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@gloaming-silhouette
I like the idea that angels inherently can't be sullied by mortals even if you can rape and torture them. Imagine a perpetual virgin and every time you hurt and violate them it's like the first injustice they've ever felt so you constantly have this creature sick to its stomach and writhing and trembling and brokenly sobbing it will forgive you and as soon as it heals will be back to a fresh state of innocence and love for you to dirty all over again
Science Exhibit Fantasy
You're spread out naked on a table as a presenter exhibits you to a room of people. They describe your body explicitly and talk about you like an object of curiosity, and the audience stares, intrigued. The presenter begins to stimulate you, remarking on your reactions. They pinch your nipple, and they remark on how when they do that, your nipples get hard, blood flows to your pussy, and your pussy starts to get wet to prepare for penetration. They say that these are all signs of sexual arousal, and you feel yourself blush.
They brush their gloved finger ever so gently along your wet pussy, flicking your clit, and explain that when they do that, you become more aroused, and that's why you're breathing faster and squirming a little. As they say this, you try to keep still.
The whole time they're doing this, you can feel the audience's eyes on you, and the air against your naked skin. You feel yourself involuntarily exhibiting all of the reactions the presenter is listing - hair standing on end, your heartbeat in your pussy, shakes, twitches, involuntary gasps or slight moans. Every time they predict a reaction and then force your body to do it, you feel more and more like a thing made for their amusement. But your pussy is so wet and you're desperate to be touched, even though it's so embarrassing to be put on display like this, moaning and writhing in front of all these people.
The last demonstration of the exhibit is showing them what it looks like and sounds like when you orgasm. Assistants step in to help with this step. Two begin to suck on your tits, flicking your nipples with their tongues. You moan involuntarily, writhing on the table. One lubes up a dildo and slides it into your pussy, pumping in and out of you excruciatingly slowly. Your eyes rolls back and your mouth gapes open, but you try to stifle your moans and resist the urge to touch yourself. In between gasps, you beg them to stop, not to make you cum in front of this room of strangers. But then one assistant begins to pump your swollen clit between their fingers, and within a few seconds you're screaming, unable to control yourself. The audience sits forward in their seats at this spectacle. You writhe and scream, shaking from the intensity of the orgasm, and as the come-down starts, you feel the dozens of eyes watching you and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. You didn't want to cum in front of all these people, really. You just couldn't help it, it was so much. You didn't enjoy it, right?
The audience is amazed. They'll definitely tell all their friends about this fascinating new exhibit. Those friends will definitely buy tickets to the show tomorrow night. And the next. And the next...
I don't want to interfere with the perfect premise. This is lovely.
@supramundiii M27 French moaning
Feeling protected really is such a turn on like waitttt the animal part of my brain that's for survival loves thatttt :P
Hey, this is a very random recording, but you're welcome to listen
Listen on Soundgasm [08:06]
voice of a girl who has never had its needs met:
wow ur so nice to me omg , noones ever talked to me in a soft voice before that's , so nice of u . but it's okay if u wanna yell at me tho I totally understand .!!! is it okay if I call u my friend ? no pressure haha just let me know if u hate me . btw can I have a hug ur allowed to say no btw .
Turned out way better than I expected lol
sexually repressed people be like âi have an ancient evil stirring within me. no one can knowâ and its literally just craving intimacy
For the ask game. 1. 36.
1. "What is your biggest turn-on?"
A voice đ« đ« đ« đ« whether it's a speaking voice or a singing voice...I'm not immune đ Extra points if it's a nice smooth, low voice that kind of caresses your eardrums đ
36. "What are your turn-offs?"
Liars turn me off, and that's with anything. Lying about intentions, lying about the way you really feel, lying about who you are (putting up a front/fake persona to get something), and LYING JUST TO LIE đ take that somewhere else.
(just a random addition: I don't count being private/reserved as putting up a front. That's in no way the same as going out your way to display yourself as someone you aren't)
men need to moan more. whine even. idk act like you need it so bad. i should be hearing how bad you need it.
https://gfycat.com/FrenchMeekAustralianfurseal
Request · Trapper à Dwight sensual
gangrape that's more like a stray animal emergency rescue mission than rape. i'm thinking "careful careful careful eeeasy" and "he's just scared, poor thing" and "it's okay buddy it's okay we've got you"
Saw "#monster fucker" and got excited
I LOVE LOVE LOVE the tentacle fics I see from others and wanna see one from you too!
Could you make it male reader x tentacle monster????? Where the monster strokes the readers cock while also fucking tentacles into him?
-đ
Title: "Taken and Worshipped"
Pairing: Tentacle Monster x Male Reader
Word Count: ~4,000
Genre: Smut, Monster Erotica, PWP
â ïž Content Warnings: Tentacle sex, cock stroking, anal penetration (tentacles), oral (tentacles), multiple penetration, overstimulation, non-human anatomy, mild bondage/restraint (via tentacles), slight dubcon tone (due to intensity, not lack of consent), moaning, begging, cumplay.
---
You shouldn't have come down here.
The cave walls glisten with moisture, the scent of salt and something musky heavy in the air. Your flashlight flickers, dying by the second, and a warm, wet breeze brushes past your neck even though thereâs no wind down here. You turnâtoo slow.
Something wraps around your ankle.
A slick, warm tentacle curls up your leg before you can even scream, pulling you off your feet. You hit the soft, squelching floor and a wet weight presses down on your chest, something impossibly strong but gentle.
Youâre not being crushed. Youâre being held.
Another limb strokes over your side, slow, like itâs exploring you. You cry outâmore in shock than fearâbut itâs cut off when one curls around your wrist and pins it above your head. Another does the same to your other arm, and you're spread wide, held aloft by a being you still havenât seen clearly.
Until you do.
Eyesâtoo many to countâblink open from the dark mass coiled above you. They gleam in shades of oceanic blue, glowing faintly in the shadows. A low, crooning sound rolls through the cavern. Not threatening. Not violent.
Wanting.
More tendrils slither from the darkness. One slips up your shirt, brushes along your chest, circling your nipple with cool, wet suction. You arch involuntarily, hips jerking upâ
It sees.
A thick, ridged tentacle strokes between your legs, brushing against your cock through your pants. Youâre already getting hard, the strangeness, the helplessness of it all feeding a shameful throb of heat in your stomach.
âW-Waitââ you stammer.
It doesnât wait.
Your clothes are sliced open with uncanny precision, not ripped, not tornâjust removed. Shredded fabric falls away, and the air hits your bare skin, cool against your flushed chest, your hardening cock, your hole twitching in the open air.
A single tendril wraps around your shaft.
Itâs slow at first. Too slow. The thing strokes you with a wet slide, its texture ridged and silky at once, every stroke sending sparks up your spine. It coils tighter, stroking from the base to the tip with a suctioning twist at the end that makes you gasp.
And while youâre distracted by thatâsomething else brushes lower.
Your breath catches.
Another tentacleâthicker, warmerâslides between your thighs and presses against your entrance. It teases you, slow and slick, tracing the rim with maddening patience. You try to close your legs, instinctual, but more limbs curl around your thighs and spread you wide.
Thereâs no escape.
But you donât want to escape anymore.
You shudder when it pushes in, the thick, writhing tentacle stretching you open inch by inch. The sensation is wrong but so rightâslick, filling, too muchâbut your cock twitches in the tentacleâs grasp, leaking pre-cum in thick drops.
Another one joins it.
You cry outâlegs trembling, back arching, arms straining uselessly against your restraintsâas the second tentacle presses in alongside the first. Youâre so full, stretched beyond anything youâve ever taken, and theyâre moving, pulsing, writhing inside you.
The tentacle stroking your cock speeds up. Tightens. Squeezes your tip just right.
You moanâloud, wrecked, shameless.
It croons again, the sound vibrating through your bones, deep and pleased.
Youâre helpless, your body rocked between sensationsâthe twisting, filling thrust of the tentacles inside you, the maddening rhythm on your cock, the wet, sucking mouths along your chest and thighs, the tendrils wrapped like bondage ropes around your wrists and ankles.
Another tentacle brushes your lips.
Your eyes widen.
It teases your mouth, tracing the seam of your lips. You part them, dazed, overwhelmed, and it slides inâslick, tasting of salt and something sweet, filling your mouth with a writhing heat that presses against your tongue and curls at the back of your throat.
It fucks your throat in time with the ones inside you. Every thrust in your ass is matched by one down your throat, every squeeze on your cock perfectly timed to the pulse in your overstretched hole.
Youâre going to break.
You want to break.
Your cock pulses, thick with pressure, your orgasm dragging just out of reach as the tentacle refuses to let you cum too fast. It slows right when you're close, squeezes the base cruelly, denying you.
You whimper around the tentacle in your mouth.
It purrs. It knows.
Another joins the others inside you. Smaller, thinnerâbut faster, wriggling in alongside the thick ones, fucking you with quick, precise strokes right against your prostate. Your legs tremble violently, toes curling.
Youâre sobbing now, body wracked with too much sensation. Youâve never been touched like this. Never been filled, sucked, stroked, used like this.
Thenâ
It lets you cum.
The tentacle on your cock jerks you hard, fast, twisting just right at the tip. The one in your mouth pulls out, letting you cry out as your orgasm hits you like a wave breaking.
You cum hard, body convulsing, white ropes painting your chest and stomach, dripping over the writhing limbs. They donât stop.
Not even for a second.
The ones inside you speed up, thrusting deep, squelching sounds filling the chamber as your oversensitive body trembles through aftershocks. You canât even form words. Just choked moans and pathetic, wet whimpers.
You beg. You donât know what for.
âPlease, please, I c-canâtâ!â
But you can.
It makes sure of it.
The tentacle on your cock starts again, slower this time, teasing the head, rubbing your slit with maddening precision. Youâre already hard again, unbelievably, painfully, and the tentacles donât stop thrusting inside you. They twist now, knotting briefly, dragging thick ridges across every nerve inside you.
You're drooling. Whimpering. Thrashing helplessly in its grip as it wrings another orgasm from you, and anotherâ
The third one is blinding.
You cum so hard you see white. You scream for it, your body arching high, spilling again and again even as your hole clenches around the tentacles still thrusting into you.
They pulse.
Theyâre cumming too.
A thick, hot rush of fluid fills youâso much, it spills out around the tentacles still buried in you. It leaks down your thighs, hot and slick, the smell sharp and alien.
Youâre ruined.
Used.
Owned.
The tentacles cradle you as you collapse, barely conscious, your hole twitching around nothing as they finally slide free. Your cock twitches one last time, cum dripping from the tip, your body trembling in overstimulated bliss.
It doesnât leave.
The creature holds you.
Gentle.
Possessive.
Like it likes you.
Like itâll do this again.
And again.
And again.
---
Masterlist
(This is a repost from my old blog bubblegumgothglad0s)
Domming, at it's best, is a performance
More specifically it's like standup comedy; you have to manage tension carefully, you need to fully commit to your bits, and if you loose your crowd it becomes super cringe.
If you're safe, if you believe in safety first and you're not a danger to your partner and they know this deeply and truly; then neither of you actually believes that you'll, for example, break their nose. Even if you both want it, even if it would be so hot; you're still not gonna do it really, it's above both of your thresholds for risk. And so during a scene you're fighting an uphill battle to scare them and make them believe for even a moment that you might.
So you sit on their chest and you pin their head between your knees and you grab them by the hair and you put your fist right up against their nose. You explain that it's actually the cartilage you'll be breaking not the bone, you tell them about how a nose is surprisingly resilient to hits straight on so you'll be hitting them at an angle, you tell them how the biggest risk with hits to the head is actually damaging the neck which is why you have their head held so very carefully, and you explain how after you fuck their ass using the blood gushing from their broken nose as lube you're going to have to take them to the hospital and they might need surgery immediately if they ever want to breath properly again. And if they giggle nervously you smile back with sadism in your eyes, and if they accuse you of lying you raise your ebrows slightly with all the derision you can muster. Then you ask them if they're ready, you look them in the eyes, and you pull your arm back fast as though you really intend to hit them. And if you've done it properly, if you've had a successful performance; for just one glorious moment they'll believe you're really going to break their nose.
One of the appeals of fictional noncon is the feeling of being wanted by someone so badly that theyâll have you no matter what.
Based on how many people relate to this, I think we have issues lol.
But you know, at least we have an endless supply of monster themed noncon to enjoy instead of processing our trauma.
