Ride the Nightmare Train

Three girls, one mission: Pornify RotG.

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Serious Cocktemplations

So I've been pottering around thinking about writing some Bunnymund/Jack, but I've gotten hung up on a very important detail.

Bunnymund's dick.

Now, the movie seems to do away with the book canon and imply that he is actually a rabbit. Rabbits however have incredibly boring cocks that don't have any interesting shapes or knot or anything, so I really think the far better idea is to keep things in line with the books, where Bunny is actually a pooka/rare alien who happens to look a lot like a rabbit. 

But in that case, what should it be like? This is very important for writing any smut. Maybe something like this

or maybe more like this

Any ideas? Preferences? Fic prompts? Have at our ask box!

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Actual Serial Killer Tooth has a surprise for you

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I'm really fucking amused by how put off everyone is over a little bit of porn.

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Am I kawaii enough yet?

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Pitch and North having some jolly good fun.

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toy [warnings: noncon, shadow tentacles]

Pitch rolls the scrap of trapped power between his fingertips, blue and crackling like lightning, smelling of burnt ozone and the wet chill of new snow. He wraps it in shadows until it forms a shape, until there are hands and feet and a face that's too young for how long it's been in the world. Its eyes a clear blue like untouched skies, but the rest is dark shadow and belongs wholly to Pitch, and when he crooks his fingers and beckons it come, the facsimile crawls over to him all fours, mouth opening for Pitch to slide his fingers in.

-

It's only a tingle at first, the lightest brush of fingertips at the corner of his mouth, but there's bright sunlight pouring through the windows and Jack is in the kitchen of North's workshop, getting himself a glass of water. He rubs a hand over knees that feel sore and bruised, cold, seeping into him like he hasn't felt in centuries. He's shivering, and that's when he realizes there are fingers in his hair, pushing him down, and then he can't stop his knees from buckling and hitting the ground hard.

He's breathing hard and panicking just a bit, but the pressure of fingers in his hair pulls him up and he feels his mouth open even though it doesn't, feels something thick and hard slide between them, pushing all the way in to the back of his throat.

He wants to gag and he wants to push it back out, bite down on the nothing that is stretching his mouth wide and making his jaw ache. The fingers that he wipes over his own mouth come back with nothing but his own spit, but the pressure on his tongue doesn't ease up, the horrible phantom sensation of the cock that keeps pushing into his mouth and choking him even though there isn't anything there. He can't do anything but shudder against the heavy awful feeling of weight that pushes down over his tongue and too far down his throat, further than it would be able to get if it were the real and solid thing that Jack could actually choke on.

-

There's no resistance in the shadow playing at being Jack, wide blue eyes and a mouth that opens up like it was made to be abused. Pitch laughs as he yanks on the thing's hair and drags it further onto his cock, head halfway in his lap already and knees that would be banged up from scraping over the floor if it were actually flesh.

He wonders if Jack is enjoying his education in the carnal arts, how raw and sore his throat must be by now. If there are long thin bruises in the shape of Pitch's fingers over his cheek yet, pale pink blood dripping down the side of his face and smearing over his jaw from Pitch's thumb. Pitch digs his nails in harder and the shadow that is nothing like Jack opens up wider for Pitch to brutally fuck its mouth, wide unblinking eyes so blue in its shadow face.

-

Jack claws at his throat as if it would make a difference to the fingers closed around his neck, tight enough that he can't breathe, can't get any air even though his mouth is wide open and gasping for breath. There's nothing to struggle against even though there's the definite pressure of hands on his shoulders holding him in place and long fingers wrapping too tight around his throat.

He's so relieved when the hands let him up that he doesn't even think to expect anything else, staggering into the doorframe like he's being pushed to the floor.

He would be screaming except for how he still can't breathe, can't do anything to buck against the fingers that aren't there on his thighs, pushing them apart for the cock that shoves into him, too hard and nothing to ease the way. He's shaking with his face flat against the floor, curled up on one side. His throat raw and bruised and it hurts, but he's hard somehow, a feeling of satisfaction that isn't his, like he's serving the express purpose that he was made for.

He gets a hand around his cock and strokes it, hard, not surprised when he comes, the shivery happy feeling that is in no part his own.

He's too tired to fight anymore when it won't do any good, just lying on the ground limp and shuddering through it as Pitch keeps fucking him with that awful uncaring roughness. His fingers clench when he feels Pitch come in him, curls up tighter into himself. It feels too warm inside him and drips down his thighs, where he can't even wipe it away because it's not actually there.

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I've been promised fic in return for this.

[guardianofkink]

Prompt: (Other/Pitch) OFC pegging Pitch. I’d really like to read about a girl pegging Pitch and despite his initial doubts he enjoys it greatly. Self-inserty second-person fic is awesome too. Fill: Taming of the Shrew

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[warning: noncon, shadow tentacles, impregnation]

In line with this confession:

-

Jack lays his hand flat over his stomach, staring into the mirror.

He looks the same as he has for three hundred years and more, but he can feel them, in his stomach, crawling awful sensations of things moving in him, twisting around and pushing at his insides, getting bigger with every tingle of fear that creeps sickeningly down his back.

He can't not think about them, even if thinking about makes them curl against his fingers, lumps of heavy shadow coalesced into solid forms.

-

He hadn't understood what Pitch had been smiling about--thick pulsing tentacle down the back of his throat, making it hard to swallow or breathe, but it's not like Jack can die from it, and his legs spread too, too wide around the length of something Jack hasn't gotten a clear look at--until the first egg had slid slickly down his throat, settling into the pit of his stomach.

Eyes wide, Jack had struggled to claw the shadows out of his mouth, but Pitch held him down like it was nothing.

Thin bands of darkness on his skin that had less give than anything real and solid Jack had ever encountered, and Pitch murmuring at him: "You can take--" the terrifying sensation of things he didn't want in him moving unstoppably down his throat, "--much more than that."

-

He doesn't think about how many there are, only the sick awful feeling of them writhing in him whenever he stops to hold a hand over his stomach and wonder what it's going to cost to get them out. Pitch hasn't cut him open in a while, split the skin over his ribs and reached in to drag things out, but Jack can't see that's how this is going to end.

He can feel them in there, squirming around and bumping against his fingers, but he can't see them, and that means they might not actually be there at all.

He flashes, momentarily, on the thought of cuttinghimselfopen, the wet red of his guts spilling out onto the snow, and the ensuing movement of the mass in his stomach, like his belly is filled too-full of hundreds of slimy wriggling worms, is almost enough to make him puke.

-

The shadows are almost gentle with him as they pick him and slam him against the wall, knocking the breath out of him so he barely more than jerks when Pitch slides a hand over his stomach, pushing his sweatshirt up.

"Have you been feeding them, Jack?" purred right against the shell of Jack's ear.  "They've gotten bigger."

Jack kicks at nothing, is still kicking at it when he's dropped to the ground, phantom echos of Pitch's laughter still echoing in the air.

-

In the end, they come out much easier than they had gone in--thick ropey strings of shadow that come right up into his mouth, pushing out over Jack's tongue and splattering in the sink. They're too big to fit, dark oily tendrils that Jack tugs and pulls at until they're the rest of the way out, smears of black left on his fingers.

He's still gagging into the sink when there's nothing left in his stomach but a large empty space, hollowed out and worn wide.

"Happy now?" he asks of the dozens of bright blue eyes blinking up at him.

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I'M AMUSED BY HOW FANDOM MADE PITCH INTO THIS CREEPY RAPER DUDE. Or maybe I'm just using this as an excuse to draw exploitive shit featuring women.

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Reposting this here because of reasons.

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North/Pitch Ficlet TW: Non-consensual Spanking

For the anon behind this confession:

Just pretend it's set some time when Pitch has been beaten and is going to be locked up/put to sleep again.

*

"Here we are. Home sweet home, where you belong."

Pitch scowls at the sound of North's voice and tries struggling against the bewitched rope so rough and tight around his wrists. Even when he knows it won't do any good, hasn't done any good since North knotted his hands together behind his back, it's never too late to try.

He only succeeds in chafing more skin and driving his nose deeper into the thick pelt of the reindeer he's so unceremoniously slung over, and he scowls deeper when North chuckles.

"I told you not to bother," North says, and the saddle shifts as he climbs down. "But you are a stubborn one, aren't you."

Pitch doesn't dignify that with an answer, even when thick fingers tighten over the nape of his neck and jerk him upright. The fresh snow crunches under his feet, and the warmth from North's fingers is suddenly a lot more welcome than it has any right to be. 

"How many times have we had to drag you back here, now?" 

A muscle in Pitch's jaw twitches, but he says nothing, working his tender wrists against the rope and staring steadfastly at the snow-dusted fur of the reindeer in front of him. 

"When I was young, and refused to learn my lessons, my mother would resort to more... physical methods."

"I'd call what happened before you slipped this damned rope on me pretty physical," Pitch says, shrugging off the slight pain of a bruise from the fight.

"True, comrade. And yet here we are once again." North pushes him down until his face is shoved against the reindeer's shoulder, and Pitch growls at the utter uselessness of his own body with the rope sapping his powers. He might not be physically weak without them, but North is a solid wall of thick muscle and broad bone that doesn't need any magic to manhandle Pitch in this state. 

Pitch clenches his fists, hard, and the pain takes his focus off the warm weight of North's body pinning him down. "So put me back," he says, digging his nails into his palms until warm blood wets his fingers. "Put me back in that hole and we'll just wait and see who comes out on top next time I get out."

North tsks, and Pitch feels the width and pressure of a burly hand skating down over his spine. "I think not." North's fingers twist in the fabric of Pitch's robe, hitching it up higher and higher until the strip of skin just above his trousers is exposed to the chill air. "I think this time, perhaps a little extra persuasion is in order."

As he speaks, both his hands drop to Pitch's pants, and Pitch freezes a split second before he can snarl another retort. "You can't be serious," he says instead, struggling against the bonds and his precarious balance, because he's seen enough dreams and more than enough nightmares to know where this is going, and he hates the way his heart kicks with sudden, unfamiliar fear.

"Ah, but I am," North says, cheerful as he tugs Pitch's trousers down over his hips and below the curve of his ass. "Deadly serious. Might make you think twice, yes?" He pats Pitch's cool, bare skin with deceptive fondness.

Pitch thrashes, spitting curses in every damned language he knows at the warm weight of North's hand on his ass. North doesn't particularly seem to care though, and hooks the fingers of his left hand through the loops of magical rope binding Pitch's wrists, bearing down with his formidable weight until Pitch feels crushed and infuriatingly human. 

Then North's hand lifts away from his skin, and even though he's expecting it, grits his teeth against it and braces his feet as well as he can, Pitch still hisses when North smacks him. It's open-handed and hard, nothing held back, and Pitch feels the burn like a brand.

He's barely gasped in a shocked breath before North's hand is hitting him again, harder, his thick fingers laying down painful lines on Pitch's bare ass. The third heavy-handed smack is less of a surprise, but laid over the top of the first blows it aches even more. Already. 

Pitch sucks in a breath through his nose, focusing on the pain in his wrists and the clean smell of reindeer fur, but another rapid blow still cuts through and makes his stomach twist. He can take being beaten. Being beaten is just an inevitable part of the road to winning. But this... he squirms when North smacks him again, breath catching in his throat as the hot, burning sensation seeps from the surface of his skin down deeper, to his belly, to his cock. He bites his lip but the sharp arousal stays, uncomfortable beneath the throb of pain. 

He closes his eyes and stops trying to count the blows, tries to relax into it and let it hurry up and happen. It's a worse idea than it seems to be, because as soon as his mind starts to drift it's driven straight down the quivering warmth low in his belly, and he has to concentrate on every smack to fight the sudden urge to rock back against the pressure.

Pitch snarls, tenses, but even the extra pain isn't enough to kill the twitch of his thighs at being shoved down and exposed. He wonders if North intends to fuck him, and snarls a little louder.

North ignores him, landing one more blow. Rather than smacking him, his warm hand strokes the tender skin of Pitch's ass, dragging lightly over the angry red welts.

Pitch quivers, embarrassingly hard, and bites angrily at his lip again.

"See, that has already sucked some of the fight out of you," North chides, reaching to pull Pitch's trousers back up. The edge of his hand brushes Pitch's bare cock, and Pitch only barely manages to restrain the instinctual desire to thrust against it. Even his face feels hot as North buttons him back up matter-of-factly before pulling him upright and turning him around. "Let's get you bound again, yes?"

Pitch focuses his eyes on a spot on the broad chest in front of him, steadfastly trying to ignore North's rough voice and will away the erection that is surely visible through his pants and robe. 

North won't get away with this, Pitch thinks, letting the caustic mix of hatred and arousal coalesce into something bitter and brutal and powerful deep inside him. 

Next time, North will pay. 

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so sometimes we write notfic in chatlogs

This is a kind of tidied up one. About monster noncon.

it'd probably be pretty easy to drop jack into a nightmare after battle since he's already tired and exhausted a lot of his power

and pitch is hungry okay

he's depleted too

wants some of that nice tasty fear

and jack is more used to him now so he has to pull out some new tricks

up the ante

to get those responses from before

choking and tentacles and forced orgasms are all well and good

but jack gets off on that too much now

he’s not afraid of them

not all panicked and helpless like he was the first time

pitch misses that, especially after the battle

he's hungry and he wants to put jack in his place

jack’s gotten too cocky anyway

him and those stupid guardians

messing up pitch's plans

he's angry

5 against one is really unfair

he could show jack how that feels

materializes some monsters to play with jack

pitch just watches and directs

he's got jack's stick again

but he's not touching him with it

just sending creepy crawly monsters to touch him

absently stroking his fingers over the stick as if it's inconsequential

and jack's not that scared at first

not more than has become usual

tells pitch that's not very impressive

he must be losing his touch

its okay

jack gets it

he just got his ass handed to him

 and pitch's hands clench on the stick

it’s not a smart thing to say

i was just thinking

he could kill jack over and over in the dream

or even just the once

but drag it out

 he's immortal

 so that would be scary

and feelings and fear that are totally foreign and all the stronger for it

monsters fucking him k

stabbing a claw through his shoulder while they're at it

and the push and pull and good vs bad feelings mean they keep him on edge the whole time too

and it gets rougher and worse but still working him up just not enough to come, not with the pain too

he's really not into pain

 especially not

  actual serious pain

 bruises are okay

that's more of an ache

not claws and teeth and monstrous things

  massive bone-crunching injuries are not a turn on

  nor is bleeding a lot

  or claws gashing his thighs when he struggles because he can't take that thing's cock

  he's gonna take it anyways

too much self preservation in him not to fight even though he knows he's helpless here

and if a grotesque nightmare monster wants to fuck him open

  its going to do it

pitch likes watching him struggle

 and that first monster is really big okay and no lube

  but its just the start

  a warm up

he insulted pitch's imagination

 and he's never actually made jack scream before

  but he does this time

  its almost disappointing really

  how quickly he breaks

wonders if maybe he should have started off a bit easier on him

and he gestures vaguely with jack's stick and the monster stops and it's barely even in him and there's blood dripping down his thighs from its claws holding him still

and he asks jack if he should stop

  and as he says it he gestures a bit again and the monster starts shoving in again, just slow

and so jack's answer is pretty much just crying out and struggling some more but all it does is make the monster's claws cut deeper, grip tighter

  and pitch is all like well that wasnt an answer was it

and really the struggling and blood running down his thighs is probably a kindness, bc at least it's something

  a tiny bit better than this giant thing just fucking him dry

and meanwhile the shadows are helping hold him up and tease him

  helpful little shadows

  lapping at the blood a bit

: making sure he doesn't bleed too much

  that would ruin the fun

but the shadows holding him up have too much give to them and so the monster has to claw him tighter to get the leverage it needs to really force in

and pitch is stroking his stick all nice and gentle now

  light little touches

enough to feel

enough to take enough of the edge off the pain that he doesnt just pass out

1but he stops just before the monster comes so for that few seconds its nothing but the monster huge and raw and breaking him so the monster comes in him and its uncomfortably warm and dripping down his thighs when it finally pulls out

black monster come

and paler blood. mixing together

bc jack's blood isnt exactly deep red when it hits air anymore even in the nightmare

and it loosens its grip on his thighs and pulls out and the shadows take over curling around his legs before it can just drop him

and jack is shaking

  maybe whimpering a bit as the shadows lick over the gashes in his thighs

but there are more eyes in the darkness. and snarling. and other, different, more grotesque things loping out o f the shadows to sniff at him

  and he's scared

so many monsters and everyone wants a turn

especially with the scent of blood in the air now

  and the mistake jack makes

is thinking maybe he can take this

  if its just the same as the first one

 but that was just a warm up

and he's not leaving the dream until pitch lets him out and there's blood and come and fear on the air

maybe pitch asks jack which one he wants next

jack can’t respond at first

but then pitch is like well if you cant decide maybe they can and jack knows he isnt fucking around and struggles against the shadows

 if he can't decide they can share

 and its a smaller one that gets closest this time

still twice as big as he is

  but its small compared to the first one

  and he's kinda relieved

its got shadow tendrils of its own and kinda takes him from the disembodied ones, gently, it has no claws to hold him

turns him over and strokes firm tendrils down over his spine and up through the blood and black slime on his thighs

it has soft spines on its cock, like a cat. and already hurts from the big one just fucking him open so every time it pulls out and drags across his insides he actually wants to die

or wake up

 but its tendrils are gentle with him

wrap around his cock

and it squeezes him on every stroke in when it hurts less

slips some tendrils into jack’s mouth too