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we need to talk about big dick bottoms way more there’s few things more princess coded than a bouncy 8 incher

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jiggle physics toggled ON

(x) (x) (x)

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Twitter: @spoogyoogie

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snek

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fulfilling an order of some slime

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robot girl who lets you cum on her motherboard. She spits out a couple errors afterwards, so you have to give her lots of aftercare, but the way her face glitched as her senses were literally overwhelmed is cute enough to make up for it

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bite

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Under the moon's glow, Shadowheart, Isobel, and Aylin celebrate after a joint victory over darkness… 🌙

The full, uncropped HD animation is on patreon 💙

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naughty fairies should really stay out of experimental greenhouses! if the aphrodisiac nectar of these flowers can arouse a human for hours and hours, then who knows just how addictive it is to a sprite like her...

this is a commission from sarah-succubus, cropped for tumblr! please check out the full version, it's even better~

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having friends from kink tumblr is so silly like "who are you talking to?" oh just my friend i know from wanting to rape me

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Strung Along

[This story contains body modification, identity overriding and implied erasure, and elements of non-con, including coercion and gaslighting.]

"Good morning, sleepyhead~"

You open heavy, groggy eyes to see her enter her bedroom with a single cup of freshly-made coffee. She holds it out to you, expecting you to take it. "You've been out for a while. I figured you'd need a little pick-me-up."

You take her offering, and thank her.

...speaking feels strange. It's as if there's something caught in your throat, something that makes it just a little bit harder. You can breathe just fine, there's nothing literally there, but you can still feel that difficulty when you speak.

As you sit up, taking a sip before setting your drink aside, she takes her place opposite to you. She drapes herself over the bedsheets, giving you a hungry and impatient look. "Everything okay? You seem a little surprised. I wasn't that bad, was I?" She laughs to herself.

You tell her she was lovely. You feel that strange wrongness again. Did you say something you weren't supposed to? If so, she doesn't seem upset. If you were to guess, she's more excited than she was last night.

"Oh, of course, how could I forget." Her words are seeped in a sickly teasing tone as she begins to crawl forward. "It's silly to expect you to be comfortable right now. I need to make you sing for me, don't I~?"

Her arms wrap around you, her face achingly close to yours. Her lips are close enough that you can feel her smile. She trails her hands down your back — and you feel it.

It's a ring. It hangs off of your body, dangling freely from a single point of contact on your mid-back.

You ask her what it is. She grins.

The pulling makes you recoil, your back arching in shock from the sensation. It's like warm, tender hands massage their way into your nerves, the sharpness of their nails just barely scraping deep inside your very ability to feel. You cover your mouth after you accidentally moan. There's a strange, visceral satisfaction as something is yanked out of you, something filling you being released and exposed.

"Why do you have a pullstring, little doll?"

She lets go. And the string starts to retract.

At first you only twitch. Then, a barely-restrained shaky exhale. There's a pressure building up as something you don't recognize whirs inside you, spinning your pullstring around a spool. It's getting tighter, pulled tighter, woven so tight. Let it out.

You want to speak. You need to respond to her. You feel the need to unclench your face and let yourself talk, strengthening by the second. It builds itself bigger, wider, demanding attention inside of you as you feel the pressure build and build until-

"It's what lets this one speak, Miss!" Your eyes widen in terror. You try to bring a hand to your mouth, making it stop, but it finds itself resting mincingly at your chest. "This one is a good doll, and good dolls only speak when they're made to!"

Only now, as the ring of the pullstring finally rests against your back, can you cover your mouth. The words flowed out so naturally, like you wanted it more than anything, and you could barely contain the fire of excitement lit within you.

"Oh, baby, I had no idea you felt this way!" She sighs dreamily, interrupting your explanations of how you really feel. "You should have known not to keep secrets from me, silly. You've wanted this for a while, haven't you, you poor little thing?"

You feel her finger slip through the ring, and give just enough pressure to cause resistance without pulling it out of you again. She gives you a moment of freedom, just a moment to ask her to wait as you grovel at her predatory stare.

It stretches, unwinding you. All you can do is gasp, ready to speak for your witch. You try to hold it back, like a cough, but it simply raises higher in your throat until there's nowhere to hold it except for your words. "Oh, this one's wanted to be a doll for so long, Miss! Just a pretty little thing, something to be played with and treasured, something to be used!"

No, no, you'd never want something so humiliating, so bizarre and... vulnerable. Sure, maybe you've explored feelings of being cared for or... played with, but nothing this extreme, nothing this involved!

"Hmm? Why do you look so scared, little doll?" Miss lords over you, feeling so much taller and so much more powerful than she ever did before. She holds herself with such grace, every movement meant to make you feel like she's rightfully in charge. Like you never stood a chance.

"There's nothing to be afraid of." She coos, like your hesitation is the most adorable thing in the world. She's right, there's nothing to be afraid of. "Sometimes, when people are lost and confused, they magically start to change into exactly what they want to be."

No, please, that's not possible. How could you just... change like this? You've always been a good doll. She's lying, she has to be, you know she has to be responsible, but you don't know why Miss would ever lie to you.

You're a person. You don't want to be a doll. It feels good, it feels so right to give in, but there's too much you'd lose. You need to be independent, you need to be yourself, you can't just throw everything away to be a good little dolly for Miss.

You ask her what she's doing to you. What's happening to your thoughts. Why it feels so wrong to speak without the string.

"What I've done?" She asks, putting enough audacious emphasis on herself to make you shudder. You feel so silly. She lessens her voice, giving it a soft and saccharine quality. Like you're cute for not understanding something so simple. "Sweetie, I have no idea what you could be talking about. Witches can't do something as bold as changing free will. If you want this, then it's all your fault~"

She trails another finger across your back. Her nails sting against your skin. It feels so good when she touches you. "Here... why don't I prove it."

Her fingers find your ring. She plays with it, toys with it, turning it over in her hands without giving it the pressure you want. But it feels so right when Miss plays with you. You never want this to end, but you want to feel her pull you out and make you sing for her.

"Do you want me to make you nothing but my good little dolly?"

Wait, no, please, please Miss, please!

Yes, release! Thank you! Oh golly, it feels so good to be your doll!

"Please get rid of my people thoughts, Miss! This one wants to feel like this all the time!" Behind the doll's wide eyes and yearning smile, a pang of terror resounds through your mind. You're helpless, panicking, with the quickened breath and shaking hands giving you away as the doll's string becomes inert.

You try to stop her, to reason with her. You explain that a doll's string makes it talk. You tell her that it makes you act like a good doll. You're scared, good dolls shouldn't be scared of their Miss. Despite your desperate please, you still feel her hand gently glow as it soothingly caresses your cheek.

"There's nothing to be scared of. You want this, remember?" Her smile, her beautiful dominant smile, makes you shudder as you start to relax. Of course, Miss is right, it feels so good to be a doll. This one needs to be a good doll for Miss.

The glow becomes just a bit brighter. The doll slips further, closer and closer, deeper down for Her. I don't want to be a doll, but dolls don't get to chose. Miss does. Besides, it's too late now, isn't it? This one is already you.

Wait, not yet, you don't want to be a doll, you-

The doll smiles, docile and obedient.

It looks to the witch, its Miss, its owner and its caretaker. It does nothing, silently and politely waiting for Her to finish basking in her creation. Her doll.

"Oh, don't you just look perfect?" She cups the doll's cheek in Her hands, cooing in adoration. "A perfect, pretty little dolly for me. Are you ready for your first order, you precious little thing? I promise, you'll love it."

The doll is still, patient, empty, as Miss reaches around it for another tug of its chord. If it could still think, it would be drowning in eager anticipation, feeling chills through its body as pulses of pleasure flow out of every inch of string.

It doesn't think. It responds as it's been made to.

"Yes Miss, please! This one will love it, it knows it will! Thank you so much for telling it how to feel, Miss."

She smiles, gracing it with the beauty of Her radiant joy, as She speaks the words that give the doll's existence purpose.

"Good doll."

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Story time:

When I was in college I was the only one in the dorm with a car which made me VERY popular, but more importantly because I was so fucking down bad for my next door neighbor, I volunteered to drive her to church [literal actual baptist church my jewish ass had balls of fucking steel to walk into that bitch every week drooling after a hot femme lordt]

This went normal and fine for about three weeks until one time her roommate had a dude over and she was like "can I stay in your room tonight so I actually get some sleep before church 🥺?"

So I let her stay in my bed and well. Folks. She didn't sleep. But we DID play "how many orgasms does it take to make you pass out?" And it turns out the answer was 15 sometime around 3am the next morning. We obvi wake up RUSHINGGGGGGG to church the next morning, and when we arrive looking frazzled, the pastor looks her up and down and asks how she's doing and is she having a tough time with finals? And she just goes "no, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night, we were studying." And the pastor goes "oh yeah, what are you studying for?"

And without missing a beat my dyke ass says "Bible Study."

If looks could kill, I think she would have ended me on the spot, but four hours later she was calling me god in the backseat of my car while I ate her out sooooooooo pretty sure the moral to this story is that pre-marital lesbian sex is fine as long as you can emotionally scar an old man in the process.

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Nyaaa~ :3

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wrapped up

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