Haiiii!!!! I'm Cee!!! this is my side blog for bein horny >:3
I'm 19 and FTM, I use he/him pronouns!!!! This blog is 18+!!! minors dni!!!!!!!
What am I into???
Pet play!!! I'm a pup, and a kitty, and a bunny, and really anything you want me to be <3
I also enjoy some amount of piss play, but only really holding it so far (I've pretty much pavloved myself into getting really horny holding my piss lmao)
I'm REALLY into hypno and dehumanization and all that!!
I also like CNC!!!!!!
I'm trying to start getting into edging but am having some trouble... (^・x・^)
I also like hucow stuff >.<
And breeding, and lactation...
What am I NOT into?
I REALLY don't like impregnation...
Or detransition :(
I do NOT like scat...
Or age play :/
I love being called pretty, and a good boy, and cute... I like praise and degradation and BDSM... I'm also pansexual!!! I'm also T4T (not exclusively!!)
You only cum when you're ovulating now. You track it on the app, obsessively checking the little calendar like it's the countdown to a holiday. But the rest of the month is just edges.
Day after day of getting your pussy to the brink and stopping. Fingers soaked, clit throbbing, thighs shaking, and you pull away. Over and over until your brain rewires itself around the denial. Until wet becomes your default state. Until you're leaking through your underwear at the grocery store and clenching at your desk and thinking about cock with a frequency that should concern you.
By the time you're ovulating you're feral. The kind of desperate where you'd bounce on the first hard cock you see. Where you'd beg for it. Where the only coherent thought left in your head is put it in me, fill me up, breed me, please, please, please.
And you do. You find a cock and you climb on it and you're so wet from weeks of edging that you sink all the way down in one go. You're grinding on it, bouncing on it, greedy and messy and shameless. Using it. Milking it. Your pussy gripping so tight he can barely thrust because you're too busy bouncing on it. Your body wants him deep.
He cums inside you and you feel every pulse flooding into you, and your walls clamp down and squeeze like you're trying to drain him dry. Your orgasm hits hard. Weeks of edges detonating at once, so hard you can't breathe, so hard you can't see, your whole body seizing around him while your cunt milks him until there's nothing left.
You keep him inside you after. You don't let him pull out. You lie there with his cum pooling deep, your hips tilted up, your pussy still twitching, and you feel so full and so calm and so completely, perfectly used you start to get emotional.
Then next month you do it all over again. Wetter. Needier. Dumber.
You just keep getting worse and you don't want it to stop.
Summary: A mission goes awry and Toby is shot straight through the skull. Tim decides to take the new hole for a spin, and Toby is more than happy to let him have it.
Content/warnings: OHHH MY GOOOOD DONT FUCKING READ THIS IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, Toby literally gets his brain fucked, bullet hole wound fucking, explicit gore, I cannot emphasize this enough STRAIGHT UP PENIS IN BRAIN SEX, brain creampie, guns/shooting/etc, age gap but everyone is a consenting adult, fake out death, Toby vomits a little at the end, cum leaking out of face holes it should never be in, mirror sex, rough dom top Tim, Tim bullies Toby for his trauma regarding his physically abusive father, use of homophobic language/slurs, degradation, just general nastiness, very mean spirited. NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. THIS IS AS DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT AS IT GETS.
A/N: if you skipped the warnings on this one or didn’t read them all the way, go back and fucking look at all of them, otherwise don’t read.
Breaking and entering.
It’s a routine for Tim and Toby at this point.
Tim can brute force open any door, Toby can pick any lock, and both of them have long since shaken off any qualms about taking a life. They’re skilled at it now, neither of them ever leaving the cabin without their weapon of choice. In a line of work like this one, after all, you can never be too prepared.
This was supposed to be easy.
Three people in the house, a couple and their third wheel squatting in an abandoned vacation home. Bare bones interior, probably no weapons.
Probably.
A lot of good ‘probably’ had done them.
Toby had gone in while Tim stood watch in the doorway, just in case one of their targets tried to run out. His revolver fit into his palm like a glove, his grip confident and ready. He’s done this a million times before.
Tim can only hear the altercation going on in the back rooms of the house, but he has a good idea of what’s happening.
The sound of a hatchet coming down onto a throat.
One down.
A woman screams. Something knocks over, a shelf or a table. A splatter. Silence.
Two down.
A man cries out. Something hits the wall. Rogers swears. There’s a struggle. A gunshot rings out.
…A gunshot.
A gunshot?!
Footsteps.
Fast, frantic footsteps coming down the hallway.
Tim readies himself, aiming towards the dark hall with a hand that is far too steady. He’s holding his breath. The steps are getting closer.
In a split second’s time the last target emerges from the shadows, Tim’s gaze zeroes in on the whites of his eyes and the trigger of his revolver is pulled by a swift finger one, two, then three times.
The shots ring in his ears as the body falls limply to the floor, devoid of life in an instant.
Three down.
But still one bullet unaccounted for.
“Rogers?” Tim calls into the hallway, stepping over the body without looking down.
No answer.
“Rogers!” He says again, with more authority this time.
Nothing.
That little fucker runs his mouth like an engine at all hours of the day, but now he’s quiet?
A stabbing pain of fear twists in Tim’s gut.
Their ‘boss’ won’t let them die, he knows that. The pseudo immortality they’ve been given keeps their bodies functioning and regenerating even after some of the worst injuries one could imagine; he knows that, he’s felt it, and yet…
This silence is sickening.
He can’t stop himself from rushing into the makeshift bedroom, heavy boots on the creaky wood floor announcing his presence before he calls for his partner again.
“Answer me, dammit, Rogers!”
He looks around the room, scanning the blood splattered walls. Two bodies are slumped against them, opposite to each other, one with its neck severed and the head hanging on by a thread of viscera, and the other with half of its innards thrown to the floor. Neither are Toby, he knows that in an instant.
Then his gaze trails to the center of the floor.
The cold washes over him so suddenly he feels faint. He can feel the color draining from his face as he lays eyes on his partner, face down on the ground, a thick splatter of blood painting a moonlit halo around his head.
Or what’s left of it, anyways.
A hastily fired bullet has carved a path through the boy’s skull and out the other side.
Clean through.
Tim’s body seizes with shock, disgust, grief, and everything in between, tensing so suddenly and so harshly he nearly passes out. A hand clamps over his mouth as it opens in a silent scream, a gasp that can’t escape because he can’t breathe. He rushes to the body before he can stop himself.
“Rogers?! Rogers, get up!” He demands, but the way his voice cracks and trembles shows his true fear. He shakes his partner’s still body harshly, desperate to jar him into consciousness.
There’s no movement.
Not a sound.
Tim’s eyes start to wet behind his mask. He shakes harder, even bringing a fist down on his shoulder blade.
Nothing.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Toby!” Tim screams, landing a few more punches on his back, “I’ve seen you take worse than this, get up!”
Not even a twitch.
The realization settles in like splinters under Tim’s skin.
He backs away from the body, the room spinning around him. He grasps at his face under his mask, his lungs starting to expand and restrict so fast it’s painful. There’s a searing panic burning the back of his skull and threatening to engulf his entire body. He stumbles back and falls onto one of the now bloodied mattresses their targets had been sleeping on.
This isn’t happening.
This isn’t happening.
He’s not really gone.
He’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone—
A sudden noise makes Tim jump out of his skin, his eyes shooting up to find the source of the sound.
Was that a…cough?
He looks down at Toby’s body.
It hasn’t moved.
Maybe it was just air escaping, or some other weird thing bodies do after death. If he didn’t get up already, then he must be…
Tim nearly screams when Toby suddenly splutters and hacks, his body jerking as he fights for air. Tim is frozen in place as he watches the partner he thought was dead slowly struggle to get up, managing to get on his hands and knees. He coughs again, spitting onto the ground and groaning at the unpleasant but not unfamiliar sight of blood.
“Yeugh…god, it’s in m-my nose,” Toby mumbles with a sniffle, wiping his face with his sleeve. He doesn’t notice Tim as he sits up on his knees, inspecting himself in a way that is far too casual.
…He has no idea what just happened.
Tim can feel his eye twitching as he stands up slowly, his frenzied gaze trained on the younger man as he approaches. Toby looks up at the sound of the footsteps, and Tim has to stop himself from reacting to the sight. His body trembles as he forces himself to stay still.
Toby’s right eye is completely gone. There’s not even a shred of the eyeball left, only a pulsing, bloody cavity he instantly recognizes as the entry hole of a bullet.
Toby blinks up at Tim with his remaining eye.
“S-Shit, I must’ve passed out when—bitch!—when h-he hit me, heh. What, you-you thought I was—grrrk!—d-dead for real?” Toby asks with a head tilt and an amused giggle. Tim’s eyes narrow.
Slowly Tim turns his head, following the imaginary trail the bullet would have made based on where Toby fell.
Right there, lodged into the decrepit wall right next to the doorway.
The first bullet.
Clean through, and out the back.
Toby follows his gaze, squinting in the dark to see whatever it is his senior partner is seeing.
“…O-Oh shit,” He mutters, “Talk about a-a close—don’t listen!—a close call—c-call—call me!—hehe…”
Tim stares back at him with a look in his eyes that says ‘You have no fucking idea.’
“…W-Why are you looking at me— a-at me like that?”
Tim looks around. For some reason, he’s not sure how to answer that.
That is, until he lays eyes on a conspicuously mirror shaped object draped in a sheet and pushed into the corner.
Yeah, it’s easier to just show him.
Tim shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he walks over to the mirror, trying not to rush. He’s annoyed with Toby for scaring him like that and nearly bringing him to tears, even if it’s not really his fault. Maybe startling him a bit will take the edge off that embarrassment.
Toby’s eye follows him closely as he walks, then watches as his hand slowly raises to grasp the sheet obscuring the mirror. His brow raises, curiosity piqued.
The sheet is pulled away in an instant. The cloud of dust that results makes Toby cough, trying to wave it away from his face. He squints through the grimy mist, struggling to make out his own reflection in the mirror.
“L-Look, Tim, I don’t know what it-it is that you n-need me to—suck it! fuck you!—see, but I-I don’t— Oh my fucking God?!”
There it is.
Toby crawls closer to the mirror, his remaining eye wider than Tim had ever seen it and the hole where the matching one would’ve been stretching gruesomely.
Tim winces. Toby can’t feel it, even if he could feel pain normally all that nerve damage would make it numb, but Tim can’t stop imagining what it would feel like.
“…Jesus Christ…” Is all Toby can manage as he looks at what remains of his face. He feels around the wound, getting far too close to touching the exposed insides for Tim’s comfort. Toby stares at himself for a long few moments. Tim can’t tell what he’s thinking.
Then Toby turns to his partner, and to Tim’s surprise, he’s sporting the widest, most lopsided grin he’s ever seen, his crooked teeth stained with blood on one side where it runs down his cheek from the wound. Tim holds back a shudder.
“The fuck you cheesin’ for?” Tim growls, walking around behind Toby to see him in the mirror, “You nearly got half your damn face blown off!”
“Relax, o-old man!” Toby replies without missing a beat, “In a-a few days there won’t e-even be a— b-be a mark…”
Tim rolls his eyes behind his mask. That’s true, yes. An injury this extensive will take a bit to regenerate, but it’ll grow back like nothing happened. Still, Toby doesn’t even seem mildly disturbed. He practically saw himself die, and here he is giggling to himself and moving his face in odd ways just to see the horrid wound contort in the mirror. The quiet squelching noises it makes nearly bring Tim to vomit.
“…You’re not even a little put off by the fact that…you know. You’re missing half your fuckin’ face?!”
Toby lets out a sharp laugh at Tim’s outburst, amused by his clear discomfort.
He turns to look up at Tim, yellow teeth glowing in the moonlight that leaks in through the busted windows.
“…I-I got a brand new hole f-for you to try out.”
Tim gasps in disgust. Before he can think a hand comes up to smack Toby upside the head, though he immediately regrets it when a splatter of blood is thrown to the floor as Toby rocks forward.
“Don’t say shit like that, you dirty fuckin’ pervert!”
Toby nearly breaks out into hysterics at that, grabbing his sides as he laughs like a maniac. His tics increase tenfold at the sudden rush of energy, his fingers flexing unnaturally and tearing at his sweatshirt.
“H-How can I not?! You m-make it so f-fucking—fuck! funny!— fun, haha!” Toby replies, his voice cracking as his head jerks involuntarily in all directions.
Tim crosses his arms, huffing in annoyance but not sure what to say. He can feel his cheeks getting warm under his mask. He hates when Toby laughs at him. It pisses him off like nothing else.
He stares daggers into Toby’s restless reflection as he leans into the mirror to inspect his wound again, mumbling to himself endlessly and doing his best to stay still.
Toby’s rambling starts to fade out as Tim glares at his mirror image. He can feel something dark bubbling up inside of him, its vines sprawling out and over his body as he marinates in his thoughts.
He thought he was gone.
For a second there, he really thought he’d lost Toby for good.
And now here he is, without a care in the world, looking at his own fucking gunshot wound like it’s a new tattoo.
Someone oughta teach this kid a lesson.
Tim’s not sure what comes over him, but something, a nagging little thought has settled into his brain and taken root there. It thumps in the back of his skull like a heartbeat under the floorboards. He pulls one of his hands from its glove, looking down at his bare palm.
“…You think this is all some joke, don’t you?” Tim mutters, forcing the words through gritted teeth. Toby doesn’t even turn to look at him.
“W-Why are so damn u-uptight, old man? It’s not—grrrk!—it’s not like I d-died. Psuedo-immortality, r-remember?”
“But you could’ve. You know at the end of the day you can’t really trust anything that monster gives you. It would kill you in an instant if it felt threatened or betrayed.”
“T-The fuck is your— i-is your problem?!”
Suddenly Toby isn’t all smiles anymore. His head jerks to the side violently, pulling a sickening pop from his neck. Tim is used to these mood swings, but that doesn’t stop the heavy tension that settles over the room.
“Y-You’re always on my back about something, a-aren’t you old man?!” Toby hisses. Tim’s ungloved hand squeezes and flexes at his side.
“You a-always got something to say about m-me, or what I—fucker! shit!—what I-I think, you can never j-just let me—“
Toby is cut off as a high pitched cry is violently forced from his throat, making his body spasm as it dissolves into an animalistic moan like neither of them have ever heard. It feels like every nerve in his body is seizing, splitting apart and contorting under his skin. He almost screams at the feeling, but he can’t manage it. He’s choking on nothing.
There’s a sickening squelch as something is ripped from the back of his skull, and he falls forward onto his hands, dizzy and struggling to breathe.
“W-What…what the f-fuck…was…”
He can’t even finish the sentence between his inability to process the unnatural sensation that just overtook him and the indescribable feeling still rippling through his body.
Slowly he cranes his neck to look back up into the mirror. Instantly his eye is locked onto Tim’s, but he isn’t looking back. He’s staring at something else.
He follows Tim’s gaze down slowly, swallowing thickly with a sudden nervousness. His eye widens as it falls on the thing that has captivated Tim‘s gaze:
His ungloved hand, the middle and ring fingers now dripping with blood and viscera not his own.
No. Fucking. Way.
“Did…d-did you just…”
Tim doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t have to.
For the first time in a long time, Toby is still. His twitching and jerking ceases, his face halts its uncomfortable wrenching; He’s still, and soundless.
There’s a beat of silence where they both just stare at Tim’s bloodied hand, neither of them moving an inch. It’s like time has stopped in this instant. Toby can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his brain. Something in his chest is twisting and turning with a burning emotion he can’t quite place yet.
He doesn’t even have time to process the sudden movement before Tim has plunged his fingers into the wound once again.
This time Toby is forced to watch his reflection in the mirror as Tim violates the gorey cavity, thick digits rooting around inside his head and shooting a new sensation through him with every touch. His entire body stiffens, his mouth falling open involuntarily as he loses control of it. He can feel his senses being reduced to mush as he groans, the endless sound falling from his lips in unintelligible waves. It’s mindless, desperate babbling, but he can’t do anything else.
Toby watches the depraved scene in the mirror until his eye starts to roll back in his head, further than it should be able to. Tim watches the hazel iris recede until only white is left. Only then does he finally give some reprieve, yanking his hand back and shaking off the chunks that come with it.
Toby’s head bows towards the ground as he catches his breath, his entire body rocking as he heaves desperately for air. He’s too preoccupied to notice the way Tim is leering down at him, his breathing now hot and labored.
“…How did that feel?”
Toby sneers at the question, not looking up.
“H-How did it feel?! You’re d-digging around—shhhh!— in m-my fucking brain, d-dipshit, how do you— d-do you think it f-feels?!”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I know it doesn’t hurt, so how does it feel?”
For some reason, Toby doesn’t have an answer to that. He wants to snap back with something witty and biting, to tell him it feels like Hell and back and if he doesn’t stop he’ll scatter his brains next, but…
That wouldn’t be the total truth.
“…It…I-It feels…” He stammers, unable to find the words. He sits back up on his knees, locking eyes with his partner in the mirror. Tim is silent. He’s anticipating the rest of that sentence. Toby thinks for a moment, a series of tongue clicks in an odd rhythm sounding as he pauses.
“…It…I-It wasn’t bad, if that’s w-what you’re looking for.”
Tim’s breath hitches.
Only Toby could hear a sound so small, yet so telling.
He has to push this further.
“A-Actually it was kind of…k-kind of good, y-you know? I-I don’t know—rrrngh!—how to explain it, but i-it just…it’s like n-nothing I’ve ever f-felt or imagined, I-I—“
Toby cuts himself off with a gasp as Tim grasps his hair tightly. His other hand moves to his belt. The sound of the metal buckle makes Toby shiver.
Tim leans down a bit, speaking lowly to his partner.
“Keep talking.”
Toby’s stomach flips.
Tim’s not giving him a choice.
“I-It’s like…fuck, it’s l-like every muscle in my— in my b-body is spasming like c-crazy,” Toby continues, watching with crazed eyes as Tim slides the belt from its loops. He grits his teeth as it clatters to the ground.
He doesn’t want this to stop.
He has to keep going.
“I-It’s like f-fire under my skin, b-but I can’t feel t-the burn…”
Tim’s hand moves to the fly of his jeans.
“…I-I lose all control of m-my body, I can’t—fuck off!—I-I can’t even think, i-it just all turns i-into gibberish…”
Tim tugs down his zipper, and Toby can see his twitching bulge straining against his boxers.
“…It’s l-like I can feel myself l-losing my mind, and I c-can’t do anything— d-do anything about it, I c-can’t even p-put—put it back! put it back!—put together a sentence…”
Tim hooks a thumb under the waistband of his boxers. He starts to push them down.
“…F-Fuck, Tim, I-I wanna feel it again.”
Toby clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the moan that threatens to break free as he watches Tim’s erection spring free from the confines of his clothes. He’s thick and uncut, throbbing with rabid need. Toby shudders as his partner lets out a relieved groan, breathing hard under his mask.
“S-Shit, Tim…y-your—your cock! your cock!—n-no! I mean you’re—your cock! your cock! fat cock!—dammit! I-I didn’t mean to s-say that—!”
“I’m taking you up on your offer, Rogers…” Tim growls, cutting off Toby’s attempt to explain himself. He grabs Toby’s head with both hands, fingers digging into the front of his wound on one side and the gash in his cheek on the other. This time Toby doesn’t bother to stop the moan that crawls up his throat as he feels Tim’s cock rut against the back of his head.
“…I wanna give this new hole of yours a proper fucking. What do you say?”
Toby can’t see Tim’s mouth, but he can tell he’s smiling from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners behind his mask. Toby groans at the thought. He can’t stop the crooked grin that spreads across his pale face like butter on a hot pan.
“P…P-Please, Tim,” He whispers, and he knows he’s hit a nerve when he feels Tim‘s grip tighten for a moment.
“…Please what, Rogers?”
He figured he wouldn’t get it that easy.
“Please, Tim,” Toby continues, sucking in a breath and swallowing his pride, “I-I want you t-to fuck me, please—“
Tim ruts against the back of his head again, barely brushing his wound. He wants more.
“P-Please, fuck, I-I’m—need! give it!—I’m begging you! I need it, I-I need you to fuck m-my brains out, please!”
Tim shifts his hips. He’s lining up at the opening.
It’s working.
“Please, please, p-please, Tim, I-I want you to f-fuck my brain! I n-need to—fffuck! fuck! fuck!—I need t-to feel it! Please, dammit, j-just fucking—!”
Toby doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.
Tim shoves himself inside the bloody cavity without warning, forcing Toby’s brain out of the way as his cock enters. The scream that rocks Toby’s body is as lustful as it is carnal and gruesome. He reaches up on instinct and grabs Tim’s wrists, not trying to pull his hands away but holding on for dear life before he loses the ability to move at all.
“You broke so easy,” Tim sneers as he bottoms out, talking over Toby’s uncontrollable moaning, “What would the others think if they saw you begging for dick like a whore on the street? Huh?!”
He punctuates his sentence with a sudden rut of his hips, making Toby yelp and his body jerk. His nails dig into Tim’s arms, and the pain is delicious.
Tim studies the scene before him in the mirror.
It’s disgusting. It’s horrid. He can see the tip of his leaking cock resting inside his partner’s skull.
He doesn’t want this to end.
He’s going to relish this opportunity, every sickening moment of it.
“What would they think…”
Tim starts to pull back, breath trembling at the slick noises from the movement.
“…If they knew I had you whining for me like a dirty fuckin’ sissy?!”
He pushes back in with even more force than before. Blood is forced out the front of the wound, dripping down Toby’s face and onto the floor, leaving a red trail on his skin. His meaningless babbling is music to Tim’s ears.
Again Tim pulls back, faster this time, and pushes in again. He watches Toby’s face in the mirror as he finds his rhythm, completely enamored as it contorts with overwhelming sensations that no human should ever experience. His mouth is hanging completely open, his tongue limp and lying against his chin as he pants and wails desperately like a dog in heat. He’s starting to drool from the lack of muscle control.
There’s something about watching Toby quite literally lose his mind at his hand that makes Tim feel like God.
“You know, I like you a lot better when you can’t run your mouth,” Tim says with a chuckle. He digs his fingers into the front of the wound, groping around in the cavity and feeling the pulsing meat shift under the pads of his fingertips.
“You’re lucky I’m not gonna tell anyone about this, not gonna tell the others you’re a nasty fuckin’ faggot who’s so desperate for dick you’d take it in your brain…at least someone’s finally making use of the lump of meat in your head, eh?!”
He pulls Toby’s skull back on his cock hard and fast, fucking into the hole with more fervor than he thought possible. His arms are bleeding now from where Toby’s nails are digging in, his knuckles locked up as his motor function is ripped to shreds.
Tim’s eyes trail down the reflection as he thrusts, down to Toby’s body and stopping at the tent in his pants. There’s a painfully obvious stain on his groin now where his erection is straining against the denim of his jeans with wretched need. His precum is leaking through the material in viscous waves, a constant stream of shameful arousal. It looks like it hurts, like his zipper is about to burst, but Tim has no interest in granting him even that small mercy of freeing his hard-on.
“Damn,” He mumbles to himself, watching the liquid pool where the tip of his partner’s cock pushes against his pants, “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re not just tolerating it to see how far I’ll go, you’re getting off on this shit! You’re a dirty fuckin’ boy slut!”
He’s getting mean, meaner than he really needs to be, but he doesn’t care. Toby might not even be able to hear him, and even if he can, Tim’s not going to waste this chance while his partner can’t snap back.
He ruts his hips more intentionally, trying to hit every spot he can. He’s catching on to patterns, that certain touches here or there make Toby twitch or jerk or yelp involuntarily. His eye has rolled back in his head almost completely. It looks agonizing, and it only makes Tim thrust faster.
“Then again, in that messed up little mind of yours I bet this is nothing. You’re so used to gettin’ beat on this practically soft to you, ain’t it?! Or did your old man slam your head into the concrete too many times for you to know the damn difference?!”
Tim’s practically screaming at him now, drool running down his chin and neck as he loses himself to the pleasure. It’s unbearably hot under his mask, but he can’t bring himself to release his death grip on Toby’s head to take it off.
“I should’ve put you in your place a long time ago, lord knows you’ve needed it for who knows how long!”
Tim angles his hips upward a bit, brushing against a certain spot that makes Toby tense and cry out suddenly. The thing Tim notices most, though, is the way Toby’s cock twitches in his pants. It spurts just a bit, not climaxing yet but getting dangerously close. The stain on the front of his pants is only growing with each passing second that Tim violates his brain.
“Oh, you really are disgusting,” Tim huffs, “You’re really about to cum in your pants, and I haven’t even touched your cock? That’s pathetic, Rogers.”
Tim angles his hips up again just to watch the precum gush from his partner’s tip, his stomach flipping in his gut at the thought that Toby is so, so damn close, but he can’t beg for more or touch himself or even move at all.
“Nngh…Like hell I’m gonna let a little bitch boy like you cum first, though.”
He takes a moment to adjust his grip. He’s preparing for the last stretch.
The speed of his thrusting increases tenfold, completely losing all sense of rhythm. He can feel the pleasure taking him over, melting his resolve and screaming at him to go, go, go, just keeping going, go until you can’t anymore, and that’s exactly what he intends to do.
“You better take all of my cum, Rogers,” Tim growls through gritted teeth, “Though I ain’t exactly giving you a choice, am I? You’ll take it whether you like it or not…”
He hasn’t looked away from Toby’s face in the mirror. The sight of it twitching and frozen in a state of screaming ecstasy is like a horrific work of art. Tim’s never going to forget it. He won’t forget any of this. Every second is burned into his brain, and he’s more than happy to keep it that way.
The gory cavity is carved into the shape of Tim’s cock by now, each thrust only feeding the growing puddle of blood and viscera on the ground below Toby. That stain will stay there forever, Tim thinks. A permanent reminder of the debauchery the two of them are so gleefully partaking in. The idea of someone else finding this old house scattered with bodies, walking around and not even knowing the half of what these walls have been subjected to…
God, that’s good.
The knot in Tim’s stomach starts to tighten.
He can’t hold on for much longer. Neither can Toby.
Tim angles his hips in that special way again, hitting that sensitive spot over and over and over again with each frenzied thrust. Toby’s practically soaking himself now, so close to the edge but not quite close enough to fall off, though he runs the risk with each passing second. It’s barely a matter of time.
Faster, faster, faster, that’s the only thing Tim can think.
More, more, more, that’s all he can think about.
Faster, faster, faster, more, more, more, more, more more more moremoremore—
“Shit!”
Suddenly Tim throws his head back with a wild noise, his cock releasing without warning into the bloody cavity he’s been so graciously desecrating. At the same time he brushes that spot again, and it’s finally enough to give Toby his release, too, only a second later. His cum soaks the front of his now completely ruined jeans, the shameful stain running down his groin and thighs. The scream he lets out as his climax rocks his body will haunt Tim’s dreams.
Tim’s thrusting doesn’t slow to a stop until it feels like his balls are empty. Only then does he finally go still, allowing himself to breathe. He looks up at the ceiling as he pants, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment as his orgasm gradually washes away.
Finally Tim allows his fingers to unfurl, releasing Toby as he pulls his cock from his ruined skull. It comes back soaked in blood and sticky with viscera, taking a few chunks with it. He tries to step back, but Toby’s still gripping his wrists.
He manages to shake him off, only for Toby’s body to go completely limp and fall forward, face first onto the dusty wood floor and into the puddle of mixed bodily fluids. He twitches a bit, but doesn’t move or show any signs of life beyond that. Anyone else would think he’s dead.
“I’m not falling for that again,” Tim mumbles with an eye roll, using his discarded glove to wipe off his now flaccid cock before tucking it back into his boxers and zipping up his pants.
He crouches over Toby, grabbing his hair and forcing him up from the floor back onto his knees. All Toby can manage is a pathetic groan. Tim studies his partner’s fucked-out face in the mirror for a moment, watching as the blood and seed lazily roll down his cheek and chin. He can’t help but chuckle to himself.
“…Anything to say for yourself?” Tim asks teasingly, shaking him a bit.
The only response he gets is the sound of gagging as Toby retches. Tim barely moves back in time to watch him cough up a horrible concoction of blood, cum, and God knows what else without being in the splash zone.
“Goddammit, watch it!” Tim scolds cruelly, “If you hurl on my new boots I’m leaving you like this.”
He at least has the decency to let Toby finish before scooping up his limp, helpless body. He carries him under his arm like a log, not taking any care to be gentle.
“I’ll get you back home to Eyeless,” Tim mutters, “He doesn’t ask too many questions, and he’ll patch you up good ‘til you’re all healed…”
Tim tries not to think too hard as he carries his partner out of the house, away from the crime scene and into the endless wooded darkness.
All is quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Tim’s heavy steps on the dry leaves. That is, until what Tim thinks is a muffled giggle sounds from his partner. He stops and looks back, but there’s no more noise.
Dammit, he thinks.
Neither of us are going to be forgetting this.
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The sheets beneath you are warm, freshly laundered, and… oddly unfamiliar. The room smells like cedar and something sweeter- lavender, maybe, or rose. Your body is heavy, but not sore. Your limbs obey you, but slowly, like they’ve forgotten how to move without permission.
There’s a collar around your neck.
You reach for it instinctively, fingers brushing leather worn smooth. It’s snug. Not tight. Not loose. Just… there. Like it’s always been there. Like it belongs.
You sit up. The room is dim, lit by a single lamp on the floor. No windows. No clock. A bowl of water waits beside the bed, which lays on the floor, and beside that, a folded blanket and a leash coiled neatly in promise.
The door opens.
A figure steps in- calm, composed, carrying a tray. Tea, toast, a small vial of something red. I smile when I see you awake. Not surprised. Not relieved. Just… pleased.
“Good morning, pup,” I say, voice low and steady. “You’re home.”
You don’t remember leaving.
You… don’t remember arriving.
But the collar feels right. And the word- pup- settles in your chest like a name you forgot you had earned.
I upend the vial into the tea, kicking something aside, as if I don’t want you to see it. It’s a long, thin metal instrument- a handle on one end, a pick on the other. The sharp end is rust red with dried blood.
You reach up to your face, past the collar, and feel a bandage over one eye.
So that’s where your memories went.
You open your mouth to speak, to ask a question- or maybe to scream- but the dryness just rumbles out like you’re coughing up dust.
“Shhh.” I shush you. “Puppies don’t speak.”
But it’s not that you don’t speak- you can’t.
“Your transformation is coming along perfectly. You’re going to be such a good dog.”
all i'm saying is if somebody wanted to, oh i dont knowww,,,,, put me in front of a puppy slut spiral an feed me messages about being a good little breeding pup until my cunt was drooling as much as my mouth,,,, i wouldn't object
I want to say “I consent to having my brain drained”. I want to feel my mind going quiet. I want to feel my thoughts dripping out between my legs. I want to become completely blank and empty. I want to become a mindless and submissive toy.
need to be hypnotized to be the obedient pet of a dom and a bratty sub. just dumb, empty headed, thoughtless, mindless, and obedient. unable to do or even think about anything other than following commands. I'm happily following instructions, fucking the other sub, who's tied to the bed, slowly at our owners command. the brat wants me to go faster, but owner commanded me to go slow, so I stay at the same, steady pace, just wanting to have us fuck as background noise as he works. I'm unable to care about my own pleasure, finding so much more pleasure in obeying. suddenly, the brat, noticing owner engrossed in his work, gets a wicked idea
"good puppies fuck faster" he whispers, snapping his fingers. my brain registers my trigger and the command and I helplessly obey, picking up speed and whimpering as my tdick twitches against the strap-on from the pleasure of obeying.
"good puppy!" the brat coos in my ear and I whine, humping desperately.
"good puppies stay quiet" he murmurs to me with another snap, making sure owner won't hear my desperate noises. I go silent, alternating between biting my lip and panting quietly so I can best follow commands.
the brats breath starts picking up and hitching and he chokes out "good puppies fuck harder", gasping as he gets closer and closer, his shaking fingers barely able to make a snap. this time, however, owner hears him, hears the sound of the bed creaking more. he turns to see me thrusting into his property, much faster than he originally decided, just as he hears the snap of fingers and watches me go even harder. he tsks and stands up, approaching us.
the brats eyes widen as he sees our owner. "stay" he says in a commanding voice, slapping his fingers, and I instantly freeze. owner looks disapprovingly at the brat. "you naughty thing. not only misbehaving, but making our poor puppy a pawn for it?" owner places a hand on my back and strokes soothingly. "the poor thing doesn't know any better, his dumb little brain only knows how to obey! you should know better than to take advantage of that." owner frowns at the brat, but clearly, this has only given the brat, so close to orgasm, even more ideas. after all, he's already going to be punished. why not enjoy himself while he can?
"good puppies fuck!" he says with a smirk, snapping his fingers and gasping in pleasure as I pick up the same pace from before. owner had clearly made a mistake in making me unable to disobey any command given to me by either of them
"stay" owner snaps again, his jaw set as he thinks of all the ways he can punish his disobedient brat. I freeze. "such a little whore. how-"
"fuck" the brat cuts off owner and snaps again and I start thrusting again, mind empty beyond the last command given to me.
"stay" snap
"fuck" snap
"stay" snap
"fuck" snap
"stay" snap
"fuck" snap
it's too much for my dumb puppy brain to handle. their voices and snaps overlap and I don't know whether to move or not. my eyes roll up and I go limp, collapsing on top of the brat, twitching in pleasure from all the snaps and commands. owner sighs.
"look what you've done. you've broken your toy." owner says, looking at me with sympathy as he continues to pet my limp body. "only good sluts get their toys repaired, you know." the brat whines pitifully, but owner ignores it, maneuvering me so I'm on my back next the brat. he takes in the blissful, blank, mindless expression on my face, my soaking wet hole, the way my cock throbs as he takes the strap off of me. a bit of drool slides down my chin and there's clearly no thoughts going on behind my eyes. a perfect puppy fucktoy, truly and deeply broken
"you poor dumb little thing. you were just made to be used, weren't you?" owner murmurs to me, swiping a finger along my hole. I don't make a noise as he rubs the underside of my clit, and he sighs and he realizes how his brat got away with this for so long
"good puppies can make all the noise they want" owner says and snaps his fingers. I immediately start whimpering and barking and whining, little puppy noises since I'm completely beyond even attempting to think in human words.
"poor toy needs to be used so badly. such a shame it was being used by such a naughty whore. don't worry, pup, I'm here now to use you how you deserve. good puppies spread their legs for owner" I open my legs wide and pant happily at the pleasure of following commands and hearing the snap. owner chuckles. "so wet, aren't you? made into a desperate little thing, just from obeying." my tiny dumb puppy brain can't comprehend what owner is saying to me, but I feel so good knowing I'm pleasing him
"I bet you want my cock so bad, huh puppy? don't you? speak!" owner snaps and I bark, excited over hearing the word cock, one of the few my brain still understands. "good puppy!" owner coos, lining up his cock with my hole and sliding in with a grunt. I howl in pleasure as owner starts to use me, starting off with a rough pace, clearly not looking to draw this out and make me wait to cum
the brat next to us pleas and whines and begs, but owner just ignores him, praising me and commanding me to speak, knowing ever snap and command obeyed makes me feel better and better
"look at me, puppy" owner snaps and my eyes find his. it takes all my brain power to keep my eyes on his, to follow owners commands. owner smiles at me and pleasure sparks throughout my brain. I'm close but it doesn't register beyond the pure pleasure of obedience.
"good puppies cum for owner" the snap reverberates throughout my mind and I clench around owners cock as I cum, pleasure completely whiting out my mind. owner keeps snapping and I keep cumming, unable to stop as the pleasure crashes over me over and over and over. eventually it subsides and owner is in my ear, praising me and cooing at me. he has me drink some water and tells me to rest and relax for a while, and of course that good puppies tell owner if they need anything. then, he stands up and turns to punish his brat
waking up on your day off to your owner whispering your triggers in your ears. slipping easily from the fuzziness of sleep to the fuzziness of trance. within minutes, you're nice and deep for owner. their voice coaxing you into brainless bliss. a dazed smile creeps across your face as their words weave you into blank stupidity. not a thought in your head. just their words, echoing, bouncing around, molding you however they want, molding you into their obedient little puppy. soon enough, you've been crafted into their perfect dumb dog. you're too dumb to think in anything but puppy impulses, too stupid to comprehend human words beyond owners commands. you bark happily as they clip a collar on and slip wireless headphones over your ears, playing their voice on loop, reminding you that you're just a dumb puppy who doesn't know anything except obeying owner.
they let you loose around the house while they do chores, and you explore your home as a dog. owner even puts your breakfast and water in bowls on the floor. as you walk around on all fours like a good little puppy, owners voice in your ear reminds you that puppies like you are always in heat. that puppies like you can't help but hump the pillows when they need relief and hump owners leg when they need release. after all, good puppies can't cum without permission. they're too stupid to know how! lucky for you, owner has left some pillows right on the floor for you. you start to hump, barking and whimpering as your heat gets stronger and stronger with owners words, drooling your dumb puppy brain out. soon, the pillow is wet from how much you've leaked all over it! but you just can't cum. whimpering in defeat, you go find owner. as soon as you see them, relief floods your mind. you don't even have to try to cum anymore. owner is there to decide everything for you. you scamper up to them, wrap yourself around their leg, and start humping, asking for help in the only way dumb little puppies know how. you drop your mouth, tongue out, panting, and hold your paws up to your chest to beg. you throw in some desperate whines for good measure. owner coos at you, praising you for being so dumb, such a gooooood stupid puppy! you bark happily and hump harder. being talked to like the dumb doggy you are makes your shrunken brain feel even better.
"is the little puppy in heat? awh, poor thing. that's alright, pet. owner will think for you. owner will take care of it. let's go to the bedroom and breed, pet! we'll make good use of that heat," they say, clipping a leash onto your collar and leading you to the bedroom, where you'll be able to show off what a good puppy their voice has made you.
Permanent hypnosis. Permanently putting someone into a nice docile obedient state where they’ll never be fully awake again. Even if you order them to act like a real person, they’ll still be calm and slow and blissfully thoughtless on the inside, perpetually stuck in a living dream. Or more precisely, perpetually lacking the volition and brainpower to do anything but obey.
Ghost sex where it shoves its ice cold fingers into your brain and makes your whole body go numb while it keeps pressing just the right nerve to make you keep cumming over and over
she’s gonna line it up against your ear, one hand gripping your skull, throbbing and pulsing against you. and then she’s going to start pushing in.
it’ll hurt at first. of course it will. but you’ll bear it, won’t you? you’re a good servant, aren’t you? that’s right. good toy.
i’ll groan while i force my bitchbreaker through that tight hole, where it was never meant to go. you’ll squirm, feeling it throb inside your head. maybe you’ll come to your senses too late, trying to tap out desperately.
and then, my girlmeat reaches your brain.
your soft, pathetic, vulnerable little brain.
i’ll thrust into it, turning it to mush as my cock slams against the side of your skull <3 you’ll spasm and grimace as the parts which control your body and face get obliterated. you’ll faintly hear me groan about how good your brains feel <3 in between your relentless orgasms, as i stimulate your pleasure centers directly.
and when i cum, i’ll flood your skull with a gallon of my thick, creamy load. you’ll have the best orgasm of your life.
then, i’ll slide out. without me to hold you up, you’ll fall to the floor, still twitching and still cumming. if you can speak at all by then, you’ll be mumbling ‘thank yous’ and ‘pleases’.
you’ve sacrificed every higher function you once had for the sake of getting me off.
