#dubcon I guess

[cosmicseafoam]

Mountain whose unglamoured form is so large it’s almost beyond comprehension.

Mountain who is still so tall while glamoured but it’s the smallest he can comfortably make himself for such long periods.

Mountain, who is made to shrink himself by Omega. Still larger than most of his pack but now much smaller than Omega.

Omega filling him with quintessence, forcing him to glamour himself small enough for Omega to look down his nose at him. To make him feel like he’s in trouble. And maybe he is, but he secretly loves it. Will never say out loud how much he appreciates how small and unimportant Omega makes him feel.

Mountain who loves being manhandled like a toy. Dressed up like a doll. Shrunk down and reshaped however Omega sees fit to bring himself pleasure.

[beemovieerotica]

HELLO?

[duskier]

cw dubcon if you squint

It is an actual crime to me that I have yet to see someone write Ghost getting fucked while someone has his balaclava turned around on his head!

Him fighting back despite you knowing he obviously wants it so with one hand grasping his shirt the other is grasping at his face, gripping the mask and turning it little by little!!

Just picture it- he's entirely blinded, having to gasp even harder for air through the thick fabric, the bottom hem of the mask cutting against his throat and effectively choking him!! Such a great way to hold him still while fucking him rough and mean from behind. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

[mychlapci]

I like to imagine that after getting his cog and the matrix of leadership, Optimus was just overcome with so much arousal and the need to breed.

Cybertron has to correct itself, and the lack of the 13 primes now means that it is Optimus' mission to bring forth the next generation. He will be the sire of the new lineage of Primes.

Of course, after everything he's done very few will refuse to let him impregnant them and the first would be Jazz's cute little self!

yesssss if we're thinking that he didn't have an array before his t-cog, then getting a t-cog and the matrix in one day is like feeding poor Orion a pound of pure aphrodisiacs, and once the heat of the battle dies out he's horny. The matrix wants him to breed so badly.

hrghh he goes straight to Jazz to try and get his help, getting way too overwhelmed and his spike pops out. Jazz does what any grateful friend would do. He helps him. Little does he know, his forge will end up stuffed by the end, full of hot potent Prime Cum, and he'll be swelling with a baby bump in a few months... He's not the only one though. Looks like the newly appointed Prime went on a bit of an impregnating rampage. How irresponsible of him :)

[sinningtamer]

First to cum gets turned back to normal!

[ do not reblog to non-kink/fandom blogs ]

[isatoru]

thinking about arranged husband noa that you never wanted to marry forcing a pampering and caretaking routine on you when you refuse it from his hands... bathes you and… and sits you in his lap, fingering your pussy until you cum all over his dress pants... eats you out so you loosen up around him because he is your husband and he cares for you and nothing is going to change that... until your breaths are no longer hostile against his collarbone... makes you wear the soft sleepwear he buys you… etc etc

[toxycodone]

imagine laois getting to needy n fucking u in ur sleep

On God.

Honestly he’s so…hear me out anon. He humps your leg in his sleep. Or out of his sleep when he’s really pent up.

And if you wake up he gives you puppy dog eyes and is all like “I didn’t mean to wake you up but you’re just so pretty and warm I couldn’t help it…”

(He’s begging not to be punished but. He wants to be punished okay.)

[teddybasmanov]

You know how it is.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Test Track AU (T$$ AU Masterlist)

previous /// next

As suggested by anon!

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday @suspicious-whumping-egg @cryptidwritings

[cosmicseafoam]

Cirrus breaking in freshly summoned Aurora.

As soon as she emerged from the summoning circle, they could see in her eyes how feral she was. Gnashing teeth, baring claws, growling low and deep.

Cirrus could fix that. It might take some extra time but she could fix that.

As they lock eyes, the growling stops but the teeth and claws remain. Cirrus mind is filled with a surprisingly soft voice, “Aurora. My name is Aurora.”

Cirrus yanks the blanket out of Mountains trembling hands and approaches the ghoulette, throwing the blanket around her shoulders and wrapping her like a burrito in order to keep her claws in check. “Enough of that, sweet thing. I can take care of you.”

She doesn’t wait to meet Phantom. She doesn’t wait to be dismissed. She just grabs the new summon by the shoulders and pushes her out of the chapel and through the back hallways into the ghoul den. Into her room. Door locked.

She finally has the brain power to consider for a moment that perhaps she should be scared, all alone in a locked room with a feral ghoulette. But then her eyes flicker over as the blanket falls from her shoulders. The rage in Aurora’s eyes burn as she bares her claws again and Cirrus thinks she might be the prettiest little thing she’s ever seen. Pale skin that looks soft as silk, pastel blues and purples and pinks marbling her body.

“Oh, sweetheart” Cirrus coos, “I know you’re not silly enough to attack me. I do not like being wrong. I’m not wrong, am I?” She maintains eye contact but sees auroras claws flexing in her peripherals. “Come now, Angel. Don’t be so stupid just yet. We haven’t even gotten started.”

As she stalks towards her prey, she starts letting up on her glamour just a little. Just enough to really loom over her new little plaything. She can smell her fear rise and it’s so delicious. “You know what, I’ll be generous. I’ll let you get one hit in first. It’ll just make breaking you all the more exciting.”

[yanderemommabean]

In yyour Elias-fic (that man has my heart in a chokehold rn), he mention in his thoughts waiting for a new division to be made where he'd have read er for himself. And how terrifying would that not be?

Sure, the personnel has always been a bit on the cold and clinical side, more focused on their end goal. Hell, that's why you had to visit so often to begin with, but, as you wake up dizzy and tied up, this must be too far even for them, right?

They've always kept an eye out on your visits, so Nothing went too far, so they wouldn't just... Toss you in like this, right?

But No matter how much you think, you're still here, tied up, with Elias entering in an a normally good mood.

Would he do something to you? You've seen him hurt others, but he's always been to attentive to you, so sweet, maybe he'll be as shocked to see you like this? Maybe he'll simply untie you and that?'s it?

But the look in his eyes as he approaches ypou makes that desperate hope wither.

You’ll beg to be let go, to go home, that they can’t do this to you, but you simply get cold and stern words in return as Elias giggles like a maniac and wraps his arms around you.

“You’re dead, love. Gone. Vanished. No one knows your whereabouts anymore but me and my dear doctor friends”.

His hands slide up under your shirt, pressing right against your heart as it hammers against your ribcage. They wouldn’t do this right?! This just has to be some test for Elias to pass! But as the doors lock and the jingling keys fade, you begin to realize with rapt horror what’s happened.

“Such a delicate little heart you have. Fluttering so fast like a humming bird. Feeling it beating like this against my hand, your warm skin, oh it’s doing wonders for me”.

His lips form a smile as he kisses just behind your ear, allowing his hands to slowly wander over your chest and abdomen as he holds you, breathing deeply to truly savor your scent. “I ever tell you how much I miss your smell? It’s always so calming to me. On nights you weren’t able to visit it kept me from killing the staff out of sheer rage”.

You shudder, his lips kissing down to your shoulder as his hands map out your body, slow and sensual like you two were lovers in a private hotel rather than two captives being tested on for government gain.

“D-don’t you think it’s a bit much to kidnap someone and hold them here like this? Like animals?” You pipe up, tensing when his hands try to dip into the back of your pants and tease the back of your hips.

“Mmm it might be a bit annoying, but I promise, you won’t be hurt here. I was told if I wanted my own sector to obey and not misbehave, and in return I’d get to have you with me. I think a bit of annoying security is worth that”.

His teeth come to nip at your ear, hands fully sliding into the back of your pants so he can squeeze the meat of your ass and your thighs as he presses you forward against a wall. “Enough boring work talk. I’ve missed you, you know? And now I get to reintroduce myself and my touch to this wonderful body of yours”.

(-Mommabean, hope this was ok! ❤️)

[adorafics]

Title: In Denial Fandom: The Rings of Power Rating: Mature Ship: Sauron/Halbrand x Galadriel Prompt: belief read also on AO3

For the drabble challenge @thedrabblecollective

"You misled me."

Galadriel threads her fingers through Halbrand's hair, yanking him away from her neck.

"And?" His lips drift lower instead.

"I believed you." She spits the words with anger, yet bites her bottom lip as his tongue glides over her breast.

"Belief's an interesting notion," he murmurs."It doesn't require truth."

His hand slides up her gown, until her own stops him.

"It was what you wanted to hear. And this..." he forces past her hand, gripping the heat between her thighs, "is what you want to feel."

Her eyes flutter, unfocused. She hates him when he's right.

[mychlapci]

I think we could fit stud Ratchet into a barbarian au. Maybe they need medics, so they capture Ratchet and have him fuck his way through half the clan to get them pregnant with future medic babies? Idk I'm just spitballin here

-v3nth

ouh definitely, i like your thinking. mhmm and i'm very into the spin on the classic au scenarios, i like that he's not kidnapped as a wife, no, no, they can see how sturdy and healthy he is, such a wonderful stud.

ajsdhgasj now i'm just imagining a disgruntled looking Ratchet surrounded by horny pregnant "wives" who are all carrying his children... i mean, he's not happy about being kidnapped and made to pump his transfluid into big eyed brides, but he admits.... it's not really that bad...

[valkyurii]

it’s funny how things have gone full circle with malenia. she was so hated when the game first came out, but then people grew to like her. then the dlc came out and now people hate her again lmao

[ashintheairlikesnow]

hey hey hey I have had a hell of a day (Actually Hell) because I did too many fun things (a problem apparently) and then also we put up the christmas tree leading to the inevitable christmas tree installation arguments (they pop up every year like clockwork!)

anyway i have been overstimulated and stressed (just want to emphasize that there is NO pressure here whatsoever! id like to avoid any semblance of that actually and I know you're already working on 12 days so take your time) and it would be very cathartic to see chris dealing with similar issues (the Wonderful guy. we are pretty similar.) thanks a lot for reading this, even if you don't write anything !

Sorry this took so long, Anon! I swear I've been trying to get this written for literally almost two months now

CW: Some references to Chris's past, overstimulation, anxiety

"Hey, where did Chris go?" Laken blinks and looks around, but the living room of the house they rent - filled with laughing, happy people - shows no sign of Chris's telltale lavender hair with its new-penny copper roots.

One of Brit's friends just shrugs at them and gestures, vaguely, in the direction of the kitchen. "Dunno. He wandered off a while ago, maybe that way?"

"Oh, okay. Huh." Laken steps back, the circle of laughing people closing up tight as soon as they do. Their dark eyes scan the room, but there's no sign of him.

He'd been doing great - all but holding court, one of the most popular people at the party. He's sort of famous, since the Olympics, and people had been peppering him with questions and compliments, crowding around wanting nothing more than to be friends with the ex-pet who stood up to the bad guys on live TV. They'd seen him dancing, too, the music loud enough to nearly make the walls shake. The easy, unselfconscious dancing they loved in him the most.

He'd seemed to be enjoying himself, at the time, but...

Where has he gone?

They weave around people, stopping to pick up an ornament that has fallen off the tree. The scent of pine is subtle and ever-present, and they carefully work the ornament's little loop back over a branch, ruefully watching a couple of pine needles come loose and drift down. The damn thing is already starting to turn a little brown around its edges, thanks to Laken's roommate having insisted on buying it literally the day before Thanksgiving.

Laken doesn't even celebrate Christmas, not since they stopped going to Mass on Christmas Eve years and years ago. Still, in a house they rent with three others, they're the only one who doesn't at least pay lip service to the holiday.

And even if they don't give a fuck about Christmas, they do like having an excuse to throw a party.

The tinsel wrapped in spirals around, over, and below the ornaments glitters in the light, and the look makes them think of Chris, and how his eyes have always looked just the same, to them, when they're out at night and the moon hits the green of his irises just right.

Their search leads them to Ben, contentedly sitting on the couch, a drink in one hand and his phone in the other, quietly reading something there while the party is in full swing around him. He glances up and then instinctively, immediately, uses a finger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Hey, Laken. What's up?"

"Is Akio not coming tonight?"

"Oh... no." Ben blushes - it's adorable, and Laken can't help the smile playing around their lips. "He's got some kind of meeting with the gymnastics team, or his coaches? Or... something like that. He said sorry, though."

"Nah, no problem. But, hey, so. Uh, have you seen Chris, like within the last ten minutes or so??"

Someone puts Christmas music on and Laken shudders as they hear that damn 80s pop song start up again. If they have to hear that fucking song one more time...

"Nope. Not in a while." Ben shrugs, taking a drink. Whatever he has in that cup is pinkish-red and probably far more alcoholic than it tastes. Laken's roommate had insisted on a signature cocktail. "You could check outside? Sometimes when there's a lot of people, to Chris it's... too much."

Laken nods, still scanning the crowd, but their stomach knots a little with the first hit of real anxiety. Ben is right, Chris can get overwhelmed by too much noise and movement, but also he's been drinking tonight - they saw the same red punch in a cup in his hands earlier - and he has a tendency to get... hazy, when he drinks. Flirty in ways that aren't natural to him. Willing to let people hug him that he doesn't like, unable to bring himself to stop them. Sometimes his stammer smooths out, which makes people who don't know him feel more comfortable and people who do know him nervous. He starts tipping his head to the side in a way that makes the sweep of his growing-out hair hide the scar on his forehead, biting his lower lip when he smiles. It makes Laken feel a little sick to see it happen and realize Chris doesn't even notice when he's doing it.

The last thing they need is to have to come up with an explanation for Chris losing track of himself again, or why he's eating olives off the charcuterie board Brit brought knowing damn well he'll just go to the bathroom and get sick all over the place again, or... fuck, what if somebody hits on him and he's too drunk to stop it?

That hasn't happened since college, but...

They pull their phone out, uneasily checking for a text, but there's nothing. If he went outside, he'd text, right? He does, he always does. Texts can be easier and Chris is always a little nervous about being outside alone.

He insisted on coming tonight, said he was feeling good lately, but-... what if-...

They flinch when fingers touch their arm, only to see Ben must have stood up when they weren't looking. He slips his own phone into his jacket pocket and looks Laken over more closely. "Hey. It's okay, he's probably fine. You know he gets weird when parties are really going. It's like a light switch, enough to too much, I totally get it. It's why I'm on the couch fucking around on Kindle instead of, you know... talking to people." Ben says it like talking to people is literal hell, and... okay, Laken can see how that might be the case. "He probably just needed to get away from it and wandered off."

"Uh, yeah. I know." Laken rubs at the back of their neck, fingers moving through the soft, shorn undercut beneath their longer black waves. "I'm sure that's it. Just... you know, sometimes he... when he gets nervous..."

"I got you." They adore Ben, sometimes, for how often they don't have to finish the sentences they don't want to say. He knows what words haven't yet spilled, unwilling. Sometimes he acts like he belongs to us, not like he loves us. Sometimes I can't trust him to find his way back on his own. Sometimes I feel like Jake, and I hate feeling like Jake.

Words die in their throat.

Ben squeezes their arm, gently. "Let's split up and search around. I'll go outside, you go around the house, okay? We verify how he is, then whichever one finds him tells the other. Sound good?" Ben smiles, and Laken relaxes a little, finding a smile for him in return.

"Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Ben."

"No problem." Ben has always understood Chris, thanks to his little brother being similar in some ways. He understands Laken's worry, too, because better than anyone else here - he knows how Chris sometimes gets lost in his past, especially if he's drinking, worse the maybe twice Laken's ever seen him try an edible or a pill.

What if he got drunk and someone offered him something and he took it? Drunk Chris sometimes isn't a Chris who can easily turn down anything he's offered.

This party was a stupid idea.

Laken takes a deep breath and squares their shoulders.

Chris is not a child.

He is a goddamn grown man and Laken is not his keeper. They're not his parent and they're not a babysitter. They're definitely not his fucking... owner or whatever the bastards that hurt him would have called it. They're his partner. He can handle himself, better than they could if they'd lived his life, and they need to trust him to either know his limits and to get away if he can't say no, or to come to them if he wants to ask for help. Otherwise, they're not any better than the bullshit he's been buried in for longer than he's known them.

Ben goes to check outside, slipping silently out the sliding door onto the back porch where a small crowd has congregated in a cloud of skunky smoke, while Laken heads upstairs, peeking their head in to room after room with no sign of him anywhere. They see some movement under a pile of coats, but that's... definitely not Chris, based on the very female voices who yell at them to give them some fucking privacy, please.

"Sorry, Brit," Laken calls, closing the door tightly. "And, um, Leigh. Just looking for Chris-"

"Well, he isn't in here or we'd have kicked him out already," Brit says, cranky but without any real anger in her voice. Laken doesn't recognize the redhead whose eyes pop up from beneath the pile of coats next to her. "Check a different room."

"Yeah, I will. Uh... keep having fun, I guess-"

"That's the plan! Now leave, please!"

The door latches as they close it, and they exhale. There's one room left, at the end of the hall, and they can hear a familiar murmuring from behind the door when they press their ear up against it.

Laken knocks, rapping gently with their knuckles, and turns the knob when they hear no answer - but no demand to stay out either. The murmuring goes silent. They sigh, and the door swings open, light cutting across the carpet until it reveals their wayward boyfriend.

No one has claimed this bedroom yet, so it's bare and empty except for a couple unpacked cardboard boxes, Brit's exercise bike by the window, a couple of her yoga mats, a laundry basket with a few folded towels, and a bare mattress the last housemate had left behind on the floor when they moved out.

Laken's lips press together, eyes scanning the room. Chris's phone is on the mattress, along with an empty beer bottle, but Chris isn't. "Chris? Cariño?"

A muffled rustling makes them jump, heart in their throat, and then they realize the sound came from the closet, where the folding doors are closed. Laken pulls them open to reveal Chris curled up, knees nearly to his chin, an open bottle clutched in one hand, his chewy necklace in the other. He'd chosen the bat one tonight, and his hand is closed around it in such a tight fist Laken can tell his knuckles are white even in the dark.

Chris doesn't look at them. He's swaying, rocking forward and back, his eyes focused on something far, far away from them. There's red lines on his left wrist, where he's dug his nails in, scratching not quite deep enough to draw blood, but close. Laken takes a deep breath, shifting into a crouch.

"Talk to me, Chris."

"No." The answer is flat, and they watch his thumb rub over the little nub of the silicone bat's nose, the points of its tiny ears. "No, no, no. No."

At least he's saying it out loud.

That alone makes the knot of anxiety in their chest start to loosen. If he can say no, he isn't gone, maybe just... standing a little farther back, inside his own head, than the surface.

"Okay. Okay, that's fine. No talking, that's fine. Are you okay, baby?" Laken keeps their voice just above a whisper and lays their hand on the wood trim that frames this shitty excuse for a closet, the floor creaking under them. "You... kind of vanished on me, there."

Chris's eyes flick to them and then away again. "Loud," He manages, and he sounds like he's forcing the word out between gritted teeth. Maybe he is. "Too, too, too... too loud. Too much, too... many."

"I guess Ben called it." Laken sighs, pulling out their phone and sending Ben a quick text that they found Chris and everything's fine. they get a thumbs-up in reply almost immediately. Ben must have been as anxious as they are, if he was just watching for their text to come in. "Do you want me to call Jake to come get you, or..."

"No!" He snaps it, and Laken tries not to wince. He's just struggling with the noise of the party, they tell themself, he's not actually angry. Chris almost never gets angry, and even then it's only at himself. Which... is worse, somehow. "No. Just... Quiet, it's... it's it's quiet."

"Right. Do you want me to stay with you? Be quiet with you?"

He shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything else. His mouth moves, but no further sounds come out.

"Chris, did..." They want to ask, did someone say something to you? Sometimes people said things, referenced pets or something in a way that set him off. But even if someone had... he probably wouldn't tell them, at least not now, not when every word seemed to have to filter through layer after layer of self-protection in his mind. "Never mind. Is there anything I can do for you? Water, or..."

He shakes his head. "No. Just. Um. Quiet... quiet, now. Please?"

"Yeah." Laken leans over and presses a kiss to his hair. He tips his head against their lips and they exhale in relief. "I love you, Chris. Come back if you can, but if you can't, that's okay, too. Just don't hurt yourself, okay? Things should start winding down in a couple hours." They take the little plastic bat and push it against the hand that's still scratching at his shoulder, until he takes hold of it again, pressing it against his mouth and running it back and forth, back and forth.

Chris is quiet, but as they open the door to head back into the hallway, they hear a quiet, "Love, love you," from Chris, barely audible.

They smile as they close the door. Down the hall, the sounds of the party hit them like a brick, beckoning them back to the noise and the cheer and the awful fucking Christmas music still blaring at top volume. Someone yells something out and the whole damn crowd cheers, making Laken wince at it feels nearly deafening.

Maybe Chris has the right idea.

-

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow��@boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[most-orange-cat]

I would host a cute little party, and invite a bunch of my friends, and this one cute transboy I've been eyeballing,,,

and I'd wait for him to get a little drunk, tipsy enough that his cheeks would be red and his eyes would flutter when he talked,

and I'd beckon him over to my couch, so we could talk, and he'd come like the good puppy he is,

and I'd tell him to strip,

and when he looks back at me, confused, I'd take it into my own hands and tear his jeans open and leave him to pull them down in front of everyone,

and he'd be so embarrassed, with his pants around his feet revealing the panties he'd think no-one would see, the hair on his legs standing up,

and when I push him down onto my couch and straddle his lap, he'd whimper as I slide my hands into those panties and pinch and stroke his big clit, swollen with testosterone and erect with arousal,

and he'd squirm when I feel how wet with embarrassment he is,

and his words would slur as he says, "not here," as I force my fingers into his tight hole,

and the nipples on his little boobs would be hard, poking into my palm as I grope his chest,

and he would feel the heat of the partygoers stares on his skin, trying and failing to keep his composure,

and with alcohol and pleasure pooling in his stomach, he wouldnt be able to hold it in anymore,

and he would sigh in relief as it spilled out of him, only for that relief to be replaced by shame as his panties are fully saturated with his hot urine, spilling out and onto my couch,

and he'd be a bad dog,

and he'd wince when I command him to get on the floor and kneel, and he'd do it,

and I'd strike him across his fuzzy ass, leaving a red mark under the hair his injections were fighting to cause,

and I'd offer him to whoever wanted him next.