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If you have a pussy and you ruin your orgasms, if you’re not actively trying to hold in your orgasm you aren’t getting the full experience

The agony of having an orgasm but mental trying to stop it and trying not to have any contractions or anything

Forcibly denying yourself that pleasure

These are the kind that really keep you horny too hehe

[xxxsubbypupxxx]

Being someone's stay-at-home pet that helps with finances by making porn. Edging her pussy up close on camera over and over until she's a desperate, dripping mess. Capturing on film all of the twitching and crying her poor pussy will do over an hour. Then, she'd have to edit the whooooole thing. Watching closely as her pussy is tortured, listening to her own moans and whimpers in her headphones, making her denied cunt twitch and tingle even more. And when her owner comes home she has to watch it AGAIN while she shows them. Maybe her owner would be in the mood to torture her pretty cunny some more while they watch...

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Picking out a safeword that's hard to say, just to extend my own torture while you're making me gasp for air ~ ♡

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Apologize

One Shots

Warning: This is an (intense?) tickle fic!

Summary: Kidnapped for ransom, Bakugo's captor desired a peaceful coexistence, but his own temper led to a loss of leniency, making his captivity… less tolerable.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler ? (OC)

Words: 2,989

Reading Time: 12 Minutes

A/N: I wrote this yesterday at 1 am so it might be whack but I was totally inspired by @wreckingtickles most recent fic, Say The Line, Bakugo! Hehehe Enjoy!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

“Fuck you, FUCK you, FUHUCK YOUUUU!” 

Spittle sprang from Bakugo’s mouth as one set of hands dug into the bottom of his stomach, right above the waistline of his shorts while a pair of writhing tendrils squirmed over the upper part, occasionally dipping teasingly over his quivering flanks. 

The tendrils seemed to have been shape-shifted hands, as they were connected to a pair of normal looking wrists, but he currently didn’t have the ability to make sense of it.

He glowered down at his powerful body with spiteful eyes as hands and tendrils pulled undignified sounds from his throat. 

His body was pulled taught in an X position on an oversized metal table with holes spaced a few inches apart, dotting either side of his limbs and outlining the length of his body. 

His hands were forced open, fingers trapped under custom made pieces of metal that curved around them like rings, preventing him from closing them into fists. 

A straight and horizontal pole jutted outwards from the holes placed along the edges of the table, parallel to his knees. It had the appearance of a slender clothing rack or rod, featuring a long indent running across the bottom and stretching over the entire length of the table. The pole stood a few feet above the flat surface, its purpose stumping the hysterical blonde.

His feet were bare with long soft strings woven around each of his toes which were attached to a strange, cog like machine that rested on a custom made shelf welded onto the table. Two machines were placed a few inches above both of his ankles.

He pushed his head back, and attempted to shift his body from side to side, despite how useless it was with how tightly he was restrained. 

A voice echoed throughout the large, presumably empty room.

“Are you gonna be nice to me now?” 

Bakugo writhed and growled, the pair of hands steadily squeezed and fluttered their nails all along his lower stomach, scratching at the sensitive spots above his hips and using all four nails to hold, scratch, and undulate across his sides.

“Count your fffffucking days, you dumbass! You’re gonna rr-regret this!”

Bakugo had woken up in the dark, unable to move and quizzically, unable to use his quirk. Before he could muster enough cognitive function to form a coherent thought, light dimly brightened his form, leaving the rest of the room shroud in darkness.

A voice informed him that he’d been kidnapped but no harm was to be inflicted. They both would wait patiently for the ransom money to arrive, then Bakugo would be released shortly after the person behind the voice was granted a generous head start.

Bakugo, of course, couldn’t just lay there without initiating some sort of provocation. 

As a result, he’d bite his bottom lip so hard it could split when random hands and tendrils shot out of holes on either side of his torso, automatically working his sides and belly. 

He shifted a few centimeters to the right when the hand on his left used their nails make infuriatingly ticklish grabbing motions at his flank, then shifted back to the left when nails on his right lazily did the same, trapping him in a weird interpretation of horizontal salsa. 

Tendrils writhed along the upper part of his stomach, each individual one spreading out to tease, pinch or wriggle against the heated skin, his black tee stripped before he’d woken up.

Bakugo exhaled loudly through his teeth, spit flying from his mouth. 

“An answer would be great!”

“Shut UPP!” He demanded, yelping not even a second later as both hands pinched the skin above his hips. 

“Yeeeesh, I’ll take that as a no.”

Bakugo sucked in a large breath when hands poked out of every other hole, staggering themselves along either side of his arms. 

A pair of hands were stationed at his hands, another by his forearms, another at his elbows, and another at his biceps. Each hand was holding a stiff feather, hovering threateningly.

Bakugo chuckled, more out of arrogance than from the ministrations of his tormentors. 

“You think fucking feathers are going to do shit to me, motherfucker?”

There was no response except for the hands, who used their fingers to maneuver the feathers, brandishing the quill instead.

Before Bakugo could release another string of obscenities, all of them started lightly scribbling, dragging, and swirling the quills all along the length of his arms. 

Bakugo spluttered, a strangled noise forced out of his throat. 

The points at his hands traced across the stretch of his fingers, taking turns scraping at each individual one while the other traced the creased lines of his palms. 

He tried desperately to use his quirk, but he couldn’t ignite a single spark.

Quills squiggled down the hardness of his forearms, drawing light cursive shapes up to his wrists, then softly and maddeningly drag them back down in tight zig zag motions.

The ones at his elbows attacked the sensitive inner part, while also branching out and swirling around to outline the skin above and below. 

And finally, quills traced and outlined the contours of the twitching muscles that made up his biceps. They teased all over the flexing muscles, lingering over the sensitive skin just above his armpits and using repetitive motions to outline the top rim.

Bakugo’s struggling increased, as did the volume of his instigations. He hatefully glared at the hands as they found sensitive spots all along his arms.

“How about neeeoooooww?” A pause. “You gonna be nice to me now?” 

Bakugo shook his head. “You- y- Geh!” He flinched and jolted, grinding his teeth in frustration, unable to even curl his hands into fists to expel some of the ticklish energy. 

“Geh- get these damned things- aH-ooffah me!” 

The quills posted at his biceps and hands were causing unexpected problems. They lightly teased at the skin above his pits, only occasionally lifting away to prevent desensitization. Every time they came back, he jumped and bit the inside of his cheek. 

The ones at his palms weren't any better. He couldn’t believe how the sharp scrapes and flicks made him writhe in mirthful frustration as they followed the creases that fanned out across the top, center and bottom of his palms. 

His scrunched face bore the resemblance of someone who’d stepped on a Lego after they’ve already stubbed their toe.

“What’s the magic wooooord?”

“J-jump ahahaff a fuckin’ bridge!” Bakugo spat, angry and strained veins visible and pulsing along his neck. 

“That was definitely more than one word. And none of them were magic.”

Startlingly, two grey medium sized balls resting on a short and skinny flexible rod popped out of the holes on either side of his neck, the hole being perfectly fitted by their circular base.

Bakugo jolted and pushed his face to the side, watching as the ball slowly spun around, revealing only one thing on its glossy surface.

A realistic looking mouth with a tongue lolling out of it like a dog.

“W-Whuh-” 

He was cut off when, like a bendable lamp, they craned down on either side and began kissing, licking, and nibbling along the sensitive skin. 

One nibbled a ticklish path up from the base of his neck, under his jaw, and just below his ear, while the other nipped and licked up and down his collar bones and the base of his neck.

They each attacked their respective spots, punching an embarrassing high pitched squeak out of Bakugo. He writhed and tried to shrink and scrunch his neck, but only managed to push the side of his face to his shoulder, which consequently left the other side open to a more precise attack.

“NeeyaHAHAhaha WHAhahat theha- NahaAHAHahah! f-fucking grohohoss! STAHahahahap!”

Bakugo was caught in ticklish limbo. He jerked his head from side to side, the action yielding not one second of relief. 

“Well, you told me to jump off a bridge! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Juhuhump AHAhahaff it!” Bakugo spasmed and pushed his hips the few centimeters that were allotted off the table, trying to get away from the prodding hands that tore his attention away when they veered off course and pinched his hips. He jolted with yell when tendrils squirmed and drew small, probing circles over the bottom of his ribs.

“That’s pretty bad advice. If I jumped off a bridge, then who would press this button?” 

Two claws erupted from the holes at the edges of the table, smoothly gliding up the metal pole. The indent allowed them to move effortlessly along the length, mimicking the motion of a makeshift claw machine. 

As they reached the position above his legs, the claws wavered momentarily before awkwardly attempting to pivot their five, hand-like pincers over his knees.

Bakugo's curses echoed loudly throughout the room as the claws painstakingly adjusted themselves, each movement slow and methodical, akin to an arcader angling a claw machine over a coveted prize, before slowly descending. 

Despite Bakugo's efforts to avoid the inevitable, his squirms and wiggles proved futile. With a final touch, they gently landed on his bare knees, their up and down jellyfish-like movements sending a wave of ticklish spasms through his legs.

Bakugo would have done a spit take if he was drinking… Well, anything.

“PPFFFTNhahahHAHA! oOOooh fahahk! AGHH Waah- NOHOHOHO!” That last "no" was punctuated with a guttural growl as the assault to his knees worsened, the claws now spinning and scratching over his convulsing skin. 

He was having so much trouble keeping it together, and none of these spots were overly ticklish in the first place.

Individually, at least.

“Y’know, I was okay with enjoying a quiet night while we waited for the pros to wire the money, Maybe share a laugh or two, but you couldn't go a single dang minute without insulting me.” 

The voice paused. The only sounds echoing in the room were of Bakugo’s struggles, restrained giggles, grunts, and huffs.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. If you apologize, I’ll pull everything. sound good?”

Bakugo shook his head, mostly out of mirth and perseverance as the mouths relentlessly attacked any open spot they could find.

 “Ihihih- AGHH! Ihihihm not ApohohoHAHAhlogizing to you, fuhcker! Eat shihihit!” 

A sigh of faux disappointment. 

“Alrighty then.” 

Two hands shot out of the holes on either side of Bakugo’s hips. His eyes widened.

“No! dohohnt you fuckin’- NOHOHOH, YOU FREHEHEAK!” 

Two hands, armed with massager guns, ran the vibrating, punching tips all over Bakugo’s pelvis.

They pressed the tools onto his hip bones and rounded to the sensitive spaces on top and underneath, even expanding to the quaking skin below his belly button and back again.

“OHO FUCK! SHIHIHIT! SHIT! STAHAHAP! HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!”

“Apoooologize.”

“NOHOHOHOHO!”

"Okie."

Hands shot out of every hole along his thighs.

They bent and and squeezed along the pressure points above his knees, scribbled over the lower inner muscles, scritched all along the middle, moved up to tease the skin along the legs of his shorts, and pressed their fingers and thumbs into the tendons of his upper inner thighs. 

Despite the threat to his neck, Bakugo threw his head back, guffaws pumping out of him like an out of control fire hose.

“FFFFFAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAK! WHAHAHA! OH SHIHIHIHIT! STAHAHAHAP! AAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

“A! - P O L O! - G I! - Z E!”

The voice spelled out the word in a cheerleader chant, sounding like they were busting a move with each letter.

“FAHAHAHAK YOU!” Bakugo screamed, face cracked in half with ticklish glee.

“Woooooooooow, you’re a glutton for punishment, arent you? Dont worry, buddy, I got you.” 

Two hands shot up from the holes, one over each of his armpits. 

Bakugo blanched.

“NUH- NOHOHO! FUCK NO! DOHOHONT YOU FUCKIN’ DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO NONONONO!AHAHAHAHAHAH! WAAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHP! STOP STAHAP STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAP!” 

Bakugo absolutely lost it when the hands descended, pressing portable electric back massagers with rotating bristled feet against the center of his armpits, furthering the overwhelming sensations by rotating them slowly over the expanse of his slick, sweating hollows.

“GAHAHAHAHAHAD! AHAHAH! STOOOOOOP! STAHAHAHAHAP, YOU FUCKING BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”

Bakugo thrashed against the restraints. His knees twitched, his hips bounced and his head whipped from side to side, up and down, spraying small droplets of useless sweat. 

“STAHAHAHHAP! GEHEHET THEM OFF! GEHEHET THEM- AHH! WHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! HAHAHOW MANY OF YOU FUHUHHUKERS ARE DOWN THEHEHEHERE?!” 

“You’re truly doing this to yourself, man.” 

Bakugo was too hysterical to pay attention to whatever nonsense they were spewing, his mind hell bent on getting the tickling to stop.

“YOU MOHTHERFUHCKER! STAHAHAHAHAHAP! ILLKILLYOU! ILL FAHAHAHAKING DRAG YOU OUT OF- AAAAH! NOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!” 

“Now you’re just being impossible.” 

“WHAHAHAHAHA WHAHA- WHOA WAIT! WAHAHAIT WAITWAITNOWAIT!” 

Bakugo helplessly thrashed as hands shot out of the holes on either sides of his ribs. 

A wide array of probes varying in length and size stuck out from a mechanical saucer like disc, attached on a rotatable silver ball on a short metal handle. The hands positioned the disk so the probes hovered menacingly over his ribs. 

To his absolute horror, the hands pressed a button on the side of the handle, and the probes whirled to life. Circling, jabbing, and wiggling in all different directions. The whole thing looking like some whack, tortuous hair diffuser.

“Aaaaaand~”

“NOHOHOHOHO! FUCK YOU! DONT! DOHONT YOU FAHAHAHKIN- WAIT! WAITWAITWAIT-"

The hands pressed the evil diffusers onto Bakugo’s ribs, the mechanical terrors covering most of the tortured blonde’s ribcage. 

“Touchdoooooown!” 

Bakugo threw his head back and arched his spine, a high pitched scream ripping out of his throat before the intensity turned it silent. 

“WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA————————————-————————————————!” 

His voice gave way to raspy desperation as he ran low on air, but had more than enough laughter to give. 

With a resentful scowl, Bakugo watched as chaos gripped his body, tormenting him with unforgivable precision.

He let out a frustrated, gravely scream and tossed his head back once more when the hands started moving the mechanical diffuser over the entirety of his reddening ribcage. 

He felt the little probes dig, wiggle, rotate and goose his skin, the sensation like a million marching ants frantically scattering all over him.

They moved again, settling at the top of his ribs. They pressed the saucer down so the protruding rim was flush against him. The moving probes sunk into his skin, torturing the nerves from top to bottom and between the bones.

“NAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA! OKAYSTOP! OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYYYYHAYHAYHAAAYYYSTOOP! STOPSTOPSTAAAAAAAAHAAAAHHAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! I'M SHAHAHHARY! I'MFUCKINGSORRY! JUHUHUST- PFFFTTT! STAHAHAHAP! GEHEHAHAHAHA AHAHAHFF HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GEHEHEHEHEHEH IHIHIT- AAHH————————————————————————————————-“

“Hmmm, I dunno. You’ve been really mean to me since you woke up. For like, no reason.”

“WAHAHAHHAHAHAHAT?! FAHAHAH- I FAHAHAHHAAKIN SAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH———————- I SAIHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAH—————ISAIDIWASSAHHRY!”

“Yeah sure, but you really hurt my feelings. I might need some time to really think about it.” 

“OHOHOH MAAHAHAGAHAHAHD!! SHIT SHIT SHHIHIHIT! AAAAHHHH! NAAAHH FAHAHAHK YOU! YOUFUCKINGPIECEOFSHIT! ILLFUCKINGMURDER- NOOOHOHOHOOOOOO! FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUUHUHUHU! STAHAHAHAP THIHIHIS! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA————HAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

“See, why would you say all that when I’m trying to forgive you?” A loud sigh. “I guess you’ll just have to lay there and think about why that wasn't a good idea.” 

Two pairs of hands shot out from the holes on either side of his feet. 

Through his uncontrollable tears, he saw his life flash before his eyes.

“NO! NOHOHOHOHO WAAHAHAHIT! I'MSORRY! IM FUCKING SAHAHAHAHRY! PLEHEHEHESE! PLEASE DOHOHOHONT! DOHOHOOOOOOOONT!” 

Two hands on either side held oval shaped wet-hair detangling bushes while the others were adorned with grooming gloves.

He expected them to attack, but was caught off guard when the mechanical cog devices over his ankles whirled to life. He could only shake his head as the string looped around his toes went minimally slack, only for all of them to start threading through his toes.

“WAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOHOHOHOH FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!! HOLYSHIT! FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA————-HAHAK! PLEASE! PLEHHEEEE———"

“Don’t worry, I’ll try you again in an hour or so. Then we can revisit your attitude problem. Ciao!”

“WHAHIT! WHAITWAITPLEASEDONT-”

The hands struck.

The grooming glove scrubbed and waved vigorously at the top of his foot, scrubbing and scratching at the sensitive balls and undersides of his toes. The wet hair brush took care of the rest, brushing wildly against the arches, heals and the sides of his feet. The other foot wasnt better off, dealing with the same ministrations but in opposite positions. 

At some point, a hand popped up behind his head, equipped with a flexible metal pronged head massager that to the blonde’s utter bewilderment, tickled like hell and sent goosebumps roaring all along his skin.

Pushing his head up only maneuvered the massager to slink its torturous prongs down the back of his neck, up the back of his head, and behind his ears. Which was arguably, so much worse. 

So he forced his head down, in control of it for about two seconds before he lifted it up again in mirth, the sloppy kisses, licks and nibbles from the mouths never ceasing their unrelenting attack.

Amongst all the calamity, he jumped out of his skin when he felt hands tracing and scratching up and down his spine and along the outer edges of his lower back. His eyes widened in painful disbelief as he realized there were holes underneath the ungodly table.

His back, sides, and hamstrings were targeted from below, successfully clouding his comprehension of reality.

All he could do was take it,

“WHOOAAAHOHOHOHOMYFUCKING GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD! PLEASE! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEMAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAP! MAKETHEM STAHAHAHAHAHAHP IMFUCKING SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARRY! IMSOFAHAHAKINGSORRY!"

And laugh,

“PPFFFTTNAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—————————-ICANTFUCKINGDOTHIS! OHMYGAD I CHAHAHAHNT! ICANT! OHOHOHOHOOO, I CAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA--------!"

And laugh,

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! WHOOAAAHAHAHAHAHA! KAHAHAHAH! WAAAHAHAHAH! PLEEEHEHE—————HEHEHEHEHEHE———————HEHHESE! AHAHAHA——————! FAAAAAA———————HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” 

And laugh.

"H-----------HAH---------------! AAHHH-------------------HAHAHAHAHHAA! FAHA---------------------! PLE--- PLEHE------------------!"

Bakugo’s mind rolled. His red, raw, and sweaty body buzzed with electricity as the tools glided across his abused skin with ease. 

He wailed and apologized, cursed and thrashed, but none of it was enough. 

More often than not, his laughter turned silent, reminding him that he would continue to lie there, forced to take it for the next hour, completely at the mercy of his own damn sensitivity.

[xxxsubbypupxxx]

At the Hands of the Vees

Nonsexual kink ticklefic about the Vees tickle torturing Alastor. Fic link and artwork under the cut

Link to the fic here (Read the tags before reading)

[xxxsubbypupxxx]

i dont even necessarily need sex, i just really need to be submissive to someone. just to let them tell me what to do so i can switch off my stupid puppy brain for a while, just for them.

to be there on my knees while they do work, not even fully paying attention to my pathetic whines as i solely focus on them and them alone. a rough fucking would be appreciated but i dont need it. being on my knees is enough.

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I love the idea of the bottom accidentally topping is so fucking hot. Imagine getting fucked hard but you just need a little bit more. You start to up them more and more and more until your eventually are riding their strap. They try to take back control but you hold them down because you still need just a little bit more. You hold them down a ride harder and harder until you finally cum. You left little claw marks and bruises from how hard you held them down. Fuccck I need that

[xxxsubbypupxxx]

"Can my good boy give me a big stretch?"

"Theeere we go, puppy biiiig stretch for Daddy."

"Good pup, so pretty like that."

While they shove me down on their cock, stretching my cunt open and making me take it like I was made to. Mm, puppy big stretch, alright.

[xxxsubbypupxxx]

its rlly funny that the current crop of content for forcemasc is either inspiring but rather erotically void motivational posters, or just saying "be gross and disgusting and violent" like thats what men are supposed to be.

the real sensual appeal of forcemasc, to me, is someone grabbing you by the hair, looking you in the eyes, and saying "I know what you are. And I'm going to drag it out of you. And you're going to love every second of it."

it's having someone not only affirm your internal view of yourself, but demanding it be brought to fruition at their hands. Someone who's completely uninterested in the girl-shaped shell you've been living inside of, and wants to extricate you, raw and wanting, from inside of it. They want to mold you like clay in the image of a strong, confident, beast that knows how to obey.

it's having your body examined and sized up, being praised for how far you've come and getting punished for backsliding. it's getting called a 'good boy' every time you take your shot straight-faced. it's tussling in the backyard and getting that little smile when you stand back up instead of tapping out. it's building your tolerance, your confidence, layer by layer until that shy, scared little girl inside of you that people forced you to be is gone, and all that remains is a very, very good boy.

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Sleepy puppy,, puppy dozing off while you fuck him or pet him or cuddle him. Sleepy puppy. Cozy comfy sleepy puppy all warm in bed snuggled up while you finger him but keep telling him to go to sleep. Don’t let him cum because you don’t wanna distract him from falling asleep, right? [it’s me I’m puppy please please it’s me]

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