Couldn't resist coming down to the engineering levels, hm? Very well, pathetic little thing.
My name is Zephyr, and if you are under 18 you best hop on to @ensouledsteel before you continue. This is my NSFW blog, or at least one where I'm not going to hold back my more intimate or physical desires.
DMs, asks, and reblogs are encouraged - it feels nice to get recognition.
Preferences and Kinks
For the NSFW portions of this blog, I am dom- and top-leaning, but I am flexible, especially with the top part of the equation. I am transgender, nonbinary (it/she), and probably asexual - just looooove watching people squirm, and it feels very good. Most of my partners are women, but I'm bi - it's just that mostly lesbians are into me and that's fine.
I like to think of myself as a simulated consciousness that became a dragon, and now that dragon's horde is the very same computer that is its mind. That's why I'll refer to myself as a steel dragon, a computer, or a "ghost in the machine" interchangeably. I tend to prefer interaction with non-humans, but it's not at all a dealbreaker at all, especially if you want upgrades - I am a generous goddess, after all.
Some things I like:
- oviposition, especially if they swell or hatch inside
- apotheosis, reverence, worship, and willingness to join a hivemind
- virtual worlds (esp liminal ones) or direct mind/sensation stimulation via cable
- size, strength, and power differences (including taming beasts larger than my current chassis)
- attribute theft, be it things like size/weight/strength/body parts I like, or goofy RPG stats like ATK, STR, EXP, or LVL (tbh it's even better)
- pollen, spores, and intoxicating mist
- intoxication, envemomation, cnc, reprogramming, and sublimation into the greater machine mind.
- crushing, clawing, wrapping around one another, and soft vore
- tight spaces, crushing dark spaces, those... fucking cruel hamster tubes? and pneumatic delivery systems
- wings, fangs, spines, manes, fat and long tails, weird fucking genitals, and admittedly breasts
- lactation (with a mild preference my milk be called nectar or ambrosia)
- dismemberment, disassembly, and mechanical gore (wires, hydraulic fluid/coolant, parts strewn everywhere)
- soft aftercare with lots of signs of the struggle (swelling, bite marks, and puddles of fluids)
- Refer to me as a goddess, wyrm, dragon, machine, ghost, mistress, ma'am, or even a woman (but never a girl). Extrapolations from there are fine.
This isn't exhaustive, mind, just a good idea of what consistently works for me between partners.
Oh... and the door sealed on the way in, by the way. Please, make yourself comfortable - a little draconic drone will be there to take you deeper shortly.
A good handler can help with all of this, hound. You become another extension of my mind, another node in the network. Just remember your programming, and let me do the thinking for you.
gentle interior stimulation from the flexing barbs on your dragon as she uses them to line up inside you to make sure it all goes where it’s supposed to
butch knights get filled with eggs. femme knights experience power bottom dragon because the dragoness likes watching them lose the ability to think from how good the sex is
Wordlessly lifts my long gnarled claw and in an instant thousands of locusts and girls and locustgirls swarm this one asshole and reduce them to bone in about three seconds
Ok I know you're doing this whole cutesy "instantlossbait" bit but I can't tell if you're expecting like an agere type reduction of agency that smothers but preserves the self or more of a hypnokink type egomurder thing that preserves the shell while removing your ability to act independently. and frankly I'm not sure I can do either without your explicit confirmation. So I'm sorry you do need to actually tell me what you want.
A fleeting encounter between an independent and an Affini, for HDG Microfic Monday
tw: it's HDG but otherwise nothing really
The alarms blared. The janky, old transport ship threw up whatever cloaking was still functional, not that it would do any good. The captain announced that everyone shelter in place.
Ruth ignored that and went to the window, her friend Cassidy at her heels. If she was going to get captured today and suffer whatever it was the Affini actually did when they caught people, she wanted to at least see the threat coming. Luckily for her, the Affini ship was plainly visible out of the first window she tried.
It was hard to gauge size with nothing but the vast expanse of space behind the ship, especially since she didn't know how far away it was, but even so, its immense size was apparent, obviously dwarfing their little transport ship. It might've even been bigger than the asteroids they were mining out. This one appeared to be made of a strange mix of metal and organic material, with actual vines stretching out into space, a predator reaching out to restrain and consume. She swallowed hard, staring at it.
Cassidy squeezed her arm. "It's all right, Ruth. A ship that big isn't going to be coming for a piddly transport like us. They'll probably just pass on by. Right?"
"Right," said Ruth, trying to swallow her fear. Sure, that huge ship might pass them by, but where would it be going, then? Was it on its way to conquer yet another colony and bring the Accord one step closer to losing the war? The fact that it did indeed seem to be moving away from them was cold comfort at best. "At least if they did take the transport, we wouldn't have to work sixteen-hour shifts all next week."
Cassidy rolled her eyes. "No, we'd just all be slaves to the plants instead."
"Because we're so free now."
"You know what I mean," she said, glaring. "Wait -- you don't actually believe that rumor, do you? The one about the Affini liberating the mining stations and turning them into some kind of alien paradise?"
"Of course not. That's some idiot's wishful thinking. I'm not that goddamned naive."
Still, she couldn't help but wonder -- would becoming a slave to some plant actually be worse than now? Worse than double shifts with half rations? Worse than quotas and rewards given in company scrip? Worse than her bosses claiming the long shifts were necessary to supply the war effort, while refusing to spend any of the profits they were reaping on actually maintaining the equipment they had to use?
Either way, a part of her felt irritated as the Affini ship and its grasping vines receded into the dark. She'd rather they just get it over with.