#sex pollen for ts

[wri0thesley]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[anactorya]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hauntedfalcon]

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

Anon, listen. Listen.

I fucking love you. 

Here you go. 

[ver-writes]

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

Rating: E 🍋🍋🍋

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

Summary:

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

***

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

[akatsukitobi]

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

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

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775808

[believerindaydreams]

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

Well, here it is anyway!

[carodrugficrecs]

Chapters: 4/4

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

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

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

Characters: Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jiāng Yànlí, Wēn Qíng (Módào Zǔshī), Lán Qǐrén, Jīn Zǐxuān, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín

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

Series: Part 9 of MDZS Kinkmeme Fills

Summary:

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

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

[allycryz]

Speaking of piercings and FF

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

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

[tonystarkbingo]

Week 10 & 11 Roundup

A quick note from your mod Tisfan:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wri0thesley]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had not been so simple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because step five was the ache between your thighs.

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

Your mouth goes very dry.

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

"No shit."

-

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

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

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

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

Well.

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

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

"We have to," he replies, ragged.

"Leone, it hurts--"

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

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

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

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

Abbacchio breathes deep.

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

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

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

But.

It's not right.

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

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

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

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

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

And then, Abbacchio snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think it's starting to work."

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

"We better be sure though, right?"

Oh.

You decide that he's right.

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

[lets-imagine-fanfics]

😂 😂 😂 I love this, the sex pollen trope is always a good one anyway but I feel you captured everyone's characters really well too and TS's daughter being confident but not overly is someone I can kinda connect with. Cant wait to read the next part!!!

Sex Pollen Part 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: You and Peter decide to break into your dad’s lab when Peter comes across an interesting plant.

A/N: This is me aggressively ignoring the events of endgame by writing something with Peter. Also I think that movie fixed my writers block because I’ve been writing nonstop this whole week.

Warning: Language, smuttyish(kinda)

[Peter and the Reader are both 18]

————————————

Peter quietly observed you while you were hunched over your desk in the corner of your room, playing around with a piece of technology you stole from your dad.

Peter was currently on the ceiling, looking down at you. He was incredibly bored and as much as he loved to just admire you while you concentrated, he couldn’t stand the silence that came with it.

He watched as you quietly got frustrated and leaned back in your chair, head back and eyes closed. Peter took this as his que and slowly lowered himself, upside down from the ceiling by a web. He stopped once his face was leveled to yours. He watched as you took in calming breaths, and the little furrow in your eyebrows form, telling him that you were thinking.

To say he was completely and utterly crazy for you was an understatement. Peter was head over heels for you and was pretty sure he’d die for you if it came down to it.

He felt his cheeks redden as he realized he may have been gazing for a little too long and realizing how creepy that was, decided to break the silence by saying, “I’m bored.”

Your eyes shot open as you sat up quickly, banging your head against Peter’s. “Oww.” You whined. You pushed your chair back, putting some distance between the two of you so you could see him better. “Peter! Don’t scare me like that.”

Peter smiled sheepishly, rubbing the spot on his forehead that you bumped. “Sorry but, I’m bored.” He said again.

You shook your head, fighting the smile that tugged on your lips. “Then go do something.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, be Spider-Man. I’m sure there’s someone that needs to be saved.” You said, maneuvering around him, to pick up the tech you were playing with. “How do you do that?” You said, referencing his position, “Doesn’t all the blood rush to your head?”

“No.” He said simply. “I don’t wanna go out. I want to hang out with you.”

“Aren’t you literally doing that right now though.” You smirked. As you admired the wiring you were staring at. 

“Ha ha ha.” He said sarcastically. “I mean, I want to do something fun.”

You looked into his puppy dog eyes and immediately found yourself giving in. “Fine,” you sighed. “How ‘bout a movie?”

“I dunno, we always watch movies.”

“Okay then do you wanna go out or something?”

“No.” He said shaking his head. “Whenever we go out together you get too much attention.”

You paused. “…Well, my dad has been working on a new suit for you, if you wanna check it out.”

“Wait really!?” Peter suddenly exclaimed, jumping up, which caused him to fall down on the ground, making you laugh loudly. “Shut up.” He grumbled.

“Anyway, how does sneaking into Tony Stark’s lab sound?”

“It sounds great, let’s go!” He said, excitedly jumping up and grabbing your wrist, pulling you with him.

~~~~~~

While the two of you were scheming on how to break in. Bruce Banner had currently been the only occupant of the lab.

He stood with a gas mask on his face as he studied a plant in front of him.

A week ago, the Avengers had gone on a mission after a few aliens landed on earth and claimed they wanted to “Take over the planet”. It had been pathetic really, the aliens were wiped out in half an hour.

But while on this mission, after Hulk had finished “smashing” the last of the aliens, he had reverted back to himself. Finding that Hulk had taken him onto one of the alien ships.

Bruce looked around at the strange tech, while he stood up, already heading for the exit. That was until something had caught his eye and started to draw him in like a moth to a flame. 

It had been a plant.

It stood tall, about seven feet in height. It was absolutley beautiful. It had pink flowers that mimicked the shape of a heart and it was quite literally glowing.

Bruce touched the plant, his fingers coming back covered in a pink dust, which he naturally assumed was the flowers pollen. He leaned in, realizing it smelled familiar.

But the strangest thing happened after.

His heart started to practically beat out of his chest and before he knew it Hulk had come back.

Once he had calmed down and turned back into himself an idea struck him. He quickly plucked a flower off the plant and stuck it in a box that he found in the corner of the ship.

Not a single Avenger questioned why he now carried a box with him on the ride home.

And now a week later, Bruce stood in front of the plant which had grown two feet after it had been replanted, running tests on what exactly it could be.

“Ah Banner.” Thor’s booming voice sounded, as he stepped into the lab. “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to-” Thor stopped, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looked at the plant that sat in front of Bruce. “Why do you have that plant?” He asked genuinely curious.

Bruce looked up at Thor, surprise written all over his face. “Wait, you know what this is?” He said, voice muffled by the mask. He stepped around the table to approach Thor.

“Of course.” Thor said, mildly offended. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it after the mission last Friday. It made me turn into Hulk, so I figured it could be useful if Hulk ever chickens out on me again.” Bruce quickly explained. “What kind of plant is it?”

“It’s called a Sex Pollen Plant.” Thor said, stepping around Bruce to approach the plant. “It belongs to that specific race of aliens we fought. The plant helps the aliens to breed since they find it very difficult on their own.”

Bruce scrunched his face in shock. “What does it do?”

“The pollen arouses the alien that breathes in the pollen- that may be why you turned into the Hulk, it raised your heart rate. I’m immune to it of course.”

“Wait- I brought a sex plant into the compound.” Bruce asked in shock, utterly horrified of his own judgement on the situation.

“Yes and I suggest you get rid of it. I have heard the affects of the pollen on a human could be very severe.”

“H-how do I get rid of it?”

“Hm, I suppose I’ll do it then. How have you been able to contain it?”

“I had this box I took from the alien ship, but it’s too big now, so I’ve been putting it in one of the quarantine rooms just in case.”

“Alright, come with me. I may have something that can help dispose of it safely." 

"Okay, let me just lock up the lab.” Bruce said.

The two of them stepped out of the room and Bruce pulled off his gas mask once the lab was locked.

Thor and Bruce headed towards the elevator, walking through the living room where the two spotted you and Peter sprawled out on the couches. They shot you two a greeting before leaving.

Peter’s head snapped towards you. “I can’t believe sending in Thor actually worked. Do you think either of them know what we’re planning?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, I was too vague when I told Thor to get him out of the lab, and I love the guy but he isn’t exactly the smartest person I’ve met. Now let’s go, I don’t know how long we’ve got.” You said, trailing ahead of him.

You easily unlocked the lab, Peter following behind you.

As usual the lab was filled with tables with piles upon piles of weird tech, ranging from projects your dad or Bruce had been working on to discarded scraps that should’ve been tossed or moved out.

You immediately got distracted from the task at hand when you spotted one of your father’s latest projects, “Alright, go find your suit.” You muttered, walking towards the table.

Peter looked around the lab, trying to find some sign of the new suit he’d hopefully be getting soon. But to be honest, it was a bit of a wreck. With two scientsist’s working there, the lab got a bit messy. So instead of Peter being able to locate the suit, which actually was placed nicely in the back of the room, his eye was drawn towards something else.

And it was beautiful, and definitely something he’s never seen before.

Off to the side was a plant that had stood at two feet. Pink and glowing. And it was as if he couldn’t control his movements while he walked towards the plant.

Now standing in front of it, his finger traced the petals of the glowing flowers, making his index finger come back with a pink dust on it, which he could only assume was its pollen.

He leaned in, breathing in it’s scent.

He expected a normal flowery smell but, instead it smelled like you.

He pulled away for a second, and narrowed his eyes at the plant in confusion. But only for a few seconds, before being compelled to smell it once again.

Peter’s eyes fell closed as he let the scent dance around him. There was no other way to describe it other than it being completely you.

Sweet and calming. It smelled like lavender and jasmine, with a hint of peaches, your perfume, your body wash, your shampoo, and that very specific scent that belonged to you and only you.

Peter was completely lost in it, breathing in deeply, treating it as if it was a drug he could never get enough of. The different layers of your scent completely engulfing him, making him feel warm and content.

His chest blossomed with warmth that spread down all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes and to the very crown of his head, that made his whole body feel like it was buzzing.

But he snapped out of the trance he was in when he felt a rush of blood travelling south. He tensed up, quickly turning around to see if you were still distracted.

He turned back around and backed away from the plant. And that was when he had noticed his spider senses had been going haywire. The hair on his arms standing up straight as goose bumps rose.

And whatever the plant had did to him was getting worse.

He felt warm, too warm. Like he’d start to melt soon.  

He leaned on the table behind him, panting. A flood of arousal coursing through him. 

From the end of the lab you heard Peter’s panting breaths, causing you to look up and see his hunched over form leaning on the table behind him, sliding onto the ground.

“Peter?” You asked in concern. “You okay?”

He groaned at the sound of your voice, his eyes shut tight, trying to gain control of himself. But it wasn’t working, inappropriate thoughts flooded his mind immediately wandering to what you would sound like letting out high pitched whines and moans of his name with that same voice, while he bent you over one of the tables and pounded into you hard.

He moaned at the thought, your eyes widening in shock at the sound not quite sure if he was in pain…. or if it was something else.

You stared at what was in front of him on the table, and knew whatever it was was the cause of Peter’s state right now.

You quickly ran over, crouching down next to him.

You gasped, “Oh my God.” His face was bright red as a thin layer of sweat collected on his skin. He was out of breath, eyes screwed tightly shut. But what caused your own face to turn red was the very prominent buldge in his pants. You cleared your throat. “Peter can you hear me?”

He slowly opened his eyes but immediately wished he hadn’t, his pupils blown wide at the sight of you. Eyes trailing over every bit of exposed skin on your body, just picturing what it would feel like pressed against his own.

“(Y-Y/N).” He stuttered out a whine. “I-I-…S-something’s…happening.”

“Oh, shit.” You cursed.

Peter wanted nothing more in that moment to pull you down into a kiss and pin you to the floor, grinding his hips into yours, but he still had enough mind to know how wrong that would be.

“Okay, alright, okay. This is what I’m gonna do.” You said frantically. “I need to find Bruce-”

“No… d-don’t go..” He didn’t know why but he knew that if you left, it would only get worse. That even just your presence made him feel a little better and that he might just go insane if you left him. “Please… s-stay..”

It was too overwhelming, instead of his senses being dialled to 11 it felt like they were at a fucking 20 now. Hyperaware of you and only you, every movement, every breath, the beating of your heart, everything.

“What? B-but Pete-”

A gasp cut you off. Your head snapped towards the doorway, where Thor and Bruce stood.

“Thor, the kids got in.” Bruce said in terror.

“B-Bruce!” You yelled in relief. “I- I don’t know what’s wrong with him- he just sorta collapsed, and he’s acting really strange.”

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, this isn’t good.” Bruce said rushing over to Peter. “Thor how do we fix this.”

Thor looked down at him in pity, standing next to Bruce who was crouching on the opposite side of where you were. “The only known cure for someone who has been contaminated by a sex pollen plant is, well..sex.”

Your head snapped towards Thor. “W-What?” You shrieked. “Is that what that thing is?” You started yelling angrily.

“Yes, and it must be with whoever’s scent he smelled on the plant.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, who brought a sex plant into the tower!”

“F-fuck, (Y/N).” Peter moaned loudly, eyes training on your figure. Getting more aroused at just how fucking hot you looked when you were mad. 

“Ah,” Thor said, coming to a conclusion. “And it would seem that it would be you Lady (Y/N).”

You cleared your throat, opting to ignore Thor’s last comment. “Okay what are we gonna do?" 

Thor looked at you in surprise, "Lady (Y/N) do you not know what sex entail-”

“Shut up Thor. I know how it works- but there’s gotta be another way to help him.” You gulped, looking down at him.

Bruce sighed, “I think- I think I’m gonna have to tell your dad. I’m pretty sure this isn’t something I can fix in an hour by myself.”

You huffed. “Fine, but we can’t leave him here. Let’s take him to his room.”

You reached out and grabbed his arm, but at the loud moan he made due to the skin to skin contact you let go.

“I probably should have mentioned.” Thor started. “That you shouldn’t touch him.”

“W-what? Why?”

“(Y/N) Please.” Peter whined, trying to grab your wrist but you quickly pulled it out of reach.

You looked up at Thor. “It’ll make him,” Thor paused searching for the right word. “Eager? And you don’t want that if you plan on looking for another cure- see he’s trying to touch you now." 

Thor was right, just that small bit of skin to skin contact seemed to have sent Peter into a frenzy. Your head snapped down at him, as you realized he was just about to put his hand up your skirt. You quickly grabbed his hand, holding it in a tight grip so he’d stop getting handsy. Your other hand quickly grabbing his free one too as it came nearer.

"Fine, then Thor take him to his room.”

“N-no.” Peter stuttered. “Please, I-I need you.” He said as Thor picked him up, making you let go of the hold on his hands. “No! Let go!” He yelled at Thor. "(Y/N)!“

Thor headed for the door while Peter began struggling violently in his hold.

Bruce shook his head. "Tony is not gonna like this.”

You scoffed. “Y’ think?”

————————————

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P.P. Taglist:

@cosmicparkerr

[teamsrwlf]

Two things came to mind when I read this article.

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

2) They’re clearly sex pollen seeds.

[mayorgalvan]

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[eleutheriana-archive]

☾ ☽ ♦ ♢ 🙃

☽ Do you like writing angst? Why or why not?

answered here !

☾ Do you like writing smut? Why or why not?

listen....don’t @ me like this.....yeah i definitely really love writing smut, and i know that it gets a lot of flack in the community ––– idk i feel like it’s not taken very seriously as an art form these days ? people think that people who write smut automatically equal like trashy p/orn bo/ts and it makes me kinda really frustrated when people assume that ? i will admit that smut is harder ( pun not intended...ok maybe a little intended ) to write with padmé than a few of my other muses just due to her own mentality and psychology but like....i just think it’s a great way to express yourself as a writer ? i also just think it’s kind of ridiculous that we all hunt for 5k PWP fics of our otps but then look down on other rpers for writing smut so like yeah i like writing smut. i’m proud of my smut. my smut’s hot. 

♦ What's an AU that you've always wanted?

i am a complete and total garbage can for ARRANGED MARRIAGE aus, SEX POLLEN aus, and SOULMATE aus. i have gotten exactly None of these aus. someone please for the love of god give me an arranged marriage or a soulmate au please please please p l e a s e 

♢ What's an AU that you think just won't work with your muse?

this is Controversial oh dear i might get some flack for this one but i’ve said it before so i’m gonna just go for it again

jedi aus. i do not think a jedi au works for padmé. i know there are a lot of other padmé blogs who have those aus and that’s their business and i’m really happy for them that they get to explore that au with their partners and have fun but like i do not think it works. at all. and you’ll never see it on this blog. i just firmly stand by the idea that padmé is not force sensitive, has never been force sensitive, and will never be force sensitive, barring a brief period during her pregnancy where she could almost sense things. i’m really big on making sure that padmé is as IC as possible when i write an au, no matter what the content is ––– like even in my dark au, i was talking to lilie about this the other day, that it’s important to me that padmé’s character hasn’t changed so much as her MOTIVATIONS are different ––– and force sensitive padmé is just something i cannot get behind at all ever and will never fuck with

meme. accepting. @kybercore

[fairy-changeling]

Will you do number 8 please?

I've written two sex pollen fics!

Teamwork where Cas is hit by sex pollen and Riding in Cars with Boys where Dean is the one affected.

Both stories are bottom!Cas and I'd advise reading the tags first before venturing further.  

[tsundeanre-archive]

can somebody please just explain to me what sex pollen is okay

Sex Pollen is a common fanfictiontrope used to bring two characters together in a sexual encounter. It involves one or several characters becoming infected with a pollen of some alien or magical plant, or they might be influenced in some other way (magic, alien technology, mind control, etc.) that causes them to lose inhibitions and/or revs up libido, usually resulting in non-con sex, which may lead to dramatic guilt and misunderstandings, or a resolution of UST.

[x]

Essentially non/dub-con way of making your faves fuck finally with out the trying to get them to talk shit out. Most sex pollen fics are dub con, but some do border on non con as the person being effected is unable to consent, and sometimes forces them self on the other person.

Can be pretty good (and hot) if done right.