Hello and welcome! I accidentally deleted my pinned post for this blog, so here I am writing it again. You may call me Kimmyc, she/it.
This is my horny blog. Although I am not ashamed of posting horny things, I acknowledge that some people, including some who I know follow my main, do not wish to see them. Thus, as a compromise, I have decided to relegate such posts to this side blog.
Regarding what content you will see here, it will mostly be things that I find arousing. This may include any medium I happen to stumble across, including digital art, erotica, and photography (including some of my own, if I ever get around to it). As I consider myself bisexual, subject matter will be of various genders. Furthermore, some of what you are will be of a more unconventional variety, as dictated by my various kinks, including:
Furries
Monsters
Bdsm (I am a sub!)
Dubcon
Cannibalism
Lethal vore
Hypnosis
Exhibitionism
Occasional piss/scat
(fantasy/written, not actual) snuff
Furthermore, there are some things I am not into and do not wish to engage with. These include:
Fetish content revolving around feet
Woundfucking
To be clear, this is not a dni. If you have these things on your blog, you don't need to stay away from me, and I may very well follow you anyway. However, I will not be engaging with these themes on this blog at all, and you should not directly engage with me regarding them.
It also goes without saying that this blog is not intended for minors. Just about everything on here has to do with sex (or things that I have enough wires crossed to consider sex, lol), up to and including actual nudes. Consider yourselves warned.
For everyone else, feel free to interact with me in any way you wish so long as it does not violate my aforementioned limits. Sexual advances via asks and dms are welcome. Send or solicit nudes, and you will likely receive mine. Don't feel obligated to keep them to yourself. The more people cum to me, the better!
god. yes the photo lacks the beautifully rich lighting of the other ones but. look at her. unbelievable. the way she's arranged. it's simply too much to take. you'd be so beautiful like this. you'll be so, so beautiful.
if your girl has a rough tongue you gotta kiss her anyway because she's probably carnivorous and she won't mind your mouth bleeding a bit onto her tongue
I've recently descovered I'm into age play and I feel really conflicted about it because it feels so wrong and like I'm really hurting a child and I'd never do that but in a scene it all feels so real but still turns me on and that feels like something I shouldn't be allowed to do
The people I play with are lovely kind consenting adults and close friends but it still feels wrong but I don't want to not dom for that because I was comptop for so long so I want to experience everything that I like not just the bits other people want
Sorry that this is a lot but I guess how to I deal with the idea that playing with my friends while they are regressing or just pretending is ok and how do I let myself feel like I'm not pressuring someone when I'm little
Sorry this is a lot and might not have been what you ment by confessional I just realy like your posts and you seem really lovely and like you could have some insight
I hope everything is ok and you have a lovely [insert time of day]
- bug ^-^
it thinks the important thing to remember is that literally everyone involved in what you're doing is consenting to what you're doing. even if there's a separation between who someone is in littlespace and who they are out of it, there is still consent there. that consent is what allows you to do it! no one else gets to have a say except those involved.
it might help to have more conversation in the aftercare: telling each other what you enjoyed and what you'd like to have more of next time. ask for more reassurances and encouragements, and give each other lots of comfort and care. after the scene is long over and everyone has returned to 'normal', hearing that all is well and everyone still loves what happened can mean a lot more than in the afterglow of the moment.
but for the most part, it's about communication and trust: talk to those you're playing with, and trust them to tell you the truth about what's happened. with practice, you'll find it easier to let yourself enjoy what you enjoy!
"i figured it out because of your url," she wheezes, leering entirely too close to your face for comfort. you were walking home from the local 7/11 when you'd heard a manhole cover open, and.... skittering, and then there had been the warm blush-pressure of something biting your neck with needlelike fangs and the feeling of something being injected.
"well, not just your url. there are a whole bunch of th-thhhings," hisses the drider, carefully drawing her fingers across your belly, down your thighs. four arms working tirelessly to draw a mosaic of chalk-paste onto your body, ritualistic in some way that you really can't identify.
she's got six eyes, three to a side. one set is following you, black and beady and glossy. the other four are on her work as she speaks. "you talk a lot about wanting somebody to, t-t-to take you away from your prrrrroblems. wanting them t-t-to, to...."
she leans down to kiss your bare belly, and her chelicerae tickle against your stomach as she does. "fix your problems." she wheezes even more heavily as she tries to seem confident, drow-purple complexion nearly cranberry with blush.
"i think i am j-j-just the fleshcrafter to do that, yes, yes."
your head is still spitting like bacon grease in a pan, vision fuzzy and disjointed as you blink the unconsciousness out of them. the drider girl, her hair cropped short to her head in a ragged flapper bob, offers you a glass of water. "you, y-you can sit up, i'll just be coccooning you when it's important you s-sit still...."
"....putting aside how creepy that is, what the fuck do you mean 'you knew from my url.' are you that goth chick who spam likes all my posts."
the drider girl chitters softly, hop-stepping back as if she's afraid she's startled a wild animal, even as she continues to daub bits of chalk and ink onto your body. "yyyyes. yes? yes. i am that. i am her."
"so i've been kidnapped by a himejoshi."
you sit up and take the water, giving it a greatful sip and making a noise at the back of your throat as it jogs free a few hours worth of sleep crust. you try not to think about what else might have happened to your throat while you were out, based on the noise that the drider makes in the interrim.
"a-anyway, um...." with a FZZT, you feel your leg be secured to the table by a coil of silk rope, quickly woven around your ankle faster than you can think to retract it. "i could tell because, um, your url had 'faggot' in it and you seem like you would put 'dyke' in it instead."
"are you telling me that i've been clocked and kidnapped because of my fucking blog url using the wrong slur. oh my fucking god."
you feel your head bounce off the table slightly when the next ropes are thrown around your chest and throat.
"n-no. i a-am telling you, t-that on behalf of the h-house ramoth, i am g-going to gg-g-give you the body you desire and d-deserve." she leans in, and you can see a droplet of pink drip off of her fangs. "and then you are going to bear m-my y-young, like I deserve."
she's not the worst looking in the world, is the worst part. i mean sure, her hair is obviously cut with a dagger more often than with scissors. but she's not like, obviously hostile or anything like that. and, despite that little outburst, she really is being consummately professional about this.
"s-s-so i will be honest. i can g-give you informed c-consent, b-but...." she skitters to the side, and then back, flopping her arms against her chest in a strangely doglike motion. "what i am going to be doing is really kind of gross."
"grosser than the kidnap and rape, you mean. you're cool. you're a cool girl and very very normal, y'know that."
the drider gives you a look, and narrows four of her six eyes. "fleshcrafting, as a drrr-drider, is a matter of....." she secures a few more silk ropes, sighing with a flutter behind her voice. "well, the ho-house ramoth has a lot of.... semiotic necromagic. v-very h-hiigh concept stuff."
you can't help but be kind of turned on just by the fact that she's tying you down to the table, and the fact that she's still touching you.
well. most of you. there's one part of you that she rather pointedly refuses to touch, despite the fact that she's relieved you of your clothes, and is drawing chalk sigils all over your body. it's kind of infuriating, especially as the silk ropes prove surprisingly adept at holding you down, despite their seeming softness and stretchiness.
"esss-sentially, once i have, sym-symbolically cocooned you with silk, i c-can invoke, aspects of.... other, insects, and it will allow me to... reach inside of you, and.... change things."
"does it cost anything."
"...no. i am doing this b-because i, am... in lll-ll....ove with you. this is, how, drrrrrrider ex, spress love. possession. keeping. having."
"will i have any like. recovery period???????"
"....no? why w-"
"shut the FUCK up dude you said i'd be breedable? can you give me bigger tits? and, like, longer hair?"
you are embarrassed to note your pulse rising, breath quickening. it's really quite a tantalizing offer, especially because.... well.
you've been glancing around, and this place is like, some freaky bloodborne shit. this girl has freaky bloodborne money, and she's literally offering you the opportunity to marry rich and get bottom surgery at the same time.
"i, okay, see. thhh-this, is why i did not want to give you informed consent because i would ha-ah-have to explain that i hhhhad... perhhhaps used further magic to, prrrobe your mind and...."
"figure out how to make you as pretty to yourself as i think you deserve to be. i was already g-goi-going to.... make thiss happen."
she pauses, and only now do you see how small she actually is. you definitely, probably, could have just beaten her up if she hadn't managed to gank you. hell, it's not like you can't still beat her up after she lets you go, given the fact that she's like, 3/4ths your height. she's wringing her hands at her chest, picking at the panel of lace in her weird white surgical-dress thing. "okay. that's, rrrrr, omantic? i think? there are some real weirdos on tumblr that'd probably do numbers with. god. fuck. um."
you sigh, and squint your eyes closed. "and like, thhhhe, kids. they're not going to like... kill me and eat their way out of me, right? this isn't some freaky eroguro shit?"
the drider stares at you for a moment. "no? no! no no nono! nononono, nononono, no no, nonono!" you can't help but snicker as you detect what you're pretty sure is an ena soundclip in there. do they get wifi down here?
"no, i..... trrruth be told would like simply to have you as a guest of the house after i am done. and i would, like to tr-trry to romance you as, any other suitor might be r-rromanced." she tugs at her dress, beginning to worry a tiny bit of thread out of the fabric. "and th-then, i would be able to take a less...."
she taps all of her legs in time in order to avoid describing herself, and something in your stomach feels really bad for her all of a sudden.
"...and then our ch, children would be.... drrrrow, l-like any other drrrow. eighteen m-months, but n-no di, different from human otherwise. and, of c-course, we have some of the b-b-best necromedics in the underdark."
the drider is actively averting her eyes now. you size her up. her ragged white hair, her lacy spidersilk dress, and the iridescent blue that covers her forearms and legs. the way she keeps fussing her mouth-mandible chelicerae against themselves, ever fidgeting. she's not bad looking. she really isn't.
"okay. um. can i know your fucking name, dude?"
"oh! yes! faschnact wanre ssengren ramoth!"
you let out a pensive breath. "holy fuck. okay. what do people call you because they can't say that every time. tell me they don't say that every time."
"oh! my sister, she calls me Nock!" she reaches out a hand, and knocks on the table you're stretched out on, giggling.
and then she gets serious, which you do not fucking like.
"i, um."
"have to. inject you. with...."
"....anaesthetics and sedatives now. y-you are as pr-prepared as i can get you. if you do n-n-not want this i can undo everything, it will not ta-take long. i will return you to the surface and-"
"dude fuck that just do it alre-"
you realize that she's a jumping spider because she's on you so quick that you can't even finish that sentence. her lips part, revealing fat, glossy pink fangs, and she plunges them into your neck. something pushes into your skin, and there's a red hot jolt of pleasure to your brain, and then
Feralists are so weird about implants. “Ooo it’s mind control” “I don’t want to have a plant inside me” “The fact that it’s required is so weird”
Ok but I had core cuddles one time without my implant and now I’m just counting down the days until my surgery… j-just the thought offf how thhey felt is enough to…. OhmystarspleaseIneeditsobadlyplease >~<
the funny thing about hypnosis is if you do it enough you learn things about how the mind works that make you sound kind of insane if you talk about them
"mommy will you make me forget my name so I can be a dumb slut?"
"I mean, in a sense you've already forgotten your name since you don't have direct access to that information mentally right now, even if the 'why' there is 'you're not currently thinking about your name.' To 'make you forget' is to install a limiter in your mental process that stalls the retrieval process so something that would typically be easily accessible on command becomes something you mentally refuse and obfuscate the refusal. This is actually how a lot of social niceties work, where it becomes convenient to 'forget' something and instead store it in your intuition where you can still access it when it's import-"
"mommy I wanted to be a dumb slut not a smart one"
"Actually, bimbofication in the traditional sense is the trivialization of background pattern-recognition in favor of small-scale heuristic functioning, put together with the aesthetic trappings of desirability. Binding your mental processes to heuristics actually takes a very smart slut who takes the time to make her background processes efficient, otherwise the bimbofication will stall out over repeated sessi-"
this continues until morale improves or a more appreciative daughter is found
i like to be hit. i don't like impact. i like to be punched and slapped. if there is something in your hands, i'm not interested.
when i was a kid my dad would hit me. he'd only hit me with a belt though. if his hands were empty, they were safe. i had warning. he'd have to go get a belt, or take it off. he'd brandish it, he'd look at me, i'd be prepared.
my mom would hit me with her hands. there'd be no warning. i'd say something wrong and get smacked upside the head, slapped across the face. sometimes with a closed fist. if she was a little heated, she'd hit me over and over again til she calmed down or, if my dad was there, she was pulled back. normal stuff. lots of us have this experience.
i wasn't afraid to be close to my dad. i was comfortable close to him. i wasn't even scared when he got the belt. i knew what was coming and i knew how it would feel. it was a non-event. but with my mom i was always on edge. any movement could be tender or violent.
and i really like that. i really like to be a little afraid every time someone close to me reaches out to me. or even just moves their hands while close to me. it feels so fucking good. i love feeling fear at your touch. i love the way it melts away into comfort. or resolves in violence. i love this all being incidental, and omnipresent. i want to feel everything all the time. i want you to hit me and hit me and hit me and hit me and i want to think about it every time i see you and every time i see your hands or sense them moving behind me. every time you give me comfort and care, i want to be just a little afraid.
