necstasy

[necstasy]

thinking about how dune part two starts with an eclipse :(

[necstasy]

Firstly, love the new look for the blog! Secondly, do you think you would be open to writing for x reader stuff for Marty Reisman from the upcoming movie, Marty Supreme?

I understand if not since Reisman was a real person but I think I heard Marty Supreme is going to fictionalize Reisman’s story anyways?

Timothee just looks so good with that mustache 😭

im very interested in writing for him i will admit but i have to wait and see how i feel when it comes out i fear

[necstasy]

timmy’s team should give him a little bowl cut for marty supreme era

[necstasy]

happy timmy snl double duty week :)

[necstasy]

more paul i beg

i would love to write more for paul (and timmy’s characters in general) but there’s not much i can do without ideas. feel free to send some in!

[necstasy]

hello.

[necstasy]

saw someone say that timmy has an aura that they wish they could replicate. the aura in question is authenticity. the aura is being yourself and being unapologetic abt ur passions. the aura is not being conceited and understanding that you’re just human. the aura is also being hot and talented.

[necstasy]

spice sex; marriage; fluff lowkey & PAUL ATREIDES happy kinktober! MDNI 18+

Paul should have known.

When the quiet servant offered to have the chefs make something special from Fremen culture to celebrate your wedding, he should have assumed that spice would be included. But the euphoria from the entire event clouded his judgment, making him forget where he was, especially when he stared in your eyes. He should have remembered when he took the first bite, fed from your hand while he fed you. He should have remembered when the sweet cinnamon flavor hit the tip of his tongue and then traveled all the way down the gullet. At the very least, his suspicions should have been raised when the servant stressed that the cakes were only intended for the bride and groom, and not for any of the esteemed guests, especially if they were unwed. He should have considered just how powerful the substance could be for him, let alone you.

But Paul was so happy to have finally married you that he didn't consider anything until the negative effects were worn off and pushed out of his mind to make room for the elation and desire.

Until he had led you to his chambers—your chambers now—in a fit of mutually shared giggles and stumbling over your feet. Your shoes were gone now, your hair was slightly undone, and you were glowing. You looked so beautiful, bathed in colors of the Atreides family with the tan from Arrakis along your shoulders and cheekbones.

Paul wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to go slow and unravel you just how he had dreamt . He wanted to take you in ways deserving of newlyweds, but instead he finds himself rushing.

His kisses are heavier and hotter than they were before marrying you, when you were just his fiancée and the innocent young lady of the house. You are still just that, the youngest lady of the house, but the title of his wife and the wedding band on your finger makes you look different in Paul's eyes. You're laying back on his silk sheets, your legs exposed since Paul's wandering hands have lifted your dress to sit around your waist, and you look sinful.

Maybe it's the spice flowing throughout his bloodstream, but Paul truly thinks you're glowing right now. He rubs at his eyes with the backs of his hands, but the image stays.

"My pretty wife," he whispers. Is his scratchy voice a product of spice or arousal?

You grin up at him and Paul feels like he's staring straight into the sun.

"My pretty husband."

That's all it takes for Paul to lift your skirts and present himself with your white panties. 

Paul knows he got incredibly lucky. This marriage is one of pure luck, a stellar combination between true want, desire, and political power. Your houses will only be stronger, as will the two of you. This union works out in everyone’s favor, and Paul doesn’t just think that because he is finally allowed to have the one thing he has wanted most for the past few months. 

He’s so focused, so determined to have what he pleases, and he gets it. His tongue glides through your folds, the tip flicking when he gets to the top. There is no method, no secret trick that he has learned from word to mouth. He has heard stories from Duncan’s men, sat with wide eyes and open ears as they detailed their encounters on planets that would never be fit for a noble young man such as Paul, but that didn’t stop his curiosity. Even when he begged them for details, practically pleading for advice on what he should do to make a woman scream out of pleasure instead of fright, they would never grace his ears with such detailing. They were afraid of what would happen to them if someone found out. Duncan just would not give Paul the pleasure. 

But that didn’t stop Paul’s mind from wandering. For a while, there was never a face to the body. He would lay at night, slipping between the sleeping and waking world without much control over either, as images of a woman brushed through his mind in a gentle breeze. Her legs parted, her back arched, her head thrown back. Paul imagined what he would do in excruciating detail, running scenarios in his head as best as he could. There was no information to pull from, no simulations or training that could have prepared him for this moment. 

He hopes he is not as horrible at this as he fears he may be. 

Paul digs his fingertips into your thighs. His touch feels light, like he isn’t as close to you as he could possibly be, so he presses and presses. He pushes his face further into your flower until he’s breathing your essence. He’s so hot, burning up from the inside out, but he does not know in what other way he could possibly cool himself down. 

Quelling the heat prickling against his skin is not even the first or second thought on his mind. All he can truly focus on is pleasing you. Making you feel just as good as the women in the stories he heard. Finally living out the dreams that played behind his eyelids in the middle of the night, the ones where he would wake up with his pants sticking to him, leaving him to waddle off to the bathroom and clean himself up before a servant came to wake him. 

This is a literal fantasy, and Paul briefly worries he’s hallucinating. But then your legs squeeze around his head, your thighs smooshed against his ears, and your fingernails scratch against his scalp. Everything feels real, down to the burning in his lungs as his body pleads for air. 

This is real. You are here. 

Paul tries his best to show his appreciation, but his limbs are heavy. There’s a weight to everything about him. His tongue is heavy as it dips between your petals and plunges into your entrance. His body is heavy as it sinks into the plush mattress beneath both of you. His head is heavy as he attempts to keep it afloat, but eventually he succumbs to the weight as his forehead rests against the trimmed garden decorating your mound. 

He feels odd, different from the other times Spice has affected him. He is dazed, seeing through a dizzying alteration of vignettes and bursts of golden light. He sees you through it all, laying on the bed before him, walking in the sand of Arrakis, wading through the water of Caladan. You look so blissful, grinning, waving, throwing your head back with moans. 

Your belly is round and full. You hold a figure against your chest. You are placing your hand between your legs and lifting soaked white cloths until it gathers beneath your breasts. 

“Paul!” You’re shrieking and Paul had not realized it, but there is a renewed vigor to him. He has your lower half lifted off of the bed, his body bent over your cunt as he absolutely devours you. He is being greedy, eating in a way that would have had him scolded by those who raised him. But no one's here to see this sight that only he will ever get to see. No one is here to reprimand him as he takes and takes. You certainly will not, because the more he takes, the more he is giving you. The hungrier he is, the better you feel. 

Paul raises his eyes and this time, he only sees you. Laying back against the bed, teary eyes holding his gaze. He balances you in one hand and lifts the other to swipe at your eyes, gathering the tears and forcing them right back into your mouth. You suck without having to be told to, and you are like that when you finally orgasm. 

Your lips release from Paul’s thumb and your mouth sits open as you work through your orgasm. Paul’s thumb hangs loosely off of the side of your mouth as he glides his tongue against you, cleaning up the final bits of the sweetest water Paul will ever taste. 

Luckily, you are his now in the same ways that he is yours, and Stars willing, he’ll be permitted to drink from you until the end of time. 

[necstasy]

lisan al-gaib paul, dark vibes, & PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

paul knows all about you.

he doesn't know much about your family. he doesn't know nearly anything about your background. but he doesn't want to. he doesn't need to. because he knows you in the ways that matter.

he knows you're a formidable fighter. he knows you're an exceptional listener. and he knows you're absolutely obsessed with him.

it's obvious because it's different. the disparity between your obsession towards paul and the other fremen's obsession with him is large. it's stark and blares in his face with an intensity similar to the arrakis sun.

you're not devoted to him and paul doesn't know if that's good or bad. you have not pledged your life to him in ways more extreme than the duties of the fedayakin. you do not look at him as if he is the one. you look at him with something different in your gaze.

paul doesn't know exactly what until it comes to him one night. a dream as hazy and brief as the lightest sandstorms, the effect remaining like spice carried in the wind.

a visual of you on your back, wearing your thinnest garments, allowing the morning light to seep into the fabric and illuminate your body. he had never seen you in that light before, but it truly was a beautiful sight. what you were doing was even more beautiful—your legs spread to make way for your hand. your delicate fingers—fingers he's seen kill harkonnen without any mercy—stroke your most sensitive parts with a gentleness he has never seen from you. your head tilted to the sky, your blue eyes hidden beneath sun-kissed eyelids, all as you moaned out his name.

"muad'dib," said like the voice of an innocent.

"usul," carried in the tone of birdsong back on caladan.

"paul," spoken with assertion and desire, above all.

in then in the day, when paul's eyes opened and his dream made way for reality, he wondered how much of it had been true. had he really been this blind, so focused on leading the way that he hadn't even allowed himself this pleasure, pleasure that was so easy to take. sitting right in front of him the entire time, permeating every single room the two of you existed in.

you wanted him, so bad that paul didn't even know how you were carrying out any other duty. he wondered because he was now in the same position.

he couldn't stop thinking about you and he wondered how you put aside your base desires and focused on anything else. how did you command the battlefield when you had been thinking of paul between your legs? how did you suggest ingenious changes of plans when you had your hand between your thighs just mere hours before, trying to satisfy yourself before you had commands to take?

it seemed impossible to paul. not only how you wanted paul and not the muad'dib, but how you managed to handle it all. he couldn't go without satisfying his desires, and he knew his hand would never compare. so he did what any reasonable man would do—he got the job done.

[necstasy]

And Paul thought: That was in no vision of mine. I did a different thing. But he felt that the abyss remained all around him.

DUNE: PART ONE (2021) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[necstasy]

cannot stop thinking about being both paul and irulan's concubine. an imperial whore of all sorts 😫

honestly, they just KNEW what they were doing with that casting. UGGHH !!

scissoring, oral, r described as a girl & PRINCESS IRULAN + PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

you represent different things for both of them.

for irulan, you're an outlet. you're not as much experimentation as you are familiar territory. her teenage years were spent with girls like you. girls who looked at her with stars in their eyes and kissed her entirely too gently. girls who fawned over her beauty yet appeared just as beautiful beneath her.

so when she's with you, when you start to behave like the girls she left behind to marry the emperor, irulan falls back into her old pattern. it's dizzying to finally be wanted again. it's addicting to feel a pretty girl shiver and shake beneath her fingers, with assurance that the courteous and honest act of admiration will be returned onto her soon thereafter.

for paul, you're a different form of familiarity. you're familiar in ways of a dream, deja vu, or perhaps a memory slipping through his fingers. you remind him of chani in small ways. the way your chin tilts up when he addresses you. the way you'll teach him something, but only if he asks you to. the way you can be headstrong, usually when you're in his quarters, stripped of your responsibilities and your clothes.

you're not supposed to deny the emperor anything, especially as his concubine, but disobedience comes naturally to you. like the time you'd visited him on arrakis, away from corrino and irulan for just a bit, and paul's overzealous attitude had you on the brink of releasing copious amounts of fluids along his lithe hips and short tuft of pubes.

you weren't a layman, you understood the necessity of fluids on arrakis. so you refused and refused, trying to push paul away as you neared the brink. but paul ordered you to release all over him. he assured you that you would be fine, and it wouldn't be a sign of disrespect to unnecessarily lose this much fluid in one go because you were doing it at the hands of their leader.

paul won't lay with irulan, but he'll lay with you after her. when your skin still smells faintly of flowers and greenery. when you still have her fluids combined with yours between your legs.

you see the way he revels in the evidence of irulan on your body. you notice the way he nuzzles his head between your thighs when irulan's arousal still coats your skin. his tongue, warm and flat, runs along your skin, cleaning you up. and he'll groan afterwards, allowing himself a moment to rest his forehead against your inner thigh, just taking it all in.

he'll seek you out when you're with her, uncaring of the way your naked bodies writhe against each other atop irulan's bed. and he can just come join you two. you always give him a few moments, stretching longer and longer each time he does it. you won't stop, your hips still gliding to and fro, dragging your cunt against irulan's all while you stare at the emperor.

but paul will stand still. his hands clasped behind his back, his curly hair hanging over his hardened face, his expression stoic even when you can see the way his throat bobs and his eyebrows twitch.

he'll often say the same thing. "must you finish here, first?" or something along the lines. and then he'll leave you be, waiting in his own quarters with a rock hard dick nestled beneath linen fabric.

but there's one time—just once where his cobalt eyes appeared weary before morphing into desire. he licked his lips, his fingers twitching against his sides as he hungrily took in the sight before him.

irulan noticed it as well as you did. she began to put on a show.

the empress has always had melodic moans, but she began to emphasize them. with your mouth latched onto her cunt, irulan made sure paul knew how good you were making her feel.

when you heard the sound of paul approaching you both, excitement flooded your body. finally paul would allow himself simple pleasures. and he did, starting with pulling your mouth off of irulan's cunt and tasting her off of your own tongue. when he seemed satisfied at a taste he knew as well as he knew yours, he gently urged you out of the way, and assumed the position of a dutiful husband.

[necstasy]

exes; infidelity; married irulan; scissoring; face sitting & PRINCESS IRULAN MDNI 18+

you've caught her off guard.

standing alone in the center of her private chambers, princess irulan stares you down. she wears nothing but her night garments— a long ivory slip that sinks down to her feet. she is backlit by the moon penetrating the glass of her bedroom, and the lighting allows you to see the silhouette of her body fitted in the dress. you try not to notice the way her breasts graze the thin material.

irulan says your name fondly and only with slight hesitance. you expect it, it’s been years since you’ve seen her.

“what’re you doing here?”

you see the way she steps back to hide in the shadows in the typical ways of the bene gesserit. you advert your eyes to the ceiling out of respect. she might have been your lover once, but she isn’t now. now she belongs to another.

“i wanted to see you and i couldn’t wait any longer.”

so much hangs in the air between you two. it might have been a while since you've seen each other, many things might have changed about the known universe and your personal lives, but you and irulan ended things amicably, a mutual understanding that you two would never be able to marry. still, there has been things between you both that has always existed, the pulsing energy being the main point.

it has always been impossible to resist.

her blonde hair, once dripping large droplets onto her slip, has almost dried at this point, the strands in the front still damp as they frame her face in a side part. the way she wears it now, without the watchful eyes of her followers, father, or mentor, reminds you of when the two of you were young.

when you weren't bound by too many societal expectations, able to be young women who would only sometimes have to consider what would happen when one of you married. apparently, all of irulan's insistent worrying about the future of your marital status wasn't necessary. a husband hasn't changed much about the way the two of you operate.

like before, irulan ends up straddling you, her hands on your shoulders keeping you pressed back into her bed as she kisses you lazily. she’s taking her time today, something unusual since she usually liked to have you as she pleases— quick and without much mercy.

she’s tender tonight, as if she’s doing something more than fucking.

you begin to understand her motives when she speaks while you regain your breath.

“the emperor will not bed me,” she tells you in the junction of your neck. she sounds embarrassed. neglected, even.

you make it your personal mission to reverse the effects as much as you can.

you know irulan better than most people. you know her body likely better than herself. it’s easy for you to give her orgasm after orgasm. you start with the stuff she expects, bringing her to release on your fingers and tongue. you let her sit on your face, allowing her to claim her spot on yet another throne. she always looks pretty like that, her green eyes watching the way she moves her own cunt against your awaiting mouth.

the view is pleasant, but not as beautiful as the one you’re greeted with later. irulan grinding her wet and likely exhausted cunt against yours, smearing your fluids together in a concoction that’s likely as sweet as the last time you tasted it. she’s in complete control like this, and you’re fine with it. you watch the way her perky tits shake with each movement. you watch the way her lips part, or how they cave underneath the straight top row of her teeth. you watch her skin glisten with sweat, her cheeks flush, her eyes flutter shut as she cries out your name into the night.

[necstasy]

implications of dark paul; implications of manipulation + the voice; riding; dacryphilia; lisan al-gaib paul; & PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

it's no surprise that after drinking the water of life, paul atreides has become a different person.

harder, more rigid, more demanding. he sees the way more often than he just sees you. he hears the voices of those who came before him more often than he hears you. but anytime you try to walk away, when you attempt to leave him with the burden his capable shoulders should be able to carry alone, he turns his focus to you. he sees you. he hears you.

and it's good for a while. you two are good for a while.

until he falls back into the pattern.

all the while you're trying your best to be there for him. you're trying to satisfy all of his needs, even when he's detached from this world and on another one.

still, somehow he's receptive. his hips pushing up into your mouth even when his cobalt eyes are watching the ceiling of the tent for nothing in particular. his hand still buries into your hair, rough palms pressing into your skull until your nose is buried in his pubes, suffocating you with the faint scent of musk and a familiar burnt cinnamon. these are the times where he pleads that you be with him, whether he's here with you or not. when you'll climb onto his lap and sink down onto his cock which stands at half mast, softly riding him until he's hard within you. when you'll scratch at his shoulders, pull his hair, sloppily kiss his unreceptive lips—anything to try and get the attention you so desperately crave.

but paul is gone, burdened with visions of the way, distantly watching your breasts bounce with your effort through the haze of visions. sometimes, when you cry and plead for him to come back to you, he'll sink a hand between your thighs and rub your clit and you appreciate the one touch so much that you're letting loose without much warning.

then there are the times where he's here. and his presence is too much. he's too much. he forgets that while he is the supposed prophet, you're just you. with no part in a fabled prophecy, you carry just as much weight as the next fighter. you don't have whatever it is that paul has weighing him down, doubling the gravity of arrakis until he's too firm and still upon the desert. you also don’t have paul’s strength. his durability.

it's the times like those where he's slightly merciless, shrouding his insatiable desire and his almost forceful attitude with praises designed to placate you. designed to mislead you.

forcing his hips into yours with a little too much enthusiasm. he sends you up the cloth beneath your back each time, friction from the barely covered rocks rubbing against your back uncomfortably. your eyes sting, the feeling bleeding down into your nose and throat with a threat you don't want to come true. you can't waste your water like this, to do so would be shameful and disrespectful.

you’re sure that paul, the lisan al-gaib, doesn’t care. he wants what he wants, and you’re going to give it to him. even if he has to use the skills of the bene gesserit to make you do so.

[necstasy]

Come back- the kids miss you 😔

im sorry !! its hard balancing all my interests 😔 i have paul ideas tho! and hopefully i'll have time for some timmy rewatches soon that'll inspire me

[necstasy]

paul atreides x bene gesserit reader? 👀 pretty please

slight manipulation?; bene gesserit reader; &. PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

"have you mastered it yet?"

you know what the atreides son is speaking of. the voice, one of the most difficult parts of the bene gesserit training. for a second, you wonder how he knows of the technique. and then you remember his mother, a woman the reverend mother has spoken highly of during your training sessions, despite her defiance.

your eyes watch you and paul's hands as you go to speak. they hang in suspended air off to the side of you both, fingertips touching lightly as paul leads your hands up, down, and to either side. he's creating a box, you realize. it's a soothing and mesmerizing dance.

"no. not yet."

paul hums. his free hand moves from behind your back to your waist.

"it's difficult." it's not a question, he speaks from experience. your eyebrows furrow. you have the urge to ask him how exactly he knows. you want to know if he is being trained in the ways of the bene gesserit, something a man has never been privy to.

but so much else is already sacred in this space. in the dead of night, in your guest quarters, a space that you should not be sharing with the only son of your host for the next week. but it was only natural that you and paul found each other. there was a pull drawing you towards him since you got off the ship. the order of events surely would have driven you two together in an intimate space sooner or later.

"it is," you agree after a moment.

paul shuffles just a bit closer to you. the bend in your elbow increases as your bodies get closer. paul's hand flexes as he bunches the dark fabric of your nightgown in his hands, pulling you just a hair closer. you shouldn't be this close to him. you've never been this close to a man before.

the energy is electrifying.

it buzzes through the air, pulsating between you both to the beat of your heart. you try to call on your learnings. you try to calm your heart in the most simple human ways, the ways your mother taught you before the reverend mother did.

paul licks his lips before he responds again. he takes a moment, he breathes, and you pull your eyes away from your hands to look at paul. the glowglobe hovering just behind you illuminates his face perfectly. it casts shadows where his curls lay over his forehead, it deepens the impressive hollow of his cheekbones. you can see how long his eyelashes are, and how colorful his eyes are. you're hyper-aware of the moles dotting his face, and the scar he has in his cheek.

you're even closer than you thought, but you like it.

"i found that ... pleasure can help you."

your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline before they fall back to their resting place and push together instead.

"pleasure?"

paul nods.

"how do you mean, my lord?"

his lips quirk up at the honorific and you suddenly feel silly for using it. paul doesn't mention it, though.

"when i'm alone in my room at night, in my own company—" the image enters your brain before you can fight it. paul on his back, his hand below his waist, his eyes heavy lidded and his breath even heavier. you swallow and clear your throat.

"it's like i can feel it wanting to come out of me. and the mornings after, when my mother makes me use it, it's easier."

you don't know how much truth exists in his words, and his suggestion, even if it has yet to be blantantly placed in front of you, is dangerous. it's stupid and risky. and yet, you find yourself drawn to it. that same pull that brought you to paul is bringing you to wanting him to lay out his invitation.

he does soon after.

"do you want to try it?"

you do. you really, really do.

"how would we do it?"

paul pulls you even closer to him and now your chests are touching. he's fighting back a smile, it's obvious in the way the skin around his lips dimples for a second before returning to neutrality. when he speaks, it's harder for him to hide it.

"i don't have to touch you if you don't want me to."

"i want you to." the admission slips from your mouth so quickly and so easily. it's a little embarrassing. your skin warms.

paul takes a moment. he stares at you, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. "okay," he finally says. his smile takes over the lower half of his face. "then i can touch you, and you have to focus, okay?"

you nod.

paul slinks his hand up your back, over your shoulder, and cups your cheek. he intertwines your fingers, your hands still suspended in the air, and he moves just a bit closer until his lips finally lay onto yours.

[necstasy]

One thing about Wonka that I don't think all people understand. He's not at all innocent or unaware of anything sexual. I can't see him being awkward and embarrassed when it comes to that, especially as it's described in some fics. I mean, seriously? Think back to what he said to Bleacher. You think a person who has no idea what sex is would give another person "show her some thigh" advice? But more importantly, people forget that he spent half his life on a ship. WITH SAILORS. You think being in the company of these guys would make you deaf and blind enough to accidentally not see or hear something? You're kidding me. They've no doubt told him about both alcohol (which is probably why he agrees to drink gin so easily and casually) and carnal pleasures. I can directly see them giving Willy some advice for the future or suggesting he join their "big night out" when they're on a layover at some port. And about the big night out. Perhaps my next words will be more of my speculation, but still. When Willy tells Noodle that if you eat that candy, you might do something ill-advised at a certain stage. Yeah, the only example we see in the movie is calling an ex. But the list doesn't stop there. Drunken sex fits the description quite well. Headcanon: that's exactly what happened when he was testing that candy among his crew and probably their girls they picked up at the nearest port.

[necstasy]

I have a conspiracy theory that you and murdrdocs are the same person

i cannot confirm nor deny this theory at this time