it: “Would it be unprofessional if I said you were pretty?”

Typical flyboy. Still, butterflies bloom in the pit of your stomach. And you can’t help but smile brightly.

“Well. You might not want to risk it while I’m holding sharp implements.” You toss him a good-humoured look, just a hint of flirtation in it.

He smiles warmly, fluttering his eyelashes innocently at you. “Noted. I’ll tell you later.”

There are those butterflies again. Damn, he’s cute. You finish him up and brush the stray hairs from his shoulders and his neck with your palms. Finally, you hold the mirror up to the back of his head, awaiting his verdict.

“How do you think I look?”

“In my professional opinion?”

“Of course.” his eyes glint with humour.

“Emphatically not bad.”

“I’ll take that.” He thanks you, picks up his leather jacket, throws it on. Then he winks at you and strolls out. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you sweep up.

Haircut Two

Maker, you are pleased to have him back in your chair again. It seems like it has been some time, and his hair is looking particularly overgrown. Washing his hair is a ritual you could certainly get used to. You enjoy the way he melts more readily into the chair this time.

A little more prepared and relaxed than last time yourself, you make the usual small talk, but he responds quickly, turning the questions back on you before you can even think. 

“So, how did you end up becoming a rebel hairdresser?”

Is that even a thing? You scrunch your nose. Does he really wanna know?

“I wanted to be a pilot.” you laugh, cringing slightly, combing through his hair.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but this isn’t a common route into the profession.” He jokes warmly.

Your shoulders shake in gentle laughter.

You hum, thinking. “Yeah. I didn’t have the resources to go to flight school. So, I trained as a hairdresser. I was good at it, and would you believe...” you flick your tongue out over your lip as you trim the hair around his ears. He turns his head to listen more intently and you reposition him with a firm hand, again. “I told you to stop moving.”

“Sorry”, he smirks.

“Well, I caught the attention of the senate, over on Hadnor, a fringe group of dissenters in the diplomatic unit who were loyal to the Resistance.”

He is about to turn his head towards you again. He’s such an attentive person, you are learning- it’s only natural to him. “Stay still.” you remind him with a chuckle. “Well, they needed someone to pose as a hairdresser to the elite and gain access to the secrets of the upper echelons. I wanted to help.”

“Espionage? You were a spy?” he asks, clearly shocked, but he doesn’t look at you this time.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice tighter, thinner. “I spent 10 years making monsters look beautiful and learning their secrets, trying to advance the Resistance from within... and trying not to get caught.”

“Then what happened?”He is almost afraid to ask.

“I got caught.” There is a pause before you continue. “Three years passed, then I got out.” your voice is heavy, the glaring omission of what they did to you in those three years not something he wants to push.

“I’m sorry.” He turns towards you again and you move his head back wordlessly.

You tug in a steadying breath. “It’s fine. I just wish I could be more useful around here but I...” you shrug “Let’s just say my skills were cutting hair and spying, and I’m not ready yet to go back to spying.”

“Haircuts are useful.”

He’s kind. He has a good heart.

“Really, they are. If my hair grew over my eyes how would I fly my X-Wing?”

“You fly an X-Wing?” you tease, sarcastically. “That’s never come up.”

You fish out a lock of hair that has fallen under his collar, your fingers brushing his neck, his collarbone. He shivers from the contact.

“What about your dream of being a pilot?” he turns his head towards you.

“Poe, if you turn your head to look at me one more time...” you chide.

But you meet his eyes and find them impossibly soft. “I just like looking at you.”

You are taken aback. “Yeah well,” you dismiss, not quite knowing how to react, “I’m sure you like having two ears even more. Eyes front, Dameron.”

“Yes, maam.” he turns his head, a smile ghosting at the corner of his lips.

You try to take a few deep breaths until your heart stops hammering.

Haircut three

The next time you have him in your chair, he’s in a playful mood. Ok, an even more playful mood.

“Same again?” you ask him.

His face turns thoughtful, ridiculous. “I want a sexy haircut. What will make me look sexy?”

He raises a suggestive eyebrow at you. Unf. He’s sexy already. “You know, I think you’re covered.” you admit.

“Yeah?” Oh, he looks a little too pleased with himself now; what have you done?

For once he keeps his eyes front, head still. “Stop looking at me.” he teases, with a deliciously warm smile, mock indignant.  

“I’m cutting your hair, I have to look at you.” you giggle, the sound music to his ears.

“Not like that, you don’t.” he bites his lip, faux pornographic, grunting for effect.

“I think I’m being misrepresented here.” you laugh heartily, from your belly, resting the crook of your arm on his shoulder as you fold forward with mirth.

It has been a long time since you felt this light.

You let him flirt with you this time. You even flirt back.

But maybe that was cruel, because when he slips his jacket back on and asks you bashfully, adorably, if you’d like to grab a drink with him sometime, and you say no, his face sags with disappointment. His pretty eyes look wounded.

And it baffles you why you would say no to this sweet, warm, funny, brave, and handsome man. But your “no, I’m sorry, I...” slips out before you can think it through. It comes out before you realise quite what you’ve done.

Years of espionage, years of pretending to be someone else, had meant that there was never a “you” for anyone to get close to. And there was never anyone you could trust even if there had been.

Still, as he masks his disappointment and walks out of the salon, you realise suddenly, that maybe you want that person to be him.

It’s a shame, then, that you’ve blown it.

Haircut four

The next time, you are surprised to see him. Not only because of how you left it, but also because word on base travels fast.

He hadn’t had a good day. The mission hadn’t panned out. He’d lost people. 

He catches you sweeping, just as you’re about to shut things down for the night. You can see instantly that his face is full of distress. His body sags like a fire-gutted building.

“Poe?” you greet him, concerned, and he doesn’t respond. That concerns you further.

Instead, he just shuffles his feet on the floor like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing here.

“Sorry, I should just go...”

“Wait.” you grab his wrist. “What do you need?”

“I came here to.. Can you...” he isn’t going to continue but your eyes encourage him. “Can you wash my hair?”

Comfort. He wants comfort, you realise. You’ll happily, readily give it to him. 

“Sure I can. Sure. Sit down right now. Lie back.”

You do everything you can to soothe him, make him feel calm.

As your hands move through his hair, the warm water, the scents, and -you think- your touch, comforting him, you gently probe. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

He’s silent for a moment. Then he sits up abruptly, water dripping down on to his neck, over his face- not that he cares. You wonder if maybe he’s crying, but amidst all of the water you can barely tell.

Quickly, you grab a towel and roll it, pass it around his neck, at least to catch some of the water. Coming to kneel in front of his chair, you place your hand firmly over his, giving it a squeeze. He responds by running his fingers over the ridges of your knuckles, his focus intent, eyes downcast, solemn.

“Poe...”

He starts to speak, but not about what you expect.

“Why did you say no?”

“What?”

He is quick to backtrack. “You know what, never mind, this was stupid. I should.. I just need to be alone.”

And he unrolls the towel and turns to sweep out.

“Wait!”

He pauses in his tracks but he doesn’t turn back to you.

“I... I don’t know why I said no, Poe. I.. I wanted to say yes.”

“You wanted to say yes?” he repeats. Then he nods to himself, and continues his path to the door.

You sigh heavily, think about chasing after him for a moment. But then you simply mop up the pools of water he left behind him and close up.

Haircut five

He steps into the salon looking a lot more like himself, you are pleased to see. A steady smile on his face, a brightness to his eyes, more energy to his gait.

“It’s too soon for a haircut, Poe. You’ll be bald if I...”

“I know.” His eyes are playful.

“What’s going on?” you ask, intrigued and mystified.

“Come with me.” he grins “I wanna give you a flying lesson.”

Your jaw drops. “What? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I know you want to say yes.” his eyes dance with enthusiasm.

“Poe...” you try to protest. Although you are half-smiling, he can tell you’re still hesitant.

“You can trust me.” he promises, taking both your hands in his. “Just let me make this dream come true for you. Then the next. And the next.”

You want to cry with how sweet, how precious he is.

“I don’t know...” you tease. “You? Flying?! Are you any good at that?”

He pulls his hair back from his forehead. “No hair in my eyes, thanks to my favourite hairdresser. And I’m pretty sexy.”

“How is that relevant?”

He snakes his hands around your waist, bringing his face close to yours.

“Oh, it’ll be relevant.” he says seductively, pumping his eyebrows.

You look up at him, this ridiculous man with hope all over his face.

And you might just have to say yes.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x you #star wars x reader #poe dameron fluff #swcreators #sw #sw writing #fan fic #reader insert #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #poe dameron imagine #poe damerons hair

[atmilliways]

16 Murderface & Pickles; 19 Nathan & Toki! 🖤

I’ll probably write the Nathan and Toki one too, eventually, but for now here is some Pickleface for the prompt “defending each other.” This is set during Goingdownklok and, uh, probably the porniest thing I have ever written. 

Trans Pickles, Murderface’s internalized body issues, first time blow job, Pina Colada flavored lube because Pickles was drunk when he ordered it and thought he was asking Alexa for more drinks. 

If anyone can think of other tags that should be on this, or if it should be marked Explicit rather than just Mature, please let me know. I’ll reblog with the Ao3 link in a sec. 

~

This Might Just Stick

It had been hours. Maybe everybody had forgotten by now. . . . No, no one was going to forget that he’d tried to tackle and hump Toki in front of everybody. 

But he was getting hungry. . . . But what if he ran into any of his bandmates?

Murderface lurked in his quarters until the necessity of avoiding starvation drove him out and skulking towards the mess hall. By the time he arrived and saw from the hatch that someone was already in there, the lure of dinner was stronger than his shame. Maybe Pickles wouldn’t notice him. 

“Hey,” Pickles mumbled in greeting almost immediately. The drummer was presiding over a large plate piled high with iced cinnamon buns, glumly holding a half eaten one in his hand. 

“Uh . . . hey,” Murderface replied. Maybe if he kept walking the conversation would end there.

“I got shot down by Abigail,” Pickles continued, sounding positively morose. 

Murderface slowed, curious in spite of himself. He glanced towards the counter where a hooded servant waited to take his order, but hesitated. This was his chance to let the whole embarrassing incident start getting glossed over until no one ever brought it up again or even remembered it had ever happened. “. . . Schoundsch rough, pal.”

“I mean, I got all dressed up an’ everything, and nothin’.” With a sigh, Pickles took a bite of his cinnamon bun. He continued while chewing, “I figured she must be at least as hard up as the rest of us, y’know? Nope! Turns out, she thought to bring a vibrator!”

A vibrator. Huh. Now there was a thought. Murderface automatically pictured a naked female form, legs spread wantonly, a buzzing wand sinking into—

Well, this had been a mistake. He should’ve just kept walking and taken his food back to his room. Instead, before the sudden tent in his shorts had a chance to become too obvious, Murderface drifted casually over to Pickles’ table. It was one of those picnic style set-ups, except the benches weren’t bolted down, so there was a screech as he pulled it out to sit across from him. 

“Schuper rough! Schorry to hear that, pal. Hey, uh, mind if I eat one of thesche cshinnamon rollsch?” He didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing one and shoving half of it in his mouth. Maybe sugar and something to chew on would provide enough distraction to will his libido back to manageable levels. 

“Go ahead.” Pickles gave a deep sigh. “I thought I’d feel better if I had some rock n’ roll cinnamon buns, but I guess I’m not drunk enough for that yet.”

“Schorry man,” Murderface said again. “I don’t know why Nathan wasch scho bitchy about you going for her, it’sch not like we all wouldn’t hit that if we could.” He gulped down the second half of his cinnamon bun and reached for another. 

“I know, right?!” Pickles said, nodding. “And hey, for what it’s worth, I get why you went after Toki, too. I mean, your approach did lack some zazz, but I’m pretty sure we were all thinkin’ the same thing.”

They’d all taken part in mocking him after the incident, Pickles included, but Murderface still appreciated the small token of solidarity. His fingers already had a coating of sticky white icing on them which he was trying not to notice; the sight sent reflexive twinges of pain running up from his jerking-off wrist. But the mechanical motion of chewing and the fact that he was a born stress-eater just like his grandma made the texture of the bun richer, the nuance of spices more compelling, the fresh-out-of-the-oven warmth more soothing . . . so there was that. And anyway, he’d come here in the first place because he was hungry. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of bringin’ something,” Pickles continued, drifting back to his original train of thought. “I mean, I have tons of shit at home! But did I bring any of it? No, ‘cause Charles didn’t tell us about the no ladies thing until we’d already got here. I kinda want to break into her room and just use it, who fuckin’ cares if she catches me. Maybe she’ll see something she likes!”

“You could do that,” Murderface managed to say with his mouth full. God, he was lucky that Pickles was dressed in his usual black shirt and loose jeans, nothing tight or revealing like Toki, because all this talk about vibrators was really getting him going. Just the idea of turning the toy on and moving it teasingly against a stiff dick (he didn’t know what Pickles’ looked like so naturally he pictured his own)—

He stifled a whimper with yet another cinnamon roll. The pile on the plate was shrinking at an alarming rate. 

“Hey.” Pickles looked at him with wide eyes, a strange glint in them. “You could come with me. Come on, dood, let’s do it. Let’s break into her room!”

“I. . . . I don’t know, Picklesch. . . .”

“No, in case she doesn’t catch me! We can both—there’s ways we can both use it at the same time, no waitin’!”

Heat rising to his face, Murderface shook his head and reached for the cup on the table to wash the latest mouthful of sticky, sugary bun down. He grabbed it and gulped from it—ah yes, straight vodka. The Pickles special. “I’m, uh, not going to do that with you, Picklesch.”

“Why naht?” Pickles all but whined. “Come on, we’re all in the same boat here. Literally. What’s Toki got that I ain’t got?”

Murderface’s first instinct, which he insta-repressed, was to say An ass. But on further reflection, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? While Toki’s toned rear end looked great in those shrunken pink shorts, Pickles had slightly more of a bubble butt, better for grabbing a handful and really, unf—

And now he was thinking about Pickles’ ass. Great. Super. That was totally helping with the boner that wouldn’t quit. Murderface wanted to bury his head in his hands, but they were too sticky for that so he crammed another half a cinnamon bun in his mouth instead. He was, distantly, starting to feel rather full. 

“Look, I’m juscht not doing it!” he burst out, bringing one fist down on the table so hard it rattled the now empty cup and nearly empty plate. “Chrischt, you guysch were ragging on me earlier for the whole Toki thing, and now you’re, what? Trying to jump on my dick?! Uh-uh, I don’t think scho!”

Pickles put both of his hands up. “Dood, calm down! Flag on the play, okie? I’m naht trying anything!” He paused, then grinned sheepishly. “Alright, I am. But look, I’m askin’ first, so . . . there’s that. And hey, no strings attached, I promise. It’s just, you got rejected, and, and I got rejected. . . . I jest think we can help each other out, y’know? It doesn’t have to be that big a deal.”

Murderface narrowed his eyes. “It’sch a very big deal, Picklesch.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Pickles replied, leaning forward conspiratorially and dropping into a throaty whisper. “Dood, we could do it right here, nobody’d know. We’ve got this place to ourselves, all we gotta do is have the Klokateers shut things down for a while so we don’t get interrupted. And I could get you off first—fuck, I’ve been thinkin’ about going down on somebody ever since Abigail told me how she keeps from going crazy down here! Please?” Under the table, a sneakered foot bumped and rubbed suggestively up Murderface’s shin, making him shiver. “I’ll treat ya real nice.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a chick,” Murderface grumbled. 

“‘Kay.” Pickles smirked. “I’ll suck you off and make you come so hard you’ll be cross-eyed into next week.”

Biting his lip to stifle a groan, Murderface considered. 

. . . He picked up the last cinnamon bun and crammed it into his mouth, still considering. 

There were two options here. Option one: he could say fuck you, yell at the hood at the counter to send food to his quarters, and storm out with an angry boner to go hump his bedframe or some pillows or something until his meal arrived. His stomach was pretty full (he shifted slightly on the bench and let out a soft, cinnamon-scented burp in between chewing) but he knew how his body reacted to stress and depression, and knew he could eat again in maybe an hour. He’d need at least the next pants size up by the time they got back to the surface. Story of his fucking life. 

Or, option two: take Pickles’ offer. It wasn’t like it was any less gay for Pickles to offer than it was for him to accept, so they were both implicated here. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he’d already passed desperate a few stops back. 

“Scho, it’sch come to thisch.” Murderface swallowed the last of his mouthful and sighed. He looked at the empty plate instead of his bandmate, because the longer he entertained the idea of actually doing this the more confining his shorts felt. “If you make fun of me for thisch I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Right back at ya, dood. So . . . is theat a yes?” 

“. . . . Yesch,” he whispered, and—he couldn’t help it—palmed himself through his shorts despite his sticky hand and the twinge of pain from his still-tender wrist. 

As soon as he said the word, Pickles leapt up, knocking his bench over with a clatter, and spun to yell towards the mess kitchen: “Hey, guys! Take a break for like, an hour or something! Lock it up and get outta here!!”

“Yes sire,” someone called back, and the confirmation was quickly echoed by the clangs and bangs of cookware being put in order for the coming downtime. 

An hour, Murderface thought, twitching in stunned anticipation. He fingered the button on his shorts but didn’t unbutton it until the shutter over the counter window had been pulled down and one of the hoods ran to close the mess hall hatch for them from the outside—their servants were nothing if not efficient. 

He could’ve done without his full stomach forcing the zipper all the way down as soon as he unbuttoned, but hey, pobody’s nerfect. Now that he was committed to doing this he was practically vibrating to get started, spreading his legs as wide as he could. 

“Scho, uh. . . . How are we doing thisch? Should I turn around or schomething?”

“No, stay right there.” Pickles grabbed at a random dreadlock and used it to tie the rest back.Then he winked and ducked under the table. 

“Oh fuck,” Murderface whispered, and leaned back to get a partial view of Pickles kneeling in front of him. 

With a mischievous grin, the drummer slipped his fingers up the legs of Murderface’s shorts, teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “It’s sexier if you don’t look, dood.”

“Right, okay. Schure.” He sat forward again hastily and his lip as he felt Pickles’ hands move to his stomach, palms warm through his t-shirt and against the sliver of exposed skin peeking out at the bottom, and then—

“Ow,” Pickles muttered. 

Murderface looked down, hoping against hope that he hadn’t somehow fucked this up already. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my wrists, dood. I can’t . . . ugh.”

“Can’t what?” Murderface pressed. He felt bitter disappointment already welling up like bile in the back of his throat, and honestly if Pickles ditched him at this point he probably would throw up out of pure disgust and disappointment with himself for fucking up such a wonderful opportunity by being so utterly repugnant. 

Pickles groaned. “Fuck. Look, there’s no good way to say this, but you gotta hold yer stomach up outta the way. My wrists won’t bend that way right now and it’s kinda . . . blockin’ stuff.”

Murderface felt his face heat up to approximately one hundred degrees, but when he didn’t immediately reply Pickles gripped at his thighs and whined impatiently. With that encouragement, he slid his hands under his belly and hefted it up. At another wordless whine, he stood slightly so Pickles could tug them down to his ankles and plopped his bare ass back down on the warm metal bench. 

“Thanks for freeballing, dood,” Pickles commented, and Murderface felt delicious chills from the drummer’s breath ghosting over his eager cock. “Saves valuable seconds in a sex emergency.”

He couldn’t see through the table, but Pickles sounded downright hungry for it. Just imagining the guy staring intently at him under there, maybe licking his lips, maybe already touching himself through his jeans in anticipation—

Then Pickles shocked him by enveloping him all at once, tongue sliding down the underside of his cock and lips closing possessively around the base as the head hit the back of Pickles’ throat and holy fucking shit. Murderface moaned so loud that he was worried the entire submarine could hear, but it wasn’t like his hands were free to stifle himself. He’d hold his fat belly out of the way for a million years without complaint if it meant being enveloped like this. Hands grabbed at his ass and tried to drag him forward greedily as Pickles began to bob expertly up and down his length with the perfect amount of suction, going from nose-buried-in-pubes to kissing-the-already-leaking-tip and back again, repeat and repeat and repeat, with an eagerness that Murderface had never once experienced before and zero hint of gag reflex. It was all Murderface could do to sit still and keep holding himself, biting his lip for dear life to keep his ragged breathing from turning into the breathy moans of the thoroughly fucked. 

Goddamn, this was going to ruin him for groupie blowjobs, wasn’t it? Fucking Pickles and his oral fixation, and his warm, wet, tight, talented mouth. 

It had been way, way too long, and Murderface was so hard up that he came embarrassingly quickly. He didn’t even have time to give a warning, but Pickles seemed to know. One hand stopped fondling his ass long enough to fondle his balls instead, massaging encouragingly as they tightened and tightened and—

Murderface couldn’t contain the wordless gush of sound that accompanied his orgasm, milked out of him without complaint as he bent over the table. 

His face was all but touching the empty, sticky plate before him when he finally managed to open his eyes again. “Fuck,” he breathed shakily. “Pickles. . . . That wasch. . . . Fuck, I don’t think I can schtand.”

“Push the bench back, then,” Pickles said urgently. Whatever he was doing down there, Murderface could hear shuffling and felt bare skin bumping against his hairy legs.”Cahm ahn, dood!”

It made him grin lazily to realize that Pickles’ accent must get stronger when he was horny, just like it did when he was super pissed or super wasted. He obliged, scooting the bench with a brief screech of metal scraping metal, and Pickles popped out from under the table like Jack out of his box. Murderface was half expecting him to sit on the table edge in front of him so he could return the favor, but instead the smaller man settled in his naked lap. 

Apparently Pickles had been shedding layers under the table, because he was equally naked from the waist down and grinding eagerly, wetly against the bassist’s middle, pushing his vest further open and his t-shirt further up. He grabbed Murderface by the hair and rammed their mouths together, eagerly licking his way in, the taste of spend on his tongue mingling quickly with the sweetness of cinnamon bun icing still on Murderface’s. 

There was something very unexpected about this that Murderface was too dazed and into it to quite pinpoint, but holy shit what Pickles was doing felt amazing. Like, fucking against his stomach? Which was kind of weird, but the force and desperation of it was blowing him away. 

Pickles whined in his mouth as though all this wasn’t enough, as though he wanted, needed more. His legs wrapped around Murderface and crossed at the ankles for leverage to grind even harder. Automatically, Murderface reached to support him—one hand splayed against the freckled back and another on his ass, where the muscles were already trembling with effort and eagerness for the building climax. 

And he was so wet. Had the guy come once already just from sucking him off? Murderface felt briefly lightheaded at the thought. Felt his spent cock twitch too, for all that he was still recovering from the number Pickles had done on him already.

Really . . . really wet. Not exactly leaking-dick wet. Not that Murderface had a lot of experience identifying that sort of thing rubbing on him, but still. 

. . . Huh. 

Pickles was still kissing and clutching at him, and Murderface was drowning in this unprecedented desire for this stupid body he’d always kind of hated. But Pickles didn’t seem to mind, did he? Really made it feel like he wouldn't have offered this to just anyone. 

A moment later Pickles shuddered, going rigid and squeezing him tight before relaxing completely, Murderface’s arms around him the only thing keeping him from falling back against the mess hall table. 

“Woo-oo,” Pickles mumbled, eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded. He patted the arm supporting his back. “That was fucking great, man. Ten outta ten, would ride again.” His tongue peeked out and wetted his kiss-redden lips. “Was it good for you?”

“Huh?” Murderface blinked, shook himself a little. He’d been staring intently at the tip of Pickles’ tongue. “Yeah! Yeah, that wasch. . . . I, we could do that again schometime. If you want.”

Pickles patted his arm again, eyes drifting shut. “Mmm, yeah, that album ain’t getting finished any time soon. . . .”

“Uh, Picklesch? Can I ashk you a perschional queschtion?”

“Heh, you just came down my throat, dood, Pretty sure personal questions are fair game.”

Murderface glanced uncertainly down between them, but with their lower halves still pressed together all he could really see was a bright red trail of hair leading downward and his own belly button. “Is there a. . . . Do you have. . . . Are you okay down there?”

Pickles laughed. “I’m more’n fine, dood, I’m great.” Then he cracked an eye open to study the other man’s face, one double-pierced eyebrow slowly rising. “What?” He followed where Murderface’s eyes were aimed. “. . . Don’t tell me ya never fucked a trans dood before.”

“I’ve never fucked any dudesch before,” Murderface retorted defensively. “And schince when are you transch?!”

“Dood, everybody knows. I thought you knew!” 

“Well I didn’t! No one tellsch me anything,” he whined, and in the strange clarity of his relaxed, post-orgasm state was entirely aware that the not being told part bothered him more than the trans part. Not that he knew much about what being trans meant, but . . . probably better to google it later than ask while they were still sitting junk to junk. He reached down to self-consciously tug his t-shirt down and felt wetness on his fingertips. After a moment’s hesitation, he brought his hand up to his nose and sniffed. “. . . Why doesch thisch schmell like pina colada?”

“It’s lube,” Pickles said with a chuckle. “I always keep it—” he absently patted at his own ass, then snorted “—in my pants, under the table. Back pocket. I don’t gaht a lahtta ‘natural lubrication’ so, y’know. Always be prepared or whatever. . . . I dunno, I was never a boy scout.” Stretching, he sat up and leaned in, resting his arms languidly over Murderface’s shoulders. Noses about an inch apart, he stared probingly into his eyes. “You weirded out?”

“Uh . . . no, I guescch not,” Murderface mumbled, going cross-eyed trying to return the stare. 

He felt . . . okay, actually. Wasn’t having sex with a bandmate supposed to feel like a mistake? Wasn’t he supposed to be having some sort of crisis right now? Because he’d definitely just had sex with a guy—he’d known Pickles for years, he was definitely a dude, trying think of him as anything else just didn’t compute. 

Pickles darted forward and gave him a wet snack on the nose, then pulled back with a pleased smirk. “Cool. ‘Cause we’ve got about, uh. . . .” He looked for a clock, finding one once he’d twisted almost all the way around—which just made Murderface think, Bendy, and then his brain fizzled a little at the possibilities. “About forty-five minutes left before anyone comes back. Whaddaya say we get some drinks and fuck some more? I’ve got a couple months of fantasies I still wanna try out.”

“Fa, fantasies?” Murderface stammered as the drummer slid off his lap (oh sweet friction) and bounded over to the counter to rustle up some bottles. His eyes were glued to that pale, freckled ass. “About me?”

“Yeah,” Pickles called. Regrettably, he and his ass had ducked out of sight for a moment. “I mean, fer pretty much everyone down here who has a face, to be honest.”

Oh, Murderface thought with a sigh.

“But hey!” Grinning, Pickles popped back into sight with a fifth of Irish whiskey held triumphantly in each upstretched hand. “Ta be honest, I’m glad this happened with you, dood. The ones with you in ‘em were my favorites.”

Murderface brightened immediately. “Really?” It almost didn’t even matter if that was true, he just appreciated Pickles going out of his way to say it. “Like  . . . like what?”

“Well, what we just did, fer one.” 

This had all happened because of curiosity (and a background level of horniness that defied physics and shit); Murderface saw now reason to change things up now. He asked, even as he drank in the sight of Pickles sauntering back towards him half naked, whatever secrets were hidden between his legs obscured by a thick forest of bright red pubes, “What elsche?” The words came out sounding breathless, and his cock was already stiffening again. 

After all, he’d come here in the first place because he was hungry. 

Smirking, Pickles came back around, moved the empty cinnamon bun plate down the table, and hopped up to take its place, legs spread. He handed Murderface one of the whiskey bottles, cracked open his own, and in between drinking and wantonly touching himself started listing every last, filthy little detail of things they could do to each other. 

It was going to be a very good rest of the hour. 

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #trans pickles #pickleface #william murderface #pickles the drummer

[captainficspace]

Facing the Facts- Diego’s Day

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy 

Characters: Diego, Lila, Five, Klaus

A/N: Thank y’all so much for all your kind words from the first fic. I hope you guys like this one :) 

In all fairness, all Lila was planning on was getting coffee. Having at least half a pot going at all times was the one constant she could count on in the house, especially with Five around. She didn’t mean to walk in on what appeared to be a scuffle between the oldest little brother and her boyfriend at all, but when she started down the stairs, all she could hear were random curses and the muffled “pop” of Five blinking over and over. Then she heard something change. Someone…giggled? Five must have been in one of his rare mischievous moods.

“What are you up to?” She peered over the edge of the railing. Diego was standing in a rigid, defensive stance, hugging his torso while Five blinked around and around him from every imaginable angle. He was doing…something, but Lila couldn’t get a good look at what as Diego tried to swat him away whenever he would make contact. When they noticed Lila, they both stopped and looked up. It didn’t take two seconds for Diego to go red in the face.

“Just having a debate, and someone won’t accept facts.” Five announced, glaring Diego down.

“Can you not be an ass for one minute?” Five chose not to respond, instead blinking again and reappearing right behind his brother, grabbing his sides.

So that was where that giggle had come from.

“He said he wasn’t ticklish after I made him scream ten minutes ago, and if there’s something I hate, it’s a liar.”

“You screamed, huh?” Diego refused to meet Lila’s eyes, staring directly at the floor.

“I yelped out of surprise.” He defended, turning  to Five and grabbing his wrist before he could strike again, “And you didn’t even hear it, so you can’t prove I did even if I did.”

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Five asked.  Diego was starting to hate the devious eye contact his brother and girlfriend were now sharing. Somehow it was even worse when all eyes turned to him.

“I’m just…going to head out-“

“Not so fast.” Lila materialized in front of him. Dammit. She rested her hands on his waist, barely light enough to touch. Either way, Diego felt ready to crawl out of his skin. Lila was going to be merciless, he just knew it.

“That wasn’t Five that giggled, was it?”

“Nope.” A voice said behind him. Diego turned and there was Five, smirking deviously up at him like Diego couldn’t throw him across the room with one hand. The people to the front and back of him were getting closer, going in for the kill. Diego knew running wouldn’t save him now. All he could do was threaten his vengeance.

“You two are so dead. This is unf-“ His words were interrupted by a shriek as Lila reached from behind and flexed her fingertips into the soft part of his waist. Five laughed out loud at his reaction, which Diego may have found surprising and even sweet almost if he wasn’t being tortured for his awful family’s entertainment.

“Told you he screams.”

“I don’t know about you…but I like his giggle more.” Diego was fighting to stay upright as Lila’s hands found their way under his shirt, scratching away at the bare skin just above his navel. He tried to growl though his suppressed laughter, biting his lip and shaking his head. If he was too loud, more people were going to hear and join in and he was going to find himself in the very depths of Tickle Hell.

He was folded over at this point, helplessly giggling as the torment went on. As soon as he would push a hand away, two more would seem to take its place. The hands were poking, squeezing, skittering and all of Diego’s nerves stood on end. His belly was a target and every touch was hitting the bull’s eye.

“This would all be over if you weren’t so stubborn.” Five said, grinning as Diego’s knees buckled and he almost tipped over. Lila had found a spot that made him throw his head back and howl, his entire body wavering.

“M-m not…”

“Is something that funny? I want to hear!” Lila said, faking interest as she dragged her nails in little circles across his abdomen.

“F-fuck ohoff!”

“I know it’s not because you’re ticklish.”

“I’m NOT!”

“You’re right. You definitely outgrew it.” If Diego hadn’t been using all of his willpower to just stay standing, he would completely annihilate Five.

“But if you’re not ticklish, why do you get all squirmy and silly when I do this?” Lila made her hand into a claw and vibrated it right in the middle of his belly, “Just a little tickletickletickle and you’re a mess!” Diego let out a cackle that echoed through the house, unable to even get a word out.

“What did he do now?” A voice asked from the top of the stairs. Klaus looked down on them, his face already lighting up at the thought of joining the fun. This was exactly what Diego knew and dreaded the entire time, and he couldn’t even try to look intimidating since the others were already tearing him apart.

“Refuse to face the facts.” Diego finally slid down to the floor, trying to bring his knees up to his chest for protection so he could catch his breath. The tormenting hands may have slowed briefly, but he still couldn’t stop laughing. It was like someone had pulled a plug inside him and he couldn’t stop it from rushing out.

“Sounds typical.”

“Oh b-blow mehehe!” He couldn’t make his voice threatening, so he hoped his words would do.

“Don’t be crude, sweet brother.” Klaus made his grand entrance, sliding down the bannister for the last few stairs and sticking the landing, “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Fuck off.” He felt completely ridiculous trying to be aggressive while curled up in a ball on the floor, fighting off giggles as Five and Lila tried to sneak in pokes around him.

“You did give us an idea.” Lila said, “I mean, when you asked us to blow you?” If it was even possible, Diego felt his face grow redder.

“NononoNONAH!” Next thing he knew, she was on top of him, hiking his shirt up and just about to make contact with his stomach. He fought like an animal, but there was no way of throwing her off.

“It’s cute how you think sucking it in is gonna save you now.” Klaus added, kneeling down to grab Diego’s arms and pin them over his head. Five followed suit and laid across his legs, securing the area best he could for Lila to deal the literal death blow.

Everyone expected a scream when Lila blew the first raspberry, but Diego skipped the stage entirely, falling straight into silent laughter.

“Look at his shoulders!” Klaus said, laughing as well. Diego’s whole body shook with hysterics but his shoulder could only be described as bouncing. He hadn’t seen him like this in forever, and now even Five was laughing with them. The four felt wrapped in giddiness, knowing each other well enough to perfectly balance tearing someone apart without going too far, and how to have the most fun doing it.

“You’re making him cry.” Five added. Diego tried to get his arms out of Klaus’ grip the best he could. He hated that everyone could see that he was being literally tickled to tears here. Everyone had teased him for it ever since they were all kids and would wrestle him down and leave him red-eyed and sniffling and beside himself with laughter.

  Lila finally lifted her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Oh, really? I was just trying to make him laugh. Silly me.”

“It tickles, doesn’t it?” He finally nodded, unable to agree with anything out loud. That was the signal for everyone to stop.

She climbed off of him at last, but not before giving him one good last tickle. Klaus let go of his arms and Five was already on his feet, looking serious and dignified as if he hadn’t just been an accomplice in all-but breaking Diego.

 “You…” He hadn’t even tried to sit up yet and the room was spinning. “You all suck. That fucking tickled so bad.” All he wanted was the floor to swallow him whole as he laid there, breathless and hoarse and spun out on endorphins.

Five’s jaw dropped and he pumped his fist, finally getting the confession he wanted. “So was that so hard?” He asked, grinning away.

“He…he said the word! He never does that.”  Klaus was equally floored. Lila took a dramatic bow, blowing Diego a kiss when he flipped her the bird.

“You did almost kill him.” A voice said from above. Allison had been there for who knew how long, watching the scene unfold. Her phone was out too, no doubt recording the ordeal.

“You were there the whole time?” Now Diego was truly read to curl up and die, covering his face as he tried to regulate his breathing.

“I was going to step in if you didn’t get over yourself.”

“Please put that in the group chat.” Klaus called up to her, “I gotta watch him say the word again just to make sure it really happened.”

“You already know I will.” The others slowly drifted off to go on with their day, so that only Lila and her remains of a boyfriend remained. She poked his stomach and he shrieked, finally sitting up to swat her hands away.

“If I get you coffee too, will you stop being a baby?”

“Coffee and vengeance on a certain 58 year old, maybe.”

“Coffee first?”

“Well, naturally.”

#tua tickle fic week

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price -

Diary of a Madman (1963) dir. Reginald Leborg

#vincent price #diary of a madman #horror classic #classic horror #the horla #guy de maupassant #evil #sleepwalker #sleepwalking #sleepwalk #he is perfect #i said it #he is GORGEOUS #what id give for a crumb of this man #UNF *bites fist* #horror #old horror movies #vintage #bicon #movie #actor #handsome #gif #gifs made by me #gif set #gifs #60s horror

[lihikainanea]

Tiger being in little space and doing something nice for Bill. Wether it’s getting him a gift or cooking him dinner for no reason. Maybe when he gets home and sees the gift he gently pushed her on the couch and maybe in return, he fingers her and makes her feel good. Whispering things like, “thank you, sweet girl. I love the gift and I absolutely adore you, thank you” while never breaking eye contact. Whispering sweet thank you’s until she’s shaking from pleasure. Just being all gentle and shit

Anonymous said: I’m so sorry for this but Bill finger fucking Tiger while wearing that nice ass watch because he KNOWS how crazy it makes her. He was confused by her attraction to it at first, but he’d be damned if he doesn’t use it to his advantage.

Oh god please I need just a moment to calm down all the delicious, insane thoughts running through my head right now.

INHALE. EXXXXXHHHHHAAAAAALE.

We talk a lot about the magic of Bill’s mouth, don’t we? We do. But that boy’s hands--oh my fuck, that boy’s hands.

Alright, so that watch Bill wears a lot? I’m pretty sure it’s IWC. IWC men’s watches, in general, retail for a cool $30,000-$40,000 USD for a base model, and that’s just....unf, that’s a lot of understated bling on that thick wrist. But maybe it’s an automatic which can be a little tricky sometimes, and when he was travelling he reset it to match the timezone he was in, but he reset it between 4AM and 7AM that day which actually kind of fucks up the mechanics on automatics (what? I love watches.) And since he’s been home, he’s been meaning to get it fixed but just really hasn’t had the time to find a licensed repair shop and his favourite watch has just been sitting there for like, a month.

And my girl tiger--listen, tiger loves his hands, his thick wrists. Loves the look of a real expensive watch on it. It’s a kink she hasn’t really told him about so maybe this is all a little selfish on her part.

But she nabs it one day, takes a day off work, and goes to get it fixed. And she hovers, stays at the repair shop and stares at the guy like a fucking hawk, because this is Bill��s favourite watch and it’s worth like, more money than tiger makes in a fucking year. But the dude is legit, he’s skilled, and in no time at all Bill’s favourite accessory is ticking like new. She brings it home, mildly paranoid to carry it in public for the 45 seconds it takes her to walk to her car.

Once she’s home she puts it back in its box, sets it up real nice on his pillow, and she doesn’t say a thing. And because she’s super soft for her big dude, a little extra sappy for him lately and she has the whole day off anyway, she goes shopping and gets all the fixings for his favourite dinner. He has some afternoon meetings that run a bit late so she has plenty of time, and she sets up in his kitchen to cook his favourite.

By the time he walks in she’s already a little tipsy, she’s in his shirt and just looks adorable, smiling big at him from the couch. His entire apartment smells delicious, and as he makes his way to her tiger’s heart skips a few beats. God he’s beautiful. In fitted jeans that accentuate just how long his legs are, a beautifully tailored cognac leather jacket around him, a t-shirt that dips into a bit of a V so she can see his collarbones...Bill is a masterpiece. Her best friend is so goddamn beautiful, and now he’s smiling his small lopsided grin at her as he toes his shoes off and makes his way to the couch.

“Hey kid,” he murmurs, and he crouches to put his hands on her legs, lean in and give her a sweet kiss, “It smells incredible in here.”

He smells incredible. Like soap and clean and comfort, and tiger reaches for his hand to thread her fingers with his--his hand is warm, just like she knew it would be.

“I made you dinner,” she mumbles, “Your favourite.”

And something about the way he’s looking at her makes her blush. Bill has that knack, that talent of focusing on you so that you feel like you’re the only person in the universe who matters. He smiles gently at her, and her cheeks heat up even more.

“I’m so spoiled,” he scratches lightly at her thighs, “Thank you.”

Another soft kiss, one that tigers pulls him back into for more.

“I’ll make you a drink,” she says. She doesn’t ask what. After a full day of meetings, Bill always likes something strong--a boulevardier, a negroni, something hard hitting. He always insists that tiger makes the best drinks, ones that could knock a man dead, and he never refuses whatever she mixes up.

He stands, stealing a kiss from her when she does too, then retreats to the bedroom. She smiles to herself, walking to the bar cart as she waits for him to see what’s on the bed.

She busies herself with mixing his drink, even when she hears his footsteps approaching. She doesn’t jump when she feels his arms loop around her, his hands held out in front of her, holding the watch. He tilts his head, nuzzling her ear as she shivers.

“It’s working again,” he purrs, turning the watch over in his hands.

“I um,” she can’t stop the shudder running through her as she feels his hot breath on her ear, “I got it fixed for you.

She muddles a sugar cube in the glass, adding a dash of bitters. She grabs a bottle of rye, pouring a hefty glug--measuring is for idiots--into the glass.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he murmurs. She bites her lip, adds some Campari to the drink and grabs a stirrer. His hands still in front of her, she has to stop the whimper from escaping when he rests the watch on his wrist, turning it over to latch it. Those fingers, long and slender and beautiful working deftly around the small clasp. She holds the drink up to him when he’s done, and he brushes his fingers with hers as he grabs the glass, turning her gently to face him.

“Thank you,” he says, taking a sip, “And thank you.”

She blushes, just under the intensity of his stare. He leans down to kiss her again--slow and languid and passionate--and she can taste the whisky on him.

He pulls away and grabs her hand, leading her to the couch and coaxing her to sit. She does, but he kneels in front of her. He reaches for the waistband of her pants, hooking his fingers in and dragging them down slowly. She wants to ask what he’s doing, but she’s already pretty fucking small for him and she just wants him to call all the shots. Every last one. It doesn’t even matter what he’s doing, because she wants it done to her regardless.

“You spoil me, sweet girl,” he purrs, and you know, the thing with Bill is the attention to detail. He knows tiger really likes it when he takes her panties off--loves the feeling of it, the visual of it, so he doesn’t drag them off with her pants. He leaves it separate, because why rush things?

He moves her legs further apart, gazing up at her as he places a kiss on her mound. Hooking his thumbs into the sides, he slowly drags her panties down her legs and off. He pauses, takes another slow swig of his drink as he stares at her.

“This was so nice of you, tiger,” he says, and he uses his left hand to slide up her thigh--the cool metal clasp a contrast to his warm fingers, as he trails them to her core. She gasps as he runs two fingers gently up and down her slit, enjoying the wetness on his fingers. He lifts his glass to his lips again, before leaning over and licking the soft part of her belly under her navel. His other hand wraps around her ankle, bending one of her knees and putting her foot on the cushion.

“Better view, this way,” he winks, and she can feel the heat start to creep up her cheeks--but it’s gone a second later, her focus switching back to the gentle circles his thumb is pressing into her clit.

“I love this watch,” he continues, another slow sip of his drink, “I think it looks pretty good on my wrist, don’t you?”

Tiger can’t speak, letting out just a small squeak as he slowly pushes two fingers inside. She sighs, quivering, as he crooks them and drags against that spot deep inside her.

He leans forward, nipping at her lips and capturing them in a searing kiss.

“Look at it, kid,” he coaxes, pressing on her chin with his thumb so she’s looking down. She watches his fingers, glistening with her slick, as then pump slowly in and out of her--the watch on his wrist, the thick leather band and the shiny metal of the clasp. If she listens real close, if she can hear beyond the filthy sounds his fingers are making as they push back into her--she can almost hear it tick.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he whispers against her lips. She’s beyond the point where she can talk--so instead he reaches back, sucks back some of his drink into his mouth, and then forcefully crushes her lips to his. He fists the back of her hair in his hand and tiger is suddenly so tuned in to everything--the taste of rye and cigarettes on his tongue, every knuckle and groove of his fingers as they keep up their slow torture, the ticking mechanics of his beautiful timepiece. She can hear and smell and feel it all, as her lower stomach clenches.

He leans back, enjoying the show of his fingers coated with her wetness. He drives them in deep, speeding up his pace as his thumb reaches for her clit. He rubs it in circles, softer at first but building the pressure as he can feel her clench around his fingers. She whimpers, reaching for something to hold on to and he gently pushes two fingers into her mouth. She moans, grabbing at his forearm between her legs to make sure he doesn’t stop--and with a loud whimper, a big heaving shudder, she comes. He feels her clenching around his hand, squeezing his fingers as she bites down on the ones in her mouth, before she eventually just goes limp against the couch. He grins softly at her, kissing her stomach before downing the rest of his drink in one shot. he pulls his fingers from her slowly, leaving the ones in her mouth and kissing her lips gently.

fuCK we have a watch kink.

#bill skarsgard #BFF!Bill #sub tiger #bill skarsgard drabble

[trashytummiez]

Harley’s cooking may be overboard to poor Ivy but to Ivy, she wouldn’t said no to Harley’s cooking

"Whadduya think Red?" Harley Quinn eagerly asked Poison Ivy who was in the middle of eating some very heavy pasta she had just finished cooking.

Ivy didn't know what to expect since Harley had never actually cooked for the two of them before. But to her shock not only was Harley's cooking good but it was downright irresistible. It was legitimately hard for Ivy to put the fork down once she'd gotten started eating. After her plate was finished Ivy huffed and wiped her mouth clean. "Dude. Harl! You know I'm not the type to blow smoke up your ass unless we're talking poetry slams."

"Which ya said I was really good at."

"Right. Well this is legitimately some restaurant quality cooking."

Harley's eyes lit up when she heard that and she squealed like the biggest fan girl meeting her biggest celebrity crush in real life. She rushed into the kitchen and much to Ivy's surprise reveals she had cooked a hell of a lot more than a few plates. Harley returns with a giant pot of pasta that leaves Ivy's eyes widened in shock.

"...Holy shit," she utters. "I don't even own any industrial-sized pots."

"I found it the other day!" Harley merrily exclaimed then loaded Ivy's plate with more pasta. "An' now that I know ya love my cookin' so much it's a good thing I did!"

Poison Ivy looked on back at Harley and the huge pot filled to the brim with pasta. But upon seeing that proud happy smile on her girlfriends face Ivy sighed to herself and resumed eating.

She got a little into it again once she started eating some more because the stuff really did taste excellent. But pasta wasn't light. One full plate alone had already left Ivy feeling comfortably full. Barely into her second plate the "comfortable" part had been thrown out the window to just a blunt fullness in her stomach.

Poison Ivy's tummy just felt heavy the more she ate but she soldiered on anyway because not only did the pasta taste good but she simply couldn't deny Harley when she looked so eager.

But it wasn't getting easier.

Ivy continued forcing herself to eat with every time she finished a plate having more pasta just merrily dumped on top of it courtesy of Harley Quinn. And Ivy could eat but she certainly didn't have quite as intense an appetite as Harley did. She wasn't used to eating quite as much quite as frequently.

Still despite the increasing weight she felt in her expanding tummy Ivy continued stuffing more and more pasta down her throat.

In doing so her slim lean tummy began to expand out and tighten around her now ill-fitting leather jacket. And the more Ivy continued to eat the more bloated she became. It felt like there was a big solid rock sitting in her stomach and only getting bigger and heavier the more she continued eating Harley's pasta.

A couple more plates in and Ivy stopped to rub her belly with one hand and moan in discomfort. It felt so tight against her jacket which was stretched out to the point where it barely fit her tummy anymore.

"Unf...oh man..." Poison Ivy muttered in groggy fashion. Then she brought a fist to her lips and released a big closed mouth burp that puffed her cheeks a little and left her huffing the gas out to the side.

"Cmon Red don't quit on me now! We're only halfway in!" Harley eagerly exclaimed and dumped more pasta onto Ivy's plate.

"Unnngh Harl. Don't you think maybe you oughta help yourself to this? You...nrmf...did a great job after all."

"Naw I made this all fer you silly!"

Poison Ivy blinked slowly.

"...You shouldn't have."

But she did and because of that Poison Ivy continued on despite noisy gurgly protests from her stuffed tummy.

She continued stuffing more of Harley's pasta down her throat but taking longer to actually chew and gulp each mouthful down. The fact is Poison Ivy was immensely full at this point and continuing to eat only earned her more gurgling ire from her increasingly stuffed belly. It grew so big that Ivy's jacket was actually riding up and revealing the bottom of Ivy's green bloated tummy.

So after getting a few plates in Ivy groaned miserably and decided to make it a little easier by unbuttoning her tight green pants. Once that was done she unzipped her jacket and instantaneously her belly spilled out with a hefty slosh and almost making Poison Ivy look pregnant. The movement upset the pressure in Ivy's belly and forced her to let out a burp so big that Killer Croc would've been green(er) with envy.

BUUUUUUUUURRRRRREEEEEEEEEYYYIIIIIHP!!!!!

Harley whistled with a slight blush on her cheeks. "Damn! Nice one Red!"

Poison Ivy groaned and slumped in her chair relieved from both getting that burp out and having nothing restraining her heavy rounded belly. She placed both hands atop her big green tummy and ran them up and down with a weary moan.

"Unnnngh...I'm so full..." Ivy moaned. She paused in the middle of her rubbing to release another closed mouth burp that rumbled deeply in her cheeks for a few seconds.

"Almost done!" Harley exclaimed and filled Poison Ivy's plate up with even more pasta.

Ivy looked like her face grew a shade greener.

Her belly groaned a sick acidic gurgle of protest.

But when she looked up in those big hopeful eyes of her bleached girlfriend it was just too much to say no. So against what little good judgement Poison Ivy had she ate and ate. Every plate made her belly feel unbearably heavy as it grew rounder and pushed her green pants down a little bit more.

Poison Ivy's large tummy emitted deeply gaseous gurgles so noisy that even Harley could hear Ivy's belly expressing its dismay. But Ivy kept eating anyway despite that. Her tummy grew heavier and more stretched out getting so big she had to spread her thighs out so it could breathe a little. And still she ate.

By the time she'd finished Poison Ivy was so bloated that she looked as if she swallowed a medicine ball. That's how massive her belly had become.

"Wow! Ya did it Red! Ya really ate every single bite!" Harley exclaimed happily.

Poison Ivy responded with a gigantic burp that made the table rattle and her massive tummy ripple.

BBBBRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHPPP!!!!!!!!!

Harley laughed and blushed at the same time with approval. "Atta girl!"

Poison Ivy just slumped back in her chair and moaned. "Unnngh...dude...my stomach feels like it's gonna burst..." Ivy said moments before uttering another big throat rattling burp. She was so stuffed she couldn't hold them in or muffle the gas in anymore if she tried. And her belly was so heavy that she couldn't even get out of her chair. Not that she had any desire of moving right in that moment.

So Harley Quinn pulled a chair right next to her girlfriend and started rubbing her enormous green belly for her. Ivy's belly felt as hard as a rock. It was so heavy and so full that there was barely any give to it. Her tummy was stuffed taut as a drum and as noisy as a mob run chemical plant.

Still, Ivy uttered a pleasured moan when Harley's fingers ran across her agonizingly heavy tummy. There was so much pasta stuffed inside of her that Ivy's stomach was working overtime just to digest it all. But even with how heavy and overworked her tummy was, Harley's touch was utterly sensational.

Harley knew all the buttons to push from having her own tummy rubbed constantly by Ivy. She lovingly stroked Ivy's sides back and forth. Then she gently ran her hands up the highest peak of Ivy's big round tummy and all the way down to her pelvic area gently kneading into Ivy's lower tummy.

Her fingers kneaded into that tight hard flesh but a little pressure went a long way towards easing the tension Harley felt in Ivy's belly.

And with how stuffed and big it was Harley couldn't help pat Ivy's belly a few times to savor the feeling and the sound of the thumps her hand made. It was like she was patting a really really big pumpkin. The pats made another burp roll up Ivy's throat. At first she tried to muffle it in her mouth but it was so big that it blew past her lips and hand anyway.

mmmMMRRUUUUUURRRHOOOOOORRRAAAAAHP!!!!!

"C'mon ya can do better than that," Harley insisted. She placed her palm over Ivy's shallow belly button then she pressed down on Ivy's tummy a little harder to get a huge gassy burp to bellow out of Ivy's mouth instead.

BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHPP!!!!!!!!

Poison Ivy huffed and grunted. She felt another one bubbling up her throat and thumped her fist against her perky chest to get it out.

AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRHP!!!!!

Harley blushed and lovingly kissed Ivy's big round tummy. "Ya did so so good Red. Thanks fer likin' my cookin' so much."

"Well I know you cooked it with your crazy love, Harl." Ivy smiled a lazy drunken smile and gave her belly a few proud pats. "And as it turns out...BUUUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!! Ungh...love is pretty fucking filling..."

#kink fic #poison ivy #pamela isley #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #the harley quinn show #dc comics #stuffing #belly kink #post stuffing #bloating #belly rub #burping

[malakhai-ozera]

Sex Therapy

Discord thread featuring: Khai and @jayceelynd

Where: Jaycee’s House

When: April 2nd 2020

Description: Khai creates the perfect distraction to keep Jaycee from being sad. (Pool Smut.)

Jaycee

Jaycee leaves the basement area and goes and changes into her tiny little black bikini and walks out to the pool. Throwing her lounge floating chair into the pool she jumps in, submerging her entire body before climbing into the floating lounge. Her sunglasses on as she waits for him to come out and join her. Her mind was going crazy as she couldn’t get her dad out of her mind and tried dancing it out. Maybe just hanging out in the pool with her friend Khai would help. Taking a deep breath she held it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it.

Khai

Khai was sitting in the living room rolling a blunt when he saw Jaycee’s post on Instagram. He could tell she was in her head and not feeling quite herself so he offered to be a distraction for her. Besides, he knew relaxing in the pool or taking a bath always seemed to be a great stress reliever. At least for most. He finished rolling his blunt and walked out to the pool area to find Jaycee already laying in the pool on her floating lounge chair. “You look comfy” he commented with a smile. Placing the blunt between his lips and lighting it up. He inhaled deep letting the smoke fill his lungs and held it in as he asked her “You wanna hit?” Walking barefoot in his ripped jeans and white t-shirt to the side of the pool, he squatted down to hold it out for her.

Jaycee

Looking up at him, smiling as he offered her the blunt, taking it while trying not to fall in. “I’m trying to be comfy” she laughed as she placed the blunt between her lips taking a few pulls off of it before holding it in. Holding onto the side of pool as she handed the blunt back with her other hand. “Not joining me?” She asked as she slid off the floating lounge and rested both arms on the edge. Even though she had her sunglasses on she needed to shield the sun from her eyes with her hand. “I love that it’s finally pool weather” she sighed as she took the blunt one more time to take another hit, then giving it back. She kicked off of the side of the pool to float on her back. “You know you want to swim”

Khai

He passed the blunt back and fourth with her a couple of times. Nodding his head to her words before butting it out and placing the roach by the side of the pool. “Of course I do” he chuckled lightly as he stood up and pulled his t-shirt off revealing his tattooed body. He kept his eyes on her, watching her as she floated away from him in her sunglasses His hands moving to unbutton and remove his jeans leaving him in just his boxers. Once he was undressed he jumped into the pool and swam over to her underwater. Popping up beside her and giving her a splash.

Jaycee

Even though her sunglasses were hiding her eyes, she was definitely watching him as he stripped. Causing her to smirk as she enjoyed the view. When he splashed her she screamed a joyful laugh and splashed him back. “So not fair” she giggled as she floated in front of him. Her legs gently touching his while floating. “Thank you for joint me” she said quietly.

Khai

Khai laughed as Jaycee splashed him back. Bringing his hand up to wipe the water from his face as she swam around him. Their legs brushing one another’s as he reached out to place his hands on her sides. “Of course. What else are friends for?” he asked with a small grin. “So... do you wanna talk about it? Or should I just keep distracting you?”

Jaycee

Resting her hands on his shoulders as she continued to kick her feet behind her to keep afloat. She shrugged as her brows furrowed. “I just went through old pics on my phone and made me miss my dad” she sighed, turning her head to look always as she pursed her lips before licking them. “I think a distraction sounds better than talking about it” she turned back to looking up at him. Her fingers tracing the back of his neck.

Khai

He could tell it was taking a lot for her to fill him in on what she did, and he wasn’t going to press the topic. Just letting her say what she wanted and squeezing his sides in comfort. “I understand” he said softly. He really did, he lost his mom and sister not too long ago himself. He still couldn’t even bring himself to look at pictures. As she traced her fingers over the back of his neck and pulled her closer to him, leading them both closer to the side of the pool. “Anything you wanna do. I got you” he assured.

Jaycee

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly while the back of her hands rested on the back of his neck, nodding her head. Resting her forehead against his bare chest. She didn’t know what she wanted or should do. But she knew what she wanted to do. Hopping up slightly she wrapped her legs around his waist, taking her sunglasses off, looking him in the eyes before she pressed her lips to his.

Khai

His heartbeat was slow and heavy as she rested her forehead to his chest. He wanted to take her pain away, but he wasn’t sure if he really knew how to. Distracting her was the only way he knew to keep her mind off of it, and the only way he knew to distract her was to make her feel good in other ways. As she hopped up and wrapped her legs around him he knew she was down to get lost in pleasure with him. Pressing his lips back against hers as he moved one of his hands to the back of her neck. He kissed her slow and hard letting his tongue coax hers from her mouth as he sucked on it. Biting softly at her bottom lip as he turned them around and pressed her back to the side of the pool.

Jaycee

Humming into the kiss as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, making a fist into his hair. Deepening the kiss as she massaged his tongue with her own. Jaycee tightened her grip around his waist with her legs, pulling him closer into her. In doing so it caused her center to grind against his own bringing out another moan.

Khai

She kissed like a pro. The  taste of her mouth sweet and smoky as their tongue twisted together battling for dominance. He thought about kissing her for a very long time, but he had to admit she was a much better kisser than his imagination led him to believe. She let her hips grind against his, their centers rubbing together causing a friction that made him grow hard against her soft folds. Gripping the back of her hair tightly he yanked her head back. Moving his lips to her neck as he kissed down her jawline and nipped at her clavicle. His hips rotating in small circles as he pressed into her, grinding against her as he grew harder and thicker with anticipation. God she was sexy! Running his tongue back up the center of her neck he bit softly at her chin and then reconnected their lips. A soft growl coated with hard breaths poured from his mouth into hers. As his hand on her hip moved to her ass.

Jaycee

Gasping out in a moan as he yanked her head back as he devoured her neck and clavicle. Her grip tightening in his hair as well, letting her nails scrap over his scalp. Kissing him back with passionate need for him, letting him take the dominance. Jaycee could feel his thickness growing between her wet folds. Groaning out into a grunt as he growled into her mouth, as she grinds into him harder while he grabs her ass. Pulling her lips from his as she scrapped her teeth down his jawline as she worked her way to his shoulder, gasping as her legs squeezed him tighter  while the pleasure ran through her body causing her to tremble. “Unf” she moaned breathing hard against his neck.

Khai

Feeling her nails dig into his scalp and her teeth scrape against his jawline, he let out deep breathy hum. “Fuck... I want you so bad” he growled  softly into her ear. His teeth nipping at the cartilage on her ear as he slid his hand from her ass to pull the bottom half of her bikini to the side.

Jaycee

Moaning as he growled into her head that he wanted her. Her tongue rolled out over his shoulder, biting down as she felt him move her bikini to the side. “I want you too” she breathed against his neck. Slowly licking up to his ear as she nibbled on his earlobe. Her mind was clouded with need, not even thinking of a condom. But she trusted and knew Khai was constantly safe and wouldn’t ever put her body or health into jeopardy. Licking up the side of his ear she whispered “you want to fuck me” she whimpered.

Khai

God she felt so good. The way her body wrapped around his tightly begging to be pleasured and desired. He only wanted to quench her every need. When her teeth sunk into his shoulder followed by her confession, he growled again. His hand moving to push down his boxers before kicking them away into the pool. “I wanna fuck you so hard that you’ll walk funny for a week” he assured. Letting his hand travel up her side and pushing her top up revealing her breast. connecting his lips to them and pulling on her nipple with his teeth. He moved his hand between her legs , teasing her clit with his fingers before pushing them deep into her core. stretching her out for him as he watched her expressions.

Jaycee

“Khai..” she whimpered as she looked down at him while he pulled on her nipple with his teeth. Looking down at him need, as her full lips parted as she breathed in a shaky breath. Jaycees eyes are rolled into the back of her head as his fingers sunk into her core. Her walls instinctively pulsate around his finger, so greedily. Jaycees head lolled back as she gritted her teeth while moaning. Opening her legs to give him more room, as she rocked her center against his hand. “I want to feel you for days” she moaned out breathlessly, licking her lips as she kept her eyes locked on his.

Khai

As her head lolled back his hand slid from from her breast to the side of her neck. Gripping tightly as his thumb trailed over her lips. “You’re so fuckin’ tight baby” he groaned. Pulling his fingers from her and grabbing his cock to rub it’s head along her folds. His muscles tightening with urgency as her body trembled beneath his touch. His eyes kept locked on hers as he aligned his cock with her opening and pushed deep and hard into her. Stretching out her tight walls with his girth. He thrusted in and out of her slow and hard. Bottoming out on her as his he let his hand move to squeeze tightly at her neck. “You like that baby?” he asked with a growl. Leaning forward to get deeper into her core as he pulled on her bottom lip with his teeth.

Jaycee

Biting at his thumb as it grazed over her bottom lip, while moaning at his approval of her tightness. Gasping out the sinfully pleasurable pain of him stretching her with his thickened length. “Unf.. Fuck” she hissed as he slowly bottomed out, her mouth opened as she sucked in a sharp breath causing an almost squealing answer “Yess. Oh god” she cried out. Her nails clawed at his back as she met him thrust for thrust. Knowing the chlorine in the pool would cause her scratch marks to sting. Her air was only slightly compromised and she fucking loved what he was doing to her. Holding onto him tightly she kissed him hard with hunger and need, her teeth scraping over his lips as she devoured his mouth. “So fucking good” she moaned against his lips.

Khai

The sounds she made as he continued to bottom out on her fed his adrenaline. Causing him to pick up the pace of his thrusts as he rolled his hips into hers each time he their bodies crashed together. Squeezing his hand a bit tighter around her neck, he kissed her back hard. His other hand moving to the small of her back to hold her tightly against him as the chlorine from the water burned his skin where she had tore it open. “Shhhit... you feel so fuckin good” he moaned against her mouth. Lifting her up and setting her on the side of the pool he moved his hands to her hips. Pulling her body to his as his thrust increasingly hardened. His eyes devouring her as his thrusts continued getting deeper and faster with every pull.

Jaycee

When he picked up the pace she moaned louder and her nails dug into the back of his shoulder. “Yeah... fuck that pusssyy” she cried out as her walls showing signs of her getting a little close to climax. Jaycee loved being told rather she could cum or not, so she was a really good girl at holding back as long as possible. Purposely while watching his reaction she flexed her walls to squeeze him tighter, pulling his cocker further into her pussy. At this point Jaycee just held onto him letting him give her whatever he wanted to give. “Khai...” she gasped

Khai

As she squeezed her walls tighter around his thick cock he slid his hands to the back of her thighs. Pushing her legs forward and lifting himself up a bit, he pressed all the way into her core. Rolling his hips deep and slow as he leaned into her with all his weight. “Don’t you cum yet baby” he demanded. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to hold back the hard breathy moans escaping him. Removing his weight from her after a few seconds he pulled out and flipped her over. Her breast pressed firm against the side of the pool as he pulled her back into the water and re-entered her with full force. “Fuck...” he growled. Moving one hand between her legs to roughly fondle her clit and the other back to her neck. Squeezing tighter than he had before as he pulled her head back and bit and sucked at the side of her neck.

Jaycee

Whimpering as she nodded her head when he demanded that she didn’t cum and when he removed all of his blissful weight he was giving her. He was so deep her eyes went to the back of her head as she inhaled while whimpering. It was as if it all happened so suddenly, moaning at the loss of him, to gasping when he turned her over. “Fuck” she screamed out as the pleasurable pain when he slammed back into her. Pushing back into him as he played with her clit. Her entire body was shaking with need to explode with her orgasm. Both hands reaching behind them, lacing her fingers into his hair. “I can’t hold it” she cried out as she fought with her body. Still holding on, slamming herself into him.

Khai

His entire body tightened as his own release built up inside of him. She felt so fucking good, the way she slammed back against him. Her body shaking with an unbearable need for him as he repeatedly drilled into her. She dug her nails into the back of his head as she held onto him for sweet release. The pain giving him a sort of pleasure that almost through him over the edge. “Be a good girl and say please” he growled. His hand tightening around her neck just enough to coax his demand from her lips.

Jaycee

Continuing to slam herself back into him as her walls quivered with need to release as she grunted and gasped for air, loving it. “Please” she cried out in a guttural moan. Her chest rising and falling fast and hard as she tried to control her breathing to not cum, her back arching against his chest. “Please let me cum” whimpering.

Khai

The sounds she made as she begged and pleaded with him vibrated throughout his entire body. Causing him to slam her forward again. Her hands gripping the side of the pool as he yanked her head back by her hair and  he leaned over her. thrusting harder and faster. Getting deeper into her core with each thrust. “You gonna cum real hard for me baby?” He asked breathily as he moaned with pleasure. Sinking his teeth into her shoulder before kissing up the side of her neck to her earlobe. “Cum for me baby” he demanded. Rubbing her clit aggressively as he continued to pump in and out of her hitting against her g-spot.

Jaycee

Hissing with a grunt as he pulled her head back by the hair of her head. Oh fucking Christ she thought to herself as he pounded his cock into her pussy. “I’m going to cum all over your fucking cock” she grunted through gritted teeth. Her fingers splayed out, spreading as far apart as they could as Khai growled out the demand to cum. “Oh fuck...!” Jaycee gasped out white a cry of pain and pleasure as the orgasm ripped through her entire body, inhaling a breath that she held so deep as the pleasure coerced through her small tram, her pussy clamping down on his cock to milk him of his release. The sounds coming from her tiny frame were loud, not caring who heard her as her body was rocked with an orgasm. Releasing her breath she held onto she panted as she continued to ride her orgasm with him. “Fill me up” as she slammed back into him, milking his cock for every last greedy drop.

Khai

Her body slammed back against his eagerly as her orgasm took hold. Her pussy walls tightening around his cock begging for him to release. fuck, she was sexy. Her sounds and expressions seducing him into his own orgasm as she rode out her high. “Oh Fuck Jaycee” he hissed through gritted teeth. His grip on her tightening as he could feel her hot juices spill out all around him. Arousing his own release to shoot deep into her core as he continued to slam into her over and over. “Oh yeah baby, it’s all yours” he trembled. His own orgasm rocking through his body fervently as her tight walls milked him of every last drop.

Jaycee

Riding her orgasm out with him, panting and gasping at air to feel her lungs with his grip tightened. Her body quivered hard from the pleasure that riddled her body, holding onto her like a vice. “Ungghhfff” she growled out. Her body going slack as she reached for the edge to hold her up, as she panted trying to continue catching her breath. “Holy shit” she breathed out, weak and sedated with a small, soft smile on her lips. Her eyes closed, licking her lips already feeling tender from them ravishing one another. Humming as she enjoyed the weight of him as they both continued to come down.

Khai

His body trembled with euphoric pleasure as he let the weight of his body press into hers. His hand sliding up her neck from her throat to just beneath her chin as he pulled her head back and connected his lips to hers. Kissing her fervently from behind as his thrusts turned into slow rotations. “Mmm you’re so fuckin sexy” he hummed against her lips. A satisfied grin overtaking his features as he looked deep into her eyes. Kissing her again he slowly pulled out of her and turned her around to face him. Lifting her up and placing her back onto the side of the pool as he let one of his hands trail down her thigh. Pushing her back with his other hand he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and locked his eyes with hers. Submerging  himself between her legs as he let his tongue trail along the soft delicacy of her folds, and hummed softly as he sucked on her tender bud pulling it between his lips.

Jaycee

Kissing him back, she moaned as he kissed her and told her how sexy she was.  As he picked her up and started sliding his hand between her legs she sucked up a sharp breath of air as she watched him disappear under the water. “Oh fuck” she hissed as she felt his tongue on her swollen clit, causing her to convulse as if she was electrocuted with pleasure crossing every nerve ending on her body. Jesus Christ he was trying to fucking kill her in orgasms. Her legs spread wide as her feet rested or more like floated over his back as she laid back the best she could with her back arched while grinding her pussy against his mouth.

Khai

Khai slid his hands up her thighs before lifting her up slightly and pulling her against his mouth. Squeezing her ass cheeks and licking up and down her slit as he hummed in anticipation of adding an extra vibration. He flicked his tongue around  her sensitive bud vigorously. Spreading her ass cheeks to open her up even more to him as he pushed his tongue deep inside of  her. Rolling it into her as he interchanged between biting and sucking at her clit. His eyes and nose were the only thing exposed to her as he looked up at her from the water  to read her expressions. Her sounds and movements being the only indicator that he was pleasing her in every way possible as he  continued to french kiss and fuck her pussy with his tongue.

Jaycee

Her arms were shaky as she tried to hold herself up on the side of the pool as she cried out in pleasure. Hips jerking from the pleasure, Khai was giving her. “Jesus fucking Christ” she grunted out while panting for air, her thighs tightening around his head as she fought to keep from coming as her pussy quakes around his tongue. Jaycees arms gave out as she fell back, arching her back with her being so sensitive from him just fucking her into ecstasy. “I can’t” she cried out. She wasn’t even sure why she was yelling out she couldn’t do but she felt like she was dizzy from the intense orgasm building up in her. “Fuck, I need you inside of me again” she begged out with need.

Khai

Goddam she was so fucking sexy. From the curves of her body and the tightness of her ass all the way down to the sounds that were spilling out of her. She tightened her thighs against his head and he pulled his tongue from her to suck vigorously at her clit. She was so close to orgasming he could almost taste it. His hands slid up her lower back and he lifted himself up to pull her against him. Licking his lips to savor the taste of her before crashing his lips to hers in a dirty fervent kiss. He wrapped his arms around her as he slid her body back down onto his. His cock sliding deep between  her swollen folds as his lips moved to her neck. She was so fucking tight, walls throbbing against his thickness in anticipation as he thrusted deep into her core. Rolling his hips into her as he pressed his body into hers. Getting as deep as he could as he pulled her head back by her hair. Biting at her jaw with hard breathy moans as he began thrusting against her g-spot harder and faster.

Jaycee

Being so sensitive from just coming undone her voice was horsed. Her entire body was convulsing as the pleasure shook her to her core. “F-fuck” her trembling voice as she held onto him as her body was rocked with another intense orgasm. Trusting Khai knew her limits, and knew she needed to be fucked hard. He in return trusted her to let him know if it was too much. Fuck was she seeing stars or was she about to pass out from this orgasm. Her nails biting into the back of his neck, sure to leave her mark and not really sure if it was sweat, water or blood under her nails. Bucking her hips as she fucked him back with just as much need. Toes were spread and curled as she continued to cum around his cock, gasping for air while her pussy clamped down around him, milking him of his need. As her high came down she went limp in his arms while breathing hard against his shoulder. Soft groans and humming coming from her as she fought for air. Kissing his shoulder with sloppy kisses, letting her hands roam his back.

Khai

Another euphoric orgasm washed over his body as Jaycee began bucking her hips. Her pussy was now clenching tightly around him as her juices spilled out, and she continued to milk  him of every last drop he had to offer. His body shook with pleasure as his finger tips dug deep into her skin. The sounds coming from him unlike any he had let slip before. Her  body went  limp against his as she began to come down and he held her tightly against his hard body. Goddamn that was some good sex therapy, he thought to himself. A smile of satisfaction spreading across his features as he fought to steady his hard breaths. “I should start distracting you more often” he mused. Biting gently on her shoulder before kissing her neck.

#chats:jaycee #tw:nsfw #tw:smut #chats:discord

[doomspoon888]

What if it's a normal behaviour for all sparklings to bite their parents? Maybe it's a bonding... thing or there's some other reason behind it. You can recognise a cybertronian parent by bite marks and sometimes permanent scars as well. Imagine Starscream screeching at his sparklings, babies or adults, or both, for ruining his beauty, and how it wasn't worth it when they misbehave.

Starscream doesn't get bitten by teething hatchlings because he only handles them with tongs and safety gear whereas Megatron will thoughtlessly plunge his entire fist into an unfed oil drum full of teeth and claws and then have the audacity to wonder why his fingers are missing

#hatchlings #bad parenting #theyre teething its not their fault #dadatron #and #dadscream #the competent parent