pupntumble

[pupntumble]

I really enjoy your recent aphrodisiac/love potion fic. Hoping for a continue from the one who drugged POV ☺️ if it possibles.

Hi! Totally possibles, I just am having an issue understanding what you mean for some reason. Do you mean the POV of the one who mad the potions and drugged the other person, or the POV of the one who got drugged and then railed into the mattress? I'd love to write whichever one you prefer!

[pupntumble]

Unexpectedly free for a while, so let me know if there's anything i should write! General, specific, whatever- anything's good with me.

[pupntumble]

musk kink requester here... thank you so much oh jesus

You're welcome, I'm glad you enjoyed! Thanks for letting me know you liked it, I love to hear if I did a good job.

[pupntumble]

aphrodisiac/love potion from the POV of the person who gave the other person the drugs?

Some kid in your frat grew up close enough to the university that he still lives in his parent's house, and he's been using this gift to host shit parties every time they're out of town. Driving up the hill to his McMansion makes you bite your cheek to keep down the jealous rant you've been writing in your head for the past half hour. While you've got student loans and two roommates, he's living life easy on a trust fund. But you keep your mouth shut. Insults don't get you through the gate, flattery does. Flattery, and the various drinks stowed away in your trunk. Your major in alchemy is the only reason you're in the frat at all, getting drunk next to sorcerers with heritage bloodlines and wizard kids that buy pre-written spellbooks, all of them too sheltered to realize they're paying triple the price any of these concoctions would normally be worth.

You park sideways in the gravel driveway, walk up to the door and knock. You're let in immediately. It takes a few minutes to obtain a folding table, setting up buckets full of ice with little note cards in front of each one before shoving the bottles in haphazardly. Setup sells the show, but anything too fancy would stick out like sore thumb. You head to the swanky in-house cinema once you're done. It's where your usual group hangs out, out of the way but not far enough to seem antisocial. There's a dip in the floor right in front of the giant screen, probably meant to double as an altar or some other rich-person shit. Whatever it's used for, it makes a great spot for chitchat and drinking games, and you've got a suggestion for tonight's fun.

It doesn't take long for people to filter in. There's the crowd that always ends up here, plus a few guests, other students that got curious as to what you were doing. You recognize one of them. He's some sort of star student, a born sorcerer from what's supposed to be a warlock family. Nobody calls him an illegitimate child to his face, but it's an open secret, no matter how much he acts like he's better than everyone else. Seeing him here gives you an idea, actually. Something that might be a little more fun than you expected.

"Okay, I've got a suggestion for the next game. New spin on a classic. Everybody knows spin the bottle, everybody's played before, and everybody has clearly programed hard. So consider: We play spin the bottle, but with whatever I've got in my bag. Keep spinning until somebody refuses their dare. When they refuse, they have to chug what's in the center. And what I've got in here is about 50 percent duds, 50 percent experimental nonsense. So you better be damn sure you want to take the risk of refusing."

There's pretty much no discussion. Two people leave, but the rest are either curious or intoxicated enough to stay. You pull out the first flask, swirl it to show off the dark blue sludge inside, and set it down in the center of the circle. The game begins.

By the time four drinks have been chugged, five people have left the game. One person headed home early, two people dragged a third to one of the bedrooms upstairs, and the fifth person went to the bathroom to most likely puke up the dud they'd gotten stuck with. There's still plenty of people left, sure, but your odds have gotten better, and you're a bit impatient. You rummage around in your bag for the next concoction, pulling out a vial of green liquid that fizzes when you set it down. Nobody else here knows what it does, of course, but you do. You made all these potions. You know exactly what all of them are. A quick spin later and it lands on the bastard son from before. Some god is absolutely smiling on you tonight.

"Dare you to tell us who your real father is."

It's a low blow. Normally it'd even get you a punch to the face. But you're giving that crooked smile as you say it, playing up the shots you took earlier, making it seem more like a light tease than an outright insult. And hey, you've been supplying the fun tonight, keeping everything going, and it'd be a shame to ruin things now. You can see the anger on his face for just a second, before he decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. A quick laugh and he grabs the bottle off the floor, brings it to his lips, and looks you in the eye as he downs it. You watch as his lashes flutter right before he swallows, then let everyone else focus on his face while you glance at the obvious bulge in his shorts, at the way it twitches while his adam's apple bobs. Good boy. Just a little more preparation before you get your prize.

You pull something else out of your pack, not even bothering to look, only paying enough attention to kiss one of your friends when you're dared to. Sorcerer boy seems to be having trouble staying upright, constantly swaying in your direction, glancing away whenever he realizes he's staring. At one point you gesture to a friend across the circle, and they bump into him hard enough to send him crashing to the ground. You make up some bullshit about it probably being the potion he drank, and he doesn't protest when you offer to watch over him until it runs it's course. There's bedrooms upstairs, soundproofed so as to get him away from the noise of the party, and he could probably use some rest, right?

You only really let yourself enjoy it once the door is locked. He'd never act like this normally, clinging to your shoulders and staring up at you with pupils blown wide open. He looks at you like you've hung the moon, instead of merely dosing him with the most potent roofie you could brew in your housing center's lab. He wriggles his hips as you pull down his basketball shorts, fumbles for the condom tucked in the waist and of his boxers. He probably thought he'd fuck some wasted chick tonight and laugh it up with his friends in the morning. He won't have much of a story to tell tomorrow, though. All he'll remember is what he feels tonight, not which person fucked him until he cried. Which is what you'll be doing. You grab the condom from his hands and toss it to the side, flip him onto his stomach before pulling your bag up onto the bed with you.

He's got a truly impressive dick, bigger than you expected now that it's hard. He whines as you get one hand around it, then let's out a truly pitiful yelp as you rub some freezing cold lotion into his shaft. He goes limp almost immediately, and you let go in order to pull the chastity cage out of the zippered pocket of your bag. Before the magic in his system can get him hard again, you slip the sound of it into his slit and then connect the cage portion to the ring behind his balls. The keys for these things are usually enchanted so you can find them if you've got the cage, a security precaution that is the whole reason you buy this model in the first place. right now it's working against you, until you figure out exactly where to put the key. He opens his mouth as soon as you tug his head up and back, and you shove your fingers down his throat until he swallows. He coughs for a second, swallows again when you command it, and now you're relatively certain the key is settled inside his stomach. Good enough.

Now's the time to get him prepped. You'd use the same ice-cold lotion as before, just to toy with him, but you're horny as hell and the extra time you'll have to spend isn't worth it. You grab your nice lube, the fancy stuff that'll help relax his muscles without numbing anything. It's got the added effect of cleaning him up as you shove the rim of it into his ass and pour a good portion into his intestines. There's a reason you spend extra money on the good stuff. He let's out a little groan, probably from the pain of his cock trying to harden and the uncomfortable feeling of the lube pouring into his hole and the way it tingles as it cleans him up. If you were feeling nice, you might rim him for a bit just to get him riled up a little more, but you're hard and you've been stressed lately and he makes such a pretty picture as he struggles to push himself up.

He nearly manages, too, before you shove two fingers into his ass without warning. He collapses forwards, and from the loud moan that the mattress can't quite stifle, it seems your prep has done it's work. You spend a little more time getting the third finger in, before hiking his hips up, taking your dick out, and thrusting inside in one smooth motion. You take a second, let him get antsy, and the moment he starts to beg, you start moving again. The pace you set it punishing, fast and hard and completely uncaring for his pleasure. The potion he drank will make sure he enjoys whatever you do, and you've basically been on edge all night waiting to get your dick in him, so it's not like it matters if you're gentle. Hell, from the sounds of it, he probably prefers it this way.

You let yourself think about how he's feeling as you rock your hips. He's probably never been overpowered during sex, and he's absolutely never bottomed before. When he wakes up, all he'll remember is loving it, and he'll probably stilk be aroused while the last of the drug burns through his system. Especially because the sound in his slit will preventing him from cumming properly all night. He sounds even more into it than you'd expected, too. Like he's enjoying this beyond what you're making him feel. Maybe you'll leave him with a present. Let him wake up, unable to even get an erection, the only pleasure available being from the dildo you'll leave in his ass. Maybe he'll wake up and fuck it into himself, desperate enough that he doesn't care how he got into this situation, just wanting to feel the same way he feels right now, with you pounding his ass and gripping his hips tight.

You cum with that thought on your mind. He's babbling nonsense that peters out into a groan as he feels you spill inside him. You savor the way he clenches around you for another moment, grabbing the cheapest dildo in your bag and pushing it into him as you pull out. From the way he rocks his hips, it's absolutely pressing against his prostate, the perfect torture with his dick still locked up. You pull his boxers back up, leaving his shorts around his ankles, then slip a small mirror onto the bedside, angling it just right before you leave. Tomorrow morning you'll use the matching one in your dorm to check in on your new project, and see exactly how he reacts upon waking up.

[pupntumble]

perhaps something with musk/scent kink?

Tonight, she gets home late. She texted you about it earlier, mentioned how she wanted to get a workout in since she'd missed a few days recently. Told you to eat without her. You've been running on autopilot since, folding the laundry, sweeping the floors. You'd only managed to focus long enough to cook dinner, making sure the meal (salmon with sweet potatoes) was cooked just right. She likes to eat what you make for her, likes how you try to time it so it's hot and ready right as she gets home. Says it's cute. You've been trained well. This time it'll be a perfect surprise, easily reheated when she returns. That's everything done, all the daily and weekly chores. You've got no long term projects to work on. Those aren't suited for pets, no matter how smart they are. Routine is best for a dog, she says, and you agree. Still leaves you with nothing better to do than wait by the door, though.

When her key slips into the lock, you're half asleep next to the chair by the front door. Giddy with anticipation, you swing the door open while her hand is still on the knob, and she blinks at you in surprise for a moment. Then she smiles as you take the bag from her hand, sits herself on the couch before you usher her into the dining room. You were right to make the meal simple, rewarded with a pat on the head before she digs in. When the plate is cleared away she laughs, calls you an eager puppy, teases that you've probably been waiting up for her. You can't even deny it. Then she stands up, puts both hands on your shoulders, and forces you to your knees. Eager in more ways than one, she guesses. You can't deny that either, staring up at the workout clothes she never changed out of, at the sweat stains that have already dried.

"I suppose I could use a little help relaxing. Can you do something for me, pup?"

Like you could ever refuse.

It only takes a few moments to move to the living room. She's sitting on the couch now, legs spread, shorts around one ankle. You kneel in between her thighs, one of her hands keeping your face tucked against her groin. Any focus you could muster up earlier is now long gone, sweat and musk and cunt filling your nose, helping you forget all the unimportant thoughts you usually obsess over. Right now it's just you and her, your tongue sliding between each fold of skin and fat, rasping over her labia every time you turn your head to get the other side. She puts up with your inattention, less paying attention to you and more focused on whatever's going on on the TV. You press your mouth to her hole for a second, leaving open mouthed kisses while your nose rubs against her clit. The combined taste of salt and slick leaves you drooling, almost mindless as you lick the space between her thighs clean.

At some point she bends down to look at you, smiling at the utter mess dripping from your chin. She's not looking for an orgasm tonight, she explains, tired from the long day she's had. But you still deserve a reward, don't you? With that, she lifts you easily, and you go pliant as she does. A ragdoll in your master's arms. Then she sets you just above her knee, positions your arms around her neck, and lets go. You're kneeling just above her leg, shaking with the effort of keeping yourself up when all you want to do is grind down and lose yourself in sensation. Then she grabs your hips, shoves them down, and you're gone.

"You were so patient today. So good. I know it must've been difficult, trying to do everything properly with that little puppy brain of yours. But it's alright now. You can hump my leg like a good dog, get the reward you earned. You've been such a good pup. So good, so sweet for me, with your pretty little whines and your nice wet tongue. You can use me for support, if you need to. Nuzzle into my neck, there we go, good job. Can you smell the sweat from my workout? Can you taste it, mouthing at my pulse like that? Good puppy. Keep it up, there you go. I can feel how your hips are stuttering. Are you close? Yes? That's alright, sweetheart. Go ahead. Come for me."

[pupntumble]

Looking to get some writing done tonight, so feel free to send me an ask or two if you've got any ideas! I'm open to practically anything. The more niche, the better!

[pupntumble]

(source)

[pupntumble]

just need a fag to hump my leg till he's drooling. and he's calling himself a good puppy over and over. because he is such a good puppy. my good puppy. and . I have to go jerk off about this goodbye.

[pupntumble]

i think u would do a really good job writing like. overstim play

aw thank you, anon! have a quick ramble to see if that's true or not:

It's dark on the balcony of his shitty apartment, smoke trailing through your phone's flashlight. You've got it case-up on the weird glass table you helped him haul up three stories, the one he found on the side of the road in the suburbs. The remains of the first joint rest on the little plate he bought just for this purpose, and the second one is burning down to ashes in your hand. You say something and he laughs, the sound louder than it would be if he was sober. One click of the power button and the phone light shuts off, your tdick slowly stiffening in your boxers while your eyes adjust. He's still got that carefree little grin at the corner of his mouth. In this moment you want to shove your hands into his hair and kiss that expression off his face, but the air around you is still a little hazy with smoke, and you're a little tired despite the incessant need in your gut. You smile back at him and he snickers. Half-lidded eyes and soft grins. It can be easy to forget how well you two can make a haven for yourselves.

"Got you a present."

You're already making a mess in your shorts, half with trained expectation and half because getting high always makes you horny, but you can feel yourself get wetter when he says it. The slow process of standing up almost tips over the chair when you plant your foot wrong. It doesn't really matter, though. You lead the way to his bedroom, sitting on the blankets so that your legs hang down right where he always hides things. He has to kneel between your thighs to pull the box out from under the bed. The shipping label is half peeled off, but if you tried you could probably make out the return address. You don't bother to try. It's enough to just slouch down and wait for him to open the package up for you, fingernails scrabbling at the tape before it gives. The object inside is a dull purple, all rounded edges and smooth silicone. He pulls out a charging cord, too, and plugs the vibrator in.

"Figured we could combine it with the clicker, try something new."

It's the best idea you've ever heard. In fact, it's an idea that the two of you should test out as soon as possible. Right now, even. You cup the back of his head with both hands, looking down at him as you explain your brilliant plan of "yes, please, right this second." He agrees, turning away to get things ready as you squirm out of your clothes and drop them to the floor. Thick strands of slick draw out between your crotch and your boxers before snapping, your cunt drooling with the prospect of future stimulation. He brings his hands to your thighs, spreading your legs open as you easily slip two fingers into yourself. Teeth settle into the skin of your thigh, the bite quickly soothed over by his tongue.

"Aw, getting a little overwhelmed?"

You hadn't even realized you were whining. He keeps teasing you, lets you finger yourself but tuts at you if you try and rub your palm against your dick. It feels like hours have passed, but he's probably only kept you on edge long enough for the vibrator to charge. One of his arms darts out to the side and deftly unplugs the toy, then brings it back to show it off to you for a moment. He pulls your hand away from your cunt and slides the vibrator inside, tapping around until you squeak.

"Right there?"

You nod. He moves his hand to a more comfortable position and presses the power button. You squirm a little, hands settling behind you for better balance, feeling the rumble spread into your gut before snaking up your spine. It's nice, but nothing special. You're about to give some feedback, ask for a little bit more stimulation, but then-

Click! You clench. Suddenly the vibration feels even stronger, and you buck your hips a little, trying to get away. The movement just draws the vibrator deeper in, startling you and making you clench harder. He laughs, rubbing his thumb in circles on your hip to settle you. The clicker's in his other hand, grabbed at some point while you were distracted. It takes a bit, but you mention to relax, gentling the sensations again. Click! A little less of a jolt this time now that you're expecting it, but you can still feel it. You've started making soft little noises in the back of your throat at some point. Settle. Relax. Untense. Click! When you hear a click, you're supposed to clench for three seconds. Long training sessions have made it second nature to you. Usually he uses it for cockwarming, but occasionally when you're riding him. You hadn't expected this. Click! With each click the pleasure gets a little harder to ignore. It seems he's determined to stop you from edging yourself this time around, trying to make you cum quickly. Click! You're almost at the edge of orgasm now, legs shaking slightly, chest heaving. Your fingers dig into the sheets, mouth hanging open as you pant. Almost, almost, just one more- Click!

It hits you like a truck. Your toes curl, and you're pretty sure he drops the clicker in his haste to keep your legs open, to watch the way you come apart. He licks a stripe up your dick as you shiver through it, shoves the vibrator deeper so you can feel it with each shudder. He sits back while you blink your eyes open again, trying to get your bearings.

Click!

He keeps it up for ages, angling the toy again each time you cum, using the clicker each time you catch your breath. You're not even sure what sounds you're making now, hips trying to twitch closer in and further away at the same time. Your pulse is pounding in your ears, and at some point it starts to drown out the clicker, taking all your concentration to refocus on your surroundings. He notices, starts clicking it faster, teasing you for your shaking hands, the tears dripping down your cheeks. At some point you fall backwards onto the bed, arms crossed over your face.

"Too much?"

You nod, then shake your head. You can take a little more. Probably. At the very least, you'd like to.

"Alright. I've got an idea."

Suddenly he's pushing your legs up, hands at the backs of your knees, folding you nearly in half. He braces his arms, leans forwards, and kisses your stomach in what could almost be an apology. Then he dips his head down and sucks your tdick into his mouth.

"Fuck! Please, please, oh my god-"

He's either spurred on by your cries or he's just plain ignoring them. It doesn't really matter to you, overwhelmed by the warmth of his tongue and the feeling of his lips around you. You're no longer sure if what you're feeling is an orgasm or just the buzzing of your overstimulated nerves, clawing at the sheets above your head. At some point the pleasure-pain overwhelms you, and you pass out.

He keeps going.

[pupntumble]

[pupntumble]

I'm pretty sure he knows he's mine. I can see it in the way he returns to me each time he's overwhelmed, when the music is too loud and the crowd is too close and he seeks solace in the space between my neck and my shoulder. That doesn't mean he's ready for it, of course. His hands hovering around my hips just to dart together again, fidgeting until the cycle repeats. His lip worried between his teeth as he looks past my ear instead of at my face. The way he tries to hide his reactions when I touch him, when I tease and flirt and praise him. But he knows. I can tell.

I can tell because of all the times he can't control himself. Did you know he whines so pretty in his sleep? Jerks his hips forwards when I lay my hand on his thigh? Can you imagine the bruised red of his lips where I've left my mark behind? Nobody else can see it, but each time he bites down to silence himself, he'll yelp with how sore it is. Each morning he'll wake up and feel all I've done. A lipstick print behind his ear, where he won't know to wipe it off. A bite mark on his upper thigh, right at the back where it folds. Little claims that everyone but him can see. Little claims that let them know he's mine.

My boy keeps quiet when he can. His tries to stifle every sound even when he's not awake to notice. That's what the spider gag is for, keeping his mouth open so every little noise leaks out throughout the night, stored in recordings for safekeeping. Someday I'll play them back for him, let him know how thoroughly he's been claimed, let him listen to his moans alongside the sound of our hips meeting each other. The slap of flesh on flesh. The slick sound of him inside me. It's cute how he tries to pretend like he doesn't stare every time I spread my legs on the couch, every time I wear a skirt and don't bother to hold it down. He'll figure out how openly he can stare eventually. He'll figure out just how much he's allowed to do soon enough.

Some day I'll ride him when he's awake enough to know he's truly mine.

[pupntumble]

If you had to pinpoint a moment when it all started, you'd say it was while you were both watching some show you've long since abandoned. Your partner had been slowly encouraging you to dress more masculine, to not shave your bush, said they liked it when you make your voice sound slightly deeper, but that had been the extent of it. You'd mentioned once how you felt like some guys can tell you're not the same as them, like they could smell it on you. A commercial plays onscreen for scented t-gel. The two of you discuss it for a second, debating the need for fancy hrt, and then forget about it.

A few days later, your partner gives you a gift. Perfume lotion. Quips that "now you'll smell like you belong". They stop touching you every time you're without it, casual enough that you don't notice, that you think it's purely your own idea to wear it every day, to reapply when you can't smell it as much anymore. It's easier to keep your voice in a lower vocal range now- hell, sometimes it feels like you're not even trying. The hair on your legs and arms gets darker, thicker. Your partner plays with the hair on your chest when it starts coming in, rubs against the stubble on your chin, keeps the compliments flowing until you forget to question what's going on. Strangers call you sir more often, friends keep quipping about how you seem "just like one of the guys". You forget how you used to be. You forget that there's anything different in the first place.

Your partner suggests a nickname- it's not all that similar to what you go by now, but it feels right, even though your mom complains that it's more of a boy's name when you tell her over the phone. You've been going to the gym occasionally. You're also eating better now, your partner making meals they know you'll like. you're putting on weight and muscle mass, bulking up over time, losing that skinny figure you were once so proud of. It's made you healthier, you know, able to do more than you could a few years ago. The morning barista at the coffee shop you frequent congratulates you on the transition. You don't bother to correct her. You're no longer sure that there's anything to correct.

[pupntumble]

The first step is to tie his hands so they're crossed behind his back, wrists together. The shots have been helping him build more muscle in his thighs, too, but it's the arms that are the most dangerous right now. A bit of rope will fix that. The second step is to get him on his back and cinch the harness around his hips. He'll probable struggle, still so scared of what you're making him into, but you're stronger than him right now, so on it goes. The strap isn't too big, since you wanted this to feel just a little more real, matching skin tone and veins so when he looks down he can't quite tell where his skin ends and the toy begins. He glares up at you as you settle yourself. Probably preparing to make this as difficult a process as possible. It won't matter much, you'll give him what he needs soon enough. Third step: flip him over. Cuff his ankles to the bedposts while he's still disoriented. Pull his ass up so he's face down on the mattress, then eat him out until he's crying with the sensation, with the stretch. Keep going. Shove his hips back down and use your fingers. He's drooling now, but he's never been able to come from penetration alone, even when you still used his cunt. At some point he'll start to beg. You'll keep him on edge, though, teasing him, tracing the new musculature on his back, reaching forwards to trace the scars on his chest occasionally. The final step is simple. Put your hands on his hips and shove them against the mattress once, twice, once more. The silicone base of his new cock will rub against him, giving him the stimulation he's been aching for. Sit back and watch as he desperately humps the sheets. As he squirms to get the right angle, as his dick ruts into the blankets. As he whines and shakes apart with an orgasm but keeps twitching his way through it.

Now pull his hips back up, grab his arms where they're tied together, and fuck right into him. Ignore his whimpers. Maybe you'll even reach forward to get a hand around the dick you gave him- he begs so sweetly for it, doesn't he?

[pupntumble]

Hello, I'm pupntumble! I post my NSFW writings/ramblings here, and I'm always up to receive requests, though there's no guarantee I'll follow through on them. If you do want a guarantee, or something longer and more in depth, I do commissions at 2 USD per 100 words, plus an extra 5 dollar fee for NSFT and 3 dollars if you don't want it posted publically. DM me to discuss comms, or to discuss kink, or to give me a prompt, or whatever you'd like! Have fun, and let me know if you enjoy!