You’ll find fictions, fantasies, and filth below. This is avowedly and unashamedly a kink blog; if it’s not for you, block me or move on, it costs nothing and doing otherwise is only an inconvenience to the people that do enjoy what I post.
This blog is text-only, queue-only and will only feature my own words; I will not be reblogging other user’s posts, or publicly sharing pictures or gifs of others or myself. On previous blogs interest has been expressed in having audio ‘readings’ of my writing; I’m still considering that.
Generally, I don’t consider it my responsibility to be transparent about my personal life or my actual beliefs, but I will post an updated answer I gave to an anonymous question on the topic, from a previous iteration of this blog (both under the cut):
I think ultimately, for a lot of people, this is the million-dollar question, and I’m going to answer it seriously; I want to illuminate my thoughts and position in the hopes that either I can light the path for others to comprehend these things, or at least provide a degree of clarity for those trying to understand me.
What I post is, at its most basic core, erotica, and I view it as such; I pull from my personal life and dramatize or embellish as the situation demands, but my goal is to make certain every piece of writing I put out into the world can bring someone to the height of their desire - whether that’s an edge, or an orgasm. That being said, it’s only natural for my audience to wonder about the artist, especially when my content is so glaringly problematic - genderfuckery, questionable consent, TPE/ownership, antifeminism and dumbification - and while I in general am content to let people wonder, I feel this does deserve further explanation in the year of our nightmare 2026.
When it comes to women ‘outperforming’ men, there are definite physiological differences between the sexes and I think those are undeniable. Men are stronger and faster than women, on average; there's good evidence that women have the edge when it comes to endurance and tolerance events. That being said - in nearly every type of sport and olympic event, the men hold the record by a notable margin. Again, physiologically speaking, this is widely understood; intuitively, everyone knows that men are, on average, substantially stronger and faster than women. When it comes to intelligence - the male brain is about 10% larger, with more flexibility with high working memory load and superior visuospatial skills; it’s well known that women retain stronger, more vivid memories of emotional events, as anyone who has ever argued with a woman can attest.
Given these undeniable differences, the question has to be asked - is real equality between the sexes even possible? But even asking it, am I a raging misogynist that can’t fathom the idea of a woman possessing personhood, or am I a blind believer in neoliberal feminism engaging in pure kink? Do I believe that women are people who should be respected and valued and treated equally in society, or, do I believe that women are inherently inferior, that being female makes them sex objects, that cunts are objects that should be owned?
Bluntly: both, and neither; really, those are the wrong questions.
I think there's nothing wrong with a world that includes and celebrates women's contributions to society; I also think I should be able to pick an unowned bitch up off the street and register her as property, like adopting a stray. I want to wake up with my cock jammed down a cunt’s throat as she bruises her tonsils on me, because the shock collar training worked so well it's second nature for her now; I think it's insane that women aren't guaranteed more substantial maternity leave. I think women should be permitted to make their own decisions, and I do think cunts should be smart enough to willingly give up their rights. I hold both of these views in equal measure, and I don’t see any fundamental conflict between those viewpoints.
I do essentially believe that way that both neoliberal and radical feminism articulates on behalf of an entire gender without providing room for the nuance of individuation and without any examination of the successes of historical or traditional gendered socialization has been its own undoing; not everyone wants to have to act as a singular agent in society without the benefit of an external guiding force, and modern feminism has essentially guaranteed that nearly any other approach to interpersonal relationships beside absolute brutalist ‘equality’ is seen as abhorrent and unacceptable. I think that there is a growing sentiment among modern women that this state of affairs is not the outcome they were looking for; we see this with the advent of ‘girl jobs’ and the obsession around having a ‘sugar daddy’ or a ‘provider boyfriend’, and the increasingly common rejection of modern feminisms for traditionally feminine values. If the system isn’t working for most people, why continue to endorse it and prop it up against its failings?
Fundamentally, I think ‘equality’ is a false goal, a mirage; equity is far more important and valuable. Equality means treating everyone the same by providing identical resources and opportunities, assuming everyone starts at the same place; equity recognizes that individuals have different circumstances and provides the specific resources needed to reach an equivalently valued outcome. While equity is about fairness, equality is about sameness - but we’re not all the same. Some of us are distemperate, some of us want to watch the world burn and laugh as the rich and privileged carbonize; some of us just want to be at peace, and want the world to be quiet, and want to cultivate things that grow green in the bright sun. Some of us want power, some of us want abuse, some of us desire the hedonism of our bodies; some of us want to uplift the downtrodden and disparate, some of us want to be intellectually unbound, some of us want for the love of the mind.
For those that seek an experience other than the one I seek, what harm? Does your path impose its logics and rules upon my own? For those that want to be exceptional, or leaders, or seek to redefine the definitions of success, or to live in a way other than mine - I wish you the best. And for cunts that do most of their thinking with their clit, those that neither want to have or deserve rights - why should they have any, why force them to live in a way other than what they crave?
All that to say: my views come from a perspective of seeking an equitable place for those who desire it, and the subjugation of those who search for that instead - because those are one and the same.
Now, back to your regularly scheduled kinkblogging.
Just when you think you’ve done it, you find another way to put more pink into your life.
It starts in the morning, when you wake up. Before you check socials, before you check the news or the weather - edge, like a good girl should.
Because, really - you don’t need to check the weather, you’re going to dress to put yourself on display, regardless of the cold. As for the news - don’t be silly, a girl like you wouldn’t really understand it anyway. Checking your socials is important - but it feels so much better to watch your besties’ stories and reels while you rub, doesn’t it?
Now that you’ve had your edge, you’re ready to get up and get ready for the day. Which means it’s time to shower - and, of course, time to tease yourself more! - but don’t get too distracted or you’ll end up grinding into your palm, all day…again.
All that’s easy, though. Now the tricky part - after you finish getting ready (and edge a little), and finish getting dressed (and rub a little), and finish getting makeup on (and grind a little), you still need to keep your brain in a pink haze while you go about your day.
But fortunately, that’s easy!
We talked before about trying to use small words, and using dumber words, all so that no one mistakes you for a girl who has any brains at all. We’ve talked about using your girlwords, and other ways to advertise that you do best when things are mansplained and dumbed-down for you. Don’t be afraid to act your IQ, whether that’s a 32B or a 38GG, and remember to giggle whenever you don’t understand something.
But all of that requires that you focus - and that’s not what edged-out bimbos do best. So let’s talk about what you can do to fill your brain with pink, without having to think about it!
Find a few simple and innocent and girly things - like applying lipgloss, mindlessly checking your phone, giggling at nothing - and make it a pink routine. Make it a part of every routine you have that makes you pink; every time you edge, if you need a break, play through your pink routine; when you have a blonde moment and your brain feels empty, play through your pink routine. Whenever you spend an extra long time on your makeup, whenever you get a new pair of heels, play through your pink routine. If you stay consistent about doing that over and over, your pink routine will help keep you in the right mindset, whenever you do it!
Of course, we’ve already touched on the obvious and oft-repeated ‘turn off auto-correct’ - and that’s a great way to really make it clear and show off exactly how brainless you are, and every time you go to type out a text you’ll be reminded that you’re just a dummy! If that’s not enough, another way to keep your brain pink is to make your lock screen a selfie - one you take right after a hard edge - so that every time you look at your phone, you remember how great it felt! And if mindlessly checking your phone is a part of your pink routine, that only adds to how much better it’ll make you feel!
For even more of a pink routine, every time you play through it more than ten times a day, give yourself a little treat!
i always thought i was a good girl, i did everything right. but i feel so lost and confused, i feel like maybe i’ll only ever be a toy. i let people use and play with me, even strip my identity away, it’s to the point where most people i know call me “porn” instead of my actual name, i’m losing myself. i’ve never been loved. how do i get to a place where i can be okay with that? how am i supposed to be okay knowing i’ll never get the love i thought i would?
I went back and forth about answering this in-kink or out-of-kink - there’s a lot here to unpack, and it’s clear you’re having a tough time reconciling it - and I settled on just giving a genuine answer that blends a little of both.
Realistically, I think your problem isn’t the losing yourself, or with being renamed ‘porn’, or with being a toy, or not being a ‘good girl’ - you mention all those things, yes, but they don’t sound like the core of the issue, and I think that you’re probably fine with those things in and of themselves.
As to the question it sounds like you’re really asking, this is one of those good news/bad news scenarios - because it sounds like what you’re really missing is a feeling of being cared about and loved.
The bad news is that you’re using the other things to mask those needs, or to try and fulfill them. You’re being a toy for people to use because it makes you feel less alone, and more needed; you’re doing whatever they ask because being compliant feels like being cared about, or like it might lead to that. Letting people destroy your identity might mean that they’ll like whatever they leave; being their porn means that they like your body and maybe they’ll like you, too.
The really bad news? The way you’re going about it won’t fulfill those needs, it never does.
The good news is that those things don’t exclude you from being loved and cared about. Being renamed and treated like porn is compatible with being seen and treasured. Being used as a fuckdoll and a sextoy is compatible with being held and cared for. Being reconditioned into a different identity is compatible with being understood and deeply loved for who you are.
The difference is the method, and where you’re looking for what you want. Right now, you’re using what you’re doing (being used for porn, dehumanized, treated like a fleshlight) to try and create something else (being cared about and loved) - but doesn’t sound like there’s any indication that the other people involved want to give that to you. They’re happy using you for porn, and entertainment, and as a toy, but they don’t want to hold you and care for you afterwards - and you keep doing what you’re told, hoping it’ll just magically happen.
Here’s the best news, though - I think I know what you really need, and it’s fairly simple.
You need to be owned. You need to give all of what you’re giving everyone - the compliance, the access to your body, your identity - to one singular person, with the understanding that in exchange they will take care of you, and care about you, and love you. That understanding, that contract of attraction and submission and care, is what you’re missing and what you’re looking for in the wrong place - because it doesn’t sound like being a toy, being porn, or being rewritten is what really is bothering you, it sounds like being at the whim and mercy of people who don’t care about you in return is; so go find someone that wants what you’re offering, and is offering what you want.
Here’s more good news - while there are a metric fuckton of people online here that are either piss-poor at being doms, or are implicitly or explicitly exploitative or abusive, tumblr also has a population of people who are looking for and willing to give you exactly what you want - a role you belong in, and someone you belong to, who will genuinely care for and about you.
One thing I’ve been thinking about recently is tying a dumbcunt down on her back, with her legs spread nice and wide - and then ignoring her drippy pussy, focusing entirely on teasing and stretching and prepping her asshole, mocking her for her moaning and whimpering, until finally I can slide the bulb of a wand all the way into her desperate fuckhole...and then leaving it on low.
It’d be buzzing away while on low I explain that it’s good for her because it’s teaching her to love her asshole as much as her desperate pussy.
It’d be buzzing away while on low I explain that it’s good for her because the overstimulation keeps her incoherent and unable to think at all.
It’d be buzzing away on low while I explain that it’s good for her because it reminds her that pleasure can be just as effective as pain to control her.
And when I mount her and admit that it’s not for her at all, that I just want it so that my sex doll has an added vibrating function when I use her breeding hole - I’d turn it on high.
sir >_< would you ever consider doing a "bad shift" version of your story about the cunt who so perfectly obeyed her master's wishes here (https://www.tumblr.com/ironskyhunter/806687716234412032?source=share)?
i can't stop thinking about it! what a dream. though i don't like the idea of swallowing anyone's piss... i don't think i'd be able to take that as well as her at all
That’s an interesting idea.
I’ll see what I can do with that, although I don’t write well on-demand, I write what attracts my interest - but I’m certainly open to the concept, and anyone who likes my male findom writing enough to request more of it deserves to be heard out.
Since it was such a success, let’s keep adding more pink - until it’s the only way you think.
Some girls want to know how they can help pink make them better. The first piece of advice is to give in to it! Turn off spellcheck and don’t correct any mistakes you make, use hearts and emojis more often, refer to yourself in the third person, smile and giggle when you don’t understand what’s going on.
Another piece of advice is to use your girlwords in everyday conversations. Now, obviously words like edge, rub, and hump have mostly come up around your besties; but words like uhhhh, like, and dunno are also great! Using them in everyday conversation helps fill in the gaps when you’re confused, when you can’t think of a word, or just when you’ve got pink on the brain.
For girls looking to really let the pink take over, there’s a little more to do, but that’s okay! Before you know it, you’ll get into a routine that’ll get you the pinkest mind possible! A way to start doing that is to forget trying to use big and complex words - no writing out numbers, no words with 10 or more letters, and no more than 3 syllables (that’s how many times your mouth moves when you say a word)! Instead, use simple words that are small and easy to use, and use your girlwords whenever possible; you might have to stop and try to think through your sentences before you talk, but that just makes you seem dumber!
Some girls trying to get the pinkest mind they can go even further; they won’t use capital letters about anything other than Men, because typing in small letters are so much easier for small brains and because they’re really all just objects anyway. Those girls are the kind of bimbo that replace the word ‘okay’ with okie dokie because it sounds even dumber, the kind that say uh-huh instead of ‘yes’ and uh-uh for ‘no’. Replacing ‘definitely’ with def, ‘very’ with supes, ‘totally’ with totes, are easy ways to make it clear to everyone you talk to that all you have in your head is pink.
And really, the best piece of advice? Keep a little diary with you in your purse or clutch, and every time you have a really good pink moment, make a little tally mark. Make a tally each time you forget something big, whenever you catch someone staring at you showing off your body, for everyone that has to dumb down a concept to explain it to you.Try to beat your record every day, and be more pink in every way.
Something to consider, while you're edging your brains out for hours, rubbing and scrolling and dripping - you deserve other people’s orgasms, not your own. You deserve their orgasms on your face, your chest, filling you up and dripping down your thighs. You deserve their orgasms on your tongue, deep in your throat, pressed up against your cervix.
Your orgasms? Silly girl, those don’t belong to you - and the ache of months of denial suits you much better than permission for release does.
idk how you can talk about punching girls in the stomach and using them as punching bags and all that
like i like it rough and i like a lot of kinky stuff but hearing or reading that just makes me sad
idk why im telling you this cause im sure the response will be that this isnt the blog for me but idk it just makes me feel uneasy even though i like a lot of your writing
I think you might be surprised.
The real answer here is that there’s an incredible intimacy that comes from things that might seem borderline abusive, and that isn’t always captured perfectly.
Using a girl as a punching bag seems insane, on the face of it - but that’s not all that it’s about. It’s also about stringing her up by the wrists so she’s barely able to stand, pulling her shirt up and her panties down, restraining and exposing her. It’s also about the moment where I step back and appreciate her struggling, and her helplessness, and her vulnerability, and seeing the fear and adoration and trust mixed together in her eyes. It’s also about giving out the first few love taps and stifling the gasps with kisses, mixing the brutality with tenderness. It’s also about creating tears just to dry them with a kiss, creating fear and replacing it with comfort, taking feelings of worthlessness and insignificance and giving them an outlet. It’s also about the bruises that last days, the way in which her submission is painted on her body like a canvas, and the knowledge that the wincing soreness will remind her of how she took that violence and transformed it into a passionate intimacy.
So ultimately, I won’t tell you that this blog isn’t for you - instead, I will encourage you to think of the rougher things in their tender contexts.
One last thing - I will say that, due to variations in anatomy, a girl’s g-spot can often be stimulated externally, and sometimes using a girl as a punching bag is just an excuse to do exactly that.
You ever worry you’ll scare a girl off? Do you ever like ease a girl in or is it straight to the pissing and punching?
Of course I’m not always going to jump straight into the more depraved end of the things I like, no - there’s often a whole journey of corruption that I quite enjoy. Maybe it starts with getting high and watching porn that includes things the girl has never considered before, or with an innocent-seeming question at the right time, or with a long edging session that leaves them too needy to even consider that they might not like something I’ve suggested. Sometimes it’s about finding where their line is and exploring what’s set in stone and where they’re flexible, and sometimes it’s about giving them a reason to confess to themselves what they’re too embarrassed or ashamed or repressed to admit that they really do want. Corruption, in that way, takes many forms and many paths, and I’m patient about it - and, the journey is just as rewarding as the destination.
Why don’t we keep adding more pink to how you think?
Changing your brain can seem overwhelming at first, but the more you let the pink do it for you, the easier it gets!
It starts with words like edge, rub, and hump - those words start to jump out at you naturally after you’ve spent enough time scrolling, don’t they? You know exactly what seeing those words does to you - you don’t even need to read them, really, not when they’re pink.
Every time you see someone talking about edging until they couldn’t think, your cunt starts to drip; every time you see someone talk about how addicted they are to rubbing and grinding, it makes you even more horny; every time you see someone desperately humping away, it makes your clit feel even more needy.
See how easy that was? When pink is how you think, you only have to read your girl words - the rest barely matters!
Keep it up! You’ll know you’re being a good girl when your eyes start to skip everything that isn’t pink, when your attention goes from the ache of your own desperate holes to daydreaming about being held down and used like a cocksleeve in the blink of an eye. You can go from giggling and looking at pretty outfits to being a distracted and drippy mess because a man walked by; of course, you start thinking about how you’d worship his cock, how he’d fuck your throat, how you’d thank him by eating his ass. Before you know it, you’re edging again, only stopping to deny yourself - after all, good girls need permission - and then it’s back to trying to shop.
Of course, shopping for cute clothes that show your body off will keep you thinking about how you can be eye candy, and that’s of course going to lead to you fantasizing more. It’s okay, in fact it’s only natural!
Remember - little changes make a big difference in becoming a good girl.
you're doing the Lord's work 🙂↕️ you deserve throats to choke on your cock and someone to beat
What a thoughtful way to encourage my depravity. I think a throat to stretch and fill, and a pretty little punching bag to take out my frustrations on, would be a perfect way to improve my mood, and of course I agree that I deserve it.
And as for you - I hope you get exactly what you deserve, too.
No ai don’t think I’d wanna be your muse. I think a man like you probably has a past muse he’s still hung up on. That’s ifff he’s being honest with himself.
Hmm. An interesting but not entirely correct observation; I think you’re fundamentally misunderstanding what you’re asserting.
Full answer under the cut.
I’ve thought about it and at the core of it, this confuses being ‘hung up on’ someone with not getting over someone, and not moving on from them - but those are all different, in pedantic but important ways.
Being hung up on someone is when you neither move on from nor get over someone, when you still exist in a state of emotional fixation. Being hung up means you’re still ruminating on what happened, what could have happened, what things meant, whether they cared, whether it could still change. Being hung up on someone is being stuck in the attachment, in the analysis, in unresolved hope and possibility.
I’m not hung up on anyone.
Moving on is about what you do. Moving on is about how you organize your thoughts, your choices, your identity - whoever or whatever you’re moving on from goes from affecting that to no longer being a consideration. The attachment you had to them loses its power over you. Moving on is accepting that things have changed, that you have changed, that they have changed.
Moving on from things is never a problem.
Getting over someone is about your emotions and the hold they had on your heart and imagination; for a lot of people, getting over someone is about minimizing or cheapening the impact they had on you, of erasing that person’s place in your emotional ecosystem and your inner journey, acting and pretending that they mean nothing to you, changed nothing in you, brought nothing to your life.
By that definition, I’ve never gotten over anyone in my life.
I refuse to. I refuse to lie about what mattered, or about why it mattered. I refuse to make those things insignificant to give myself the kind of brittle strength that comes from rejecting that reality. It’s not a refusal of the healing process, but instead an acknowledgement that they changed me, that there were real and valid reasons to have them in my life, that I don’t need to erase their mark on me in order to continue living. I don’t need or want to get over people; I’d rather preserve the truth of their importance and do my best to accept that things change and evolve. I can prove that the impact they had on me was important without emotionally shutting off what made it possible.
I’m not over the first girl who started really following my kink blog, who wanted to be mine in a way unlike anyone before her. She loved hearing my voice - and not only did I discover through her that I enjoyed taking advantage of that, but she had a lasting impact on how I think of what I write and make.
I’m not over the first girl who really saw me for who I am, who made me a part of her life in ways I’m still discovering. She showed me how to be vulnerable, and how that was more courageous than being callous and closed off.
I’m not over the one who really unlocked my religious kink. I wrote thousands of words for her, spent hundreds of hours working out the nuances of challenges and rewards, creating mantras and rewriting prayers and liturgy and doctrine for her to follow. She wanted to be treated like an object, like a commodity, and I made that possible for her to do in a way that gave us both what we wanted and needed. She taught me that I craved that level of total submission beyond just the day-to-day, and the ways it pushed my creativity still influence my writing.
I’m not over the girl whose daily life I spent months controlling. I determined what she wore, what she ate and drank, when she rubbed and when she pissed. We got so close that we were gaming and talking most nights until she fell asleep, and since she was afraid of emotion that was when I got to tell her how I felt. She showed me that I can treat a girl like a cunt and still love and support her, and that’s just as intoxicating as exploitation.
I’m not over who I’m talking to now. I might wish that we weren’t separated by half a continent and that her circumstances were different, but she’d give me anything I asked her for. She’s proof that endless patience can pay off, that the slow burn of things can be just as intense as a sudden and intimate infatuation.
So - you’re wrong; I’m not hung up on anyone. I’ve moved on, the past doesn’t hold me back.
