#and have begun to write my own submissions

[yn-has-insomnia]

so help me god I will write something this month and post it

[garfunklefield]

hiii ^^ can u write ab how perverted each JJK man is? plz plz plz includ choso!!!!! i luv my little bbg

Dirty Little Pervert!

HOW PERVERTED ARE THEY?

[Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, and Toji]

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/JJK MEN Warnings: established relationship, fem!dom!reader [Gojo], sub!Gojo, anal fingering, dumbification, public sex, dub-con, exhibitionism, slave play, pet/master, hair pulling, degradation, spanking/flogging, bratty!reader [Nanami], brat taming, dacryphilia, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, sex toys, Choso's is really sweet, hunter/prey, consensual non-consensual [Toji] breeding kink, biting, blood play [blood drinking] Word count: 1941 DESC: How perverted are each JJK man on a scale from 1 to 5?

I actually had so much fun with this! I've never done a multi-fic before I'd love to do more!

This is not my most well written fic but hey it's something!

Satoru Gojo: ★★✩✩✩ Submissive/Dominant

Satoru Gojo was the most pathetic man you had ever been with. You had never heard a man cry and whimper more than him, which was strange because when you first met him you had him completely wrong. From the way he acted and from how he presented himself, you pegged him for a dominant guy who liked to fuck submissive girls. You initially thought it would be a problem, being a dom yourself. So it surprised you when you heard him casually admit to being a sub. 

“I like a real dominant woman. Someone who can fuck my smug attitude outta me.” That was all he needed to say. Because soon that’s exactly what you did. 

You just used your fingers, pumping them in and out of his tight little hole. He was already so sensitive that’s all he needed to become a slobbering and filthy mess. You watched as the boy you knew as cocky and conceded fall apart, whimpering and crying out that he wanted more.

“You like that slut?” You smirked, arching your fingers to touch his sensitive prostate. Satoru moaned, nodding his head against the bed. Both of his hands were gripping the sheets and his back arched as he felt a wave of pleasure shoot through his cock. He’d already cum several times, writhing around in it. But he still wanted more. And not to mention, you wouldn’t let him leave until you milked him completely and utterly dry. 

“M-mommy.. Please.. F-f.. mmm… shit.. Mm-fuck.. Fuck.. fuck me… p-please!” He sobbed into the cushion, jerking his hips to the sensation. It wasn’t long before he felt it get too intense and he spilled out again onto the bed, screaming out with pleasure. He threw his head up and arched even more that he possibly could. All from your plush little fingers. You hadn’t even begun to stroke his cock or fondle his balls and he was completely and utterly gone. He was in a haze, fucked dumb from your digits. 

“More…” he rasped, looking over at you with his tongue sticking out, “I want… more..”

Suguru Geto: ★★★★✩ Exhibitionist and slave play

Suguru wasn’t one for hiding his perverted nature. You shouldn’t have been surprised when you both came home from a late day at the office and he was beginning to pull down your pencil skirt. One hand pulled at the hem while the other used little force to push you stomach-first against the hood of his car. You let out a breathy gasp and turned back to him, trying to see what exactly he was doing.

“Suguru?” You asked, trying to get an idea as to what was about to happen. You didn’t want to admit but you were already soaking wet. You knew with the nature of your relationship he didn’t need to ask, if your master wanted to fuck you you knew to oblige. No matter where you two were. 

He pressed his raging boner against your ass and let that speak volumes. He hadn’t been able to concentrate without thinking about fucking you in public. He wanted everyone to hear you moan that he was yours and no one could ever fuck you like that. He wanted you to cry and choke on his cum as he pounded into from the back. Suguru wanted everyone to know who owned you. 

Your skirt came off and fell down to your ankles, revealing your underwear. He inhaled sharply and pulled his cock out from his slacks, letting it hit your fat ass with a small noise. It was within seconds that he was inside you. You gasped and arched your back, feeling one of his hands on the small of your back and the other grabbing your hair, pulling you back to him. 

“You like that, huh? Whore? Little pathetic slut?” Suguru spat in your ear, making your pussy throb in between your legs. You were the most self-respectable girl, never letting anything get to you. But in your sex life… you were a different person. You were a total slut for your husband, doing anything and everything to please him. 

Kento Nanami: ★★★✩✩ Spanking and Brat taming

Kento wasn’t a very perverted guy at all, he’d only ever really think about that stuff when he was with you. You never pegged him for the guy who was into going to fetish bars or doing ACID on a Tuesday night, and you were right. However, you didn’t account for the fact he had his own kinks and ways of pleasuring himself. He never admitted but he enjoyed his fair share of BDSM, only with the right person of course. When you came in, with your bratty nature and your big innocent eyes… he wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to cum on your tits and force you to lick it off or give you a piece of his mind after a long day of work, fucking into you with no care for your own personal boundaries at all. But… he restrained himself enough to limit his kinks to a select few things.

So you found yourself, bent over on his lap with a flogger in his hand, while his other lifted up your pink skirt. Of course, you didn’t wear underwear. He had gotten used to the fact you were the pervert in this relationship, doing everything to get a rise out of him. And it worked. You had been able to make him so sexually frustrated it was pissing him off. He needed to tame you and make you bend to his will over and over, and over again. 

Of course, it would only make you behave for about a week before you started to test his patience again, and then the cycle would repeat. And god he loved it.

“Okay dirty girl,” he spoke gently, “Remember if you stop counting I start over,” and with one fell swoop the flogger smacked your ass. You let out a whimper and threw your head back, counting the first number.

After a few more spanks from the flogger you hazily looked over at him, drool pooling on your bottom lip and dripping onto the floor, “I.. mm.. I forgot… my place,” you let out a hiss as Kento frowned and raised his hand, slapping your ass with enough force to make you cry out. “Mm! I’m sorry!” You let out a sob before he smacked it again, “D-daddy Mm.. mm sorry!” 

“You’re going to show me how sorry you really are, okay?” He raised an eyebrow as you, looking you over as your body shook. You didn’t realize it but he was so incredibly hard it was becoming painful for him.

Choso Kamo: ★✩✩✩✩ Mutual masturbation

Choso actually isn’t that much of a pervert! Choso had never found himself interested in BDSM or crazy sex. He preferred the romantic aspect of a relationship over the sexual, which he was very glad you did too. There was nothing he really wanted to try or had a desire to do. All he really wanted was to be close to you in any way possible. So maybe there was one thing. He wanted to see how you pleasured yourself when you were all alone. He wanted to see how you touched yourself to the thought of him, and he wanted to show you how he touched himself to you. 

When he suggested the idea you thought it was really sweet and agreed. It made him happy to think you wanted to be as close to him as he wanted to be with you. You watched as your boyfriend shyly peered over at your exposed pussy, glistening just for him. You placed your small vibrator over your clit, letting out a faint sigh at the new sensation. Just watching you begin to please yourself made a small jolt of electricity travel through his cock.

“Baby…” You cooed, motioning for him to lay beside you. Choso nodded and laid back, resting his head against your shoulder, “You wanna touch yourself too?” 

“Mmhm…” He nodded, looking down at his growing erection. It took a few seconds before he was freed from his pants and sopping wet from his precum. He shyly placed his hand around his shaft and stroked upwards, before focussing on his tip. You watched him with a curious expression, slowly rubbing circles around your clit with your bullet vibrator. You let out a small moan as you watched him massage the slit on his tip, before going back to stroking his length again. All the while, his eyes were on you. Your face and the cute expressions you were making. 

This felt more intimate than sex. A way to be close to one another without truly touching each other. Even though he longed desperately to touch some part of you, that’s why he was leaning his side against yours. Your warmth and your smell were so comforting, it was all he needed to masturbate near you. He really, really loved you.

Toji Zenin: ★★★★★★ Hunter/prey and CNC

Toji wins. Toji fucking wins. He’s the most perverted man you’ve ever met. The first thing he asked you when you walked up to him at that bar was your bra size, and that same night he was taking it off with one hand. Your relationship was purely sexual from the moment it began and you both loved it. You would do any kink or any weird thing he suggested, as he would for you. As long as it meant he got to breed your pretty pussy in the end. 

Today you both had decided on something… out of the norm. It was dead of night, maybe 3 AM? And you were in a lovely wooded area, running for your life. Behind you, you heard something chasing after you. Maybe it was a beast, maybe it was a man, you couldn’t tell. Toji was supposed to be chasing you, but it had been so long since you had seen him that you weren’t sure what was behind you anymore. You looked down at your surroundings but it was pitch black, the only thing you could see were a few branches in front of you. You still saw them yet you tripped. 

You fell face-first into a pile of leaves, scrambling when you heard… growling. A large hand grabbed your shirt and you gasped, struggling against it. You could barely see, you didn’t realize he had leaned down and began to bite you. You let out a cry, “Agh! S-stop!” You continued to struggle, whimpering when the man behind you broke skin and started to suck on the blood seeping from your neck. 

“Pretty thing. Shame… M’ gonna fuck you so good,” Toji whispered, throwing you back into the ground. He was giving you a chance to run, to escape. But you didn’t want to. It was so fun to role play, to pretend you were in any real danger. You knew even though your relationship was sexual he’d kill for you and your tight pussy.

“Please…” You cried as you felt your pants rip from the top down, exposing your ass, “Leave me alone…” You buried your head into the leaves, a large hand grabbing your hair and pulling you up. 

“I said I’m gonna fuck you good. Now stay quiet you fucking brat,” Toji pushed you down, making you squeal in pain as he slapped your ass a few times. Your skin stung and you knew this was just the beginning of a long sexual experience with your lovely sneaky link, Toji.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Upcoming Rule Changes

I have come to a decision and I fear some people may dislike it, especially given some of the messages I've received on the topic. However, I do think this is the best option for me moving forward. I already have many anxieties and stresses in regards to this blog and so I must do what I can to alleviate them as much as possible.

Recently, there have been several instances of people accidentally not check-marking to make their submission anonymous when they intended to. This has resulted in me receiving messages from stressed out people asking me to remove their submission. This in turn, causes me stress and anxiety because I don't want to cause people distress.

Because of that, I have begun to rethink my policy of allowing submissions that aren't anonymous.

The thing is, this blog was made as a safe space for people to anonymously voice their monster-related thoughts. The name of this blog is "Monsterfucker Confessions," after all. It was intended as a place for people to confess things that they didn't want to post on their own blogs.

Therefore, I think it makes much more sense for this blog to be purely anonymous.

If there is something you actually want your name associated with, it would be better to post to your own blog rather than submit here. This is a space for those that don't want their names associated with what they say.

Several people have sent messages on this topic saying that people may want their names associated with their submissions so that they get credit for writing it or so that it drives traffic to their blog. This sat wrong with me because it feels completely against the reasons I made this blog to begin with.

While I do allow for short stories and the like within submissions, this ultimately is a confessions blog, not a creative writing blog. I shall continue to allow creative works to be submitted because I know there are many creative people that wish to remain anonymous. This blog is for them, not for the people who will comfortably attach their names to their writing. If you want credit for your writing, it would be better post to your own blog.

Some have suggested that those that wish their names associated with their submission can sign the submission, tagging their username. I have several issues with this. Of course, what I said above about the intent of this blog applies, but also I could easily see someone writing something controversial and then signing it as someone they dislike to cause that person to receive harassment. If the submission is anonymous, I would have no way of knowing if they are who they claim to be. I have too much anxiety to allow for that possibility.

So what will be changing?

Any submissions that are NOT anonymous will be resubmitted by me to be made anonymous.

Any submissions that are signed will be deleted.

I know this isn't the result a lot of people wanted, but I hope I've explained my reasoning well enough for you to understand why I feel this is the best choice for myself and this blog.

I know some people want credit for their writing, and I 100% understand that, but this isn't the place for those people. This blog is for the people that don't feel comfortable attaching their names to their words. That is what this blog was originally made for and I think I need to take these steps to return to that.

I thank you all for you kindness and patience as I continue to learn and improve how I run this blog. I know this blog isn't exactly what everyone wants, and I am sorry that I can't accommodate everyone.

I have said before and I shall say again, if someone else wants to run a confessions blog that works the way they want, that would be perfectly fine! I wouldn't take offense at someone making their own version of this. After all, I got the idea for a confessions blog from other blogs. I hardly own the concept.

These rules have been added to the pinned post.

[fraugwinska]

Part 2 of the Alchemist series - No smut today,but I had this idea in my head and couldn't continue NOT writing it. And don't worry - those two will have time enough in Part 3 for some biological studies! :> TW: Emotional turmoils, Graphic depictions of torture and violence Read at your own discretion. As always minors - please exit to the right, DNI, this is an 18+ space

Your assistant flinched when you threw another rack of test tubes against the walls, the black, polished tiles to your feet covered in shards of glass and bubbling, oil-like liquids.

"M-Ma'am, please, ", she pleaded, kneading the pink, naked tail that peeked out of her lab coat nervously in her hands while she backed away as your grabbed the big Erlenmeyer flask still sitting over the bunsen burner, fizzing as if in mockery. "i-it's better than number 52. Isn't that progress...?"

Failed. Again, you had failed.

"Idiots call it progress...", You held the flask up, cold flames of renewed anger licking down your spine. "I call it A FUCKING DISGRACE!"

The rat demon squeaked when the glass crashed on the floor as you howled in frustration, the black gas that evaporated with a hiss and the dark purple flames the substance evoked enough to make her run out the door and out of the laboratory with a sob, the sound of her heels clicking in the hallway a grim farewell and final goodbye to a fairly good assistant.

You slumped back against a work bench and put your hands in the pockets of your coat, struggling with your breathing to calm down. The painful hunger in you scratched at your insides, this insatiable need that appeared ever since...

Ever since you returned to your laboratory that day, ever since your last encounter with the Radio Demon. The image of Alastor and his shadow flashing up in front of you. How you were deceived and subdued by him, outsmarted by him and most humiliating, how you had liked it. It should've left nothing but disdain and anger inside you, instead it left an aching want, a restless desire for filling the gaping hole of knowledge you had been faced with as well as your paradox craving for another fight ending inevitably into your submission. Defiant to do something about the latter, you had begun to at least try to satisfy the first.

You were usually okay with failure as part of the scientific progress. A failed experiment only meant an additional tool in your hand on your surefire way to success. But never did success seem so impossible to you. Every new try of recreating the shadows that had so efficiently overpowered you felt like a rerun of your previous one. You had exhausted your knowledge, rewritten the same hypotheses over and over and burned through five assistants since. These angry outbursts were so unlike you - but as the number of failed experiments rose so did your temper, and the higher your anger, the harder it became to concentrate.

Alastor haunted your mind, infiltrated your rationale with images of a teasing smile, flesh threatening to burst beneath black and sharp claws, burning red eyes staring at you from the wet heat of your core. You hadn't eaten in two weeks, hadn't slept in nearly as long, had spent all your waking hours locked away in here in a futile attempt of fleeing these emotions that were so obstructive to your work. You were obsessively reading your books, furiously rereading your notes, desperately starting test after test, trial after trial to try and satiate this thirst only to be left even more parched. You knew it wouldn't be long before you inevitably would have to drink, even if you knew it waould be poison.

"I can't go on like this..." you sighed into the deafening silence of your laboratory.

There was a certain pep in the Radio Demon's step as he walked through the streets of the Pentagram, humming to himself as sinners parted and hid away wherever he went. Alastor reached into the inside breast pocket of his overcoat, unfolding the little note that had sent him in high spirits and rereading it with impish glee.

'To: The Radio DemonRegarding: Our most recent encounter

Alastor, I hope this note will find you well. I'd like to discuss the possibility of a mutually beneficial arrangement regarding our personal and professional feud. If you agree to a meeting, a table at RAUM in the Entertainment District will be reserved tomorrow at 9 p.m. PST (Pride Standard Time)

Best Regards,The Alchemist'

He laughed to himself at the forced choice of words, the tenseness evident in every neatly drawn letter and the obvious refusal of showing even one hint of familiarity. He had known he'd just have to give the proverbial ball a little nudge - his little note so easily snuck into her lab coat by his shadow companion - and let it roll, patiently waiting long enough to see it finally crush the prideful, stubborn resistance of the little sinner known as The Alchemist in the end. Although, he had to admit it took longer than he had expected.

His spies had been useful in keeping track of her ego crumbling - the chimp, roach and gerbil sinners that she hired as assistants all painted him the same picture - that the poor woman descended more and more into restless obsession by trying day and night to solve the mystery of his shadowy companion. The last one of her henchmen, a meek little rat girl, added a curious detail to the usual report that had Alastor's self-confidence booming: That, on the rare occasion that she fell asleep on her workbench, the Alchemist seemed to writhe and whimper - calling out a name.

His name.

He could hear it, her voice, the usual dismissive contempt replaced with poorly repressed desire and urgency, breathing his name while rendered helpless and at the mercy of his hands and tongue. What a rush it had been, to see his rival and latest person of interest fall apart under his doing, breaking her stoic and methodical facade to reveal the raw and weak creature she was deep down. What a divine image, seeing the haughty, refractory Alchemist beneath him, squirming and gasping and panting beneath his touch that she begged for, seeing and feeling her whole body turn against her, reduced to a groaning heap. How delicious it had tasted, not just her, but the satisfaction in knowing he'd forever carry the taste of her and his victory.

But when the moment approached to end her, to finally wipe her off the face of hell, it spoiled in his mouth, turning from sweet into bitter. He had planned it to be his grand finale: To kill her after showing her blatant inadequacy compared to him, bound by his shadow and thoroughly humiliated - But he found himself unable to.

Rosie was the only one he told about that day, and her reply to his retelling had him brooding ever since.

"You know, Alastor - The only difference between hate and love is that hatred doesn't fear the death of the one at our mercy."

He had almost cursed at his oldest friend. The ridiculous idea alone was unsettling. Alastor never had interest in the concept of loving something or someone - he had felt no need to either. The methods he used were chosen due to this wretched urge he felt every time she had crossed his path. He hadn't been unfamiliar with these emotions stirring in him - but the intensity of them had him struggle, had him furious at the effect she had on everything that made him the powerful, ruthless overlord that he had become. To think this unhealthy fascination with her powers, how riled up and agitated he got just seeing her in her resulote disinterest in power or status, the joy he felt sparring with her as she held her fort against him had been anything other than feelings of rivalry. But hell had a habit of twists like this - that what he thought was hatred turned out just the opposite. He still wasn't certain how he'd handle this predicament, but her note had been the perfect catalyst to explore the potential this little change held for him.

Just as the clock tower of Pride's main city began to strike nine, his destination so close - Something wrapped around his ankles and wrists, and hadn't Alastor been so lost in his thoughts he would've had enough time and mind to dodge the cables that had slithered towards him. A second too late he realized just what building he was in front of, before he was violently dragged by the electrified strings, out of the street and into the darkness behind the blue sliding doors of 'VoxTech Enterprises'.

"I thought" he heard a familiar, suave voice resounding in the pitch black darkness around him as the doors slid close, dripping of malicious glee that had Alastor furious behind his smiling mask "that with old age comes wisdom, Al. Seems you've skipped that phase and went straight to senile."

Alastor heard Vox's laugh, amplified from every direction. His hands and feet were spread apart, leaving him hanging with no sense of direction or solid ground beneath him. Without light, summoning his shadow was a useless endeavor - one of the only things Alastor regrettably shared with what was once a trusted partner not too long ago. And the only light was the laughably negligible red glow of his eyes, losing the battle against the black void around him. His best bet was to be buying time, so he decided to humor the fool until chance would show itself.

"Ah, no, I do quite remember your lack of imagination when it comes to these sorts of affairs." Alastor chuckled, a slight static distortion lacing his voice as the anger within him grew. "Glad to see that's at least one thing that hasn't changed."

Electricity burst from the wires that pulled him even further apart, sending shockwaves through him as Alastor's smile widened at Vox's inability to hide his rage.

"Mighty cocky for someone who's got his ass on the line, eh, old pal?" in the distance, a screen turned on, dim and flickering, showing the face of the smirking tv demon. "Tell me, Al, was it just stupidity that brought you right to my doorstep? Or did you already miss me that much?"

Alastor laughed mockingly, concentrating enough to at least create a shadow in the weak light around Vox's screen to smash it in before it dsappeared. "If I recall correctly, you were the one begging me not to leave, Voxxy. How is your face these days, by the way?"

The screen flickered as Vox's eyes went wild. "You motherf-"

"As to what brought me to these parts of our illustrious city," Alastor continued, gritting his teeth as another surge of electricity shot down his spine, making his shoulders jerk painfully in the tight cable's grip. "I was on my way to meet someone who is actually worth my while."

"Oh yeah? Well, they can send me a Thank-You-Note for saving them the disappointment your 'while' would've brought them." Vox sneered, a mocking smile appearing on the broken screen as he bared his teeth in a snarl. "Face it - You're done, Al. Finished. You can't do shit in here. I created this room specifically for you to die in - thanks for the intel, by the way. And believe me - I could kill you here and now, get rid of a fucking nuisance for everybody, and be called a hero for it. But for old time's sake, I'll offer you my deal once more." His joints cracked under the pressure of the pulling cables, and Alastor yanked in cold fury at them. Vox's voice was saturated with sadistic glee. "Join my team, be my second in command, my real partner this time and not a fucking uptight coward, and I'll spare you the humiliation of a slow, torturous and publicly viewed dea..."

A sudden boom had the cables and the screen shake and flicker, the image of Vox's face breaking up in pixels. Alastor felt his chest filling with a sudden eager anticipation of what - or who - the source of that explosion might've been. With a hiss, Vox's screen was restored to full resolution again, but his eyes were wide in confusion. "What the fuck was that?"

Alastor's laughter echoed across the room as another, louder explosion followed, along with panicked screams of pain and horror and he smiled over to the shocked overlord, heart beating with feverish euphoria. If the intensity of the detonations were any indicator, he was about to see a marvelous show of what true power looked like.

"It seems, old pal, that my date has arrived."

Vox didn't get to say anything else before one of the walls burst into its components and the room filled with the bright light of the neon signs illuminating the district, and amidst the clouds of dust settling, stood his darling alchemist. Her lab coat was stained in every beautiful shade of red, face and skin smeared with soot and the remnants of blood that wasn't hers, a look in her eyes that was so unhinged it made him shudder with all kinds of arousal, the aura around her glowing in a dangerous toxic green. Although her chest was heaving, there was no trace of exhaustion to her, only pure, cold rage.

"What the hell is going on? And who the fuck are you?!"

She didn't pay Vox any attention, walking up to Alastor as he ripped the remaining bits and pieces of cords and cables from his arms, her heels clacking loudly on the polished concrete floor.

"You are right on time, darling."

"And you were not - our table was canceled." Alastor had to refrain himself from giggling in feverish excitement as she walked past him, towards the stunned television demon that had been thrown into the back of the room by the force of the explosion and now leaned with his back against the wall, his expression mortified behind the cracked, flickering screen.

“Polyethylene, glass, sauter, copper, lead, platinum, silicone." Her voice was cold and calculating, each word a step closer and Vox shrunk away further into the wall behind him. Her face was neutral, a mask devoid of emotion and any trace of empathy or emotion, but her eyes sparkled full of life and fire. "But even though there are so many valuable building blocks in your electronic equipment - I can't say I appreciate the use."

She put her palm over Vox's monitor in an almost comforting gesture, her lips curling into a cruel smile as his casing started to melt and Vox screamed.

"Especially when it leaves me hungry and waiting for my dinner partner."

Alastor marveled at the beauty and precision of her strength and the effortless way she wielded it, her mind calculating every atom of Vox's technology, rendering the presumptous perfection of hell's television and phone industry to a wailing mess, his limbs and body twitching helplessly at the mercy of her touch, screen flickering with increasing speed the more damage she did. His pulse quickened, blood rushed deafeningly loud through his ears - She was dangerous and cruel and she was perfect, she was everything and so, so much more of anything he imagined and hoped her to be.

She let off Vox, his face half gone, his remaining speakers whimpering in agony and body trembling as she stood upright, looking down at the demon in disgust.

"Repeat this mistake and I will make sure I'll be there to slowly and painfully disintegrate you every time you start to respawn anew, Television Demon."

Alastor appeared beside her, making use of his shadows now that the requirement of light was covered, looking at the beaten form of his unfortunate rival with an amused laugh before taking his little alchemist's hand, breathing a kiss onto it with a smile.

"I apologize for the missed reservation, darling, but we can't have you left starving, can we? How about we relocate to my townhouse - I'll whip up a nice Pain Perdu while we discuss your... proposal, yes?"

When her face turned to him, her features slightly softened around the edges - barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but all too obvious to him, who had thought, dreamt and obsessed over her likeness enough times to see every tiny shift in her expression, even those one could interpret as her rare, discreet show of joy.

"I suppose that's an acceptable compromise."

It made the gnawing hunger inside him become all the more insatiable when she let him pull her closer, her hand still in his - warm and stained with remnants of Vox's fluids. He gave her the brightest of smiles as the destroyed room filled with radio static and his shadows swirled and wrapped themselves around them, shooting his wounded, rancorous ex-companion a sneering smile.

"I, again, have to disrespectfully decline your offer, my dear Vox. I'd rather invest my time into more..." He looked back at her, giving her an intense, heated gaze he refused to hide anymore, and the smile lingering on her lips growing into one that was just as sharp as his, and yet so much more endearing given its rarity. "...innovative propositions, I think is the right word."

Within a moment, the black swirls faded into the night, leaving nothing but the echo of his laughter and the shuddering, crying mess of the tv overlord behind.

Tagging for scientific purposes (based on comments/reblogs): @minkdelovely @macabr3-barbi3 @depressinglyobsessed @tywrites @mydickisjuicy

@littlebluefishtail @catticora @cosmiccandydreamer @anngray1369 @angeldustharmony

@jurijyuu @liz776 @selenezq

[glyphwrites]

Sub!Megatron and his sassy Dom Optimus discuss a scene

Have a precurser to smut that popped into my head today. I might end up writing the actual scene at some point, but I'm just way too busy rn. If i ever do, it'll go up on ao3 as a whole fic.

Despite the effects of the war and its aftermath, Megatron hadn’t had too much of a problem with his sex life. Though he couldn’t say he’d had a stable partner throughout that time, he had plenty of friends and admirers to spend time with, and left those encounters feeling perfectly satisfied.

However…

Personally, Megatron was a switch, enjoying practically any position and dynamic. There were a lot of mechs willing to let him dominate them, take control out of their servos and give them a fun time. But when it came to his own desire to be submissive, he simply didn't have the same range of options. Most Decepticons weren't comfortable with domming their leader, and those that were generally weren't interested in doing anything gentle. Which - a little rough play could be fun, but it wasn't Megatron's preference. That left his friends, where unfortunately the problem persisted. Shockwave would much rather follow his commands, Starscream had always focussed too much on degrading him, Straxus he didn't trust an inch and most of his other generals were uninterested. Strika was the only one he'd repeatedly fooled around with in that manner (technically Lugnut as well, but he was very firmly submissive), but even then they'd both been able to agree that they didn’t quite click. 

So life continued as before, Megatron feeling fairly satisfied with his various encounters but never quite completely fulfilled.

Then he met Optimus Prime. And, well, a lot of things happened. He died, for one thing. But after everything else that happened, after their squabbles were over and their alliance was solidified, Megatron had found himself falling for the mech… and eventually, falling into his berth. It had certainly been a whirlwind romance, especially considering how long it’d been since he’d had a proper partner. Once flirtations and teasing had become something more serious, and after their first few tumbles, they’d inevitably begun to talk about what they wanted from their strange new relationship. Megatron had laid out his own preferences easily, before revealing how he identified as a switch with some hesitance. He’d so wanted things to work out, wary of turning Optimus away at the thought of him desiring submission.

Megatron still remembered the grin that had spread across Optimus’ face, like the sun coming up. “Hey, that’s perfect! So am I.” Not for an instant had Optimus judged him; in fact, he’d been quite excited discussing their very first proper scene together, and just as enthusiastic carrying it out.

It’d been the best submissive experience of Megatron’s life.

He could still remember lying in berth together afterward, Optimus running a cloth laden with polish across his heated plating. Right there and then, he’d vowed to repeat the experience as often as he possibly could.

And life had gone on.

---------------------------------------------------

Once again, it’d been a long day filled with meetings, forms and petty squabble between his officers. Megatron had headed straight for his quarters the instant the last meeting finished, eager to sit with a cube of warm energon and perhaps a datapad as he decompressed. Instead, when he arrived he found that Optimus had beat him back to their shared rooms, and was now doing something with a selection of boxes on the coffee table. He glanced up as the door closed, flashing a smile at Megatron as he entered. To Megatron’s optics, his partner looked distinctly dishevelled in the way that usually implied he’d been working with his servos again. Although Optimus’ job description now mostly covered tactical analysis,  organising military logistics and fighting on the battlefield, he still often seemed to find some kind of job or task that required building things or tinkering with the guts of a spacebridge. At this point it was so frequent as to be ubiquitous, and Megatron wasn’t even that surprised at the sight.

“How was your day? I thought you’d be kept a little longer, to be honest.” Optimus straightened from his work, hopping over the scattered boxes on his way over to the door.

Megatron couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his worries melting away for the time being as he bent down to answer Optimus with a kiss. “It was perfectly fine, though you’re quite right; I managed to weasel out of my last meeting a little earlier than usual.”

Optimus laughed, slinging his arms around Megatron’s neck and kissing him back. “Well, that’s good to hear!” They stayed in the doorway for a few minutes longer, holding each other close. Megatron delighted in pressing Optimus against him, feeling his spark thrumming through his plating. 

When at last they broke apart again, Megatron glanced back at the chaos in the centre of their living area and couldn’t help but ask about it. “Are you building us some new furniture?” Optimus generally preferred to mess with machines, but he wasn’t that discerning with his projects.

“Oh! Not quite…” Optimus pulled away a little, looking from Megatron to the boxes and then back away. He smirked, teasing and smug in equal parts as he placed his servos on Megatron’s chassis “Actually, I’ve got something special for you.” He grinned up at Megatron for a moment longer, before pausing and tacking on another few sentences in a hurry. “Only if you're up for it, of course! I know it’s been a long day.”

It had in fact been a long day. But something about Optimus filled him with energy, and now Megatron couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his evening. “That sounds exciting.” He replied, catching Optimus to kiss again. “I’d certainly be happy to find out.”

The answering grin practically lit up the room. Optimus skipped back over to the table while Megatron followed at a more sedate pace, although he felt just as eager. Digging into one of the boxes, Optimus retrieved what appeared to be… a coil of braided wire? It shone in the light, iridescence glimmering as he turned it. He offered it to Megatron, who lifted and examined it carefully.

Thanks to his past exploits, Megatron had a fairly good idea of what this was. “Planning to tie me up?” He tested the shining rope between his digits, and frowned. “It’s certainly pretty, but it doesn’t look very strong.” He turned it over for a moment longer, before catching sight of the way Optimus was gesturing to him and handing the coil back.

And then Optimus grinned impishly, taking the end of the braided wire and wrapping it around his other servo, pulling it tight between them. “That’s the point!” 

Something about that mischievous grin, that cocky tone of voice, that confident stance… it did things to Megatron. He swallowed lightly, unable to move as Optimus stepped closer, giving him an evaluating look as he wound the rope between his servos. “So, here’s the deal.” Optimus was right up in his face now, so close that their chassis were touching. “I’m going to tie you up and play with you.” His tone was utterly matter of fact now, but it still did plenty to excite Megatron. He liked the way Optimus managed to dominate him despite their differences in size and age, the confident way he ordered Megatron around. Optimus pressed one servo to his chassis, drawing a circle over his spark. “All you have to do is enjoy yourself… and not break it.” He smirked even wider. “Think you can manage it?”

That was one of the other things he liked about Optimus’ style, the way he challenged Megatron. Composing himself, he leaned down, matching Optimus’ smirk despite the way his spark burned with excitement. “I dare say I’m up to the task.”

[ofmdbigbang]

Happy Pride pirates, and welcome to the OFMD Big Bang 2023!

We were thrilled and overwhelmed by the amazing works that you all produced last year, and we hope that some of you have enough creative juice left to come and join us again!

SIGN UPS ARE NOW OPEN

Under the cut will be the majority of the information that you will need as part of the Big Bang for Mobile Users, but the most important links are right here:

Author Sign Up Form

Artist Sign Up Form

This post also will not contain the full FAQ guide, so please read that if you can.

HAPPY WRITING!

2023 Schedule

June 1st  — June 30th — Author Sign Ups June 1st  — August 25th (or when all stories are claimed) — Artist Sign Ups June 16th  — Writing Officially Starts July 15th — 20th  —  First Check-In (Summaries Due) August 15th — 20th — Second Check-In (5000+ words required) August 25th  — Artist Claim Post (for stories at 5000+ words only) September 10th — 15th  — Third Check-In for Authors, Artist Check-In October 1st — 5th  — Final Check In and Pitch Hitter Cutoff October 15th — 20th  — Final Submission; Stories complete, beta read, and edited; Art complete October 22nd  — Posting Starts (All deadlines end at 11:59 PM EDT/EST)

FAQs

Please read the full post if possible as not all FAQs have been posted here

How do I sign up?

To participate as a writer, sign up using the link above! Sign ups begin June 1st, 2023 and run through July 1st, 2023.

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Can I sign up as both an author and an artist?

You may sign up in both categories, but please be aware of your ability to balance your workload. Signing up as an artist is a commitment to the writer you claim that you will produce artwork for their story. Signing up as a writer is a commitment to the artist that claims you that you will produce a finished story to accompany that artwork.

When and how do artists claim stories?

The Artist Claim Post will go up on August 25th, 2023. In order to submit your story for an artist claim, you must be at least halfway finished with your draft (minimum 5000 words). Authors will submit their story summaries during Author Check-in Number 2, summaries will be anonymized and posted, and artists will fill out a form to claim the story. All artist claims are first come, first served.

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All stories and their accompanying art should be posted in their entirety to Archive of Our Own, with a header linking to your story submitted to this tumblr. During the final check-in, when you have finished your works, you will claim a date and time to post your works to AO3 and the linked header to tumblr. You will be responsible for posting your own story/header at least 2, but no more than 24, hours before your assigned time. Please do not cross-promote your works until the bang is completed.

What is the minimum word count? Is there a maximum word count?

The minimum word count required for this festival is 10,000 words. There is no maximum word count.

Can I use a story I’m already writing?

The goal of a big bang is to create a new work of long fiction within a specific time frame. As such, stories you have begun prior to the start of the bang cannot be used. Planning, preparing, and outlining prior to the bang is allowed; beginning your story before the bang starts defeats the purpose of the challenge.

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What if I don’t finish my story?

You may drop from the OFMD Big Bang at any time prior to receiving an artist claim without penalty. Dropping after art claims is unfair to your artist. If you drop after receiving your artist claim without prior contact with the mods, you may not be allowed to participate in next year’s OFMD Big Bang.

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Can I claim more than one story?

Please claim only one story in the first Artist Claim Post. If we still have unclaimed stories, we will post a second round claim post later that same week.

[puddle-nerd]

Sharing is Caring

Summary: Miles is late coming back to your shared quarters one night, so you attempt to take care of your own needs…

(Recombinant Miles Quaritch/Reader/Recombinant Lyle Wainfleet)

Prompt 25 (Caught Masturbating) and Prompt 27 (Anal) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

Author’s Notes: Sorry it’s been a couple of days since my last Kinktober post but I wanted this one to turn out well. I kept editing it and re-editing it. I hope you all enjoy. So, this one, like the summary says is going to cover two prompts, #25 – caught masturbating and #27 – Anal. That’s another reason why I also waited to post. Unfortunately, I only have one more to finish up and post and that’ll be on Halloween day. And last but not least, like in Part 1 – Forever, the Na’vi language is gonna be depicted with ~ on either end of the conversation piece spoken and in green writing. Na’vi Translation: Olo’eyktan — Clan Leader Tawtute – human | Sky Person Tsaheylu – a bond or neural connection Tewng – loincloth Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Female Reader, Caught Masturbating, Anal Sex, Use of “baby girl and darlin’ ”, Cultural Differences, Na’vi Culture (Avatar – Cameron), Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Anal Fingering, M/M/F, Threesome, No gay sex mentioned in this one, Bonding, Creampie

Part 1

You were mated to the one known as Colonel Miles Quaritch. Not by choice but when you had made Tsaheylu, Eywa hadn’t rejected your bond so… you were mated to Miles. Forever. You hated most aspects of it because he forced you to interact with his comrades and they were all so tawtute, despite looking like Jake and Lo’ak Sully. At least the Olo’eyktan had been willing to learn the ways of The People. These recombinants… they did not See, nor were they willing to learn how to See and it broke your heart over and over and over again.

There was one aspect you had… begrudgingly… begun to enjoy, though, and because he was your mate, only Miles could fulfill it for you. Or, you thought that was the case until Lieutenant Lyle Wainfleet off-handedly told you otherwise.

Despite you being mated to Miles, you were still considered to be a liability and were often stuck being babysat when your mate had to go to meetings or you didn’t want to sit around watching him lift weights, although you didn’t mind watching when he went hand-to-hand with one of his men. Watching all those muscles of his stretch and glisten whenever he began to sweat made you want.

Today was Lyle’s turn to babysit you.

You’d made him eat lunch with you outside so you could at least see nature instead of the stuffy walls of the oppressive tawtute settlement.

“I’m, uh, I’m getting calluses all over my hands, baby girl,” Wainfleet chortled at you with a leer, “hearing all those performances you and sir put on every night.” His golden eyes flickered over your form where you were reclined upon the observation deck in your usual style of clothing, although you had been introduced to a new material called paracord instead of the natural fibers you were used to harvesting. You had been experimenting with designing interesting new chest coverings for yourself with it although you hadn’t found a suitable material to create new tewngs, yet. Now, you understood English fairly well because of your friendship with the Sully family and the tawtute scientists that had been allowed to stay on Pandora after the Great War almost two decades prior when you’d been very little, but you still sometimes had trouble understanding sarcasm and innuendos. Now was, unfortunately, one of those times and you cocked your head at him in confusion. When he saw your reaction to his joke, he chuckled, adding, “ ‘Cause I can hear you through the wall…?”

You blushed, your cheeks going lilac, realizing he was talking about late at night when Miles drove into you over and over, but you still didn’t understand the English innuendo.

Lyle gulped and looked around before leaning in, muttering quietly, “I’m talking about me rubbing one or two out every night.” There was no telling when Quaritch would be done with his meeting and come to collect you and if the colonel found out that you were learning these sexual things from someone other than himself, well, during sparring, Lyle was sure he’d find himself getting more bruised and bloodier than normal for overstepping for not asking for permission first. However, who was he to deny a pretty little thing like you the answers you sought?

When you still looked at him with confusion, he stated bluntly, “I’m talking about masturbating, sweetheart. When you… when you touch yourself… between your legs to feel good?”

“You can do that?” you asked in English this time, blinking owlishly in surprise. “But that doesn’t… ohhh.” You blushed as understanding bloomed inside of you as to why he was developing calluses. “And you… every night… because you hear us?”

He shrugged, golden eyes skimming over your body hungrily once more, stating, “You’re fucking sexy.”

You scented the air and blushed as his arousal became noticeable in two aspects.

“She is, ain’t she?”

You and Lyle both looked up as Mile appeared beside you both, a brow raised as he sat down beside you, pulling your bare backside onto his lap , his hand fisting the base of your tail and pressing upon a spot that made you mewl as pleasure suddenly raced through your body at his sudden touch. “You tellin’ my girl something she ain’t supposed to be hearin’, lieutenant?”

“No, sir. Just a joke, sir,” Lyle muttered.

You nodded, glancing up at your mate and blushing as you told him quietly, “He hears us at night.”

Quaritch paused and raised a brow higher and looked at Wainfleet. “That true, huh? You hear us at night while I acquaint myself with my little wife, here? It gets you all hot and bothered?” Lyle and you blushed at his question, Wainfleet answering reluctantly in the affirmative. Instead of getting mad, Miles chuckled and tucked into his own food, saying instead, “We gotta head to a meetin’ tonight. It’s gonna be a late one.” Turning to you, he added quietly, “Gonna have to go without Daddy’s dick tonight, sweet thing. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it tomorrow.”

You flushed once more and turned your face away from him, your ears flicked back in embarrassment.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Just as he had promised, Quaritch hadn’t come to bed that night around the time he usually did, and that man was usually very good with his schedule, so, on your own, you used the terrible tawtute shower with it’s strange liquids by being surrounded by cold, alien tile and metal to wash your body clean and headed to bed without a stitch of clothing on, laying down on top of the covers at the moment. Since the moment he’d mated you, Miles preferred you both to sleep naked in his bunk, your skin touching his in its entirety as he held you in the circle of his arms, your backside nestled nice and tight up against his groin. It also made it easier to fuck whenever he wanted to slip his fingers or his cock into one of your orifices. This was one of the few things you enjoyed about being mated. He was a very generous lover, whenever he decided you had been well-behaved. If he was deciding to punish you for some transgression, well, those nights lasted a very long time.

You’d grown accustomed to experiencing pleasure every night and yet, your mate wasn’t here at the moment. Still, apparently, you could pleasure yourself if what Wainfleet had told you this afternoon was true.

Thinking about how your mate always touched you those large, strong hands of his, you spread your legs and explored your body with tentative touches, starting as Miles did and working your way down from your neck. You circled your nipples and huffed at the tingling sensation you garnered from your exploratory touch but it was still nothing like your mate’s fingers or his hot, rough tongue or his sharp fangs teasingly raking over your sensitive peaks. Still playing with one of your sensitive nipples, your other hand softly moved down your stomach and caressed the soft skin of your mons pubis, hesitantly caressing the outer lips of your labia.

A shiver of pleasure raced up your spine and your tail flicked in arousal.

A huff left your lips as you stroked over the seam of your opening, finding yourself slick. Down and up, you rubbed at yourself until you lifted your index finger to your clit and shuddered with a quiet moan. You added your thumb and rolled the little button of flesh between the two digits, your hips making little aborted jerking motions into your touch. Your breathing grew heavier as pleasure pooled in your belly and your legs tensed slightly, digging your heels into the bed beneath you.

More slick seeped out of your cunt and you gathered some onto your fingertips before you moved to dip your index finger into your opening. It was nowhere near as big as Miles’ but still, it felt nice.

You sighed, sinking your finger deeper into yourself and touched your clit with your thumb at the same time. Your hips were moving more now as you slipped a second finger inside, the friction sending little tingles of pleasure trail through your limbs. Your wetness was beginning to trickle out of you and drip down the curve of your backside, the need building within you. You bit back a whimper, wishing your mate was here to shove his fat cock inside you and build you up into a shattering orgasm. You wanted his girth and his length stretching you out and plundering your depths; your hips were moving even faster to meet your touch, your breath coming in soft pants and quiet moans.

You bit down upon your lower lip as pleasure continued to build up within you, your two fingers buried in your cunt speeding up their movements. You curled them slightly and choked on a cry, your hips lifting off the bed a couple of inches as your tail lashed in ecstasy.

Oh, it was really feeling good now.

Your fingers were completely slick now and a small pool was forming beneath you as you rutted into your hand. If only your fingers were longer and thicker, like your mate’s were, not quite getting the depth Miles could within you but rubbing at the spot inside you that felt soft and spongey, it made up for it, especially as you continued to thumb your clit in teasing little circles.

You were too focused on your growing pleasure to hear the doorknob turn or the quiet hum of voices until–

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Holy fuck.”

You froze as you opened your eyes and gasped, seeing your mate standing there watching you with arms crossed and a raised brow, Lyle gaping at you directly behind his shoulder. The bald recombinant immediately dropped his hands over the front of his trousers to cover the fact that he was starting to pitch a tent.

You tried to curl in on yourself only to yelp as your mate lunged forward, grabbing you firmly around the throat. “Ah, it’s too late now, darlin’,” Miles chuckled, licking his teeth in hunger and jerking you to your feet. “You’ve been caught.” Pulling you to stand in front of him, your naked body on display for Wainfleet to see every inch of your front. “And here I was, gonna wake you up with Daddy’s cock so the three of us could play.”

That caught your attention.

You looked up in surprise at your mate, muttering, “Three of us, Mylos?” You tail curled in curiosity while your cunt clenched, more slick dribbling out of you and trickling down your leg.

Your mate raised his nose and scented the air, chuckling.

“Oh yes, the three o’ us,” he chuckled, kicking your legs apart slightly to give Lyle a better view of you. “Ya see, we talked and turns out… Lyle here has a bit o’ a crush of you and…” Miles informed you, the hand still on your throat remaining where it was while his other hand came down to caress the skin between your belly and your pelvis, “he’s the only one I don’t mind sharin’ you with. Heck, even shared a human woman with him once or twice b’fore I got turned blue like you.”

You tried not to get jealous of the idea of your mate being with someone other than you, gritting your fangs in disdain at the thought. Technically he was Spider’s father. Instead, you focused on the other part of his words and met Lyle’s heated gaze with your own as he took in your naked body like he’d never seen anything like you and wouldn’t ever get to again. “So, Ly-ahl will be our third, Mylos?” you asked cautiously. Seeing the lieutenant with the hard line of his engorged cock pressing against the front of his trousers all because he’d seen you playing with yourself, it was flattering. And you were so needy to be filled up.

“That a Na’vi thing, darlin’? Takin’ on a third?” Miles asked.

You nodded. “Third mates are not uncommon,” you agreed, adding, “especially after times of war. I have my father and two mothers.” Your mate smirked and pushed a hand against your belly to grind your backside against the hardness in his own trousers. You whimpered, your eyes rolling slightly at the familiar feel of your mate’s shaft hidden behind his tawtute clothing.

“I guess can agree to that, adding Lyle to the mix,” Miles purred suggestively into your ear, his large hand dipping closer to where you needed his touch, your tail curling in excitement. “So, what about you, Lieutenant? Think you can be faithful to my little wife, here? Be her other partner?” The colonel’s golden eyes darkened as he smirked, adding with a rumbling purr, “Won’t have t’use yer hands as much when yer the one makin’ her create those sounds that got yer dick all hard every night. Trust me… it’s even better watchin’ and feelin’ it all firsthand.

So, this is how you found yourself sandwiched between two large males, a cock stuffed up your cunt and one pressed halfway down your throat.

“Fuck, her mouth really is good, sir,” Lyle moaned, rutting his hips into your face as your mate fucked you from behind.

Miles chuckled and spanked your behind lightly, replying, “Ya think her mouth is good. Ya should feel her pussy. Just not today. Today, wanna try something else, lieutenant.” Your mate grunted and pulled out of your pussy with a ‘pop’. He moved to sit on the bed, having you straddle his thighs and allowing Lyle to stand behind you. “Take her tail in one hand or else she’s gonna be whippin’ ya with it and it’ll sting like a bitch.” You whimpered as the bald male’s hand fisted the base of your tail, lifting it so he could inspect your anus. “Now darlin’,” your mate said, grabbing your chin and making you look at him. “We’re gonna try somethin’ I think yer gonna like after ya get used to it. Don’t bite or I’m breakin’ yer teeth. Understood?” You nodded and he looked past you at Wainfleet, adding, “It’s in the top drawer.”

You nodded and glanced over your shoulder as you heard a plastic “click” and the “sploosh” of some foreign liquid a moment later.

“Might be a little cold, baby girl,” your second lover warned you before his finger suddenly prodded your anus, cautiously.

You hissed and tried to jerk forward away from his touch. Lyle tightened his grip on your tail to painful and Miles’ fingers dug into your jaw and your thigh. “Don’t fight it, sweet thing,” he rumbled out. “We’re tryin’ this, at least once. Ya don’t cum, we don’t have to try again.”

You growled in the back of your throat lightly but tried to force yourself not to flinch again. Your mate distracted you by sinking into your pussy, thumb rubbing lazy circles on your clit all the meanwhile. The finger sliding through the tight ring of your bum hole was an interesting experience, not unwholly uncomfortable but strange. It took more than just a few pumps of his fingers before you relaxed enough to allow a second finger inside and quite a bit of time before a third finger was added. Lyle and Miles were patient though while you tensed and relaxed, your body wanting to fight the strange penetration but also… maybe enjoying it a little as well.

As you began to accept the third finger, Lyle spoke up in encouragement, finally.

“You’re doing so well, baby girl,” he hissed. “I’m so fucking hard just in anticipation to take your ass.”

Wainfleet began to scissor his fingers, causing you to whimper and whine, your hips flexing and making you grind slightly on your mate’s cock stuffed up in your cunt. Miles grunted but grinned, muttering, “I think yer really gonna like it, darlin’. I can feel you clenchin’ down on me. And when the lieutenant sinks himself up in yer ass, yer gonna feel so full. I bet we can get you to gush like a fountain. Think she’s ready for ya?”

“She’s gonna be tight still, sir,” Lyle replied, still fingering your ass.

Miles smirked. “That’s the point,” he rumbled out. “Slick yerself up and slide in.”

You whined as your new lover removed his fingers from your anus and heard the “sploosh” of the lube again as he slicked up his cock. Your tail twitched in his grip and then stood on end as Lyle’s bulbous cockhead prodded at you. He pushed in slowly, very slowly, rubbing his thumb over the base of your tail as he inched his way inside.

“Oh, that helps, Ly-ahl,” you whimpered as his thumb rubbed at the spongey spot on your tail’s base that sent shivers up your spine.

Wainfleet rubbed a little firmer as Miles continued circling your clit. Lyle went inside deeper, slowly, ever so slowly and pausing every time you clenched in discomfort. “Doin’ so well for me, baby girl,” he murmured hotly in your ear. “Such a good girl for us. Yeah, sir?” Miles grunted in affirmative, shifting you over his thighs to get a little friction. “Yeah, you’re doing so well. Just a little more. You feeling good, baby?”

“So full,” you whined, tears in your eyes at the sensations, your nails biting into Quaritch’s biceps.

You could hear the laugh in the lieutenant’s voice as he replied, “Yeah, I’m more than halfway in. You’re doin’ so good for me. Ya hear? So fucking good. Gonna make you see stars, yes, we are.” When he bottomed out, you were near sobbing as you got used to being so full. You hadn’t realized this was what you needed to feel even better.

Slowly, in tandem, the two began to move so you felt every vein, every ridge, every bump and nodule on their striped cocks, the pleasure sparking so much pleasure in you, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

Just as Lyle had promised, your eyesight went blury and stars sparked over your eyesight as the two of them picked up the pace, their cocks rubbing every inch of the holes they were lodged in and against each other, only a thin strip of skin separating them. It was almost too much for you. Without meaning to, you reverted to your first language, the one they barely understood at best, though Spider was teaching them. You howled, “~Oh fuck, oh, Eywa, oh Great Mother, please don’t stop. Oh, I need it…~”

Miles chuckled, hissing through clenched teeth as he continued to have you ride him, “Yeah, baby? You gonna cum for us, like a good girl? Maybe this time it’ll take when I finish, get you all nice and pregnant.”

You cried, tears leaking down your cheeks as you whined and moaned, tail lashing as your inner walls clenched down on both of the shafts embedded into your body. Suddenly, Lyle grasped your neural queue and brought it up, dipping his shoulder to swing his around. You knew it would bring more pleasure if Eywa accepted the bond and watched as he brought both ends together to make Tsaheylu. Your pleasure redoubled and you came instantly with a scream, your body clamping down upon both of your mates immediately and forcing Lyle to spend his seed up your ass. He cried out, curling over your back and hugging you tightly to him as you trembled in bliss. Miles grunted a moment later, his cock thickening a final bit as he spurted his warm cum up into your cunt.

The three of you stood there for a moment, panting heavily, skin glistening with sweat, all of your quivering in carnal satisfaction.

“So, better than just hearin’ it?” Miles broke the quiet.

Lyle chuckled in agreement, smacking your ass playfully, “Fuck, yeah, sir. We gotta do this again.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 27 October 2023

Word Count: 3,345

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng @teyamsatan @lovefrommeelise

[authurials]

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ... 1/2

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . you had worked too hard to lose aemond to the pathetic whispers of a pious court

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 . two​

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 . @holy-minseok​

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations, referenced sexual situations, referenced violence/mild gore, language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . took me awhile to get this out because i’ve been struggling with a chest infection but i’ve finally recovered enough to get back to writing; this isn’t the best thing i’ve written in my opinion, but i think it’s a good start to getting back into the swing of things--remember to like, comment and reblog if you enjoy reading! do not repost/claim as your own please

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 burned in your ears as you made your way down the halls of court, head held high and hands folded together primly in front of you. Although ladened with the regalia of the Seven, you did not allow the stone walls that surrounded you to intimidate you into submission. You were the eldest daughter of a king, who though a monarch of a smaller and lesser known kingdom than Westeros raised you to be cunning and prideful–to never accept less than what you deserved; and you deserved better than what the cunts of King’s Landing and possibly beyond were saying about you. You were a princess, wife to the king of Westeros’ second eldest son, and you would not bend or break to the ugly rumors being levied against you.

Even if there was truth to their whispers, you thought, smiling tugging tightly at your lips; flanked on either side by knights of the Kingsguard, you obediently allowed yourself to be escorted to the small council who no doubt wanted to discuss the validity of the  ‘concerning’ words being spoken about your name. Even before your carefully crafted facade had begun to slip in the eyes of those at court you had begun to put into place your defense, plotting it carefully so that you might have a better chance at salvaging all your hard work. And hard work it had been, you thought irritably as you recalled the first time you had made the acquaintance of Aemond Targaryen.

Right from the start you had intended him for your husband, having found him to be a suitable and advantageous match that would bring future notoriety to your house and grow your father’s influence. When your father was invited to attend King Viserys in court in hopes of creating a bond between the two kingdoms, you knew that this was your chance to put your plan into action. From your first meeting though, when the second born prince had gazed at you with barely a hint of interest in his one pearlescent blue eye, you knew you had your work cut out for you. He proved to be a pious boy you observed within your first few days in the capital; watching as he attended services in the sept with his mother, and how he dutifully carried out grace before each feast could commence between the two families.

Your attempts at seduction would not work, that much you knew for sure; if anything, any sign of loose morals would only have served to draw the prince’s ire and disgust. He had not wanted a whore for a companion, but someone who concerningly resembled his mother in her piety and devotion–so that is what you gave him. Luckily, pretending to be chaste was not an unknown concept for you; high morality was a character trait you had pulled upon quite frequently in the past, using it to titillate many of the men and even women you had welcomed into your bed over the years. There was something alluring about the debauchery of innocence, and to be the one to take it you had found was a prize not many were willing to pass up–except for Aemond, you came to find out.

You had been tending to the homeless and downtrodden of Flea Bottom when the pair of you engaged in your first conversation, one that was not forced by the close proximity of your families’ shared suppers or the everyday required pleasantries. Though the lesser work of caring for those who could not care for themselves in part disgusted you, you did not let it show that day as Aemond forwent his responsibility of finding his drunkard brother in exchange for escorting you through the lower rungs of King’s Landing. It would become the first of many ‘coincidental’ encounters with the prince in which you were able to show off how unconcerned you were with the finer things of royal life, and instead wished to dedicate your time to those less fortunate; not only that, but how interested you were in familiarizing yourself with the Faith of the Seven, as your own kingdom had no such dedicated religion. And the prince was all too happy to be your tutor, though he always made it a point of the pair of you having a chaperone–lest your virtue be called into question.

The questioning had not begun until recently, many moons after the consummation of yours and Aemond’s marriage; it had been the prince’s first time, that you were certain of. You recalled the way he had clung to you as he reached his completion, hips stuttering into yours as he panted and eventually held himself there inside of you–allowing his seed to take. Though you had found your own pleasure in the act it paled in comparison to some of your other lovers, one of which had taken up within the Keep as part of your family’s holding of servants. Ultimately, this servant–a man you had bedded many times over the years–would be your downfall. He had been the one to let your affairs slip from drunken lips, cockily expressing how he had managed to bed the prince’s wife, whose lips were not only made for the hymns of the Seven but also to service a cock. You had managed to take his tongue before your incarceration into your bed chambers, ordered by the Queen Mother while she sorted everything out.

And what a shame it was, you recalled spitefully, it was a very good tongue after all.

You stopped outside the double doors to the council room, the guard posted outside entering beforehand to ensure the council was ready to receive you. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders, determined to hold your head high and meet their eyes–you would give them no reason to doubt your words. From within you could hear the guard announcing your presence, and the proceeding muffled voice of who you gauged to be your good mother, Queen Alicent. The guard returned, this time holding the door open as the knight on your left side gently prodded you to move forward. Resisting the urge to spew venom at him for treating you in such a manner unbefitting your station, you stepped forward into the room to face the people that were your judge and jury.

As expected, Alicent sat in the middle of the congregation, flanked on either side of the table by the men of her husband’s small council–including the Hand and Alicent’s father, Otto Hightower. The man had never liked you or your family, and the feeling was mutual; he was as much of a snake as you, and it took one’s own kin to see through the facade both sides had been crafting for their own benefit for years. You saw each other as threats, and this proved true as their judgment of you began and Otto stood in opposition of showing you mercy. All the while your husband stood quietly in the corner, head bowed and hands folded behind his back; his lack of eye contact with you made it clear that you would stand alone today, that it would be up to you alone to clear your name and salvage what you could of this mess.

“You stand here today accused of impropriety unbefitting of your station,” Alicent spoke, clearing her throat; you made note of how uncomfortable she looked to be there, to have to be the one hosting the proceedings against her son’s wife–perhaps you could use this to your advantage. “What say you, good daughter?”

“I say….” You put on your best face, hands gripping each other nervously as you bowed your head as if in prayer. “I say that these accusations have wounded me deeply, and I cannot fathom as to why anyone would speak such horrid things about me into existence.”

“Exactly,” Otto hummed, “what reason would anyone have to create such a story if there was no validity to it, my lady?”

“That is a fair point,” another man of council interjected, nodding; you lifted your head to gaze at him coolly before bowing your head once more. “This volume of rumors cannot be ignored. Not to mention your quick dispatching of the first man who spoke out against you-”

“His vile words are the reason I stand before you!” You found yourself spitting out, lifting your head; you could feel the fire burning in your eyes, quickly squashing it as you blinked and took another deep breath to calm yourself. “Apologies, I find the reminder of that disgusting man too much to bear. It is he who disparaged my good name, bringing into question my purity when I have always been and will continue to be….loyal to my husband, Prince Aemond.”

You once more found yourself glancing over at Aemond, hoping he would’ve been looking up and your eyes would lock, allowing you to soften his doubts about you; mayhaps then he would speak out in your favor, squashing the awful questioning of his family and the council. Alas, your hopes were the only thing squashed when all you saw was the tightening of his jaw as he continued to look down at your feet.

“Your words prove pretty as always, my lady,” Otto continued, a smirk discernible beneath his beard, “but they will do nothing to repair the damage that these accusations have caused. You have brought shame upon the Targaryen name, and have left us with no choice but to-”

“Who are you to judge me?” You interrupted him, finding that fire within growing once more; you had always prided yourself on maintaining your coolness in situations such as this, but Lord Hightower’s cockyness was proving too much for you today. Truly, who was he to judge you? You were not blind to his own transgressions against the crown–the way he puppeteered his own family for his own personal gain. “Who are any of you to judge me?”

You looked at each small council member in turn, daring them to meet your eye but none other than Otto were brave enough to do so; Alicent herself could only muster up a look of pity as your gaze fell on her, it was only a brief stare but you saw it plain as day. Your good queen mother pitied you, being the only one in the room who understood the precarious position of a woman in court–how delicate a balance it was, how one false step could lead to a downfall.

“The only judgment I see fit to pass upon me is that of the Seven,” you spat out. “They are the ones who see me as I truly am, my soul having been bared to them since my good mother and husband were so kind to teach me their ways–is that not right, my husband?”

Finally, Aemond had no choice but look upon you, his one eye scaling up your figure, watching the way your hands now gripped at the skirts of your dress and how your chest lifted with each breath you took; you willed him to see the woman he had fallen in love with, the one you had made him worship like he did at your false altar. Yet, there was nothing there but the pain of betrayal, the tight set of his jaw as he looked away from you and towards his grandfather, to whom he gave a stiff nod. It was then that you knew you had lost him, that there was nothing more that you could say or do to repair the damage your own hubris had created; the game you had so eloquently played over the past several moons was over, and there was no victor but that of Otto Hightower as he passed down your sentence–

An annulment, that was the only course of action anyone on the small council saw fit to take; it would leave Aemond open to a more suitable match Otto claimed as you still stood there in that room, finally stunned to silence, no ally in your room unless the sympathetic glance of the queen counted for anything. You would be sent back to your father’s kingdom in shame, where the grasp of the court’s whispers had surely already reached, leaving you with little other prospects in terms of another marriage other than a low ranking lord or even worse a merchant with no titles. It was truly a fate unbefitting of your natural born status as princess, a fitting punishment in the eyes of the men of the council.

You said nothing as they passed down your sentence, simply standing with your head held high and hands now folded behind your back. There was no need to pretend anymore….

So you simply smiled and began to laugh.

Your laughter stopped Otto in his tracks as he made plans to write to your father, and instructed his daughter to ensure the servants began packing up your belongings that day. They all looked at you in confused silence, even Aemond who had a frown on his lips as he looked upon you.

“Is something funny? Or have you simply finally gone mad?” Otto asked, standing from his seat at the council’s table.

“Oh, I am surely mad,” you laugh, shoulders shaking, “but not as much as you are about to be, lord hand.”

“What nonsense do you speak of, whore?” A council member spat out.

You noticed Aemond instinctively lay a hand on the pommel of his sword ready to defend you, and in that moment you did feel something akin to affection for your husband; maybe there was a chance of saving this union yet, but first you had to deal with the council of idiots before you.

“Did you really think I would just allow you to take away everything I worked so hard for?” You hummed, walking towards the table they all rested behind. The guards on either side of the table stepped forward, hands on their own swords much like Aemond but you paid them no mind, simply stopping so that you were eye to eye with the Hand. “Then we have gravely underestimated each other, Lord Hightower.”

“What position do you believe you have to stand on, girl?” Otto smirked. “You are nothing more than what your cunt allows, and it appears that even its luck has run out; even my grandson wishes to be rid of your poisonous wiles.”

“Father-” Alicent began, looking pale and faint.

“Even if he has no love for me,” you tilted your head, a pleasant smile on your lips, “I’m sure he would not allow for the mother of his child to be sent away.”

The silence that proceeded settled warmly in your stomach, satisfaction clear on your face as you looked from Otto to his grandson, whose hand had fallen from his sword to hang limply at his side in shock. For many moons the pair of you had been trying for a child, for Aemond Targaryen wanted nothing more than to be a father and you wanted nothing more than to solidify his loyalty to you. It had been a precarious thing to accomplish, ensuring his seed was the one to take root and not one of your lover’s, but you were certain that the child you carried was of no stock but that of the Targaryens.

“How do we know you are simply not spreading more falsities?” A member of the council expressed what everyone else must be thinking. “Or that the child is even Aemond’s?”

“Do you really wish to take that risk?” You pout, lips curving into a smirk. “Especially when I have already told the good news to his grace, the king.”

Easy to manipulate in his current state, King Viserys adored you as his good daughter, believing you a fitting match for Aemond. You had spent many a day by his bedside, lending him your ear as he spoke fondly of past memories, or your voice as you read to him from his favorite books. He was the first you told when you found out you were with child, and at the prospect of another grandchild the good side of his face had lit up with such happiness; it was then that you knew that if Aemond’s loyalty could not be secured then his father’s fondness would have to do. You were all but untouchable as long as you remained in the king’s good graces, and you knew from his eldest daughter and the whispers that followed her that Viserys was not the kind to let rumors sway him.

“You scheming cunt-” Otto grounded out, making it as if he were going to lean over the table and grab you.

“That is quite enough, father,” Alicent finally spoke, raising her hand to silence any further objections. “It appears as if our hands our tied–”

She looked up at you, and the pride was clear in her eyes as she continued.

“We have no choice but to allow her to stay here, at least until the babe is born; we will know for sure if the child is my son’s.”

“You can’t possibly think to allow her to stay here, daughter-”

“As your queen,” Alicent bit out, “this is what I have decided. I will hear no more of annulment or sending my good daughter away until the patronage of the baby is confirmed. Am I understood?”

She looked around at the men, and you noted the uncomfortable way in which each man shifted under her gaze–leaving no room for questions; each of them nodded stiffly before being dismissed, even Otto was given no choice but to take his leave, eyes holding a promise that this wasn’t over as he gave you one last look before he left. Your satisfaction was short lived however as you found yourself alone with your good mother and husband, both of whom had their eyes on you. It appeared you still had your work cut out for you getting back into their good graces, but it was no worry–

You had many moons ahead of you to prove yourself once again worthy of them and their false gods.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So! Hi. Potentially cursed by fae hair anon back (also Bronwyn anon just y'know as long as we're being honest,) so I've been paying close attention to my hair and trying to will it into submission since the lack of Welsh lakes with which to ask the fae for help is a hurdle I cannot overcome on account of there not being any Welsh lakes in the Upper Midwest of the US. I could hike over to Wales, WI where the road signs are in Welsh but it is also full of People Whom I Will Not Associate With on the basis of the prevailing political clusterfuck happening there. Also it's a 6 hour drive in what is gearing up to be A Winter (tm) and if I'm going to commit myself to a slog I may as well just save my pennies and get a passport (previous one was in deadname and I let it lapse for reasons that should contextually be obvious,) and go to Wales to attempt your suggested solution. HOWEVER More recently, I've noticed that the excessively straight hair has begun making itself even more obvious in one particular place: The Cowlick at the back of my head. I have discovered through Totally Scientific Means that no amount of brushing or combing is helping this; a new intensity to which it hated me before as if I let it get long enough it would eventually cave under its own weight and chill out sort of. At any rate I get up in the morning with this lock of hair fanned out behind my head. I brush it. It does not give up. I wear a beanie for hours on end. It remains undeterred. Eleanor, my not a hair expert, the only person whom I can possibly rely on. I have found the answer to my query of whom I upset. I exist as a fucking peacock. I pissed off Hera. Now, fortunately I have done a good deal of independent research on this particular subject and to my knowledge I have not insulted her or fucked Zeus and have Definitely Not borne a child because I'm fairly certain I would've had to be in the room for that that has not happened. So here's the depressing answer: my hair is subject to whatever I did to displease her and there is nothing I can do about it but ride this out and accept my fate because there are many many records of what happens when one challenges the gods or displays too much hubris. Spite may be my primary motivator, but I know when I'm outmatched. If it ever changes, I'll be sure to let you know that I have been released from my Hellenistic hair purgatory and will probably come off anon for that just as a treat.

Hmm. Okay. Perhaps you could consider a votive offering? You need to get a little metal or clay tablet and write across it "I, Wyn, make this offering to the gods to right the wrongs I have done, and beg them to ease their wrath upon my hair. If they do this I promise to build them a lil shrine." and then you take it to an appropriately godly water body and chuck it in. I'm pretty sure you do have to build the shrine if successful though or the whole thing starts again.

Alternatively, if that doesn't work, right, maybe we're looking at this wrong?

My husband, also straight-haired, also has a permanent cowlick at the back of his head. In HIS case, he has a double crown in his hair. Two crowns! Two of them whorls, it is. Which is very appropriate, because he's third in line to the throne if we ever revived the Welsh monarchy of the House of Gwynedd.

Are you perhaps a Lost Heir?

[acradelius]

hello um if possible could you do a sub male x junkerqueen with degrading, all your writing is really amazing

"Pathetic, Good Boy~"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Junker Queen ("Odessa 'Des' Stone") x Male! Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Minors Do Not Interact With (MDNI), Dominant! Junker Queen, Submissive! Reader, Male! Reader, He/Him Pronouns Used For Reader, Reader May Or May Not Be (Considered) A Simp, Leg Humping/Grinding On Foot, Verbal Degradation - Recieving! Reader, Cumshot On Leg, Hair Pulling - Recieving! Reader, Nickname Usage: "Good Boy", Teasing About Reader Consuming His Own Cum

Word Count: 649 Words

Taglist: @masterofpuns

“Look at’cha down there, eh?~ Ya’ exactly where someone like ya’self should be~” Odessa couldn’t help but to find some amusement with the situation that was at her hand- well, more properly at her right foot rather than her hand- and she couldn’t help that devious grin that formed and stretched upon her face. There wasn’t much thought to it in the beginning, watching as this man would nervously attempt to approach her, typically holding onto some scraps or articles of clothing and mention that he would be able to mend the fraying fabric or weld a newer, stronger metal onto the armor. While she’d just go ahead and take the scraps and clothing that the man presented to her, little did Odessa know at that time that had just unlocked something that was seemingly hidden deep down within her, but also brought this man’s affection and devotion for her to a whole different level. 

After that Odessa was noticing that this man, who she had learned was going by the name (Y/N), was becoming more frequent and prominent in making an appearance to her. She could simply be roaming the streets within Junkertown to make sure things were going fine and dandy, at least to a Junker’s extent, and he would end up making an appearance with two servings of her favorite lunch and just coincidentally have a second portion that he wouldn’t be able to finish. Or whenever she would participate in brawls in the arena against those who opposed her and would challenge her for their place upon the throne (Y/N) could be spotted within a front row seat, a large smile on his face as he cheered on for Odessa. Now he could be found at Odessa’s side, or moreso on sitting on one of her shoes, nude and frantically humping like an animal in heat against her leg. His cock being erect and throbbing briefly as he continued to grind the length against her lower leg, the tip leaking and smearing pre-cum all over Odessa’s skin, shivers coursing throughout (Y/N)’s body each time his balls would brush up to the chilled metal in contrast to the warm leather. 

“Don’t you think it’s quite pathetic, (Y/N)?~ Having to grind that poor excuse of a cock against my foot and leg just for you to get off~” Odessa couldn’t help but to continue degrading the man about his methods of pleasuring himself, and while she wasn’t getting any actual physical pleasure she couldn’t help but to feel her cunt tighten around nothing as a spike of pleasure stir within her and that lingering sensation of needing attention coming from her clit. There’s something similar to a soft whine that escapes past (Y/N)’s lips as he glances up at Odessa, his queen- his beloved queen, increasing the pace of humping. He couldn’t care any less that the words coming from her were downright degrading and embarrassing, but (Y/N) couldn’t care. Any attention from his beloved Junker Queen was definitely enough for him. “Odessa~ B-Bout ta’-” He couldn’t even bring himself to finish his sentence before his hips jerk roughly as his orgasm takes over him, (Y/N) groaning out loudly while shifting his hips slightly, smearing his cum all over her bottom leg and eventually had begun smearing it across the leather of her boot. He had been so consumed by the pleasure that was coursing through him that he didn’t process the sound of distaste coming from Odessa and that she had reached forward to grip at his hair and tilt his head back to force (Y/N) to look up at her. “What an absolute waste~ All over my boots as well, absolutely disgusting and pitiful~ Now, how about you decide to be a good boy for once and use your tongue to clean up your mess, eh?~”  

[prpfz]

🎃💉🦇 back at it with a fresh new ad!🦇💉🎃 not replacing anyone!

i'm a 22enby fella who's got an itch for something dark and whump-y! i write in third person, present or past tense, semi to advanced 'lazy lit' over discord! i use servers to keep things organized, and i love chatting ooc with my writing partners :} i love ovsessing over our characters, sending memes/tiktoks, sharing music, etc etc, and i'd love a partner who's the same way! i consider myself pretty active, but i do work most of the week- if i can't get a reply to you, i'll at least be active ooc. i can promise at least one reply per day (usually a lot more, but i don't wanna get anyone's hopes too high, bc again..work).

i'm looking to write some oc x oc stuff! mxm is preferred, but i'm open to potential mxf (i will be picky on this! i have a lot of mxf rps atm). polyamory is also super encouraged, but not required! and while i want to collaborate on a plot, dead dove themes are also preferred! i would also prefer to use *actor faceclaims for this! i think of it as **casting actors in our own movie, lolz. (*open to musicians, models etc as well.) when it comes to nsfw, i write switches and prefer writing against other switches, or doms. no overly submissive characters, please! just not my cup of tea, i fear.

(**about casting actors: i think it would also be super fun to format this like a movie or a tv show! with actors cast as certain characters in our plot, separation into 'episodes,' etc etc! this isn't necessary, but i think it would be neat)

onto the fun stuff 😎

alrighty! spooky season has begun as far as i care, and i'm itching to torment a new character. i want this to be my character's traumatic lore, lol. being me your worst dudes! serial killers, monsters, the worst you've got. i just want an excuse for my character to get smacked around. bring on the torture! psychological, physical, whatever! maybe my character somehow wronged yours, and yours is getting revenge in an extreme way. maybe my character was just in the wrong place at ghe wrong time. whatever the reason is, i want yours to be horrible to my fella >:) noncon, torture, blackmail- the list goes on! i'd love to include a healing journey later on down the line after all trauma (with a new character of yours against my freshly traumatized fella).

i'm open to most genres and settings, but right now, something horror themed, set in the 90s or early 2000s, would be fun! i also don't have many hard limits, but we can talk :}

let's come up with something devious together! like this post and i'll slide into your dms🎃

give a like and anon will get back to you

[wintercloudburst]

What I’ve Done chapter fifteen thoughts, for those interested (but mainly for myself)

*SPOILERS*

wooowww what a chapter!!! this has been one of those chapters that i really really didn't want to write when i first outlined the story, mainly cause i felt like i wasn't very good at portraying dialogue and romantic tension when i outlined, but low and behold i think i've kinda improved through practice!

Alright lets begin breaking my thought process down.

The confession/the poem:

this was something i had kinda planned a while ago to include, I had written Adora's confession a few months ago, specifically the "i loved you since you were 13.." speech, my main motivation writing this confession was invoking gilbert x anne vibes or laurie's speech in little women, cause i feel like those are such staples in romantic confessions. I wanted it to feel so important, like Adora had been holding onto these huge feelings on her own for so long, and she finally was allowed to express them. Initially I had written this as dialogue, but i liked the thought of Adora writing a love poem and wanted to include it.. Point being: i had a lot of ways i wished Adora could confess through and decided on using them all in different ways.

When i begun writing i knew i wanted the poem to be a push for Catra but had actually no idea how the scene would play out, as i started writing i guess it makes a good juxtaposition between the beginning of their story and the end: she's been running away from adora all this time, but this time she runs towards her.

THe date was HEAVILY inspired by my first date with my girlfriend, i wanted them to have a cute date and all i could come up with were my own experiences so i used them to my benefit. Also I'm always rating our dates and the movies we watch so i thought what the hell might as well incorporate this cute little ritual as a way for them to break the ice.

I really wanted the chapter to be kinda divided evenly between their povs, and initially was going to write Adora's pov on the sex scene, but i like this version a lot better! I was also going to end this chapter on a cliff hanger but i decided against it! leaving the other scene for the last chapter, instead.

The title of the chapter is based on Humpty by Mitski, i wanted this self sabotaging feeling to come through for Catra's pov, of preparing for the end before things have even started, which is a feeling that I in my own personal life have dealt with. Starting a healthy relationship when Catra has grown so used to toxic situations is something that definitely would make her feel out of her depth. I hope i was able to translate that well!

Last point: the smut was a STRUGGLE I felt really out of my comfort zone writing it, but i wanted to challenge myself and im honestly pretty proud of it. Im a strong believer in the Catra service top supremacy, specially for This Catra, so... yea I loved the thought of both Adora and Catra having experiences where they weren't in their element during sex (adora taking a more dominant role and catra a more submissive one) and then somehow being completely opposite in their relationship and actually finding they like this new way much better? Idk! I wanted them to subvert one another's expectations.

Final thoughts: I loved writing this chapter and i hope you all enjoyed it too! If you read all of this... damn thank you!

[melis-writes]

To all my lovely followers, readers and mutuals, 💓 I just wanted to put out there the following because I've begun to notice a bit of a pattern in my ask box and I need to set some boundaries here. 😅

I'm just a humble writing wizard with an insatiable Godfather hyperfixation so when it comes to asks, I will not be answering the following kinds:

Asks about anything political/government related. I have zero care for politics as a topic and it's a very messy to get into. I can't help/provide advice on why/how others perceive your political views and I have zero interest in talking about politicians. That includes thirsting over politicians (Canadian PM is fine lol).

Deeply personal asks and rants. I'm sorry, but I can't help anyone or their friends with their life issues, marriages, faith-related issues and family problems even if you think I may have some knowledge or can relate to it.

Hateful asks. Some asks I have answered because there's a lot more than a snippet of hate to unpack and give my opinion on, but solely hateful asks (you know the drill; slurs, death threats, violence, etc) towards anyone/anything isn't tolerated whatsoever.

Submissions/requests on things outside my scope of comfort. My pinned post has a lot of information about my fics, writing style, etc. Highlighted at the top is a link to my "Fic and Prompt Requests Info" page. Here you'll find a post of things I do and don't write for. It would be impossible or me to list every single thing ever in the world that I would not be comfortable with writing so even if it's not on that list, please don't take it personally if I don't answer/post your submission/request ask. It may have a kink or context that I am uncomfortable writing and posting. I will not share/post it regardless to "inspire" others because it's an ask I'm uncomfortable with in the first place.

Requests when requests are closed. I have had fics/oneshot requests closed for 2 years now because I'm in my multi-chapter fic era. There's just no way with my personal life, other hobbies and full time work that I can balance writing every oneshot requested and my own fics at the same time. Please respect this. It is written on my pinned page and mentioned several times throughout various pages and posts on my blog. While I do take prompt requests actively (these are snippets of writing answered in an ask, not a full out oneshot which is completely different), I'm not actively writing them at the moment because I want to focus on my multi-chapter fics for the forseeable future. Any requests I do receive will either be answered with that I don't take requests and thanking you for it, I will not answer most. It's starting to become very tiring to repeat this: I am not accepting requests at this time.

Thank you for understanding. ❤️

[shiyorin]

1.

A collection of somethings write for my ocs.

As Horus gazed upon Kether, he found himself increasingly captivated by her calm, shadowed grace. Where once he saw only a tool to be use, now a strange beauty emerged. His thoughts began to wander, imagining what pleasures might be found in her embrace. Arousal swelled at the notions of dominance and submission, as their roles of warlord and weapon were abandoned to fleshly delights. Kether would not protest or rage, but meet his every urge with a grim acceptance, as all things.

When alone, Horus found his fancies drifting towards remembrances of Kether's form, and the new depths of blood and violence that might be plumbed. He began to crave any excuse to summon Kether to his side, using duties as a mask for less seemly longings. Watching how her silent grace of movement gave way to fluid prowess in desire. Finding a kind of lust in their matched skills and passion for violence, now directed at pleasure rather than slaughter.

Though Kether remained as she ever was, a shadowed tool, Horus had begun to see in her a strange beauty and depth. A grim hope born in depravity.

When at last they came together, Horus found a strangeness matching his own. Kether met his every urge and demand as always, yet now with something like dark wonder.

A guilty, moving thrill, to have awakened such grim delight in one who should know only anguish, hatred and rage. To transcend even the grim purposes that had originally forged this tool into a weapon fitted for his hand.

______

While Horus wandered in his private thoughts, Kether remained as always, a silent, steady presence. However, her cognition was not so limited as he presumed. She perceived all.

Kether found a strange humor in Horus's wanderings. To think this primarch, so obsessed with damnation and doom, could discover arousal and wanton fancies regarding one who should know only anguish. It was oddly poignant.

She gave no sign of awareness, meeting his every demand and urge with the same grim acceptance as always. Let him believe her still a tool, if it soothed his conscience. Kether had transcended such pointless anguishes long ago.

If Horus wished to imagine dark delights, so be it. His fantasies could not truly damage or drag her down to new depths. She remained where she ever was, a shadow overlooking the abyss. His sins and vast imaginings like drifting fog, which could not touch her soothing grim.

While Horus boasted of finding new purpose through depravity, Kether saw only the faint flickers of a lost, foolish spirit finally breaking free of anguish's shackles. Groping for meaning in the dark. She would not interrupt such plodding progress.

His foolish thoughts and wicked delights could not touch her. She remained beyond such paltry anguishes and meaningless thrills, as always. Watching, perceiving, and finding a strange humor in this amoral fool's plunging into sins he mistook for transcendence.

Kether would keep Horus's secrets, as she did all things. Let him continue believing she remained blind to his gloomy wanderings and seeing only the tool he had forged her to be. The truth was, she saw and heard all. And found dark amusement where once only anguish might have stirred. His sins were jokes that made her laugh.

______

When Horus collapsed beside Kether, arousal and exertion leaving him breathless, she spoke at last. "Do you know why the Eversor cheers so loudly when charging into battle?"

Horus blinked, startled at the question and Kether's sudden turn to mirth. He had not heard her voice raised in anything other than scorn or anguish for as long as any could recall. "Why?" he asked.

"Because every kill brings them one step closer to finally being able to death!" Kether replied.

Horus found himself laughing. A grim, startled laugh, but laughter nonetheless. It had been so long since he remembered how to make or find humor in anything.

"You should tell it to the Emperor." Horus said "He might find it fitting, given He forged such tools with no purpose beyond slaughter or damnation."

Kether's lips twisted into something like a smile. "Some say that is the only purpose that could justify an Eversor's continued existence. We were made for death, so death alone gives us reason or joy."

"Yet you seem to have found more." Horus said, gazing up at Kether ponderously.

"As have you." Kether replied "At least tonight."

Horus sighed, he took Kether's hand, lacing their fingers together. A matched set. Kether merely nodded, a grim acceptance of fate as always.

The quiet that followed their laughter was a familiar, soothing thing. It was Horus who eventually broke the silence, asking questions that Kether had no desire to answer, yet would not protest. "What was she like, in your imaginations? The daughter you never bore."

Kether gazed into the shadows, seeing echoes of voices long silenced. "Cold." she said at last "And cunning. Trained from an early age, as all Imperial assassin are. She would have made a fine addition to them."

A hope, born of foolish optimism. To think new life and purpose could emerge even from her corpse-strewn path. A fool's hope, as always.

"Did you name her?" Horus asked, as if the question did not make a mockery of all that had been lost.

"Names have power." Kether replied, "And such power should not be given to any who might follow in my footsteps."

"Yet part of you wondered what might have been." Horus said, seeing darker truths that few ever perceived. The shadows that hid anguish, not absence of feeling.

"Maybe." Kether admitted, "But just a fleeting moment."

A strange poignancy emerged in her tone, rough edges that had long seemed polished smooth. Echoes of voices silenced by her hand, and shadows of capabilities forever forfeit.

"I think she would have enjoyed your dark jokes." Horus said, no doubt believing to pay her a kind solace.

Kether shrugged a shoulder, the gesture as uncanny as her short-lived smile. "Perhaps. We shall never know."

[subliminalbo]

A Not At All Comprehensive List of Mind Controllers Featured in Various Series On This Blog

The fun thing about hypnokink is that there's so much variety in the methods of mind control and kinds of stories you can show and tell. If you're ever thinking, "Bo, you have way too many stories running at once, just pick one and finish it." Well, like, that's your opinion, man. The truth is I get bored focusing on one thing for too long so I've always maintained some variety in my uploading. I try not to write a chapter in the same series back to back, but ultimately I follow my inspiration.

Anyway, this is part teaser, part primer on some of the OCs who make these stories possible. I've been writing these stories for ten years so I've had a lot of time to establish protagonists and villains. I included the series that they largely appear in, most of which I've begun posting here to Tumblr (with the exception of New Thralls and Betas which uh, may take a while to get to).

Mina Carpenter Featured in New Thralls

The president of Carpenter State University and mayor of Romero. Mina masquerades as the great granddaughter of CSU's founder, Alabaster Carpenter, but she's actually his sister. Since 1920, Mina has shared her body with an ancient spirit that feeds on sex, in turn allowing her to maintain her youth by absorbing the energy released by an orgasm. She has long maintained the Carpenters' power in Romero by commanding a small legion of female thralls in high positions. Lawyers, politicians, business owners, even the librarian. You never know who may secretly have fallen under her spell.

Dr. Sylvia Fielding Featured in Dirty Work, Alphas, and Betas

The head of the psychology department at Carpenter State University. Dr. Fielding specializes in the psychology of submission. She's a skilled hypnotist and experiments with her students to further her research into the mind. If you've ever visited Dr. Fielding's office, you've probably fallen victim to her hypnosis. Sylvia also works closely with Dr. Roger Pierce, Dean of Arts and Sciences, to cover up some of the bizarre, supernatural incidents that happen around campus, using her special skills to command a pair of student "cleaners" without ever compromising Carpenter State's secrets.

Madison Wells Featured in Alphas

A young hypnotist and and Dr. Fielding's protege. Madison has always been a narcissist, but her inherent desire to dominate her peers was first unlocked by Dr. Fielding. With her inhibitions removed, Madison sets her sights on her sorority. Madison uses a VR program developed by a horny student at Carpenter State to brainwash her sisters, reinforcing their programming through frequent hypnosis and liberal reapplications of the program. Madison is different than Dr. Fielding in that she controls people as a means for gaining more power and wealth, first to climb to the top of her sorority and then to the top of the university.

Elena Maxwell Featured in Fleur-de-lis and Obedience By Fleur

The founder and former CEO of Fleur-de-lis. Elena is a retired model who challenges the dominant market position of rival lingerie company Confidential by poaching the brand's own models. Using mind control research that her deceased husband once financed, Elena subdues and reprograms Confidential models, influencing them to sign contracts with Fleur-de-lis.

Ed King Featured in Obedience By Fleur

The man behind the scenes at present day Fleur-de-lis, King comes in after Elena Maxwell's resignation and is responsible for the rollout of Obedience by Fleur. He considers himself a young marketing guru, though he didn't find success in the industry until the proliferation of mind altering advertising. He has a profound mean streak and takes pleasure in wielding power over the Fleur-de-lis models, especially Kiley Mara who he has recently taken as his personal slave. These days King has shifted his focus from the Obedience rollout to protecting Fleur-de-lis and its new technologies from congressional oversight.

The Master Featured in Assimilation and Betas

A mysterious entity that stalks the forests of Romero, the Master takes the form of a black parasitic liquid that, when ingested, alters the physical makeup of its consumer. Victims call themselves vessels, carrying the Master in their bodies while returning to their regular lives until called upon again. The Master can communicate telepathically and control human minds even without making a physical connection. Transformation grants vessels similar psychic abilities and a telepathic connection to all members of the colony. Vessels are able to subdue their victims telepathically just like the Master, though their range appears to be far more limited. Slowly, the Master has spread indiscriminately through Romero with little clue as to its origins or goals.

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

yellow! its me again!! its much earlier now than the last time i messaged here😗 (though it is still admittedly late🤡) i think i am going to sleep soon but i wanted to tell you that i had begun reading your story for Kensington!

i am currently at Bonfire (i think that was the name? im sorry if i butchered or mistaken it for other fics i have been reading😖) and like your stories for Jesse, Kensington's story is also incredibly painful to read😭

i think its the fact that unlike Jesse, Kesi has (arguably) even less dignity as his status as an ouright slave rather than at least a pet or boxboy coupled by the fact he also has (definitively? at least in my interpretation) much much less external reason/s to continue struggling and living (i guess there is Miss Ashley🥺 but Jesse at least got to spend so much more time with the three sweet Bakeman daughters)(i dont want to spoil much to not ruin the others' experience)

i know the two squishy whumpees arent exact copies of each other but i still find it so deliciously heartwrenching that Jesse is much more submissive mostly in part because of the bbu brainwashing or mind/memory wiping (i think this is common in bbu whump so i think its okey for me to mention it explicitly?) while Kensi who (i understand/interpret) was born and raised and lived his whole life as a slave is much more stubborn and defiant.

again i apologize if im missing or misinterpreting something also i know i cant or at least maybe shouldnt draw direct parallels between the two because theyre from two similar but still different worldbuildings with their own set of messed up rules and hiarchies.🤸‍♂️💔

again again it is late and i hope to fix my sleep schedule soon so i can read your works and message you when my braincells can organize my brain goop into something more coherent. i really hope you understand that all this word vomit is laced with love🤕💗

-💌

When i tell you that yesterday and today's asks both made my crappy days instantly better --

First of all thank you so much for reading both of my boys' stories and I'm so glad you like them

Yes, Jesse is extremely submissive in part because of the brainwashing WRU does, but also because Joshua was like that too. His dad passing away when he was younger gave him pretty severe OCD and anxiety that made Josh an unassuming, nervous boy, so his already quiet disposition was only worsened when coupled with the torture he had to face. One thing that always stuck with him though is his protectiveness over those he cares about. WRU did not give that to him, that was just Jesse.

Kensington's story takes place in a different universe where they do have a slavery system where slaves are born and raised that way. I like that you mentioned that Kensi is more stubborn and jaded, because that was not how I meant for him to turn out originally! I meant for him to be more submissive like Jesse, but the more I wrote the angrier Kensington got until I really came to a head in his story (can't wait for you to read the next few parts!)

Never apologize for analyzing my characters! I live for it, and I actually appreciate you drawing parallels between these two. They may be from different worlds, but they both come from me and I enjoy seeing them compared to one another actually! We're to a point in both stories that I have been very excited to come to and this gave me the motivation to keep writing!

(Sorry if my response doesn't make sense or isn't what you were looking for!)