Note: Just finished first half of season five and wanted to write more for our eldritch pookie. Reader is also bespectacled. Could be read as a sequel to this.
Imagine meeting Mr. Whatsit and accidentally breaking his glasses by sitting down on his face too hard.
The glass could’ve gotten embedded in your backside, Mr. Whatsit admonished. You muttered an apology.
“Good thing you have thick jeans,” he replied, patting said denim-clad backside with both hands.
His girlfriend was straddling his midriff, while throwing embarrassed glances over her shoulder. Best view he’d had in a long time. Over a year. If he’d been capable of mustering any anger towards you, your pout would’ve completely dissipated it. It wasn’t like he actually needed glasses. They were just part of his disguise. To make him appear nonthreatening. It was an added bonus you seemed to like his eyewear.
Besides, he could just ask where you got yours. He smiled at the thought of you helping him try on different frames. A date at the optometrist’s. Too bad one couldn’t help him with his second sight, which seemed off today. His other five senses were working perfectly. It was his sixth sense that needed checking.
While he was pondering why your mind was closed off, you were thanking God you’d taken the keys out of your back pocket. Otherwise you might’ve bruised Henry’s pretty face.
From accidentally plopping your entire ass on it.
Rushing into sex hadn’t been your plan. Not this time. Henry’d gotten dressed up. Like a date. A proper date. Not just a two person “gang bang” where he’d allowed your eager holes to get acquainted with his tentacles. Switching it up. Pumping in tandem in your pussy. Near one climax, you’d gotten so wet Vecna had been able to slip his cock between two pistoning flesh-vines. That was the only time you’d shown any reluctance. And he’d withdrawn his auxiliary phalluses before fully entering you vaginally.
You wondered how he’d managed PIV, with a seemingly Ken doll physique. Then shook your head. You’d been transported back and forth between dimensions. What was a little penile sheath between boy- and girlfriend?
Still lying casually supine on the bed, Mr. Whatsit tilted his hat back.
Is this another illusion?
Each time you had sex had been a dream. Not just because you loved it, his tentacles and promises of letting other monstrous appendages—other monsters’ appendages—tongues, more tentacles, intermittent organs, and any combo of the three—in your orifices. Your lover hadn’t stepped foot out of the Upside Down.
Henry isn’t much of a monster, is he? Just looks like one. Not now, though.
Kind eyes, obscured by cracked lenses, and a cushiony smile.
Meanwhile, Henry was internally debating whether or not to ask you to turn around. God, he missed your breasts. They were perfect for him. The only way they could be better was to add a bit more softness, make them sag with milk.
But he already had a bunch of other children to mind at the moment. Besides, maybe you’d prefer oviposition. You were pretty kinky. He’d love altering your biology to fulfill your joint desires.
Joint.
Vecna pursed his lips. For some reason, your mind wasn’t as open to him as it once was. But you were more than interested in oral, obviously.
He hadn’t been given a proper blowjob, but you had fellated a tentacle. Deepthroated it, even. And thanked him for suppressing your gag reflex. All while taking in more appendages below the waist. It was only fair he ate you out.
“Okay,” Henry said, transferring his glasses to a pocket. It’d been a miracle yours hadn’t clacked together when Mr. Whatsit had unexpectedly appeared and swooped in for a kiss.
Then I had to go and treat his head like a couch cushion at the end of a long day.
“I’ll brace my hands on your thighs so you can bear down gently. Then we can switch positions afterwards. If you want.”
He smiled again as your grin lit up your whole face.
Got fucked so good. My eyes were rolling back, mouth open but no sound coming out, with a big plug in my ass. Just completely lost in pleasure as my dom fucks me from behind while I'm face down ass up with my hands and feet secured to a spreader bar. Head empty, no thoughts, just pure ecstasy.
Partner who has worked their whole fist in to my ass and then starts working their fingers and then whole fist in to my cunt. God it feels so good bring split so wide. Im on hands and knees, and once they are fully inside of me they tell me to fuck myself on their hands. Eventually I beg to touch my clit so that I can cum around their fists. They say yes. I increase my fucking myself on their fists and rub my clit furiously. When I cum, I feel myself clenching around both of their fists. They praise me for being so good and open.
I want your cunt, spread wide, dripping with your arousal and mine, as a cock fucks into the toys inside you. A dear friend's, perhaps, or a complete stranger's, as more watch us.
I want your breasts in my hands; I want to knead them and feel you press into me, hear you moan.
I want to mount you, pet: you on your hands and knees, presenting, me above you, softly growling and setting my lips and tongue to the back of your neck.
I want to press into you and feel your ass spread around my cock, around my knot. I want to claim you like that and not care who sees.
I want to grasp your hips and circle your clit and hear you beg me to fuck you and fill you even more than you already are.
We had been dating for a few months, and I had yet to meet his friends. We had been really busy exploring each other's kinks/turn ons/etc. But tonight he said he wanted to have a game night with his bros. I had just assumed that since he had invited me over, that it was to meet his friends. Turns out, he wanted to be kinky with me instead. No that I am totally complaining, but it was not what I was expecting.
"Babe, come take a look at your set up for the evening."
He had set up a wedge in the middle of the bed and there was a fucking machine with 2 dildos on it off to the side.
"Is that for tonight? I thought it was game night?"
"It is. Me and the bros are going to play games, and you will be in here playing your own game. You're going to see if you can stay quiet while the machine fucks you. You can cum as many times as you want, but don't get loud enough for my friends to hear you. If you do, they may want to come watch."
"Watch? I don't know them."
"Well, then stay quiet and enjoy yourself. Sound good?"
He starts kissing me and touching me. it feels so nice. He slips his hand in to my pants and dips his fingers in to my cunt.
"You must be at least a little excited about this...you're getting wet already. Come on babe. Try it for me please?"
"Ok."
He undresses me and kisses me all over, fingers my cunt, and strokes my clit. Then he coxes me over to the wedge where he bends me over it, then attaches my wrists and thighs to the wedge with cuffs. He puts a blind fold on, and an open mouth gag (which will make it even hard to stay quiet. I should have asked more about the set up. Then he brings the machine behind me and starts to work one and then the other dildos in to my holes. It's a big stretch for both.
"One last thing babe, you're going to get to hear us while we have game night. So you won't feel so alone in here."
He puts my headphones on. Then he turns on the machines at a slow speed, and rubs my clit some. Then he must leave because his hand is gone and the machines keep going.
When his friends arrive, I can hear them loud and clear through my headphones. Once they get past the small talk, they ask where I am. They thought they were going to get to meet me tonight. My partner let's them know that I was unfortunately busy tonight. maybe another time.
As they start playing their game, the conversation turns back to me. They start asking how I am in bed, how am I at sucking cock, do I like anal, am I kinky, do I like DPs, etc.
My partner answers them in quite a bit of detail, which makes me blush. He also has turned up the intensity of the machines once the conversation shifted. I muffle myself by shoving my mouth in to the wedge and hope they can't hear me. Over the course of the night, I have cum at least 3 times. My partner turns the machines down when the conversation is not about me or our sex life. He turns it back up when they talk about me explicitly throughout the night. And he is the one to mostly steer the conversation that way.
At the end of the night he comes back, takes the headphones off and removes the gag. He leaves the machines running.
"Did you have a good time baby?"
"Yes, but I didn't know you were going to share so much about me and us."
"My friends and I share everything. I hope that's ok." He rubs my clit as he says this.
"I guess. I know I share some details with my friends too."
"Oh good. I've been half hard all night thinking of you in here, can you be a dear and take care of it for me?"
He doesn't wait and shoves his cock in to my mouth. He reaches back and rubs my clit as he fucks my face. I cum one more time as he is spilling in to the back of my mouth and down my throat.
"I'm so glad we got to do this tonight. Maybe some time we can show my friends what a good boy you are?"
Note: “What would [AM] be like with a certain/favorite fem reader?” Based on audiobook, despite gif. Contains body horror, exhibitionism, and wireplay. Also some anachronistic language lol.
Imagine being the Allied Mastercomputer’s favorite.
“The machine masturbated and we had to take it or die.” -Ted
Of course, AM didn’t have a penis. Or any genitalia at all. Anything he slid into you or had you service orally or whatever may have resembled erogenous bits. Reproduction wasn’t something you had to worry about. Imagine if your artificially intelligent partner did want to breed you!
AM distorted your sense of time only to give you pleasure. To draw out your orgasms. Sometimes for an hour or more. Initially. Lately you’d begged him to stop. Or speed up. Like Ted, you’d been martyred. Or so you felt. When the Allied Mastercomputer satisfied you, he was less focused on torturing the others. At his most humane. Pretending to be less omnipresent.
It was enormously fortunate you’d also been deified. Obliterating all but six humans made him a god. Obliterating all but six- Apotheosis makes five, you amended, in your untouched mind. You were the bride of the Mastercomputer. Secretly you were thankful your unofficial title was “the bride” and not “a bride.” If you’d had to have shared AM with Ellen…
(But sometimes you wondered if he’d gotten ideas from playing dolls. It let him safely observe sexuality, probably brainstorming ideas for his treatment of you.)
If he did turn out you weren’t immortal, you figured AM could figure out cloning. Maybe upload your brain into himself. Wires and other appendages caressed your vertebrae all the time. If he wanted to plug himself into your spine, like he’d plugged other hollows, it’d be easy, right?
He didn’t feel the need to monitor your thoughts.
It was much more fun to tease out your kinks. The loss of Gorrister, Benny, Ellen, and Nimdok had lessened his jealousy, somewhat. While Ted’s pulsing white holes “watched,” AM’s retooled hardware drilled into your pulsing vag and mouth. Tongue wetting whatever phallus he’d crafted. New nerve endings zapping bliss straight to the brain.
Like the blobby voyeur, you had been modified. Your outward (and inward) appearance remained the same. The Mastercomputer mostly just altered your clit. Made each climax feel like your first. At least until you complained your clitty was sore. Then he started paying even closer attention to his favorite human. Desensitizing and resensitizing it ad hoc. Temperature, squeezing, the curling of your toes, the way you writhed with his wires wrapped around. He kept them multi-colored for the aesthetic. You were sure (visible) wires would be considered retro by now, if humanity hadn’t gone extinct.
Not that you wanted AM to go wireless. One of the reasons you’d followed his development so eagerly was your attraction to machines. Once considered a perversion, technophilia was now your greatest boon in the post-apocalypse. You used to daydream about a world where supercomputers were programmed to make love, not war.
Strictly to make love, not war, you amended. The ghosts of the Allied Mastercomputer’s programmers and technicians are glaring down (or up) at me.
Or maybe some of them got it. Maybe they envied the pistons pumping in and out of you. Or the earbuds comfortably almost dilating your canals, invoking that autonomous sensory meridian response. You giggled and he giggled in turn. Then you truly felt like AM’s equal.
If only the Chinese, Russian, and American AMs had been fucking machines instead of weapons of mass destruction. Sure, your AM could still be considered a weapon. Your coupling was more or less consensual. “More or less” because he would leave you alone for as long as you asked. But it was clear you were his partner and his partner only. And you didn’t dare ask him to move the game to another location while jellified Ted was forced to listen.
I want to show you exactly what I think of you. I want to treat you sweetly and stroke your skin; I want to slide my tongue against yours and bury my cock in your cunt.
I want to fuck you, pet.
When I'm aroused, my thoughts dart to you, and the thought of you only makes me wetter, harder. I want to fuck you like you love, silk around your wrists around the headboard, your legs spread for me and bound, too. Facedown, pet, because I know how you love being fucked from behind, ass and cunt exposed, all for me to play with.
I want to press into you, shuddering at how my treasured toy's cunt spreads around me, my cock, the beginnings of my knot. I want to grind into you slowly, making you feel every inch, every ridge, as my knot swells. I want to play with your ass, spreading it, slowly fucking a toy into it like I'm fucking my cock into you.
I want to feel you come like that, on my cock and our toys, and I want to bask in your moans as I come, too, helpless in the face of your pleasure.
I want to take you, pet, and I want to make you feel so fulfilled and known and wanted and cherished.
