✯ If you want to be drawn, feel free to send something in my DMs or an ask. NSFT allowed and encouraged!!!
✯ I can’t promise I’ll draw everybody, if I don’t get to you PLEASE don’t take it personally.
✯ I am pretty firmly aro/ace, and I can’t really be attracted to anybody right off the bat. I think everybody is beautiful from a purely artistic standpoint. And yes - that means you!!!
✯ I LOVE DRAWING TRANS BODIES!!!!!! LOVE LOVELOVE IT. If you are trans, your request takes priority.
THINGS I WON’T DRAW THO:
✯ I won’t make you skinnier than you are if asked, I’m sorry but I can’t risk feeding into anybody’s ED. You deserve to eat well, and often.
✯ Anything regarding minors. Full stop.
✯ Anything that I don’t particularly feel like drawing that day.
AND ON A FINAL NOTE:
✯ I do not take money for my art, and I never want to. If I do, assume that I have stooped to such a low place financially that I am willing to give up on my core value. If you would like to compensate me in some way, feed my ego and tell me what you like about my art:]
Let me use the meanest toy on you. Made of hard rubber instead of soft silicone. Textured with bumps that you, were you being slightly less charitable, might even call spikes. They scratch painfully on the sides of your hole as I shove the toy inexorably deeper inside you.
The toy is blunt and slightly tapered, without a distinct tip. It starts out medium-thick, already at the limit of how much you can comfortably take, and it only gets thicker and thicker until it feels like you're about to rip in half.
I don't let up on the pressure, twisting back and forth to corkscrew it deeper into you as my progress slows. I have one hand on the base of the toy and one hand pushing down on your stomach, making sure you feel every inch.
After stretching you to an unbelievable degree, the taper becomes a blessedly straight shaft for the last two inches. A respite, if you can call it that, before the knot.
The shaft alone was cruel and unforgiving—the knot is plainly torturous. You can't help but clench in resistance to the mere thought of it inside you, even though you know it makes it worse. After fifteen minutes of constant twisting and thrusting inside your strained hole, you're sure that I'll give up. It simply won't fit. Unfortunately for you, I'm a persistent bastard.
I flip you over and line up my knee between your legs. I dig my nails into your hips and pull you towards me, pressing with my full weight on the toy. The obscene knot indents your skin as your hole strains to swallow one, two, and then three more rings of the bumps. Tears are streaming down your face, your body is nearly convulsing, and your world narrows down to become just the pain in your guts and the throbbing of your heartbeat in your ears.
I pull back my knee, and slam it forward into the base of the toy. If your face weren't already buried in a tear-soaked pillow, your scream would have hurt my ears. I'll have to gag you next time. Agony screams through your insides, making you nearly vomit from the sheer intensity of it.
You lose count of how many times my knee pounds the toy into you like a sledgehammer—it must be dozens—before your ruined, aching, bloodied hole finally accepts the knot into it's swollen embrace.
You hardly notice yourself choking and coughing as I use your pathetic whimpering mouth to get myself off, releasing all over your flushed and tear-streaked cheeks.
As I leave to go clean myself up and take a shower, I give the base of the toy a solid slap as I walk by. Your fucked-out body doesn't have the energy to do much more than shudder weakly in response and let out a hoarse groan. If you could think about anything other than the sensation of the rubber lodged in your orifice, you might be dreading when I come back and rip it out of you. But instead, your mind is consumed by the torment pulsing between your legs in time with your heartbeat, causing the disconcerting illusion of the toy growing ever larger as it sits statically inside your hole.
CONTENT WARNING: this is porn! and it contains forcemasc themes, light transphobia mentions, crying, exhibitionism, hypno?, corruption?, humiliation?, first person POV
I try not to think about it. If I'm asked about my pronouns, I just say "he/him, but also whatever, I don't care". It's not like I'm lying. It's just easier if I don't even think about it.
I used to have short hair, but I grew it out. I remember all the terrible and unsafe ways I used to bind my chest and I cringe- nobody would ever mistake me for a man anyways. Nowadays I make sure to "use the gifts God has blessed me with", just like my mom always told me to. I sometimes paint my nails blue, pink and white as a covert signal, but that doesn't exactly help with passing.
I feel safer around other queer people, but it still never feels like they quite... get it. "She- I mean sorry, uh... they?" is something I hear quite often, no matter how "LGBTQ+ inclusive" this BDSM club pretends to be. It doesn't phase me at all anymore. Sex is fun! Who cares about getting misgendered if the dick's good?, I think to myself with a wry smile. I lean against the bar, idly licking around the straw of my drink. It's easy for me to get attention around here. Just not the kind I'd like.
"Watcha drinkin'?"
A man's voice comes from behind me. I don't even turn around to look. I know I'm gonna fuck him later, but he still can't make me pretend like I care.
"Ah, um. It's a piña colada."
"Fun, fun..." I have to be better than this. But I'm not.
"Uhum."
I put my glass back on the bar and stare into the creamy, opaque drink.
"I haven't seen you around here before."
I might actually kill myself. This guy is so fucking bad at this. What's next, is he gonna ask me about where I'm from? I don't have to put up with this.
"Then you must be new!" I finally turn around, not even trying to hide my frustration. And of course it's some asshole with a mullet, a fuckass chest harness, and... wait, are those...?
"Okkkay, okay! Sorry man, I didn't mean to piss you off!" Or so he says, but he's giggling, and I can tell he's not sorry at all. When he raises his hands to his chest in defence, I notice a long, rectangle-shaped scar on his forearm, and my heart starts beating a little faster. "I just thought you were real handsome. I wanted to talk to you."
He steps a little closer and raises his hand close to my face, but leaves it lingering in the air. My head is spinning. Three seconds pass before I realise he's waiting for my permission to touch me, and I quickly shake my head. "Hold on, hold on," he drops his hand, but not the stupid smile. "Wuh- what?"
He tilts his head to the side. "What? You think I couldn't tell?" Another step closer. His voice softens, lowers. "Look at you. You're not at home in this body. I know what that looks like."
I feel myself getting defensive. My disguise works perfectly well for me, and I don't need you blowing my cover, thank you very much! But he continues before I can even get a word in.
"You've got nice shoulders, though. You work out?"
Wait, do I really...? I'm caught off guard. Fuck. Uhh. "Uh, no."
His grin spreads wider. He can tell it's working. "No...? Really...?" The way he purrs that last word momentarily shuts down my brain, and as he reaches out to touch me again I lean into it. I'm gently turned around, and he begins to trace something on my back. "You've got nice lats, too..."
I can feel people staring. They always do, but this time I feel uncomfortably exposed. Nobody's supposed to see me like this. Nobody would ever want me again if they knew that I...
"Hey. Close your eyes," he whispers, leaning into my neck. I don't know why I obey, but then I feel the row rumble of his chuckling against my back, and...
"Good boy."
The words hit me like a million stars exploding in my chest. A quiet gasp escapes my mouth. I want to tell him how badly I always wanted to hear that but my brain is slowly shutting off. All I can manage is a breathy "yes".
"Yeah?" He slides his hand down to my waist, amusement much too evident in his voice. "You've got a nice, square shape already..."
The tip of his fingers reach the edge of my panties and suddenly a pang of shame hits me- but he doesn't give me enough time to start spiraling. "We'll get you some boxers for next time, okay? You can't expect this little piece of fabric to hold your junk," and he chuckles again.
"Bhh... But I don't..." One last time, I try to protest. To hold onto reality as I know it.
But he laughs, uproariously, like he just heard the funniest joke in his entire life. "Shut up, man. Tell me, what's this?"
He reaches his hand down my panties and draws a line with his middle finger, all the way down from my pubic mound to the tip of my clit. "Silly boy," he purrs, repeating the motion, up, down, up, down... "You're rock hard already..."
And as I stand there, with my back leaning against him, my eyes closed, body shivering from desire... I'm starting to forget he's only playing with my clit. As he keeps stroking my body, I can't help but whimper... Reality starts to feel hazy... My mind is getting foggy...
The pattern begins to change. At the end of every agonizinly slow stroke, he draws little circles around my clit before going back again. My whimpers only get louder. I can't... think anymore... "Sso... hard..." I barely manage to get the words to be coherent.
"Oh, I can tell... You want some help, baby boy?" To answer, I press myself into his hand as hard as I can, whining. I feel like I'm going insane... My tip has never been this sensitive...
...But he suddenly stops. With his other hand, he pulls my hips back against his own and I can feel the bulge of his phallo pressing against my ass. He tells me to start grinding with a voice so much more forceful than before... I feel my eyes welling up with tears and my body moves on its own. I hear people gathering around us... they laugh at my desperate whining, they coo at me about how cute I look, and I even hear someone say "aw, is he gonna cry?", which just makes me moan louder. I hear him praise me from behind, I feel his lips and his teeth on my neck and shoulder, and finally, finally his fingers around my tip, and he's stroking faster now, faster... my knees buckle, I can feel my precum dripping down his hands and I can hear him taunt me about it- come on, pup, fuck my fist, be a good boy, he sinks his nails into my hips and I cry out in pleasure, I want nothing more than to shoot my load into his hand, to feel the cum gushing out my cock, to fill, fill, fill, when suddenly-
Stars. My eyes pop open. I lose my balance, but he catches me. I can still feel my dick twitching for minutes after. I cling to him, completely emptied. I hear him murmur into my ear: "Good boy... You did so good... I'll give you your first shot tomorrow, okay? Then I'll teach you how to do it for yourself..."
He presses a soft, gentle kiss on the top of my head. I feel like the happiest boy ever.
i love when i can have my dick out in bed and not even touching it, i love watching it throb and react when i read or watch or sometimes even smell something, i especially love seeing it leak all over my stomach and bush, it makes me feel so needy and hot
Being cock drunk is REAL and it CAN happen and I REALLY REALLY THOUGHT it was just a cute little idea like lol what if taking dick could make you totally stupid and forget everything you know OTHER than dick. But no it's very very real and makes you say very very depraved shit
woah, weird. this report here says you need to fuck my cunt feral style in order to live. no, no. I'm serious. it's critical that you mount my hips and ram your cock in me like a dog in heat or else you're like literally going to die. we gotta follow instructions, ya know
him stuffing you with his cock as he holds a vibrator to your clit. coos when you cry out and wrap your hand around his wrist because the pleasure is too much. and he says, “but you can take it, baby. you can take it all for me.”
puppy folded in half and getting bred, crying and whining that it’s too much. Owner wiping away puppy’s tears and cooing at them “Ooh I know baby, I know. Just a little more, okay? You can take a bit more. Such a good puppy, so good for me” While ruthlessly pounding into puppy’s hole.
Struggling to put into words how desperately I need to dig my fingers into your hips while I force it inside you. How much I need to hear you whine and moan and cry and beg me not to be so rough. I need to breed you so fucking bad.
You know what, I'll say it. Soo much talk about horsecock but not enough appreceation for or focus on flared heads and how they actually work. The head flares and expands when they're about to cum, it works like a knot.
Not enough people talking about feeling the flare drag against your walls, not enough people talking about feeling it tug against your entrance as they try to pull out only to give up and fuck back in again.
need to be inside a really loud boy right now. need to listen to him gasp as he gets past the initial stretch. watch him whine about how i'm going too slow when i try to be gentle, then moan about how "he can't take it", "i'm gonna break him", "it's too much", when i give him what he asked for. need to watch his eyes go all unfocused and glossy after his second orgasm and i'm still rutting into him. bonus point if he cries
do you wanna come over and tell me it's too thick and it's not gonna fit, before i rub your hips and promise it's gonna be fine, and then you sit on it and it is too thick and i keep growling and moaning about how tight you are
Howdy, Partner. @distortionwh0re - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
