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unholyplumpprincess · 2 years ago

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I know you’ve said you write for the Predator in the past and I have been devouring Predator content recently. Imagine a bratty/sarcastic human playing a game of predator and prey with their Predator mate. I’d think they would get a small head start to run into a wooded secluded area, a chance to hide before their mate would set out after them. I can’t decide what genitalia to request for the Predator, hell being hunted down and used by both would be a dream. Size would certainly come into play since they are bigger in every way, big arms and fingers, muscles etc… Maybe a lil breeding… as a treat?

I'm absolutely gonna be fitting my predator oc into this. A quick summary of them is: Goes by they/them. Big, tall, pitch black predator with ghostly feline-like markings in white and grays. Probably about 8'2", waist long locs covered in gold beads. Hourglass shape with big tiddy and Huge biceps and v muscular all over.

Reblogs > Likes. Hit Reblog if you hit Like to support more content like this in the future!

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gn and ambiguous, The yautja is nonbinary and uses they/them and goes by Obsidian, Primal play, Predator/prey play, Alien genitalia

___

You knew better, of course. You know that your mate, Obsidian, had no time for games like yours. At least, that's what they told you through their translator. The voice coming out of it raspy, smoky with an androgynous tone. Always threatening. You remember their clicking growl behind their tusked helm, the translator blooming with a, "Mind your tongue, little one. I shall not go lightly on you, If you wish to play your games? Then run."

And oh you wanted to. So what did you do? Waited. Waited until they were in season and wanted you most. Slipping out of their clawed grasp when they started to get handsy and ran. Running, running, running through their woods on this planet. Knowing you'd be safe from the dangers out there- but not from them.

What a delight that was to know you were being hunted.

They know your games. And as promised, they do not go lightly. They allow you a head start out of politeness, but that's all. You find yourself running, running for a cave that you can press your back flat to as your lungs and heart pound.

You play it cheeky too. Having stripped down, dropping layers of clothing as you went and leaving a trail for them. It leads them to a nearby area, knowing they're following your scent. You peer around the cave's mouth, seeing where the forest floor indents. An invisible being picking up your underwear and bringing it up high, scenting you.

They take the bait, and a vine connected pulls a quickly made contraption down. It hits the invisible being with a ball full of mud, making the barrier wobble. Just enough for you to see the helm shape snap directly to you.

Your laughter doesn't help, but you don't get very far in the cave before you're slammed to the wall with a hand carefully tucked behind your head. The invisible barrier falls, and you see Obsidian in their armor and fishnets. Their tusked helm looking down at your and their chest rising and falling in what you could only describe as horny, rage filled breaths.

"Mad about the mud, huh?" You giggle out, feeling their fingers curl into your hair and gasping as they yank your hair back. "M-maybe you shouldn't be so predictab--ah!" You cry out as they pull harder, exposing your throat in full.

"Poor baby," Their translator drawls, mocking you with a phrase you use to them as their head cocks in interest to your reactions. You whimper, your legs being kicked apart as they push their muscular thigh between yours. On cue, you grind your hips across them, shuddering. "Do you wish to run more? Play cat and mouse longer?"

Hypocrite and predictable that you are, you shake your head as best as you can with your hair still held tight in their hand. You hear the clicking snarls behind their helm, how one of their helm's tusks brushes your jaw as they lean in. Bringing your gaze to the eyes of their helm and making you look up at them.

"Predictable." They mock you once again, another cock of their head as your hips twitch on their thigh. "Now, sweet prey. Let me take what is rightfully mine."

You're used in that cave. Made to kneel at the altar that was their thighs as they leaned on the cave wall. Your mouth presses firmly to their cunt, the drooling slit looking familiarly human, but their clit thicker and elongated at maybe an inch or three with a spiked head. The spikes were flexible on your tongue when you lick upwards, their clit jerking and throbbing with each touch of your tongue.

You finger them like they like, translucent blue juices dripping down your wrist as they snarl and click. One of their strong legs hooking over your shoulder and dragging you nice and close, drowning you in their scent.

You get no relief. Not in that cave. No, you have to walk back with them only placated until you can make it back to the ship on wobbly legs. As Obsidian throws you down onto the bed and promises to make you stay still for a week until their heat is complete.

Not that that's much of a threat to you. But you don't complain.

#Predators #Yautja #Yatuja x reader #Predator x reader #Yautja oc #Imagines #headcanons #nsft #lemon #Obsidian #my ocs

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buggytron · 3 years ago

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does whirl care about the new humon that landed. i crave whirly content iknow hes a jerk but i oddly find him appealing...

( He's a huge problematic fave. I love him but also he's literal self destructive garbage and I just want to hold his claw or sit on his gun tiddies and S O B S )

He doesn't really pay attention to you at first. Like okay. Cool. Some weird squishy thing everyone loves. Lame. He's just going to ignore you. Thinks your a pet more than a person. Yadayada on to his next destructive thing.

But than the weird squishy thing began talking to him when he was around. Began trying to get to know him and asking him questions about his life and what he did in the colony. They weren't scared of him and despite his best efforts you continued to seek him out at events when he was alone. He was defensive at first pushing you off and ignoring you but you kept coming back.

You were patient, kind, and soft. Something he and many others in the colony were not used to. Something others but he himself couldn't really understand. A puzzle of sorts. He thought you a manipulator or a lair but the more you gently pushed the more he began to give. Soon enough like a parasite he couldn't get rid of, your presense was deamed tolerable but annoying at times.

However, it was very clear he held some kind of affection for you. You carefully talked him out fights and to the shock of everyone he listened. You got him to talk to Rung more openly and be nicer to Cyclonus and Tailgate. You slowly eased him back into his love of clocks and clockmaking. It took time but he made trinkets and things he loved and he became less angry. He was still a mess and he had his anger issues and insatiable need for violence but he also had you.

He acts like he despises you when he's around others but it's very clear he adores you and would fight for your honor. In secret he'll give you nuzzles like the other bugs and likes holding you close for body warmth. Its a couple months later when he leaves a little clock outside your room in the Hive that's when you know you've become his true friend.

( A little later Tailgate excitedly talks about how your clock matches his and Cyclonuses and Cyclonus notes Rung had a new one in his office. You'd keep Whirls secret but it made you smile knowing he had some people he truly cared for )

#bugformers #bugformers x reader #whirl #lost light whirl #ll whirl #mtmte whirl #mtmte whirl x reader #whirl x reader #bugformers whirl #bugformers rung #rung x reader #mtmte rung #mtmte cyclonus #mtmte tailgate #bugformer cyclonus #bugformer tailgate #cyclonus x reader #tailgate x reader

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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OK BUT WHICH BOYS WOULD HAVE TO SLEEP WITH A TIDDIE IN HAND OR ELSE THEY CANT SLEEP AND MAKE A BIG FUSS

HAHAHA WAIT I LOVE THIS!! As a big tiddie girl myself and someone who loves big tiddie boys and girls, I relate to this so much. Off the top of my head, this is going to be Kuroo, Bokuto, and Atsumu.

Warnings: Implied NSFW, but really this is just some slightly spicy fluff

Kuroo

- Okay, so he doesn’t necessarily need to have a tiddie in his hand to sleep, but what he does like to do is smush his face in the valley of your breasts so that his cheeks and face are squished by your breasts.

- He’s always needed two pillows on either side of his head to sleep and this is pretty much the same thing, but better! Your breasts are softer and warmer than his pillows and he swears his bed hair isn’t nearly as bad when he replaces his pillows with your breasts.

- Unfortunately, it’s not always the most comfortable position for both of you and there’s a hilarious scuffle between the two of you when you whine that his head’s too heavy or when you shift your position at night and suddenly his head falls off your chest and he’s abruptly woken up.

- And the two of you sound and look like yowling and hissing cats as you try to shove his head off of you and as he digs his claws into you as he stubbornly insists on his favorite position.

- But sooner or later one of you gets tired (usually you) and Kuroo beams like a cat who’s got milk as he re-buries his head into your chest and contently closes his eyes and falls back to sleep while you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips when you watch your boyfriend instantly pass out again.

Bokuto

- Bokuto just cannot keep his hands off of you in general and most of the time it’s not even sexual. He just loves the way you feel in his arms, loves how much softer you are than him, loves how different your breasts feel from anything on his rock hard body. And he finds comfort in just holding them, cupping them, touching them.

- You don’t really mind Bokuto’s physical affection. In fact you love it and you just smile as he wraps his arms around you, innocently holding your breasts in his hand as he casually talks to you about how your day was.

- But nighttime is a different story and you’ve learned the hard way that Bokuto is huge into cuddling after waking up drenched in sweat and almost being choked to death by his strong muscular arms as he clutches and wraps around you like you’re a large teddy bear.

- The two of you always fall asleep fine and you find the weight of his arms and hands against you comforting, finding security in the way he holds you. But when you wake up in discomfort, instinctively squirming away from your boyfriend, chaos ensues and you yelp when strong calloused hands insistently tug you back towards him.

- It’s a game of tug and war until you smack your boyfriend’s head and owlish eyes open and stare at you in confusion, a pout on his lips when he asks you why you hit him and woke him up. But he sheepishly smiles when you explain yourself and tells you to go back to sleep, that he’d give you some space to cool down from his body heat and the two of you sleep on your respective ends of the bed...only for you to wake up when Bokuto’s body unconsciously finds its way to you, curling around you in a familiar pattern.

Atsumu

- Okay, first off, this boy would whine about anything that he doesn’t get his way when the two of you are dating.

- But you have every right to be wary of your boyfriend’s seemingly “innocent” touches because you KNOW they’re going to end up as anything but innocent with his lack of control and unhealthily high libido.

- So you’re constantly smacking his wandering hands away during the day, not even entertaining the idea of letting him do anything more than hold your hands and give you chaste pecks in public.

- You give him more freedom at home, letting him give open mouthed kisses, letting him pull you into his lap, but when the kisses start becoming too harsh and trail down too far down your neck, when he begins to push and grind against your ass, you’re quick to pull away, telling him you need to get chores done first, rolling your eyes as he whines and whines about being “touch-starved” despite making you unable to walk pretty much every night.

- But night time is a different story and you let him pull you close to him, let him massage and knead your breasts in his calloused hands as he wraps his body around yours. Atsumu loves your body, can’t ever get enough of it, and you feel so beautiful, so loved as he just spends what feels like eternity learning and memorizing every inch of you. There’s nothing sexual about it, nothing dirty about it and you smile fondly as he stares at you in awe.

- You remember when you had found it odd at first, embarrassing, unsure what he saw in you that had him so fascinated and you had pulled away from him, trying to hide your body from him shyly. But when you saw the hurt in his eyes and heard his genuine pleas and aggressive affirmations of how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, you had tentatively found your way back into his arms.

- Needless to say after that, Atsumu never let the two of you sleep, keeping you up with his loud whining and complaining every time you tried to draw away from his hold...not that you’d want anything else other than being wrapped up in his embrace...even if it eventually means that neither of you will get any sleep anyway as adoration slips into something darker and more sensual as the night goes on.

#haikyuu fluff #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios

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rustic-oak-mori · 4 years ago

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nsfw headcanons for the big beautiful woman?

Huntress Headcanons (please laugh)

(Obviously these are just my takes on our fave beefcake so if you disagree then that’s extremely fine and valid <3 Very long post under the cut by the way)

This post is NSFW. Minors DNI.

Anna is a stone top. Years alone in the woods have stopped her from desiring sexual contact on her, and she’s uncomfortable with exploring the idea of receiving sexual acts.

Honestly tho let’s be real we’re all probably bottoms here

Ma’am doesn’t shave her coochie, nor does she care if you shave yours.

She has a huuuuge praise kink. Giving and taking. Pet names, compliments, sweet words in Russian hhhhhhh—

Conversation is difficult for her but dirty talk sure as hell ain’t. She revels in the fact that she doesn’t even have to touch you to get you riled up.

Saying that, degradation is a turn-off for her. You’re her everything, and the thought of insulting you just seems wrong to her. If you’re super into being called a slut or similarly, she’ll give it a go, but she’ll preface it with “my little” or “my sweet” out of concern that you might think she means it.

She won’t inflict pain on you, besides maybe slapping your arse or carefully biting you. Again, you’re her angel, and she would feel terrible.

However, she loves being scratched, clawed at, you biting down on her shoulder to muffle yourself, all that jazz. It gives her the surge of adrenaline to fuck you harder.

Her hands are huge and her fingers are extremely calloused and dextrous so have fun ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She loves to use her hips to add power to the thrusts of her arm. The carnality of it just feels right to her as a huntress.

She also adores watching you ride her hand. Just giving you that little bit of control over your own orgasm but still knowing she’s the cause.

Ride 👏 her 👏 thigh 👏

It’s so thick and muscular and honestly just the perfect seat, 10/10. She’ll guide your hips with one arm while she sucks on your tiddies. You best believe you won’t be getting up until you’ve came on her leg (and she’ll happily lend a helping hand if you’re struggling to get there).

Will eat pussy for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She’s addicted to your taste and her face between your thighs is so comforting to her.

Sit on her face? Sit on her face.

You can buck your hips all you want but Anna is strong as fuck and will keep you pinned down effortlessly.

If you enjoy being tied up then you’re in luck. Seeing you bound and at her mercy gives her an almost predatory sense of satisfaction, like you’re a deer caught in her trap ready for her to devour. While, yes, she does own a lot of rope, she’ll make a special length of rope out of soft scrap fabrics specifically for you so you don’t get rope burn. A considerate queen.

She owns a strap. It’s handmade out of leather and stuffed with cotton, so it has some give to it. She modelled it after a diagram of a penis in a medical encyclopaedia, not realising she made it slightly larger than the average dingdong. Don’t worry, she’ll carefully prep you for it if you want to be strapped.

When she visits a market near the forest once a month she picks up a large bottle of olive oil that she can use as a safe lubricant. (If you don’t already know, olive oil works fine as a lubricant unless you’re using latex condoms/toys.)

No such thing as too much lube, gals and non-binary pals.

Her mood as a top very much depends on what you want.

Soft, kissy lovemaking? Done. Overstimulating you until you’re sobbing? Done. Railing you into the mattress until you can’t walk? Done.

Big overstim kink. Making and watching you come is like a drug to her. You’ll have to tell her when you’re at your limit because otherwise she’ll just keep going.

With discussion prior, she’s into consensual somnophilia. If you bring it up and express that you’d like to be woken up this way, she’s down.

Yeah overall 10/10 would recommend being fucked silly by the big wife

#the huntress x reader #the huntress #dbd huntress #dbd huntress x reader #dbd x reader #dbd anna #anna x reader #smut

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freakova · 3 years ago

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I wanna be honest in that like, I kind of wish that we could get a redo of Munch's Oddysee (even if I wasn't a fan of how Soulstorm turned out admittedly, I would like to see Munch get a second shot since it's still my favorite in the series), but I don't know how it'd be handled gameplay and story-wise to get it to be on similar standards to New and Tasty and Soulstorm. Also, I'd be interested in hearing why you didn't like the scrapped Roid transformation from MO.

Oh, they better do a reimagine/redo of Munch's Oddysee. Whilst it may not be considered the best for many Oddworld fans, you can't deny it introduced Oddworld to a huge new audience. Not just a younger generation or xbox folk but an new wave of people starting to play video games that picked Xbox as their first console. To skip it or ignore Munch would be a huge disrespect for at least half the fanbase.

As for Roid, it's mostly his design...One of the coolest things about Oddworld creatures is that they look like they could exist IRL. They have weight and shape and things that make them 'make sense'. Roid just looked like his design was meant to be intimidating without actually thinking of how the transformation would work. The horns, the claws, the sudden need for tiddies...I just don't like it personally.

I also just don't see why a character like Munch would need a transformation. He's a cool little fish that feels/acts/looks vulnerable but the sonar makes up for it. Could the zap ability have had more to it? For sure but I don't think "Make him buff" mounts to Munch and what he goes through in MO.

If they ever did bring Munch back and used something similar to the whole Roid concept, I think a better approach would be something like Moreau from RE/8. (cw for body horror). Like idk, maybe Munch gets a similar mutated hunchback design or can swim at a fast speed to slap into things or zap the water. That's just my opinion though.

#Anon #Oddworld #But yeah we need a Munch retelling we deserve it

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slasherholic · 4 years ago

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synopsis: you just fucked up big time and now Michael is going to punish you for it; but not quite in the way you were expecting.

contains: AFAB reader, noncon, fear play, vaginal sex, clit bullying with a dollop of tiddy squeezing

(part one!)

Smoke on the Water | Part Two |Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW

Terror seals your throat closed. The air will not come in and you are choking on nothing but fear.

Michael leers viciously from beneath a curtain of wild curls. His rosy lips have pressed dangerously, decidedly shut. Any flicker of that familiar scowl, that veil of frigid detachment he wears even in your dreams, is gone, melted without a trace; and the malice revealed beneath the ice is as final as death.

The Shape watches you, murder rolling off his dangerous body in thick, crackling waves, and you know that your life depends on what you are able to say in the next ten seconds.

Your apology floods out sickly and bumbling.

“Sorry. Please. Sorry. Accident. It was—accident. Please. Sorry; please.”

The frantic words are interlaced with shallow sputtering as you hack out the water still sitting in your lungs. His blood on your tongue is wild and sharp. Hardly more than a taste. You must have barely scraped him.

That realization doesn’t slow the desperate pleas dribbling from your lips.

Through tears you watch Michael draw in a long breath. It fills out the rigid muscles in his chest and suddenly he is towering again, a dreadful mountain of heat and murderous strength. His glare remains utterly unchanging.

A sob consumes you, choking you on breathlessness and spit. Michael doesn’t need a reason to kill you; but if ever a reason existed, this is it.

You clutch at his wrist, at the cruel hand still seized in your hair, and your fingers tremble. You beg him until your lips go numb and your words become not-words, just a weak, wet chattering.

And Michael’s vicious scowl, fixed across his face, uncompromising, uncaring—

—is unaffected.

Violent tremors wrack your body. You sob brokenly. That is it, then; what you just did has cost you your life.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight because you don’t want to see it coming. You don’t want to watch.

His fingers close around your wrist. You are almost sick. He pries you off his arm with monstrous ease. You squeal and sob harder, barely struggling in his grip. Fright has locked your muscles.

He drags you by your hair to your feet. You cry at him with a hopeless little chant of “please” and “no”, which goes unheard.

A huge hand engulfs your quaking wrists and twists them with staggering force into the lowest part of your back, capturing you in a helpless way. The grotesque heat of Michael’s body seeps into your skin and threatens to consume you from the inside.

You are still begging as he thrusts you belly-down over the edge of the jacuzzi, the hand in your hair pushing you down, down, until your cheek bites into the clammy wooden deck.

You shiver half-in, half out of the water, thighs and hips flush against the vinyl lining of the tub, bare ass poking out in the chilly breeze above, and your crying turns hysterical.

Michael’s fingers untangle all at once from your hair and your heart leaps into your throat. You know that when the hand comes back again, it will be to wrench your skull swiftly up and smash you brutally down into the wood. You try to block out the grisly images that assault your mind, of your brains dashed against the deck, of your naked body hanging lifelessly in the water below. You don’t want to be found that way; you don’t want your family to have to remember you like that.

And then, at the apex of another sob—with the suddenness of a fired gun��sparks of heat explode low in your belly, and there is a blast of furious pressure at your groin.

All the breath floods out your lungs in a dizzy rush. You gape, airless, and every feverish thought is halted. For a moment, you believe with your entire being that Michael has taken your clit between his fingers and pinched down viciously.

With a shriek and a squeal you rocket up from the deck, mindless as a panicked animal, your sole directive to escape the torment between your legs. You buck your hips wildly to get away, away, away from the merciless pressure.

In response, Michael’s grip on your arms snaps bruisingly tight. He thrusts you right back down into the wood.

Clammy needles seize you everywhere and new panic bursts shrilly in your mind, telling you that you must break free of The Shape’s dreadful hold by any means, to fight and claw and do whatever it takes to escape his murderous hands, his monstrous strength, scream your lungs raw, wake the neighbors, consequences be damned, and you agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

With furious purpose, you throw your head back and scream.

One piercing note makes it past your lips before Michael’s hand slams down over your face.

The hot palm engulfs your jaw with ease. Strong fingers wrap around your cheek and curl in tightly. You are rendered mute in an instant.

Fresh sobs wrack your body; you can still smell the blood from his hunt.

In a moment of jarring clarity, you realize that it cannot be Michael’s hand tormenting your cunt—both of them are restraining you.

It occurs to you now where you are, and what actions got you here in the first place, and oh, of course, it's a jacuzzi jet—

—and Michael knows which button turns it on.

This is your punishment, then. How foolish you had been to believe that Michael would take your life before making you thrash a final time in his hands.

You are not keen on giving him the satisfaction of that.

But the pressure at your cunt is staggering, and you have no choice.

You yell uselessly into Michael’s hand and twist your body as if on fire, pulling at his staggering grip, whipping your head this way and that. The vibrations rock you to your core. Everything below your hips is flooded with a terrible, pulsing warmth.

For the sum of your fight, all that can be achieved against Michael’s strength can hardly be called a wiggle.

Fireworks rocket up your spine and down into your toes which curl tightly. A sheen of cold sweat has erupted all across your face; it stains your cheeks between Michael’s fingers and courts there with your tears. The mixture rolls off the tip of your nose and plinks on the back of his hand. Your body aches terribly with fatigue but you cannot stop.

You squirm at the pummeling of your clit, at the terrible dizzying heat of it all, against Michael’s mortifying strength. Moments become minutes. The heat is swelling now to terrible extremes, filling you deep inside, coiling low in your belly, pulsing, throbbing. You can feel the slick building between your legs, sickening arousal. You squirm in Michael’s hands until your muscles throb and burn and threaten to seize. You have long since begun to beg him again—you can’t possibly take this. The words are hopelessly muffled but you are sure he can feel the vibrations, sure he can guess at your meaning, please, please, sorry, so sorry, please no more.

He hears it, you realize, but only because your begging has had the opposite effect—his cock throbs horrendously against your ass cheek, pulsing with new excitement.

At three minutes, your strength is gone, used up like a tank chugging along for miles on the barest of fumes, slowing to a crawl, and then a sudden stop.

You collapse on the deck. With a frightful shudder, you go limp in Michael’s stranglehold. Your cunt clenches around nothing. You tremble violently with a torturous orgasm.

Michael looms behind you a terrible wall of uncompromising muscle and heat. His steam sweeps against your back, clinging as moisture to your skin—skin which now feels too hot and tight for your own body. Your clit is swollen with a ceaseless pounding that throbs like a migraine in your temples and cunt alike. Fresh tears shimmer in your eyes. You draw breath deeply, nostrils flaring to gulp up air—drawing it around Michael’s hand is hard, but it is not impossible.

Your orgasm wilts and fades. You hope Michael will turn off the jet now.

Michael does not.

You whine pitifully; not knowing his purpose is a thought worse than death.

Is his goal merely to toy with you? To squeeze your body for the rest of its amusement?

The runoff from your torso has collected now in a clammy puddle beneath you and you shiver in it, at the cold and the heat, at the disgusting conflict between the two. Dreadful anticipation gnaws at your insides, twisting your stomach into knots. You try your hardest to cry again; but the wells have run dry, and nothing comes out.

Michael’s grip on your face relaxes slowly. Rough fingers drag across your skin as he lets go. A breeze beats faintly against your sweat-drenched cheeks and tickles your nape, and although you cannot enjoy it in this state, on some level, the cool air feels nice.

His hand returns again quickly. His palm digs in between your shoulder blades, hot and firm, spanning a startling width of you. He begins to lean forward, burdening you with his immense weight.

You know Michael means to pin you. You do not think you need to be pinned, not in this state—but this is still a hunt to him, and you are still his prey, and captured prey that is still alive to breathe and squirm and resist him must be subdued.

He pushes down until your chest is flush against the wood. Your heart hammers thunderously away on the deck, and you pray that he will not see it fit to crush you beneath him, to fracture your ribs and squash your lungs as he so easily could.

By some miracle, he does not.

The air behind you shifts suddenly. Water sloshes around your thighs as Michael steps forward. The heat of his body sweeps against you, the wet skin of his pelvis dragging against your backside, pressing in even closer. The burn of his arousal shifts against your goosebump-freckled ass.

And now it is prodding between your legs.

You heave a frail whimper as the swollen tip drags through the slick. Some pit of you aches for the first version of your death, the one where he bashes your brains out on the deck and leaves you a lifeless corpse floating face-down in churning red water. You do not want to die sobbing on Michael’s cock.

He sits huge and throbbing at your opening for a moment. Breathing. Waiting for some invisible cue. Perhaps just enjoying your reactions.

You tense your jaw, clenching your teeth until they ache, begging your body to relax, please, and maybe it will lessen the hurt; but the pressure of the jet will not allow your spasming muscles to go to slack.

You sniffle weakly, head knocking uselessly against the deck, and resign yourself to pain.

His grip on your wrists snakes tighter, holding you fast.

He takes you with a roll of his hips.

Your sniffling builds in your throat shrilly; but not to a scream.

You feel him stretching your walls, deeper and deeper, but it is miles away from the brutality you are so accustomed to, worlds away, infact. Michael sinks into you, and it is slow.

Your brain cries out, What on earth is he doing? But the rest of your body can’t find it within you to care.

You gape at the stretch of him. Your eyes wrinkle shut and you gasp as he nudges something deep inside of you, your cervix—wincing when he prods firmly at the flesh, pushing even deeper.

Michael’s thighs meet your ass all at once. You whine at the distinct pop of him seating himself completely inside of you. Pressed so firmly against the deck, you realize that you can feel the bulge of his cock sitting in your belly, a huge, straining pressure.

He holds himself inside you there, pounding and hot. You wish with all your being that you could muster the courage to let Michael know just how much you hate him.

This is just another of his cruel tricks, of course. The possibility that it is not is inconceivable. Michael does not fuck you slowly. Never. When next he snaps his hips back, you know that his following thrust will rearrange something inside of you.

A groan dribbles past your lips as he pulls out of you with the same taunting slowness, as if taking his time.

His next thrust is no different from the first.

You are gripped in a feverish shudder as he fills you again. Slow. Thudding. Hot. Your face wrinkles up and your nails dig into your palms so tightly that you think they might bleed. Not out of pain; simply because you can’t bear it. Not when you can feel every burning inch of him pulsing along your walls.

Hunkering down even closer to your body, Michael settles into his rhythm.

His hips snap forward quicker, filling you with his girth. He pulls out slower, frustratingly so. He seems almost to linger at your clenching opening before plunging in again. It is a deep fucking, meticulous and thorough.

You lie sniveling and whining on the clammy wood, stretched again and again. With what few thoughts cling to coherency in your mind, you scrabble to assign meaning to his actions.

Maybe he is making a statement about the cock you refused to keep down.

(In again, filling you up.)

Maybe he’s just entertaining himself with your frightened body, letting your fear of him spiral out of control, squeezing you dry of every last drop of fun.

(Out again now, and some tiny stupid part of you laments his loss as he goes.)

You settle upon the explanation that Michael is still waiting for just the right moment to hurt you. You clutch on to this truth and refuse to let go, because it is all that you have, because Michael does not fuck you slowly, because he is a predator, and you are nothing but a hole, and the moment you buy the trick and relax around his cock is the moment the hurt will begin.

When Michael’s rhythm changes suddenly, it is the opposite of your fears.

His methodical pace begins to falter. His calculated thrusts are growing sloppier with every snap of his hips.

And most terrible of all, he is stooping down closer to your body with every passing second.

The pressure of his palm on your back increases like a hydraulic press. Your feverish squirming is pinned to an unbearable standstill. Fresh terror rears up in your gut and you suck in breath deeply, knowing you have only moments before your ribs strain with his weight and your lungs are robbed of the commodity of air.

The moment never arrives.

He is only deepening his angle to reach your furthest places. Your eyes brim with overfull tears; your cunt now has nowhere to go but flat against the jet.

And with an appropriate cruelness, Michael’s cock has begun to strike something within you that makes you see stars.

You reel in his gasp, nearly crying out at the constant striking pressure—scarfing the noise down at the last second, for fear of being muzzled again. You do not want that hand over your face again. You do not want to smell the blood again. Please god, you do not.

Your only solace is that Michael is getting close.

You know it because his thrusts are growing more unbearable; he is trying to drive himself deeper, deeper, deeper into your hole.

Then comes the epiphany, short and sweet and obvious, an echo of an earlier observation:

It is late. The water is hot. And Michael is tired.

Suddenly, all is clear. He has settled on a sluggish rut into your body because he cannot be damned to put in the effort to fuck you any other way.

It is not just Michael you hate now, but yourself, too, because the slow pistoning of his cock has turned you near-delirious with sickening need. You know his gentleness is not deliberate—you know it like you know the sky is blue—but your body cannot seem to tell the difference. The heat has begun to coil low in your belly again.

Michael stoops even lower. You shudder down to your toes; you can feel his steaming breath beating against your nape, heavy and hot. God no, that’s too close. Far too close.

The dreadful intimacy is your breaking point.

You begin your feverish squirming again all at once, pulling weakly at the huge hand caging your wrists, seeking relief from the bombardment of sensations, the endless taunting of the jet, the slow burn of Michael filling your belly with cock over and over, again and again. The heat in your sex is surging horribly, building to tower over your head.

Without thought, you pull madly at your restraints.

In that same moment, Michael’s groin grows suddenly tense against your backside. You feel his muscles locking rigidly—

—and his horrendous heat and weight stooping forward all at once, careening into you—

—and as his dangerous body curls stiflingly around yours, he comes deep inside your belly.

Mortified does not even begin to describe the ugly panic that rears up inside of you. Your eyes snap shut tight and you can’t keep a lid on your distraught little noises. No no no NO, too close; the bare skin of his wet chest is ridiculously hot. He’s going to burn you up with his heat. Going to sear your lungs, going to suffocate you. Please, please, you can’t handle it now, not when he has threatened plain as day to rip your life away, not when in the past hour alone he has drowned you and choked you with himself and flipped your twisted illusion of need for him belly-up, exposing the hate and fear, fear that might stop your heart before his hands do. You cannot handle such cruelties when he has done all those things; you can’t handle such dreadful closeness.

You reel beneath Michael’s immobilizing weight, wiggling your hips and ass against his pelvis with a choked little sob—useless. He has you mounted on his cock like a trophy on a fixture, skewered in place, and in the end, all you manage is a futile squirming against his balls, a hot wet friction which elevates the throbbing low in your sex to a delirious pounding.

Some low reverberation begins in his chest and builds. It vibrates through your spine, rumbling up his sternum, building nearly into a short and gruff grunt before being stifled expertly. The pressure of the jet is trivial now, small, small, small—Michael’s frightful body eclipses your world.

The moment he stops pumping you full of cum, you are aware of it.

The mountain of muscle encasing you loses its tension more with every passing moment; the powerful tremors no longer ripple through his abdomen; and you can feel the heat of his mess sitting deep inside of you, threatening to burn through your stomach and spill out onto the deck below.

It is your undoing.

Your body tenses frightfully beneath his. Your second orgasm spills over.

It fades, with a shudder and a pitiful moan. You are so sore, so tender, so aching, so numb. You would beg him again if you could, for an end to the torment of the jet—but you don’t think you could formulate words even to scream bloody murder.

Your pussy clenches around Michael’s girth, squeezing him feverishly. You are not stupid—even if you could beg him, he would offer you no relief.

Against your back, Michael’s chest rises with breath, deep and slow. You realize, heart thundering louder in your ears, that he has rested his head on the deck somewhere above your own. He is watching you.

Your own breaths are a rapid gasping; the thought of meeting that black gaze again is more than you can possibly handle. You tuck your chin into your shoulder and refuse to return his look.

Minutes begin to pass. A new fear surges within you, fear that he will keep you pinned like this all night, that he will sleep here, dick stuffed in your belly, jacuzzi jets forcing you into an endless cycle of shuddering orgasms. It would be so easy for him to just keep you, trapped and defenseless, unable to wiggle, unable, if he chooses, to scream.

And then some pitiful thought comes crawling up through the weary haze; At least Michael is not hurting you.

You want to tell it to go and fuck itself. You also latch onto it with a grip colder and harder than death. Yes, that’s right; at least Michael is touching your body, and he isn’t hurting you.

In time, he clambers up and off you.

His stifling heat and weight retreat. You feel his thigh brushing against your calf as he sinks down on the jacuzzi seat, displacing massive quantities of water which seethe around your sides. He tugs forcefully on your wrists.

A breathless little whine seizes you as you are swept like a ragdoll into his lap.

Too frightened to move, chanting once more with your desolate plea of please, sorry, please don’t hurt me, you let him handle your limp body without a struggle.

His wet grip slides free of your hands. You are sure there are red furrows in your wrists from the ferocity with which he held you but you don’t dare to crane your neck and look, because he is reaching for your body again, up toward your neck, one terrible hand locking around your throat—ensuring you will go nowhere. His breaths beat hot and heavy across your scalp.

Scrunching up in a grimace, you squeeze your eyes shut. You cannot look Michael in the face again. You cannot risk knowing if that uncompromising murder still seethes there. You think to see that look again will kill you. A fresh set of tears searing your cheeks, you wait to be ruined.

His rough palm comes down suddenly over your breast. Your lips part in a startled little gasp. He gropes it roughly, fingers digging into sweat-warmed flesh with an adamant squeeze, a sadistic tugging motion that pulls your skin taut. There is a terrible jolt of heat to your hips as his thumb closes over your nipple.

Michael pinches you slowly and firmly. You squirm in the cage of his arms, craning your head as if to arch away from his cruelness, but doing so only settles you further into the bulk of his burning neck, his shoulder searing unbearably against your cheek, an inescapable wall of muscle, and you can do nothing.

He pulls and pinches. Palms and kneads. His rough hand toys with your breasts until they are dreadfully sore.

You resign yourself to waiting for the moment when your last drop of amusement has been spent; when that damning hand around your throat is snapping shut like a vice.

You wait, and you wait, and you wait.

Minutes pass; Michael has not tired of playing with your body, and you are still waiting.

After a while, his hand wanders elsewhere. To the numbed flesh of your tormented sex, where it squeezes and palms just as adamantly. He thrusts a curious finger up your slickness to feel his own mess there, his hot seed still oozing out. You grunt feverishly at his probing but remain limp and useless in his grip. Still waiting.

When half an hour has passed, and Michael’s methodical hands have violated every inch of you, and you are still allowed to draw your shuddering breaths beneath his hands, reason finally forces its way to the surface beyond the confusion, the panic, the dread. The reality of Michael’s actions becomes shockingly, pathetically simple:

He was never going to kill you.

He has been working you into a dreadful fright for the last half-hour, dangling the promise of ripping your life away over your head—but he was never going to deliver. Not tonight. Every action until now has been a purposeful manipulation of your suffocating fear of him.

You expect to feel dizzy relief; instead, you only feel tired.

Sleep and the heat of the water weigh heavy on your battered mind. If you could muster the courage to beg Michael now, your words would be, please drag me upstairs, please take me to bed, do what you want with me, but please, after that, please let me sleep.

Michael’s violation of your flesh does not slow. With a soft, defeated groan, you come to terms with the fact that any rest in the coming hour will be against his terrible body.

Your breaths are still dizzyingly shallow; relaxing into Michael is hard, as it always is, but you try.

You focus on the symphony of night. The chirping katydids, the whistling wind through the overbearing trees. You focus on the hot water seething around your middle, no longer a burn but a blanketing warmth. You wait for Michael’s fun to be over, for him to sling you over his shoulder and haul you up to bed like a favored toy, coveted because there is still amusement to be squeezed from your body, still plentiful fun to be had.

With that fantasy vivid in your mind, you surrender to Michael’s warm hands.

#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #slashers #slasher x reader #tw: noncon #tw: abuse #darkfic #writing #horror #fanfiction #halloween

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the-jason-todd-effect · 4 years ago

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Ok yall but nuclear take time

The FMA Homunculi are just resident evil bosses, hear me out here. -Rapid Regeneration (Homunculi and RE Bosses? Check) - Big tiddy tall extendo claw ladies who like stabbing people ( Lust and Lady Dimitrescu) - Take a fuck ton of effort to kill (See Jack baker getting defeated like 5 times and still surviving until his brother kills him and lust getting lit ablaze like 50 times before she died by roy mustang) - Turn into Giant monsters (Every RE Boss for the most part when you do enough damage and Envy From FMA when he goes into like his huge ass lizard form) - Turn to dust or ash when they die (Mostly Re7 and 8 with regards to the mold creatures calcifying and The Homunculi from FMA) - People who control things going on in the world yet lead a regular public appearance (The Father controlling Amestris with the use of Wrath as King Bradley and The Umbrella corporation having a front as a medicine/science corporation when in reality they’re making zombies and shit) - Regular ass but badass people kill them -Sometimes they’re good guys but they always end up dying (See Piers Nivans who was in the middle of zombifying and greed who sacrificed himself)

#resident evil #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #lust fma #envy fma #Jack Baker #Roy mustang #Homunculi #Father fma #Wrath fma #umbrella corporation #king bradley #piers nivans #greed fma #not an actual nuclear take but the coincidences do line up a lot #would be a dope crossover #what would a homunculi with the progenitor or Mutamycete look like

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thekavseklabs · 3 years ago

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Pros / Cons of Dating My Muse

Name: Vynathr (or Vynathra) Levnahra, Al-ke Roha Alria

Species: Aquatic/Sea Kei

Sexuality: Pansexual

Pros:

He is incredibly strong. You weigh nothing to him. If you wish it he can literally just carry you around the entire day and not really notice. Not so mention his other powers. For instance he can self-duplicate and become a hive mind at will, so he can go to work and can stay in bed and cuddle at the same time, no problem.

Considering the fact that he's constantly boiling with rage, he's shockingly patient. If Vynathr cares about you, he will literally wait for eternity when it comes to anything important. He has that time, and you are worth it. And if the answer isn't what he hoped for, that's alright. He will always, always accept your needs, wants, or lack thereof.

Cuddles! He wants them pretty much all of the time, and, well... World hard and cold? Vynathr's tiddies soft and warm, Vynathr's arms strong and safe. If he has his wings out, he can curl them around you both, so you can have a cozy dark room to snuggle and nap in at any time of day. And he purrs and rumbles and will stroke your hair and in general is just really nice to snuggle.

Vynathr is limitlessly determined and, depending on verse and timeline, Hella Fucking Rich And Powerful. If you want a thing, you are getting that goddamn thing, whether the rest of the world likes it or not. He will throw hands with the entire planet on your whim, and he will win. You are dating a man who is relentlessly shoving and blurring and breaking the boundary of godhood without even trying, expect no less.

His singing is lovely, and so is his art. When Vynathr is content (and he is, he loves you very much, and you make his life so much better just by being there), your life is full of beautiful things. Soft, low rumbling wordless song and hums lull you to sleep at night, clever hands play guitar in the morning, and you will recieve many little hand-carved figurines and sketches. He'll write songs for you, surprise you with them in quiet moments through the day.

Vynathr understands the need to go out and Do Things. He won't get offended if you prioritize your life or go out often or spend time with friends. He might not socialize with said friends if asked, but he lives a very solitary lifestyle, that's not a surprise. He mostly just dozes through their visits to avoid them.

He's easy to please. He has access to all the grand things- give him something small. He doesn't want much, and just time spent with him makes him happy- material things don't have to be fancy either. He'll appreciate and keep just about anything.

Cons:

As stated above, Vynathr is constantly shoving on the boundary between mortal and god, without trying. He has buried subconscious memories of times before mortals existed, before this body's birth. He is immensely powerful, and it's impossible to understand exactly whats wrong sometimes. Often he doesn't know either. All you can do is be there, and that's upsetting.

Vynathr has had an intensely fucked up time. Even if his curse is cured there are lingering effects. He is angry, often absolutely enraged over nothing at all. He has the hunger and drive to destroy planetary systems. Don't expect that to just go away, even if he stops.

On the subject of fucked up, he has a lot of trauma and emotional baggage. Vynathr considers himself to be the worst, most disgusting and harmful and just fundamentally awful thing that could possibly exist. A couple soft words wont get rid of that either. He will try to leave you for your own good, he will insult himself, he will refuse affection that he desperately needs.

He reacts explosively to small things if they set him off. If he feels something he doesn't understand (aka anything at all, he's a special kind of emotionally repressed), he might lash out or shut down or scream and fight about it. The man has no healthy coping mechanisms, at all. The majority of his vitrol may be directed at himself, but it's still a huge and at times dangerous mess.

Vynathr can be strange at times, and kei in general have some concerning ways to convey affection. Their sound for intense anger and deep satisfaction or pleasure is the same (a deep rumble low in the chest, distinct and different from a purr), and even by that standard Vynathr expresses himself strangely. His expression is generally harsh even when in bliss, and his ears are pinned back or lowered nearly 100% of the time. That vicious looking snarl and growl when he sees you is affectionate. Don't mind the huge claws and teeth.

Sharp boy. You will be bit. He might break your collarbone and mangle you a bit in the process. It's 'cause he loves you. He tries his best to remember to Not Do That, but instinct is a powerful thing at times. In general he is animalistic and scary and dangerous. Even the supposedly harmless stuff line shoving his face into you like a cat wanting to be pet has potential to knock you over.

Most importantly Vynathr is a fucked up man from a fucked up society. You are dating a monster, first and foremost, and that won't change. He's a harsh and violent person with a set of morals that aren't always going to align with yours. Even when he tries he is often blunt and harsh. You can't fix him and if you try to, you'll only break him further, make him more traumatized and untrusting and angry. You can only accept who he is in this reality, violence and all.

Tagged by: I stole it from @lxgatus a month ago and then forgot

Tagging: YOU. Say I tagged you

#Dash games; you're next #Man poor vynathr he just wants to roughhouse :(#i long for the day vynathr has a partner he can finally roughhouse and play all he wants with #let vynathr have someone who can take getting barrelled into with the force of a train #let vynathr have someone who can barrel into him with the force of a train in return

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smutty-ki113r · 3 years ago

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Could I please have a romantic matchup?

I’m an introverted she/her Virgo (Leo cusp) and I'm bicurious.

I'm 5'5 with long dark brown (almost black) hair and coffee brown eyes. In terms of body shape I’m a less extreme version of an hourglass with thick thighs and comfortable size tiddies. My style is summed up as a tired college student who rolled out of bed.

I tend to have a very stoic appearance at first sight, but I’m usually a wreck inside. I’m a huge romantic with a passive personality. I’m so touch starved, I just want someone to cuddle with me and tell me it’s all gonna be okay.

Super insecure about a lot of things, but the main ones are my acne scars. I have really bad impulse control and I can’t help but to pick. By the time I finally realize I should stop, it’s usually already too late.

I love playing all kinds of games, whether it be monopoly, resident evil, or solitaire. I’m one of those people that’s almost always listening to music regardless of genre (except heavy metal). But I’m a super big sucker for a sweet love song or some cavetown. If there were an award for overthinking at all hours of the day, I’d definitely be at least an honorable mention. Super into baking with an insatiable sweet tooth.

My obsession with psychology is also there. Horror and all things creepy never fail to intrigue me. I love the outdoors, but I never seem to actually be able to drag myself outside.

Loud noises and yelling scare me really bad to the point I start to tremble and tear up. But I have a hard time handling silence too unless I’m with someone who can quiet my mind.

I carry a good bit of trauma with me. It can be overwhelming, and there are days where I can’t bring myself to get out of bed. Days where little things send me spiraling and I have panic attacks over what seem like nothing.

I’m usually pretty good with people even if I don’t like them. I have a really hard time voicing my opinion, so I can and do get put in situations I don’t want to be in. I’ve always been the therapist friend even if I didn’t like someone. People I DO like get a million and one chances no matter how many times they hurt me, I just never seem to learn. That means that when I do finally give up, everything has been shattered with 0 chance of ever going back to normal.

My ideal date would be going to a cafe on a snowy winter day. We’d get warm drinks to go (preferably hot chocolate) and then walk through the fancy neighborhood in town hand in hand looking at all the lights. Inevitably we’d come across some mistletoe, and my partner would look at me with the dopiest grins and they’d drag me under it. Oh whoops! Looks like we have to kiss!

I’m literally so worried this is not going to the right place. I’m sorry if it isn’t, obviously feel free to delete it if that’s the case.

Thank you for taking the time to read and give me a matchup <3 Looking forward to it.

P.S I absolutely adore your writing and the blog’s aesthetic. It’s super calming and easy on the eyes.

You’re all good it’s def in the right place. After a lot of consideration I match you with…..💗LAUGHING JACK💗

For a lot of reasons actually, I feel like overall he would be a lovely and caring partner for you.

Touchstarved? Jack is your guy, once you get him to warm up to you that is. He’s been like that for a while and once he finds out you like him he will not let you go. I fully believe he would be the kindest to their s/o to you’re in good hands claws. He’s really attentive and could help you realize that you’re anxious, for the acne scars too, probably holds your hands and gets you to focus on him.

Jack likes games too, probably board games or hide and seek. Anything sort of childish, it’s actually really fun. SWEET TOOTH? Yeah there’s not a better guy for you. Provides you with any and all candy and saccharine things you would like. Jack could drag you outside, probably to the forrest where he’d play tag with you. I warn you, you’ve got to run for your life because once he catches you he will lift you off the ground and give you a bear hug.

LJ is naturally a loud guy but he keeps a soft tone around you, he dosen’t want to scare you. Everyone else, yes. You, never. Trauma you say? Jack has a fuck load of trauma too, you guys can probably trauma bond. But you both take it out in different ways, Jack is more violent, towards others obviously. It would be a nice change of pace for you to have someone to lean on, that’s what Jack would do. He’s not one to use a therapist friend.

For sure, Jack will take you out in the winter and make your the tastiest hot chocolate. Giving you sideglances as he takes your hand and leads you through the snow to a beautiful winter wonderland of trees decorated with lights. Since he’s so tall he would probably hold the mistletoe himself and give you a nervous smile, hoping you want to kiss him. It will be a passionate one filled with joy and warmth, he’s never been happier. He only hopes you feel the same.

THANK YOU! I spend so much time organizing my blog, one day I literally sobbed over my master list because I thought it was disorganized. But anyway, whatever happened to you, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that. It was not your fault and I’m here to let you know it’s all going to be ok. Ive got a bit of trauma myself, can’t remember most of my childhood. Your panic attacks and breakdowns aren’t for nothing, and they’re not stupid. I know it must be hard but try not to throw yourself into other’s problems, it can be so draining. I know you just want to be a good person but being the therapist friend is exhausting, I should know. And then you never say anything because you don’t wanna come off as rude and you feel like a burden. You deserve better than people who are going to use you and then throw you away.

*gives virtual hug* it really is all going to be ok, I promise. I love you.

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta matchups #creepypasta fluff #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack x you #laughing jack #cp matchups #matchup #matchup cafe #📯

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

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Too Big

For an anon who sent in a few kofis (so I made this longer!) I hope you enjoy! They asked for werewolf Bloodhound and reader where Bloodhound is too big to fit inside reader so they fuck their tiddies instead!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound x Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound has a vulva but they use a strap on but their vulva IS mentioned, Reader is gender neutral and has a vulva but no pronouns stated, Werewolf fucking, that big red strap on makes a come back but even Bigger and Badder, Bloodhound’s various body mods

Words: 1.1k

___________

Bloodhound had to be one of the most beautiful people you’d ever come to meet.

Their heart was golden, their smile matching as such, their mischief was playful, and their crimson curls streaked with gray at the front always framed them beautifully. Even their scars on their face from another beast were beautiful, the lightning-like scars of their coolant injury as a child being pathways for your lips to trace on nights their body felt far too cold.

When you were in the friend stage, you had taken their affinity for the full moons as part of their religion. And though you were correct, it turned out there had been something a little...more to that than you had thought.

Well, Bloodhound was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever come to meet.

And one of the most beautiful wolves you’d ever seen.

Lycanthrope, they had explained to you. It ran in their family. And in a world where aliens who walked on two legs, talking robots, and alien beasts existed, why not a werewolf as well? It explained a lot, after all. How their hearing and sense of smell was absolutely impeccable down to the way they seemed to be able to smell when you were aroused. At first you’d been embarrassed about that last one, but now whenever they’d frame their petite body against yours and trap you against a wall and growl about how delicious you smelled?

Well. You couldn’t complain.

~Rest under the cut~

Bloodhound was so beautiful, you’d thought. Either when they were stripped naked and you could cup their breasts and trail your hands down their smooth flesh, or when they were the size of a horse with too many snarling teeth and beautiful, crimson and grayed fur.

Even now they were beautiful above you.

Your heart is still pounding from the chase they’d given you. They’d always liked it when you ran, squealing as they nipped at your heels and herded you where they wanted you to be for the full moon. It was a night for them to let loose, and a night where you were made to be a sacrificial show for their gods.

You’re lying flat on soft grass in a clearing now, your clothes ripped to shreds by their claws. They have their head slightly tipped so their unblinded eye can watch you squirm under them, their wet nose sniffling at your face playfully until you’re laughing and pushing at them. Your fingers sink into the soft curly fur of their neck, gently pushing their large head away from their wet sniffing.

“C’mon, sit down, be a good dog.” You laugh out at them, watching them obediently sit with their tail thumping on the ground excitedly. You roll your eyes at them, taking the red rope from the bag you’d been carrying and scooting over on your knees. They help you by lifting their paws up, scooting where you need them to be so you can tie the rope over their hips. Fastening it into a makeshift harness built big enough for their beastly body.

You reach into the bag they’d packed, finding lube you set aside for yourself before you grab the toy. Your eyes widen at the sight of it, having to use two hands to hold it as your head whips to look up at them.

Bloodhound peers back at you, and even if their muzzle can’t make the smug expression you know they hold, their thumping tail gives away their glee.

“Bloodhound this is NOT going to fit in my body.”

“We can try. Are you not always greedy for my cock, beloved?”

Their echoed reply in your head makes your cheeks flush. You stick out your tongue playfully, a bad move when you get a firm lick over your face in turn that makes you squeak.

Regardless, you hitch the base of it into the harness. It had to be as long as your forearm, the knot the size of a fist and a half. There was no way it was going into your body.

Still, you lie back, letting their cold nose bump your clit as they excitedly shift down onto their belly. Their massive paws rest on your thighs, lightly clawing as their huge tongue slides across your cunt.

And even when you’ve cum once, and had four of your fingers lubed up and shoved inside of you to make room for them, only the tapered tip fits in you and already feels too big. You lie on your back, your legs hitched up around their fluffy body as they try to hump at you. Their soft whines are funny considering the situation, but you must have positioned the toy just right because you can hear their head above yours, split pierced tongue lolled out and panting.

Their hips still hump, but only serve to make you whimper when your body refuses to stretch. But, if they can feel pleasure, why not put a show on?

“Baby- baby, c’mere , here let’s try something new?” You gently push at their shoulders, and they follow, shuffling back and watching you gently pull their hips up until they’re practically straddling your torso. A little awkward to have their fluffy belly in your face and smell their musk, but worth it when they turn their head around their shoulder to watch you.

You press your breasts together with your hands to frame the wet strap on. Hearing them growl above you as their hips start to move again with that familiar wet, panting sound. It must be hitting their clit just right, a feat that you’re kind of proud of.

Bloodhound’s soft growls are getting louder, especially when you part your lips when the tip keeps bumping them. Idly sucking on the tapered tip that had been inside you, making a show of licking it and whining at the familiar heat of arousal pressing at your sex. You gently let your fingers pinch at your nipples, rolling them as Bloodhound’s hips start fucking earnestly forward.

When they cum, it’s with the frantic motions of their hips and their head thrown back in a howl. Due to it being a strap on, nothing comes out of it, but you do feel the light wetness trickling down near your belly where their own cunt hovers above you.

Carefully, they step back over you when they’re done. Coming face to face with you with this grumpy expression crossing their features and their forehead pressing to yours affectionately.

“Told you it was too big.” You playfully mention, patting their head gently to scritch behind their ear that still had its various gold piercings.

They huff through their nose, their voice echoing through your mind coyly. “Do you take me for a quitter, my love? We have all night to try.”

Fuck.

#Bloodhound #Bloodhound x reader #apex lemons #apex legends #nsft #lemon #werewolf bloodhound #princess writing #commissions

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katsukis-sad-angel · 5 years ago

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FatSquadCanons; During and right after the Chisaki arc

Pairing: Taishiro Toyomitsu x Reader, Eijirou Kirishima x Reader, & Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Summary: The Fat Gum squad and their girlfriends/wives/fiancees during and right after the Chisaki Arc in My Hero academia

Warnings: Sex talk, slight angst, mentions of intercourse, cock-warming, swearing, cuteness

Author’s Note: That gif below brought back the sun, cured my depression, got rid of my anxiety, cured the coronavirus, and made Jesus rise from the cross and beat the shit out of Pontious Pilate

Enjoy!

Taishiro Toyomitsu

Mostly SFW

Misses you

A LOT

You’re so pretty and happy and you give the best hugs and have the sweetest voice so being deprived of those things for so long…

But he had to focus

They had to save Eri, so he couldn’t have your elegant features staining the cloth of his mind right now

You, on the other hand, try and cope with your worry, lust, and sadness by rolling up in his spare hero hoodies and his big black shirts because they’re warm and they smell just like him

You miss the way he held you in his arms as though you were made of porcelain, the way he kissed your lips like it was the last time, his big, warm, soft stomach you could sink into, the twisty blonde hair you loved combing your fingers through, his big smile, his huge hands, his hugs, his lips, his dick, and his laugh

That chuckle...

It would be the death of you

You just wanted to be back in his arms… or in his lap…

Or under him while he fucked your brains out

Pick one

He hasn’t been home in 2 whole week

So your touch starved as fuck, hungry for dick, lonely, sad, and worried

You’ve been eating dinner alone and the news has been on nonstop

So when he comes home with bandages all over his scraggly, skinny yet buff body, you immediately start bawling your eyes out

You’re so happy he’s safe and alive

He holds out one of his arms to you and you stumble from your chair and collapse into his arms

“Tai! Oh, my god!”

He picks you up and carries you to the couch like the goddess you are and lays down with you, kissing your cheeks, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he missed you until your stormy sobs have calmed to the occasional violent hiccup

“Honey bear, it’s ok. I’m here now. Don’t cry sweetheart…”

I want him to call me ‘honey bear’

The two of you lay there for the rest of the day

You get up occasionally to get your man food and to take a piss, but that’s about it

Refuses to let go of your waist even though his stomach sounds like a possessed garbage disposal

“Don’t worry about me Y/n, I’m fine. Just stay here, ok?”

You rest your head on his chest to listen to the beat of his heart

Nice pecs pillow

Forehead kisses, ear nibbles, ass and thigh grabs, hand kisses, etc

He’s all over you

He thinks you such a beautiful goddamn queen through the bright red tearstains and the evidence of emotional eating that had gathered on your hips

He tells you that, just the part about your cute and squishy hips

You end up falling asleep like that under a pile of blankets

NSFW

The very next day, as soon as you’re up, you start riding him like a horse

“That’s it babygirl, be a nice little cowgirl for me. Just like that~”

“Did you miss my cock while I was gone?” He’ll whisper in your ear, sucking on one of your piercings

“Yes, fuck yes I did Tai!”

Holds your bouncing hips with the one hand that works, kisses you, sucks tiddy, and makes sure you get off at least twice before he does

When he’s done, you collapse on his chest, panting

For a couple of hours, you lay there cock warming him because he asked you to

Then his stomach started up again and you got off and fed him everything in the house while naked because he asked you too

The end

Because you asked me too

Tamaki Amajiki

SFW

…

Poor sweet elf boi

Doesn’t really know how to cope

Spends a lot of time locked in his room

You notice he’s eating less

When he allows you to come into his room, he’s always wearing one of the hoodies you let him have

On those nights, there isn’t a lot of talking, but there is a lot of cuddling

He rests his head either on your chest or your stomach, wraps his muscley arms around your waist and holds you close

Whispers ‘I love you y/n.’ every so often

You’re really worried about him

His pretty black eyes are dull, he slouches more, Mirio can’t cheer him up, you can’t cheer him up, his indigo floof droops a little, dark bags under his eyes, stutters a lot more → talks even less than before, he looks sad, and is jumpy

He’s been really distant too

Staring off into the distance, completely zoned out and lost in his thoughts

24/7

So one day when he comes back from patrol with that spunky redhead and Fatgum, you go to his room and knock

No answer

You knock again

Still no answer

You fumble with the doorknob, but it’s locked

Using your quirk, you manage to get it open

“Tama, why is your-”

“Tamaki?”

Tamaki Amajiki was rolled up in several blankets, making him look like an adorable burrito

He was struggling to escape his warm cocoon, squeaking softly as he attempted to get his arms out

He blushed as soon as you saw him and then tried to hide his face in embarrassment, but you didn’t let him sink too far

You smiled indulgently and helped him unroll

“Tamaki, if you were cold then- Wait… are those my socks?”

“Yes.” He mumbled, hiding his face in your shoulder

You giggled

“Don’t be embarrassed Tama! If you want my clothes, just ask!”

You wrap your arms around him and pull him down so you’re laying comfortably in his bed together

“How are you doing?” You coo, stroking his soft indigo locks

“Awful.” He mumbled, burying his face in your chest

“I’m sorry to hear that…” You reply, tracing the indent on the back of his neck, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes. But I’m not allowed.”

“Oh. That’s ok. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but just try not to think about it. I know it’s hard and you’re under a lot of pressure, but tonight, just think about me. Or takoyaki. Or Nejire and Mirio.”

“You smell good.” He whispered bashfully, “New perfume?”

“Mm-hm! You like it?”

“Yup.”

“Good.”

You smiled sweetly, letting his soft voice (I love you Aaron Dismuke) play its melody over and over again in your brain

You were so lucky

You kissed his forehead and whispered, “If you need someone to talk to, I’m right here Tamaki. Ok?”

He nodded sleepily, eyelids drooping from lack of sleep

“I love you bunny.”

“Sweet dreams.” You sigh, relaxing in his safe embrace

NSFW

Don’t get me wrong, Tamaki is one of the sweetest, kindest, most adorable yet hot guys EVER, but he isn’t some fucking pushover

He’s domming your sorry ass in bed, whether you like it or not

He’s got tentacles

TENTACLES

GOOD HENTAI ANIME = TENTACLES

And he fucking knows how to use them to make you scream

He also has a cow hoof you can stretch yourself on

What happens if he eats noodles?

But that’s beside the point

Tentacles

With those, he can tease you, tie you up, make you cum, squirt, serve as a second dick for ur arse, put them in your mouth, etc etc etc

Anything you can imagine

Picture this: Tamaki is fucking your from behind, buried to the hilt in your cunt. Two tentacles trapping your arms against your back, one in your ass, one in your mouth, and one massaging your throbbing clit

You’re overstimulated, moaning, and crying from the pleasure, pain, and overwhelming arousal

“Do you like my tentacles Bunny? Does it feel good?”

“So wet for me… such a pretty Bunny when I fuck you like this.”

“More? Greedy bunnies get punished~”

Loves it when you’re all needy, hot, and bothered underneath him, begging for just a simple touch

It makes him feel really strong and happy

Knows it feels good because you make the most erotic faces

Nuts almost immediately when you do → tongue lolling out, eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream, and cheeks flushed

Aftercare?

You won’t even remember the accidental scratch you got from the lobster claw

Sore pussy and/or ass?

Hickeys?

Dry throat?

Hungry?

Anything marring the beautiful expanse of skin before him?

Gone

He’ll massage you, give you a bath, food, water, endless kisses, hums to you softly, bandage you up (if need be) and tuck you in

He NEVER wants to lose you to someone else, so he makes ABSOLUTELY sure, you’re 100% feeling loved at the end

He loves you so much

Never forget that

Eijirou Kirishima

Mostly SFW

Baby boy…

He has been very distant since this whole thing started

No more study and cuddle sessions (where you normally end up fucking)

Fewer hugs and kisses

No big girl fun time in bed

Not as many baby shark doot doo doo doo doo smiles

*author drowns in utter despair*

All you have are the clothes you steal from his closet every now and then

(every time you’re in his room) cough

So while boi is being a distant and depressing fuck, you bundle up in all 11 of his Crimson Riot hoodies (some of them are used as pants) and think about him

His garnet irises, his adorable sharp-toothed smile, his killer upper body, his soft red hair, his voice (thank you Justin Cook), his hands, his dick, his manliness, the tiny scar above his eyebrow, and his sharp jawline

Perfection

Kiri, on the other hand, wonders why you’re spending so much time in your room all alone and why fuck cuddle nights stopped

Right when he needed all of the love and support, it stopped

Were you mad at him?

Did he do something to upset or offend you?

Did he say something rude or insensitive without thinking about it?

Did you get tired of him?

Did you want to break up?

Had Bakugou finally stolen your heart from him?

He couldn’t tell

You looked to upset all the time, giving him distant looks, suddenly running to your room with your eyes full of… shit, were those tears?

No, not eyes full of shit

Eyes full of tears

Come on guys

He ran after you, but by the time he got to your hallway, you were already locked in your room

He knocked on the door

“Who… Who is it?” You whimpered in a choked voice

“Uh, Eiji… your boyfriend…” He said softly, running a hand through his softened locks, “Can I come in?”

“I…” You pause, “I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Shuffling sounds

*nose-blowing*

Then the door opened to reveal a slouching you in one of his hoodies

You had a used tissue scrunched in your fist

“Babe, are you ok? You’ve been acting really weird lately and I’m worried!” Said the pure ginger shark

“E-Ever s-since you s-started that work-study, you’ve been r-really d-distant so I thought you might’ve f-found someone else. Either that or you j-just needed t-time alone.” You whimpered, holding back tears for what seemed like the billionth time that day

“Baby girl, no one could ever replace you!”

Sharky pulls you into a hug

“I’m sorry you thought that Y/n. I’ve just been really zoned out because I’m trying to balance school, work-study, and our relationship all at once. I really need those study nights honey, I’m begging you. You explain stuff so simply and your notes are really descriptive. I love you so much and I don’t like it when you’re sad, because then I’m sad and then everyone is sad.”

“Eiji… I’m sorry, don’t blame all this on your self. I’m just being a whiny bitch.”

“Don’t say that!!”

“But I-”

You were cut off by a kiss

Eijirou cupped your flushed cheek tenderly with one hand, and with the other, he held the small of your back so you were flush up against him

“Eijirou…”

That night, you fall asleep on his chest, but Kiri can’t sleep

His phone on your nightstand flashes and he carefully picks it up, turning down the brightness so as not to disturb you

Apparently, it’s time

Carefully, he slips out of bed to join Midoriya, Ochaco, and Tsuyu downstairs

NSFW

When all of that is over and Kirishima is in your arms safe and sound again, he gets down on you before you even pull out your flashcards

Presses you back into the carpet and starts sucking your face

“Eiji? Wha-”

“Sssh.”

Clothes start flying everywhere except away from you and your horny boyfriend, who has moved onto your neck and jawline, kissing and nipping along your collarbones and mandible

You thread your shaking fingers through his pretty red hair

“So wet for me already?”

“Mmmh, you smell so good…” Eijirou moaned, sucking your puffy clit, his hands clamped on your hips to prevent you from bucking or squirming

“M-More… please, more! I need more Eiji~”

“Did you miss me, or just my cock?”

“Both- fuuuuck~ Eijirou oh my gOd~”

“You like that sweetie? Huh? Tell me how much you like it~”

…

*coughs*

You can hardly walk the next day

But don’t worry

Kiri will treat you like a queen and carry you around until you fall off or feel better

No studying happened unless you count Eiji learning to make you squirt

Otherwise, no

Neither of you did anything productive

But you did have a fun, sensual evening with the person you loved most

Nighteye Squad hc’s coming soon!

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frutavel · 4 years ago

Text

Facts about Isaura

Drakkari warrior and soft baby UwU

1. As said above, she's Drakkari, making her very big and very fluffy. Your hand will disappear if you pet her.

2. She's an only child, but her extended family is huge. She has more uncles and aunts and cousins than she can count.

3. That being said most of them are probably dead now. Not many of her family members survived the scourge.

4. She was cast away from her tribe for treason. Nobody knows what she did to get that punishment- she only says she was trying to help.

5. Her eye (and ear) was clawed out by ghouls. She has a whole collection of glass eyes now.

6. Her ear should have grown back, but it never did. She doesn't know why.

7. LOVES FLOWERS especially roses. She sometimes wears them in her hair.

8. Her favorite color is pink.

9. Big lesbian. World hard and cold, tiddy soft and warm.

10. She likes Mamoriri, my Zandalari dire troll. One of the few trolls out there who can pick her up and carry her around like a princess. She's thoroughly charmed.

11. She's almost 10 ft (3 meters) tall and under all that soft fluff she's ripped

12. She joined the Horde while in Northrend. She didn't have anywhere else to go, and over time the friends she made among them turned into a little family she wouldn't give up for anything in the world.

13. She's very protective and caring, and she wants to help as many people as she can. She's a little overbearing at times, but she's trying her best.

14. Has a lot of trauma and self issues she needs to go through, but she takes that one step at a time.

15. Deep seated anger issues that come up every now and then. Managing those are her priority as of now.

16. Gives amazing hugs, but she might break your spine on accident. Sometimes she forgets her own strength.

17. Her favorite food is barbecue ribs. She eats the bones too.

18. She loves milkshakes of all tipes, though she tends to lean away from the sweeter ones. She says too much sugar makes her feel weird.

19. She owns a whole lot of piercings for her ears and face, but it's been a while since last time she wore them. She forgets to put them on.

20. She baby

21. I love she

22. That is all ^^

#artists on tumblr #world of warcraft #warcraft troll #drakkari #ice troll #oc:isaura #fun facts

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typinggently · 5 years ago

Note

your writing is.... *chefs kiss* seriously, it's so fun to read!! and that spicy bit of aquabat you included in that dress post.,,,, stunning. absolutely gorgeous. it's such a rare ship and I almost never see any content here, so thank you for that delicious content. do you have any more hot aquabat takes?

love…firstly…thank you so much!! 💚💚✨ I’m glad you enjoy my writing! :’)

secondly: this is going to be a mess. I was going to wait a little longer and make this a nicely curated post but I keep seeing that “no, no, no by any means, speak your mind you got a problem with my boy?” gif and like. Arms. And stuff. You know?

Which brings us to the next point: I once again have to confess that I didn’t watch Aquaman. Or Justice League. I honestly am considering it though just because of the visuals.

That aside - let’s move on. I have two main interpretations of Bruce’s character, on one hand Feral Bruce & Thotty Bruce. The main difference (I wrote a huge think piece on that but we’re melting it down to it’s bare essentials) is that Feral Bruce has that whole dadaist ballet element to him, a general eccentricity and skittishness around people. Thotty Bruce is much closer to the general interpretation of BW, except. You know. Brucie isn’t that much of a cover.

I have a lot to say about Feral Bruce and Arthur, mostly just general stuff because I like the idea so much, but for now I’m mostly thinking about

thicc thot getting jackhammered by buff (half)Atlantean

Generally speaking, I think Arthur just has so much fun in bed. He’s all laughter and good-natured teasing while his partners are already incoherent messes. He’ll be like “yeah, let me just get down there real quick” and proceed to play with his cock/ass for the next hour and a half. And he’ll straighten eventually, hair messy from Bruce tugging at it, and expect Bruce to give an actual answer when he asks him something. (”Hey, you alright? You still want cock, sweetheart?” - incoherent mewls, hole greedily clenching around four of Arthur’s fingers - “that a yes?” - after which he proceeds to eat Bruce out for a few more minutes, just to make sure Bruce is happy (and a sloppy mess once he slides his cock in))

Also? He’s a slapper. Not as in spanking, not necessarily, but he’ll eat Bruce out and slap his ass, making it jiggle. Pull back, slide two fingers into him to keep him occupied and slap his ass again to watch the way his cheek bounces, the way he arches his back. Thighs and Tiddies are both also perfectly bouncy and will thus get slapped as well (very lovingly, with great appreciation and followed by kiss-hot attention).

Also! Audacity! Bruce can def take it, he’s fit as hell, but Arthur seems the type to lovingly let him do the work while still being in control. Pulling him on his lap and helping him establish a slow rhythm and then just? Laying back? Arms behind his head, watching Bruce grind and swivel his hips, bouncing and grinding on him. And Bruce is strong, he could probably do that for hours on end, but Arthur’s cock is thick. So eventually, he might slow down a little, trying to keep his thoughts in order and not lose himself in that delicious slide. But nuh-uh. Arthur will laugh (asshat!) and lightly slap at his jiggling thigh. “What’s that, babes? You tired already? Come on, you can take a little more. Here, ride it, come on.” Once Arthur is kind enough to flip him and pound him into the mattress, Bruce is already half-blissed out, taken apart, dissolving. And in that state, Arthur brings the heat. Hammering in, catching mindlessly blissed Bruce by surprise and making him mewl and moan helplessly, need and overwhelming bliss turning him into a sloppy mess in seconds. Clawing at the sheets, fluttery eyelashes, eyes rolling back, mouth soft-hot and open, moans that would make a professional proud. Ass jiggling with the powerful thrusts.

Also - Bruce trying to hold a league meeting and getting a text on his batphone all “Can’t wait for later bby xxx 👅 💦 🍑” How’s he supposed to NOT let Arthur bend him over the table as soon as everyone left? Biting his cape to keep quiet while Arthur has NO problem making a whole mess of appreciative noises as he eats him out. Sex in the suit is always a bit of a hassle, but Arthur’s determined, so sooner rather than later he finally slides into that soft-hot hole to enjoy Bruce clenching around him, practically sucking him in. Bruce, of course, still tries desperately to keep his own voice down but thankfully, Arthur eventually has pity. He’s not a monster. If Bruce can’t keep quiet, he’ll fuck his mouth with three fingers to help him with that. Same rhythm as his cock and soon, Bruce’s knees are buckling, his mouth lax and his chin as well as Arthur’s hand an absolute mess of drool. And that’s when Arthur finally starts up the real rhythm. Hard, fast thrusts, incredibly powerful, strong enough that the table legs are creaking over the floor - it’s a converence table, and a heavy one at that. Bruce is getting railed. And honestly? Good for him. Fuck him to pieces, he deserves it 🥰

There’s so much more to consider - for example I’ve always been weak for fucking on a throne and I honestly feel like Arthur could make that work somehow and he WOULD.

Love, I hope this was somewhat to your liking!! 💚💚 Thank you again for your kind words :) (and for sharing the thirst haha)

#aquabat #filth #drabble

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