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wri0thesley · 1 year

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cw: sex pollen, maid/master, dub-con due to sex pollen, thigh fucking, reader is afab and wears a maid uniform but no gendered terms or pronouns are used

when diluc had found you in the gardens, dutifully picking flowers for the vases that stood on most surfaces in dawn winery, you had seen that there was something unusual in his eye - a brightness to the crimson depths, a flush to his cheeks, breathing heavy. but you know that he often goes out in the mornings to practise with his claymore (you and some of the other maids had occasionally peeked from behind luxurious curtains, sighing over the ripple of his muscles and the ease with which he swung the greatsword about), and had put it down to that--

as it turned out, as diluc had huffed out and puffed out and groaned against your ear in between pinning you between his muscled thighs and working your plain cotton standard-issue underwear down past your thighs, it had not been simply the exertion of a day’s practise. you make out just enough in between the grunts to get the gist of it; some unusual herb or flower had reacted badly with the electro from an abyss mage’s attacks when he had gone out on one of his to-be-kept-quiet missions last night and had produced some kind of aphrodisiac pollen, and if he didn’t find some relief soon he was simply going to die.

master diluc is not the kind of man who is prone to exaggeration; and the longer you had looked into those blown wide eyes and that lovely, pleading face . . . the longer you had listened to his whimpers and noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the more sure you had been that you had to help your master out in any way that you could. after all, what is a maid if not there to satisfy their master’s whims? you had looked up at him and asked him, breathlessly, if there was anything you could do--

he’d groaned, buried his mouth against your neck, pulling at your maid uniform to nuzzle into the curve of your breast and bite and suckle at the bare skin, making lovebites bloom that you would surely have to explain to adelinde come tomorrow morning. in between huffs, he had begun to thrust his hips against you so you could feel the heat and stiffness radiating from his crotch, his trousers tight against a generous endowment.

“i need,” he’d mumbled, kissing, biting, his gloved fingers unsurely tugging first at your skirts and then at your stockings and then digging into your thighs to part them. “oh, archons, i’m so sorry . . . you smell so good . . . ah. i’ve wanted you for months--”

it seems that, under the influence of this sex pollen, his tongue had been loosened. he babbles about how he has always watched you when he’s seen the maids, how he’s wondered if you are truly as soft as you look, how he’s wanted to palm at your breasts like this and kiss you like that since the moment he saw you. in between, he grunts out apologies, desperately rutting his clothed cock against you in search of some kind of friction that may provide him with an ounce of comfort from the desire that licks all up his spine and muddles his mind.

“please, master diluc,” you gasp out, your hands winding about his neck and tangling in his mussed crimson hair if only to give yourself some kind of purchase. your own body thrums with the knowledge; master diluc wants you. has wanted you. fantasises about you, perhaps in the same way you fantasise about the master of the house in the dead of night in the maid’s bedrooms with your hand slipping guiltily between your thighs. “i want to help. do with me what you need to.”

“i can’t,” he whines into your neck, almost on the verge of tears. “i won’t . . . defile you like that. not like this--”

so you take it into your own hands to unbutton his trousers; to work at the placket, to take his cock (stiff and aching, slick with own precome, the tip flushed ruddy red) into your warm palms. if anybody sees you in the gardens like this your reputation will be ruined, but you cannot bring yourself to care - not when he whines as you handle him, not when he groans chest deep and kisses your mouth fiercely as if he never wants to let you go.

he’s a gentleman, even so. your underwear is long forgotten, your slick soaking into the earth beneath you - but diluc will not take your virtue and ruin you even with the drugs and toxins of whatever flower this is muddying his mind. instead, the master of the house - his coat thrown to the wayside, his shirt tore open, his trousers down about his muscular, scarred thighs - ruts between your legs, working his slick cock through the mess of your damp thighs, fucking into them as if they can work in your cunt’s stead.

he’s whimpering and moaning, sweating, his hair falling unbound about his shoulders in the messiness of all of this. strong hands dig into your bare thighs above where the ribbons tied about your stockings keep the garments up. as he fucks your thighs, he presses his mouth against yours to muffle your whines and whimpers and his own growls. it is all animal nature; two creatures learning one another in the most base of ways. the friction the slide of his cock provides to your own aching cunt is not enough, but you say nothing as his tongue slides against yours and his teeth catch on your lip and master diluc uses you as you have always wanted to be used by him.

you sense that it’s working in the twitch of his hands where they’re fastened about you; the shuddering of his abdomen, the slack whine of his mouth against yours and the way he begins to breathe even heavier. his cock between your thighs seem to pulse - and before you know it, he’s pulled back from the kiss, groaning out;

“archons-fuck-sorry-coming-you’resolovely--”

as his seed pulses out in thick ropes, coating the ground and the backs of your legs, splashing against your poor untouched cunt. you know that master diluc was being a gentleman, you know he didn’t put his cock inside of you for noble reasons . . . but that knowledge does nothing to assuage the frustrated knot inside of you that you want to be filled and you haven’t been.

“i’m sorry,” diluc gasps out. “i’m sorry, i couldn’t help myself . . . i--i understand if you wish to turn in your resignation, i’ll provide you with ample mora for a new life--” he tails away as you do not speak, simply lay there beneath him, your uniform in disarray and the mixture of your own slick and diluc’s come pooling on the lush garden beneath you.

you must be pouting. diluc’s eyes are not quite clear, but he looks down at you and a dry, throaty chuckle forces itself from his lips as he sees the disappointment in your face.

“oh,” he says. and then - realising exactly what it is, what you want, a smile breaking across his lovely mouth. “i . . . i do believe i still feel a little out of sorts, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to my bedroom.”

#concept postin #genshin impact posting #diluc smut #diluc x reader #sex pollen for ts #dub con for ts #nat.txt

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anactorya · 3 years

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“This stuff is definitely alien. The SWORD researchers confirmed it.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest, regarding the shelf of golden figurines they’d found stashed away in the latest former HYDRA base.

Bucky scowled at the collection hard, which Sam suspected meant he was actually trying not to laugh. “Then why do they look like--”

“Maybe it means something different on Planet Wherever,” Sam interrupted, as though he had any hope of stopping Bucky finishing his sentence. “Maybe they don’t even have the same anatomy as humans.”

“--dicks,” Bucky finished. “They look like dicks.”

Sam sighed and hoped they weren’t grossly insulting any alien cultures. “Yeah, I guess they kind of do.”

(Or, the story of how "No touching the alien artefacts, BUCKY THAT MEANS YOU" got added to Team Cap's mission guidelines.)

#sambucky #winterfalcon #my fic #sex pollen for ts #tweety pie and grumpy cat

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hauntedfalcon · 4 years

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hi. any chance you'd take a prompt about sorgan flower-sex pollen and an interesting time between an unfortunate mandalorian victim of said pollen and two beautiful women?

Anon, listen. Listen.

I fucking love you.

Here you go.

#Star Wars for ts #The Mandalorian fanfic #prompt fill #dubcon cw typical of sex pollen just to be safe #like if you steer away from sex pollen fics... don't read this one #OT3: sanctuary #this was going to be so much shorter and simpler until Rye started giving me ideas #Anonymous

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ver-writes · 3 years

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I wrote a smutty one shot based off of Padilha's amazing art on Twitter! You can and should look at it here!

Rating: E 🍋🍋🍋

Tags: sex pollen-like, Zagreus is under Aphrodite's influence

Summary:

Thanatos finds Zagreus in Elysium after a run of too many gifts from Aphrodite. Unable to pull away, they find themselves helpless to resist her power.

Excerpt:

"Than, please, please help me," he begs. "I won't make you--hah, gods, I'm just so hot--"

The aura on him brightens and Than is pinned in place, unable to leave or move, his body screaming at him to touch Zag, taste him, take him... Another heart strikes him and he can't stop himself, bringing his mouth to Zag's once more. Than's tongue dives into Zag's hot mouth, and he groans. It's so good, giving in to what he's aching for.

While leaned in, the hearts envelope him in a sweet pink cloud. Each touch sends pleasure and need pulsing through him, and he can hardly think.

He breaks the kiss once more, struggling to resist. "Zag, this is--I can't stop--"

"It's alright, take me, please, Than, gods..."

***

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

#hades game #zagreus #thanatos #thanzag #lemon #spicy #🍋🍋🍋#my writing #thanzag lemon

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akatsukitobi · 3 years

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Hooray! I've done it! This is the last kinktober post you will see from me, aside from if I decide to make a final list with the pairings/kinks. This chapter is for you guys, @anannua @strangebeautiful and @obitoforpresident for being such wonderful supports and motivators through all of this.

Here it is! Chapter 31! In which we have Kakashi/Minato, with the prompt of Aphrodisiacs/sex pollen!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775808

#kinktober #kakashi hakate #minato namikaze #pirates with ninjutsu #fanfiction #KakaMina

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believerindaydreams · 3 years

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Hi, did anyone want a chapter of fic that dwells more on the philosophical problems of sex pollen than the actual fucking?

Well, here it is anyway!

#fallout new vegas #benny/arcade

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carodrugficrecs · 3 years

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Chapters: 4/4

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Additional Tags: Background Relationships, Modern Cultivators AU, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Pregnant!lwj, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, aphrodisiac spell, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Sex Pollen, Quests, Undercover Shenanigans

Series: Part 9 of MDZS Kinkmeme Fills

Summary:

The way Wei Ying saw it, getting hit by a weird curse or two on a night hunt was an expected job hazard as a cultivator, and this was just a one-time fuck to help a friend out. It wouldn’t change anything between them, even if he’d been crushing on Lan Zhan since forever. It couldn't get more complicated than that.

(He was of course wrong, wrong, and dead wrong.)

#modao zushi fic rec #wei wuxian fic #lan wangji fic #wangxian fic #already read #la_muerta

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allycryz · 3 years

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Speaking of piercings and FF

I read a fic recently that gave Urianger piercings and it has lived in my head rent-free ever since

Note: involves dream sex and sex pollen if that is something you want to avoid

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tonystarkbingo · 6 years

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Week 10 & 11 Roundup

A quick note from your mod Tisfan:

Sorry about missing a week; you know that phrase about how you should take one day at a time? I had several days attack me all at once and stuff got... dropped. Can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I’m getting back on track. Things are still going well, we have lots of lovely Tony Stark love tea out there for people to drink. We’re close to halfway through the Bingo, and I just want to say how proud and thrilled I am to have been working on this project!

Title: Square T5: Google Me (AO3) by @dracusfyre Rating: G Relationship: None Warnings: None Words: 1,689 Summary:

This was my excuse to write the scene that I’ve been imagining since I saw Tony’s Infinity War armor which is OBVIOUSLY a result of a Tony and Shuri collaboration.

Title: Your Eyes look like coming home by @laufeysonthor Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark Tags: Wedding Fluff, Planning a wedding is stressful even if you're a former assassin, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, James “Rhodey” Rhodes is a Good Bro, Tony and Bucky have basically adopted Peter Square filled: K4: Weddingfic Link: Part 3 of TS Bingo 2018 Summary:

“Okay, I’m convinced. December 8. Stark Mansion” James says “Save the date!”

Title: Cause Love Don’t Know What Distance is by @laufeysonthor Relationship: Tony Stark/James Rhodes Tags: Sharing Clothes, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff Square: S2 - Sharing Clothes Link - A03 Summary:

Five times Tony steals Rhodey's clothes and one-time Rhodey returns the favor!

Title: Cuddling is Extra Collaborator: @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: T1 - Virtual Reality, Tony Stark Bingo Ship: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Rating: E Major Tags: Whore AU, Virtual Reality, Silk Sheets, blowjob, grinding, lacy underwear, Sex worker!Tony, relationship issues, cuddling Summary:

“I’m very expensive,” the man told Bucky as he crossed the threshold, “and known to be choosy. High maintenance. Difficult to please, and I never fake satisfaction. If you wish to look elsewhere, no one will think the worse of you.”

“I think I can satisfy you, on all counts,” Bucky answered, and he tossed a pouch onto the bed, stepping further into the room. The pouch was small, but heavy, and it clinked when it hit the mattress.

Title: Old Ghosts by @novarain01 Link Here Square filled: S3 Ghosts Rating: Gen Major Tags: art fill, completely digital sketch, lighting work Summary:

Marvel fanart: Tony Stark is still haunted by, but no longer cast in the shadow of, Howard’s memory

Name of Piece: He Doth Protest by @27dragons Square Filled: K2 - comics Rating: G Ship: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers Warnings: None. Summary:

Tony’s got a bone to pick with the latest issue of Avengers Adventures. Who comes up with these ridiculous stories, anyway? [A/N: This is inspired by That One Comic where Tony and Steve spend the day together on what is clearly a date. You all know the one I mean.]

Title: Among the Missing by @shi-toyu Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Johann Schmidt & Tony Stark, James “Bucky” Barnes & Tony Stark Square K2: Unreliable Narrator Additional Tags: Childhood, Kid Fic, Kid Tony Stark, Hydra (Marvel), Pre-HYDRA Reveal, Red Room (Marvel), Family Secrets, Family Issues, Unreliable Narrator, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Human Experimentation Summary: Tony had always been a curious child. It was just something about the way he was wired. It got him into trouble more than a few times, but he also knew it was something his father really liked about him. So, even if he got punished for snooping somewhere he didn’t belong, Tony felt no inclination to try and suppress his curious urges. The one thing he wanted, more than anything else, was to make his father proud. At the tender age of eight, there was no one Tony admired more than his father, Johann Schmidt, Red Skull, Head of Hydra.

Name of Piece: The Sweetest Dream Will Never Do by @polizwrites Square Filled: R3 - Character Death Rating: General Warnings: Domestic Fluff with an Angsty ending Summary: Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Tony and Pepper welcome their baby girl into the world; Harley and Peter are there to celebrate with them.

Title: Make Way for Mother Hen by @rebelmeg Rating: General Audiences Square A5: “I regret nothing” Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James “Rhodey” Rhodes & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Sickfic, MIT bros, Iron Bros, Sniffle Soup, Reference to Edwin Jarvis, Domestic Avengers, Hurt/Comfort, sorta hurt/comfort, Mostly just sick and miserable/comfort Summary:

Rhodey has nursed Tony back to health plenty of times, including after the most recent bout with whatever bug Tony managed to pick up.

Tony’s not exactly gleeful when it’s his turn to be Mother Hen… but he’s not hating it either. He’s going to make Rhodey drink so many terrible smoothies…

Name of Piece: The Pleasures of Pain by @27dragons Square Filled: S3 - spanking Rating: E Warnings: Dom/sub undertones Summary: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

The first time was an accident. After that, it was just fun.

Name of Piece That’s a Sharp-Ass Knife Chapter Four by @toneestark Square Filled T1 - Fuck or Die Rating explicit Warnings dub-con, whump, non-con Summary Tony Stark/Steve Rogers

When a familiar foe captures Tony Stark and co., he makes sure that Tony is hurt in every way possible.

Name of Piece Soulmates Aren’t Just Lovers by @celtic7irish Rating: Teen Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark Additional Tags: Forced soulbonding, Imprisonment, Abandonment Issues, winter soldier programming, Bucky Barnes is still in there, Tony Stark is the most stubborn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Bucky needs a hug, Soulmates, TWS on never happened Summary:

Hydra wants Tony to build them Stark/Chitauri Hybrid weapons. When Tony refuses, they decide that they’ll make him more pliable. By forcing him into a soulbond with the Winter Soldier. After all, his programming should supersede Tony’s stubbornness. Right?

Squares Chapter Six: A4 Date Night | Chapter Seven: T2 Labyrinth | Chapter Eight: R5 - Drabble

Name of Piece: Sealed with a Kiss by @celtic7irish Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Victor von Doom Additional Tags: Attempted Forced Marriage, Crack, Von Doom wants Tony, Tony just wants information Summary:

“Then, by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and husband. You may now kiss the bride,” the minister proclaimed, looking smug. Von Doom reached for his helmet, and the countdown timer in Tony’s suit hit zero.

Square A2: Image > Steve Rogers Kissing Natasha Stark (wedding) - from Avengers Earth 3490

Name of Piece: Upping the Ante by @polizwrites Square Filled: A4 Sex Pollen Pairing: Tony Stark/James “Bucky” Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: semi-slavery, implied non-con, eventual smut Summary: Sir Anthony of Stark, returning to the capital of the kingdom, comes across a traveling medicine man and fortuneteller who is keeping a man in chains. As it is the duty of a knight to right wrongs, Anthony investigates and ends up with more than he bargained for.

#tonystarkbingo2018 #tony stark bingo #bingo fills #weekly roundup

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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Sweating It Out - Leone Abbacchio x Reader (Kinktober Day #19: Sex Pollen)

NSFW. 18+ ONLY. AFAB reader, no pronouns. Sex pollen / sex under the influence of sex pollen. Established relationship.

You and Abbacchio are hit by an enemy stand, and there’s one way to . . . flush out the effects.

You can't decide whether to curse Giorno Giovanna for doling out this mission to your boyfriend, or to thank him for it.

It had seemed all above-board and typical at first; Abbacchio is often sent on physical missions like this. Despite the fact that Abbacchio has been instructed to rough up this perpetrator, Giorno hasn't forgotten the position that said man once held within Passione - and so sending one of his most trusted lieutenants is a courtesy that has been extended. The man had recognised Abbacchio - it is only when you'd seen the smirk on his face that you'd realised that Giorno had made a grave error.

Abbacchio is only sent on these missions when Giorno is certain the person who needs to be taught a lesson is not in possession of a stand. Despite Abbacchio's physical prowess, Moody Blues is not primed for combat - and though Abbacchio's fighting skills are enviable, there's little he or Moody Blues can do against preternatural fighting abilities.

You had gone with Abbacchio because you had nothing else to do that day, figuring you would be backup if something did happen - when you'd imagined something happening though, you'd thought about using your (non-offensive, healing, just as useless in a battle as Moody Blues can be) stand to fix up a broken nose or a joint knocked out of place.

It had not been so simple.

You had called out the moment you'd seen the stand materalise behind Abbacchio's victim, but it had not been quick enough - the humanoid creature had already thrust it's hands forward, and plumes of dark purple smoke were already beginning to obscure your vision. You had rushed forward in earnest, despite knowing that Abbacchio would not want you to risk yourself - and in the accompanying scuffle, the proposed victim had escaped.

You and Abbacchio had crawled out of the alleyway on your hands and knees as the smoke had begun to dissipate, coughing - but looking, you had thought, mercifully unmarked by the event. The smoke had tasted like berries, clogging up your throat, making you struggle to breathe - but that had been all. Neither of you had seemed injured.

You and Abbacchio had straightened yourself up and brushed off your clothes and looked at each other with your lips pursed.

"Well," he'd said eventually. "I guess all we can do is wait and see."

You'd still called out your stand, just in case, once you were in the car - but she had been unable to find a single injury or illness to cure, and you and Abbacchio had been left, instead, to the frightening inevitability of waiting.

"We'll wait it out at home," Abbacchio said, decisively, putting the car into gear - you didn't know, then, how grateful you would be for his decision when the effects of the smoke revealed themselves to you.

It had started in the car as a persistent heat across your brow that was not cooled by the air conditioning - when you had asked Abbacchio to turn it on, your boyfriend's lips had twisted.

"Yeah," he'd said, "I'm feeling kind of hot too, actually."

The next step had been the restlessness - the way that your legs were vibrating and your fingers could not seem to stay still. Step three was the prickling of your skin, like someone was breathing lightly across the back of your neck and making you come all over gooseflesh and wanting. Step four had been the shortness of breath, the way that your vision was focusing and unfocusing - you had been about to say something to Abbacchio, about turning back from where he'd pulled the car in to park in front of your place and going back to Giorno's place to beg for help, when step five had kicked in and you'd realised exactly what was happening.

Because step five was the ache between your thighs.

You can feel it in Abbacchio as he steps too close to you as you get out of the car and you feel the heat radiating off of him in needy waves. He brings his hand to your waist, gripping you with all the possessiveness you've come to expect of him in the bedroom brought to 'just outside your front door, in full view of everyone'.

Your mouth goes very dry.

"I think I know what the stand did," you say, very carefully, though all of the moisture in your body seems to be collecting between your thighs. Abbacchio snorts humourlessly, his voice low gravel as he replies;

"No shit."

You try and resist the pull at first. Your body aches to be touched and petted and kissed and caressed, the friction of your thighs rubbing together as you move maddening - but you can't help but worry about what might happen if you give in. What if the stand is going to take advantage of the both of you when incapacitated? You swallow thickly and try and ignore the fact that Abbacchio's shirt is clinging so tightly to his muscles today. That when his hand brushes across your lower back you want to lean into it and beg him to touch you more.

Your eyes keep straying to the part of him between his own legs, clearly defined as it rests stiff and needy beside his muscular thighs. The idea of taking it into your mouth, or running your fingers along the thick shaft - you press your thighs together again, wincing when it sends a brand new jolt of heat and need right through you.

You make it ten minutes before it begins to hurt. It begins to ache, inside you - sweat beading on your brow, your body crying out for something. You can only liken it to the feeling of starving - there is a yawning, gaping chasm inside of you. Your body is craving something.

And you got the faceful of the smoke after Abbacchio did. You've been under the influence for a shorter time. You peek at Abbacchio, sat beside you on the sofa attempting to read a book ("We should ignore it," he'd said. "There's no telling what will happen if we give in.).

Well.

He'd once been attempting to read a book. Now, the tome lies forgotten on one arm of the sofa and his fingers are digging into his own thighs, the knuckles white and tight. You shift closer to him, soothed briefly by the press of his body against your arm.

"Leone," you say, so softly that it's barely a breath. "Leone, I can't--"

"We have to," he replies, ragged.

"Leone, it hurts--"

It does. It does hurt! If he doesn't touch you, your body - you're sure of it - will pull itself apart.

"Touch yourself instead," he rasps. "O-one of us has to keep our wits about us . . ."

There's a note of desperation in his voice. His eyes fasten on a picture of the two of you hung on the wall, ignoring you as you give in to your urges and let your palms skim along the curve of your breast. You trace your own waist and hips, trying to imagine that your hands are the heavy weight of Abbacchio instead - but it's not enough.

On top of clothes isn't enough. You drag at your shirt, wiggling out of your bottoms without any thoughts except touching your own bare skin. The fabric clings to your sweat-slick legs, but you are determined.

Abbacchio breathes deep.

"I can smell you," he growls, low in the back of his throat. "Fucking hell--"

You're not surprised. As you peel your sodden underwear away from you, you think it's a miracle you're not sitting there in a puddle. Your sex is so wet - you don't think you've ever been like this before, and it's not as if Abbacchio isn't good in the bedroom--

Your fingers skim over the slit, teasing yourself before you give in with any attempts to do such a thing and delve between your folds, toying with your clit, slipping a finger inside of you to the first knuckle (you take it so easily--).

But.

It's not right.

Oh, you feel it, sure - you're aware of your dampness and your fingertips and the way your body clenches around the digit. But it does nothing to assuage the ache that's deep in your bones that keeps whispering; "you need to be fucked, you need to be fucked, you need to be fucked--"

You whine aloud, the hand not touching yourself coming to rest on Abbacchio's thigh, squeezing needily. Your boyfriend is still trying not to look at you, and you know that it's because if he does look at you and give in he will throw you onto your sofa and rut you like a wild animal.

He's trying to be the good guy. He's trying to be responsible. His jaw is clenched and his teeth are grit and every single inch of him is on high alert. You know you you're playing a dangerous game, naked next to him in needy pieces, getting more and more lascivious by the moment.

"Leone," you whine, again. The hand on his thigh travels up his arm, to his jaw - oh, you shouldn't do it. But then, you're gripping his chin and turning his face to look at you and whimpering with tears caught in your throat; "It's not enough! I need--" Tears form in the corner of your eyes. "I need you to fuck me--"

There's a flash in his eyes, a moment in which he argues with himself - but the ache that you know must be prominent within him too wins out.

And then, Abbacchio snaps.

He pushes your hand away from his chin to take ahold of yours, pulling you into a bruising kiss. He mouths at you like a man starved, as if your lips have the elixir of life upon them - suckling and biting, uncaring of how you're moaning into his mouth and pulling him down, spreading your thighs for him.

Your bare sex presses against the front of his leather trousers, where the stiff heat of his cock through the material is tantalisingly close and yet not close enough. You helplessly grind into it, the sensation strange but amazing.

"You're making a mess," he murmurs, though his throat is so thick with lust you can barely make sense of what he's saying.

"Take them off, then," you reply, petulantly - and Abbacchio wastes no time.

You can tell from the tense way that he's holding himself and the slight stumbles of his motions that he's just as close to the edge as you are - just, you suppose, better at controlling it. Abbacchio has been a man who lets his feelings take precedence in the past, but now . . . now he is granite cool and detached, from being moulded carefully into a better man thanks to the influence of the people around him who saw something in the shattered man he once was that was repairable.

He does. You pull impatiently at the ties of his shirt, and that's the next to go too - and then he's on top of you, just as naked as you are, his silky hair damp with sweat as it brushes along your skin.

"Fuck," he breathes, as you nip at his neck, breathing in the heady, masculine scent of him. "You feel so good--"

He's not even inside of you, just pressing his shaft against where you're aching and wet, and already you can feel the slightest lightening of your need. Your own hands and fingers were simply not enough - whatever this weird sex pollen stand has done to you, it knows when you're touching another person.

You reach a hand down to encircle his cock, gently, and he lets out a whistling exhale of breath through his teeth, his eyes fluttering closed. He groans as you pump it once, twice - as you gently rub the slit of his cockhead where precome has soaked him. You shift impatiently beneath him on the sofa.

"Put it in me," you tell him, all bossiness - and Abbacchio, who would usually growl at you for being such a brat and then rub his cock against your folds without ever entering you, does as you ask without the slightest backchat.

The head of his cock stretches you open briefly at the entrance, but both of you are slick and needy enough that there's no ache beyond that - he glides into you as if you were made to take him.

And oh, it feels like that is exactly the case. He slots inside you like your channel was moulded to the imprint of his cock, snug and hot and wet and perfect. He groans aloud as he fills you, feeling the way that the painful ache of desire is lifting to be replaced with the pleasant ache of getting what you want.

You stop speaking. You stop doing anything except your mouths meeting messily, your fingers tangling in each other's hair, your hips rocking against one another in constant search of more of the delicious friction that's already building up inside you.

Abbacchio does not go at you gently. Every roll of his hips has the cushions beneath you abrading your back, and you're grateful you bought a nice sofa - you're going to have to clean it pretty hard after this. You have nothing to grip onto except Abbacchio's broad shoulders, your nails digging into his skin and leaving little crescent moons - Abbacchio doesn't complain.

When your fingers flex, actually, he moans, the sting clearly helping him along. Your boyfriend has always liked things a little rough. There's a light in his eyes that has your toes curling with every thrust.

You don't think you've ever been so close to coming so quickly in your life. You could chalk it up to Abbacchio's face and voice, his body - but you know in your heart that it's the weird smoke, making you extra sensitive and easier to rile up. Maybe, you think, the need will subside once you've come--

But you're wrong. Your orgasm tears through you with almost no warning but the swoop of your stomach and the wail that's suddenly being tore from your lips, your channel squeezing Abbacchio's cock, milking him for all he's worth - and the milking certainly works. Abbacchio swears in between gasps of your name and then his cock is twitching inside you, filling you messy and deep, his hips chasing the spurts and pushing his come deeper inside of you with every powerful pump.

"It's not working," you breathe, even as you realise that his cock has not softened a whit. You wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him in closer and deeper. "I'm still--"

"Me too," Abbacchio rumbles. He crushes your body beneath him, a heavy, reassuring weight. "Don't worry. We'll just have to . . . keep going--"

The way he says it sends pleasant shivers all through your body. Deep inside of yourself, you know that you should try and get away from the heady, hazy effects of the sex smoke - but another, deeper part of you is much more interested in Abbacchio continuing to pound you than anything else.

"Okay," you say, with no backchat. "No complaints here, caro--"

Abbacchio's breathless laughter is soon swallowed by other noises. The grunts and groans issuing forth from his mouth as he uses you like a toy - the moans of surprise when you hit back with corkscrewing your hips a certain way or clamping your channel around him again, tightening the cavern that's hugging his cock so deeply inside you.

The slap of skin on skin. The wet noises as he continues to fuck his come inside of you - the stutter of his breath as he comes again, twice and then three times. You can feel some of his seed leaking out of you now with every thrust of his powerful hips - but you've come four times and your body is shaking and trembling, and you can't bring yourself to think of anything else.

Now, you can feel that you're less entrenched inside the fog of need. Your hips ache a little from exertion and not from aphrodisiac stand bullshit. But your body is still prickling, just a little - and you tangle your fingers into Abbacchio's silky hair and say, all coy and fluttering eyelashes and bitten lip.

"I think it's starting to work."

Abbacchio looks down at you, his lipstick smeared, his eyes blown wide and dark, and the lightest smirk playing on his sculpted lips. He says, wicked;

"We better be sure though, right?"

Oh.

You decide that he's right.

As you feel his hips begin to rock once more inside you, you conclude that you two are in for a very long night.

#not sfw text #writing #leone abbacchio #leone abbacchio x reader #sex pollen for ts #kinktober collection #afab reader #neutral pronouns

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teamsrwlf · 4 years

Text

Two things came to mind when I read this article.

1) Who wants me to believe that Chinese citizens are wasting their time and money to send me seeds? What do they have to gain?

2) They’re clearly sex pollen seeds.

#China #seeds #fanfic tropes #US News #sex pollen

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mayorgalvan · 7 years

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