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robotgirldiode · 10 months ago

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Honeymother

content warning: oviposition, eggpreg

Summary: Cerise prepares herself for a sacred ritual, dedicating her body for her Goddess and carrying the next generation of Her children.

Cerise rose early on the day she was to take her Goddess' blessing.

She had been excused from her day's duties -- other priestesses would be taking her place, for this day and the next forty. But there was much preparation to do, and the ritual took place in the morning.

She dressed quickly, not bothering to tame her hair, and passed through the back ways of the Temple from the dormitories to the Honeymother's antechamber. As she walked, she trailed her fingers along the smooth, waxy soapstone the whole structure was carved out of. She felt it under her fingertips, looked at how it caught the light and almost appeared to glow from within.

Cerise never got tired of the beauty she lived in with her Goddess, and she never wanted to take it for granted.

The antechamber was empty when she arrived, but a small meal had been left on a side table: honeyed flatbread and sweet, tart skyfruit. Cerise ate methodically, not really able to focus on the taste in her mounting excitement. The other priestesses designated as her attendants filed in before she was done, all clad in their soft yellow formal robes.

Tek was the only mellikin among them. She twitched her antennae at Cerise in greeting as she entered. The other two were human -- Dinna, who had received the blessing the previous year, and Summer, who hadn't yet been chosen.

The three of them readied the bath, heating it with a whisper of divine magic, pouring scented oils into it that made Cerise's head swim, scattering the petals of flowers Cerise didn't recognize. She was used to quick showers; this was a level of luxury she wasn't sure she was comfortable with. But it was all part of the process, and all worth it in the end.

Cerise shucked off her robe, hoping to outrun her shyness about her body in her haste, and sank down into the water. Dinna began washing her hair, and Tek took to scrubbing her.

That made sense. Cerise was hopeful that her wife would be chosen as an attendant, and Tek’s presence calmed her like no other. On the other hand, Cerise was a little afraid that Summer was resentful of her for being chosen. Tek, as the Goddess' daughter herself, could not be so blessed, and wouldn't be prone to such jealousy, and Dinna had already been granted the Honeymother’s blessing.

(Just anxious nerves, perhaps. But Cerise swore she could see a tension in Summer's back as she prepared the ceremonial robes.)

"Cerise," Tek said in a quiet buzz. "Are you feeling alright?"

"A little nervous," Cerise said.

Mellikin's segmented eyes were notoriously hard for humans to read emotion in, but Cerise had long practice. The way Tek held her antennae, the set of the plates on her face -- all spoke to devotion and concern. She continued scrubbing methodically with three hands, but she ran the fourth down Cerise's side. The chitin of her hands, striped the same subtle black and yellow as the rest of her, was surprisingly soft, and she had as much practice touching Cerise as Cerise had reading her emotions.

Cerise shuddered in pleasure, closing her eyes. "Tek..."

"It's all right," Tek said. She held Cerise and washed her more intimate areas -- her small breasts, the little fold of her stomach, her hardening cock. It was caring and sensual, and her body responded, but it wasn't a prelude to anything. It was just care and love, expressed as touch.

Finally, the two priestesses doing the bathing hauled Cerise out of the tub. She fought for her balance, wooziness descending on her in the heat and the flower smell and the touch of her lover. They dried her off and wrapped her hair up into a beautiful scarf, patterned with hexagons. The Honeymother's symbol.

There was more dressing, but not much. It would be a little counterproductive for what laid ahead.

Finally, wrapped in a silk robe and leaning on Tek for support, Cerise faced the door to the Goddess' bedchambers, adorned with a simple trio of hexagons picked out in gold against the ebony wood. She stepped forward, and knocked once.

The door swung open.

She entered, trailed by her attendants, head straight forward.

Kzaia, the Honeymother, looked like her children the mellikin, but she was unmistakably a goddess. Tek and her siblings were built to human scale; Kzaia was nearly eight feet tall. Tek's eyes were beautifully iridescent; the Honeymother's were so radiant, unreal rainbows on black, that Cerise couldn't look away.

"Good morning, beloved," Kzaia said, a throaty buzz, a sound that shook the foundations of Cerise's soul. She smiled -- not what a human would call a smile, but the pleased, loving expression particular to her insectoid form.

(It was one she wore often. What would a goddess such as the Honeymother have to be unhappy about?)

"Good morning, your radiance," Cerise said, bowing her head slightly, then back up to look Kzaia in the eyes.

Kzaia wasn't wearing any clothing, as was her usual. Her torso was humanoid, without breasts but with the curves of hips, and with four slender arms that nevertheless looked strong. She stepped forward, crossing the space to Cerise in three strides. Kzaia's wings were folded, but they fluttered slightly as she walked. Cerise had to tilt her head up to hold her gaze.

"Cerise," Kzaia said. "I have chosen you to take my blessing. Do you swear now, before your Goddess and your sisters of the cloth as witnesses, that this is what you desire? My gift to you, to this world, can only flourish if accepted with a free heart and a clear mind."

They were words Cerise was familiar with, a rhythm she had heard when she had attended a blessing previously.

"Yes," she said. "More than anything in the world."

Kzaia reached out a single hand and cupped Cerise's cheek. "Beautiful," she said. "Then, let's begin."

Cerise was led to the bed in the center of the room. It was circular and very tall; tall enough that Cerise would have had trouble climbing into it on her own. Kzaia just picked her up (Cerise let out a squeak of surprise) and set her down on the edge.

"Tek," Kzaia said. "The jelly, please."

Tek stepped forward, holding a small wooden bowl carved with a hexagonal motif. Kzaia took it from her and handed it to Cerise. Tek smiled at her before taking her place with the other priestesses bearing witness.

Cerise looked at the quivering royal jelly in the bowl. She was used to the stuff; she was one of many priestesses who ate a monthly dose of it to treat different ailments. In her case, it reversed the awful effects puberty had taken on her.

That was the strongest memory Cerise had of Kzaia. Meeting her for the first time, a wild half-starved runaway girl, face covered in shaving nicks because blood was better than hair, requesting asylum in the temple because her family had ensured she had no other options save death. Kzaia had come out to meet her personally, spoken to her, called her by her real name. Then she had stepped out of sight for a moment and came back with a small blob of clear jelly on her fingers. She explained what it did, asked if Cerise wanted it even with the responsibilities it came with.

The changes hadn't been instant, not like the flashy magic that some said other gods had. But they had saved Cerise's life.

This jelly looked a little different, and Cerise knew it would act immediately.

She swallowed it in three mouthfuls.

It was a stronger taste than the usual jelly she took, a sensory overload that flooded her mind. The heat in her cheeks spilled down her throat, into her belly, into her groin.

Something was changing, inside her. A temporary renovation, something that would sustain her for the weeks that she would bear the Honeymother's blessing, that would make her suitable as a vessel. It also spread warmth outward, upward – a tingling in her limbs, an electric thrum in her cock. She felt herself harden again, almost painfully.

"Show me," Kzaia said after a moment.

Cerise wanted to respond, but her body would only moan. She untied the robe with shaky hands and slipped her arms out of it so she was sitting on it like a blanket, fully nude before her goddess. Her head was too full of heat to worry about what she looked like.

"Beautiful," Kzaia said, taking Cerise's length in one hand.

"Nnnnnn," Cerise said. "My goddess..."

Kzaia continued stroking her gently, sending lightning directly to her core; with her other upper hand she played with Cerise's breasts, adding thunder to the lightning. Her lower hands gripped Cerise's ankles firmly.

"You're going to be such a good vessel for me, aren't you?" Kzaia asked.

"Yes," Cerise breathed. "Please."

Cerise closed her eyes, but there was a mischievous tone to Kzaia's voice. "Please what, my beloved?"

"P-please," Cerise said again. "Please fill me."

Kzaia stepped back. The lack of touch felt like ice in comparison to the heat raging under her skin, but Cerise stamped down the disappointment and looked up at her goddess. Kzaia held one hand to the folds between her legs, buzzing in concentration. Soon something began to emerge.

Kzaia's ovipositor came out slowly. It was smooth, tapered, and glossy black like her eyes, with a little forked tip. Despite having attended before, Cerise had never gotten a close look at it.

It was nearly as long as her forearm, although not quite as thick. Ordinarily, the size of it would have made Cerise a little nervous. But all she could hear was the jelly whispering to her, smothering her anxiety in a thick layer of lust.

"Please," Cerise said. "I want all of that inside me."

"Lucky you," Kzaia said. "I want that too."

She stepped forward and grabbed Cerise's thighs again, forcing them apart a little roughly. With another hand, she reached under Cerise's cock to her hole, dipping a finger in. Cerise realized with a start that there was a puddle on the robe underneath her. She wasn't just dripping, she was actively gushing, and Kzaia's finger went in with no resistance.

It was an odd feeling, something that would never happen without the jelly. But it felt so correct, and even a single one of the Honeymother's fingers lit her brain up like a firework.

"Good," Kzaia said. "You're ready."

She didn't hesitate at all. After all, why would she, when she knew what the jelly's effects were, when she knew how badly Cerise wanted to be impaled? And so she lined up with Cerise's achingly empty ass and thrust forward in one smooth, deliberate motion.

Cerise shouted, and the shout became a moan. The soft lights around her fuzzed and the edges of her vision went grey. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before, like nothing she could possibly describe. She felt like she was being unmade, remade, perfected.

“Good girl,” Kzaia said. She stayed buried halfway in Cerise, the only motion the occasional slight twitch of her hips. The soft vibration of the Honeymother’s voice, the sincere warmth of her praise, was almost as intense as the ovipositor inside her.

One upper hand stroked Cerise’s cheeks, breasts, the sensitive spot beneath her jaw. The other softly teased the underside of Cerise’s cock, and was already sticky and webbed with how much she was dripping. The lower pair still gripped her ankles, tight enough to excite her, not quite enough to be painful.

And Kzaia’s eyes… they were deep enough to fall into.

Kzaia fell into a steady cadence of thrusting into her, and Cerise's breaths became irregular as if there could only be so much rhythm between the two of them and Kzaia was using it all up. She might have spoken, she couldn't really tell, but if she did it was just gibberish. Words were no use to a mortal body trying to process the divine.

Cerise keened as she reached her first climax, spurting thin clear come onto her belly. Kzaia paused, scooped it up on one finger, and popped it into her own mouth.

"Only fair, beloved," she said, the edges of her voice a little ragged in a way Cerise had never heard before, a slightly mortal edge of lust to the godly presence of the Honeymother. "After all, you took some of mine."

Seeing her offering accepted by her goddess in such a way almost sent Cerise over the edge again all on its own, but when she started going again, harder and faster this time, it was a certainty.

Cerise lost count. The orgasms didn't quite blend together but lost their sharpness; they were just high tides in a regular cycle of divine pleasure. There was no marker of time passing, just the waves of bliss and the feeling of Kzaia inside her, until she heard a voice.

"The first egg is coming," Kzaia said. "Do you want to see it?"

Cerise struggled up to her elbows. Her eyes took a second before she was able to see anything other than stars, but she wanted to see this, she needed to see it.

There was a bulge at the base of Kzaia's ovipositor, slowly moving forward with each thrust. It was about the size of a fist. Cerise's eyes widened.

Something happened deep inside Cerise, a movement she couldn't quite process, and suddenly Kzaia fell forward, almost to the hilt, bringing that egg right up to the entrance. Cerise didn't know how there was enough room inside her for the entire ovipositor, let alone the egg, and surely her opening wasn’t wide enough for it to…

The egg popped inside her with a sudden jolt, and the world went white with pleasure.

She could feel it settle deep inside her as Kzaia started thrusting again.

"Good girl," Kzaia said. "You're going to hold these for me so beautifully."

The second egg was much the same as the first, but the third came with no resistance. Cerise screamed, and even Kzaia moaned in pleasure with each egg that she planted deep in Cerise’s core.

Finally, Kzaia pulled out with a splash of come and egg fluid. "Six," she said. "You've been blessed with six of my children. How lovely."

Cerise shuddered. Her cock was a soft, dripping, aching wreck from coming so many times in succession; parts of her were sore that she didn't even know could be sore. "Th--" she said. She coughed, her throat raw, and tried again. "Thank you. Kzaia."

Kzaia held her hips in two hands and bent down to kiss her on the stomach. "Don't try to move for a little while," she said. "You won't need to eat or go to the washroom while you're carrying them. Four weeks while they mature and are ready to be laid. And then you'll need to recuperate for a couple weeks, most likely. You'll stay right here in bed; either I'll take care of you, or when I'm detained, your wife will. Tek?"

Tek came forward again, smiling brightly. Cerise reached one shaky hand out and she took it in two of her own. "Yes?"

"You'll be sleeping in here for the time being. I don't sleep, but I'll be around when I don't have other duties."

She started to explain to both her and Tek what would be required, but the exhaustion caught up with her in a rush. The words were swallowed by white noise as Cerise closed her eyes and fell into sleep.

She dreamed of honey.

#i don't write a lot of smut but I'm proud of this one #I feel like it's very me -- an idea that would be extremely offputting to normies but presented as sweet as possible

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bahoreal · 1 year ago

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idk what to say about this. i desperately wanted to draw trent in art noveau style. went abit off with his hair and the flowers. happy birthday james lance im so normal about you x

#trent crimm #james lance #NAWT gonna tag the show as normies exist on tumblr and u need to be mentally ill to appreciate how i feel about jimmy lance #there is writing in the book but i dont remember what i wrote. kdbajdbabw #i think it might say 'james lance u absolute madman'#.jmade #im normal about that old man!!!!

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normalayadraw · 9 months ago

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more updates on my UT fanfic yay

Summary:

Kaya moved into a shared house and met her runaway sister who's dating the landlord, aka. 8 skeleton monsters. They antagonize this other human tenant, but Kaya suspects her sister has something to do with it. Who said the other tenant wasn't a jerk?

a new chapter has been dropped! tho it's shorter than usual, hope u don't mind that!

in exchange, a lil spill:

u get a somewhat cute interaction with Stretch/US Papy. Happy reading~ ♪(´▽｀)

and, *e-hm. @seirindono @petiterazu, just thought u guys might want to see this 👀

#undertale #fanfic #normy write #ut fanfic #anti-harem #updates #i'm writing this update in the middle of flu btw #so yeah #if it contains some grammatical error. don't mind me TvT #i'll fix it sometime later. it should still readable tho

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kitnita · 1 month ago

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you'll get hypnotized — ty dellandrea/wyatt johnston; rated e; 30k; loosely inspired by this post. tags: not hockey players; unreliable narrator; implied/referenced homophobia; established relationship; but also flavors of one-sided didn’t know they were dating; ty dellandrea’s no good very bad week

Joe’d only ever given Wyatt one key, and both of them knew better than to try asking for a copy now that Joe knew whose hands it was really ending up in. Instead, Wyatt kept inviting Ty over; Ty kept showing up.

#hockey rpf #hrpf #z:fic #we have a goofy lil fic banner again #because in the home stretch (which lasted like two months) of finishing this fic i did So Much instead of simply writing it <3 #but it's here! & finished!!#in time for ty & wyatt to play each other!!!#a lot of this is essentially delly whump so it's nice to see him doing well w the sharks instead of feeling sad in a normie au

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normal-internet-user · 1 year ago

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BEING ADOPTED INTO THE KENT FAMILY WOULD INCLUDE...

Showing up at the Kent family farm nervous as all hell.

Your new parents did their best to make you comfortable and at ease on the rather long drive to your new home,

But nerves were natural.

And such was evident at your rather quiet approach.

You didn't really feel like chatting, even if your new parents seemed nice enough.

It was... weird.

You went from living in city suburbs with couples looking to make themselves look better by adopting a 'troubled teen' to being surrounded by corn in the middle of nowhere Kansas.

You had two new brothers appearently. According to Lois.

Jon and Kon.

Funny.

When you'd met Clark he seemed like he was deliberatly trying to make himself smaller and less threatening.

Which was kinda funny because of how comically jacked he was for a reporter.

Your first night wasn't too overwhelming.

Your new family gave you time to settle in, and you even had your own room which was super nice.

It was like a complete blank slate, completely your own to make cozy and comfy.

You settled in surprisingly quickly, Jon was definitly a big help in putting you at ease.

He took it upon himself to show you how to do the chores.

Weeding the garden, feeding the animals, and changing their hay, it was a great way to get to know your little brother.

He also roped you into staying up a little later to play video games in his room.

You were almost positive Clark and Lois knew, and just didn't say anything.

Kon was like the cool brother that showed up to be your partner in crime then dipped.

He didn't live on the farm, he had told you he was roommates with afew of his friends.

Like one of those early 2000's sitcoms.

Clark did his absolute best to be the father figure you'd never actually had.

He helped with your schoolwork, encouraged your hobbies and was overjoyed to give you advice when you asked.

For such a big guy, it was certainly decieving.

He was like tne sweetest person you'd ever met, and even taught you how to do things like crochet and bake.

Lois is a powerhouse of a mother.

If you have any problems in school she's on it before it can become an issue.

Bullying? Dealt with.

Bad grades? What's the problem, sweety?

And as you started to get more... comfortable in your new home, you noticed that there were some odd things about your new family.

Regular everyday things resulted in broken items.

Wether it was Clark breaking a glass,

Jon breaking the handle on the barns sliding door,

Even Kon accidentally broke the faucet when he visited.

Speaking of Kon.

He sure visits alot for someone who lives out of state.

Huh.

He must be spending a whole lot on plane tickets.

And the whole family was weirdly aware of like- everything.

The only way you could logically explain it was that it's because Lois and Clark are reporters?

But, like, that also doesn't make sense?

How did Clark know you were in the kitchen at like 2am? His and Lois' room was upstairs all the way down the hall.

No way he heard you.

Not to mention the weird amount of "work calls" he had to run off to.

And Jon had a strange amount of school field trips.

Something was up with your new family.

And maybe it was time to delve into the family buisness.

Reporters uncovered secrets afterall.

And this family had a lot of them.

@zeep-wuz-here I did the thing... (>_<)

Reader is gonna do some snooping uh-huh. Mini reporter in the making digging up the ✨️secrets✨️

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librarycards · 2 years ago

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how about instead of talking about “marginalized voices” in literature we instead spoke about authors systematically denied access to public discourse + authors whose ways of knowing, writing, and storytelling have been repeatedly subjected to epistemic violence. i think this would be helpful.

#writing #reading #mine #me @ all the normie readi bc lists and marginalized author ‘challenges’ lmao

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korpuskat · 11 months ago

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Unusual Preferences

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (Gender Neutral, has a vagina) Rating: Explicit WC: 2.1K Warnings: PWP, Urethral sounding, Nemesis form, under-negotiatied kink, if you read these and click through it's your own fault. If this isn't to your taste, I have another fic I'll post tomorrow that's more vanilla.

“A gift?” You repeat the phrase dubiously, eyeing up your partner. It should be exciting- and it is, given that he’s beckoning you closer, onto his so rarely used bed- but it’s even more suspicious.

“A gift.” Ramattra says again, guiding you to sit in his lap, your back to his chest. It’s always a touch uncomfortable in that base, physical way- his hard ridges cutting into the softness of muscle and fat of your form. Not that you’d change a thing- but the fact he doesn’t layer on a blanket between your bodies is all the suggestion you need to understand the nature of his gift, long before his hands settle on your hips.

Immediately, his hands begin to wander, not bothering with feigning innocence any longer. It’s a soothing touch to start with, smoothing the broad planes of his palms across your belly, your chest, your thighs. The attention makes you squirm, makes you lean further back against him, basking in his affections. “Mmhmm, well, is it a gift I’ll like?” You ask coyly.

For him to be teasing you like this, it has to be a new dick that he’s made for himself. Maybe one that vibrates- or one that cums. You’d floated that idea to him a while ago, and he’d seemed receptive. It was, after all, built entirely for your pleasure to begin with.

But the question instead makes his hands stop, his head shifts down to look over you more closely. “I hope so.”

That piques your interest- but Ramattra’s hand purposefully stroking between your legs has you sighing, resigning yourself to whatever plan he has. The excitement, however, nips at you. Normally you expect him to chide you for pulling your own clothes off, for being impatient, but it seems it must be driving him too, because while you pull your shirt over your head, Ramattra’s hands pull at your pants, leaving you bare against his cool metal.

He slows again, taking his time to linger across your chest, to stroke at the skin of your thighs. It’s as frustrating as it is thrilling. Enough of both to have you spreading your legs, urging him towards your center. The soft humming noise from Ramattra’s synth lets you know he enjoys it too. He doesn’t resist the temptation, bringing his hands in closer- and sliding one cool, firm fingertip up your slit. His teasing has done its job: your own slickness makes his finger glide effortlessly between your lips and up to circle your clit.

The touch leaves you sighing, rolling your hips languidly into his touch. “Ramattra…” You sigh and again, his voice box rumbles, the noise almost like purring. “Let me see,” You plead, working one hand between your bodies to grasp at that last section of plating on his torso where he hides his cock.

Instead, Ramattra’s free hand catches your arm and draws it away, folds both of your arms in to press to your sternum. “Not today.” He says- and this has you twisting in his arms to look at his faceplate, as though any explanation would be found there. His addition doesn’t help: “Maybe after.”

“What? Ramattra, what did you do?”

That little purring sound comes again- more intentional as he moves into a hum of contemplation. “You’ve been quite patient… considering.” Whatever barb he implies is soothed immediately with the finger that still circles your clit, and you don’t mention it, lest he decide to drag out his slow touches more. “Here,” He says, then keeps you held in place as he leans forward.

You start to question why- but a flash of violet light gives you your answer. You close your eyes against the brightness- and soon feel a new, cold pressure that encircles your legs, just above your knees. Blinking to get rid of the shadows in your vision- you’re met with the sight of his Nemesis hands curled around your legs. You flush hotly; usually this was only for when he needed the extra hands to hold you while fucking you. If he didn’t intend on revealing his dick then…?

You don’t even realize his fingers have left your clit until he’s retrieving a little gray case he’d stashed beside the bed. You don’t know what to think of it- storage for whatever toy he’s bought or made? It’s small and discrete- and when he retrieves the first one, your heart drops through your stomach. You suddenly feel so exposed- and instinctively you try to close your legs, only for Ramattra’s extra hands to keep them firmly open. Exposed and restrained and the sight of it alone has a new kind of tingling anticipation building in your belly.

“You left your private browser open.” His voice rumbles as he holds up the offending tool. It’s innocuous. A long, thin metal rod- so tiny it seems harmless. And Ramattra knows. He knows-

“Shouldn’t.” It’s the only word that comes to mind.

“I’ve read about it thoroughly. I got the smallest set with the slowest incline. I even considered how to keep you still.” He flexes the fingers on his Nemesis hands, squeezes his normal hand around your still-caught wrists. “...I even have a biotic field if needed.”

It should still be a no. Should be something kept quietly tucked away in the recesses of your mind- a dark little impulse you listen to only when you’re alone. “Fuck.” You hiss, watch as the metal rod shines tauntingly, “Yes, okay-”

It’s all the permission he needs. Ramattra brings the rod down- down between your legs, past the cleft of your body so you can no longer see where exactly the tip of it is. It’s long enough, however, for you to see the far end, where Ramattra holds it.

“Shouldn’t you… be looking?” You prompt, as you feel unfamiliar metal slide between your lower lips. In turn, the closest finger on each of his Nemesis hands draws those lips open, exposing your pussy to the cool room air.

“I have your body memorized.”

He says it as though it’s nothing. He’s memorized you; he knows where exactly it should go- and it makes you shiver on top of him, muttering “That shouldn’t be hot.”

But your excitement of Ramattra’s recorded knowledge of your body abruptly derails as the rod catches something. You take a breath- and it slides in.

“How is it?” His voice rumbles in your ear, and you struggle to exhale.

It’s hardly an inch, but every muscle tenses at the strange sensation. It’s… uncomfortable, an unusual fullness that almost just barely burns. But as you breathe, the sensation eases into just… pressure. A very, very weird pressure- almost like…

You scrunch your brow, peer down between your legs where the rod still extends from your body. If it wasn’t so small, it would almost feel like it wasn’t actually… where it was supposed to be. Almost like it’s…

“Are you… sure it’s in…?”

“Yes.” There’s no question about it. And he’s probably right, can probably visualize exactly where and how far in it is just based on his hand’s movement… but still.

You resist the urge to squirm, still so painfully aware of the metal rod protruding from your body. “It feels like…” Your cheeks heat- and in the face of not only having your little kink discovered but actually having to talk about it- you bury your face against his cloth-covered upper arms. Your voice falls to a whisper, and thank everything that his audials are as sensitive as they are. “It just feels like it’s in my pussy.”

His throat vibrates in a low hum, then carefully, he squeezes the hand around your wrists. “Don’t move.” He instructs you- and you nod carefully, but as soon as he frees your wrists, you grab at the same canvas you had just hid your face in. Easier to keep your hands out of the way if you’re holding onto him, anyway.

He moves his free hand slowly, lets you watch as he slides down the length of your body and, it too, disappears between your legs. One finger circles your entrance- and your mind just refuses to understand. You can see it- his hand is behind the rod, can feel that he circles the hole without obstruction- but it still just feels like-

Ramattra pushes that finger in.

And suddenly you understand. You gasp sharply and Ramattra freezes, locks every joint- “Did I hurt you?”- but with hardly the first joint of his finger you can finally understand the sensation. It felt like it was poking your pussy because it was your only point of reference, the only even vaguely familiar sensation you could recall, but now…

Now, Ramattra’s finger squishes that front wall up against the sounding rod which is definitely not in your pussy. No, it really is there- in that other, tinier hole just above.

“M’fine,” You gasp and every pulse you can feel where it is inside you. “Keep going,”

He obliges you, albeit slowly. The single finger in your pussy eases in and out in a carefulness that could almost pass as casual if you were not so very aware of the minimalness in his movements. It’s hardly any sensation at all, yet the rod lodged above heightens every second; that sensitive patch on your front wall is no longer just being rubbed from one side. With the sounding rod in place, it’s squeezed from both sides, making every stroke tighter, hotter.

He’s barely touched you and your skin feels like it’s on fire, the urge to squirm, to rut against the new sensation is strong. It takes everything to twist your fingers tighter into the canvas and ask for what you need, “Rama-” You gasp- “More, I- I need-”

He obliges, pushing a second finger into you. Such a little rod shouldn’t make your pussy feel so tight, but it does- and you can feel exactly how it lays so close to his fingers, how every notch in his digits rubs against your walls so sweetly.

And for the first time, Ramattra curls his fingers. He pushes purposefully against that spot, against the metal rod- and it’s electricity in your veins, a pleasure so sharp, so intense it almost hurts. All you can do is gasp, “Please- please-”

Ramattra provides- and a new sensation makes your breath catch in your chest. The fingers that had held the rod in place begin to move, easing the steel in and out by fractions of an inch. It feels… strange, like it’s sliding against the inside of your clit, even weirder where you can feel it moving against Ramattra’s fingers inside you. You whimper, clutching at him tighter, legs straining against his huge extra hands.

“How does it feel?” His voice hums near your ear, low and quiet.

The question makes you face it head-on, to confront the peculiar sensation, the unnatural fullness, the rubbing that’s not quite where it should be. “Good,” You gasp, “Please, Rama, m’close,”

Ramattra all but purrs, a soft vibration that rumbles through his chest and into your back. He shifts his hold on the sound, keeping the slow thrusting in perfect time as he lays his thumb against your clit and strokes in counterpoint.

It’s like a circuit being completed. Your mouth opens to exclaim, to warn him, but he already knows. Your whole body tenses, pleasure spilling over all at once- and it’s different. Where your pussy clenches around your fingers you can still feel the rod in place, keeping pressure against your walls. His Nemesis hands keep your legs spread, keep you still as he circles your clit, eases you through the waves of pleasure that persist on and on.

Only when you can finally gasp again, does he slow his motions and eventually slide his hands onto your thighs where he rubs along the muscle fondly.

You close your eyes, let the weight of your orgasm push you towards drowsiness. Ramattra, however, nudges his jaw against your head, “Should take it out.” He murmurs. You grumble, but nod your assent. The removal is just as strange as its insertion, and when Ramattra sets the tool aside, you glance at it again, shocking to once again see how small it is compared to how it felt.

Finally, Ramattra releases your legs. You turn over on him- and his Nemesis arms dissolve away in violet light. With one hand he grabs your blankets, pulling them up around you as you snuggle into his cowl.

“Thank you,” You slur, the sleepiness taking over.

“Of course.” Ramattra hums, stroking his fingertips along your spine. “You know you can tell me about your… preferences.”

You laugh softly, rubbing the silky fabric against your cheek, pressing your nose up under his jaw. “I'll keep that in mind.”

#ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch #overwatch x reader #sorry i'll go back to writing normie noncon now

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