This is an NSFW sideblog to ONEPIECC. Everything here will be purely NSFW and under a read more. However, this is going to be the smut, but a plot will be needed for most threads.
As long as we are mutuals and you respect my guidelines then it's a free game.
You have to be 21+ for any interactions. Personals will be blocked on sight and this blog is more private for close friends.
a litany of prompts exploring intimacy and sexuality. mature audiences only; do not interact if you are a minor. add +reverse to reverse the roles. combine prompts by sending multiple at once. only use these prompts to portray consensual scenarios.
[beg.] sender makes receiver beg before giving them what they want.
[fumble.] sender struggles impatiently with receiver's clothes.
[shh.] sender stuffs their fingers in receiver's mouth to keep them quiet.
[tug.] sender grips receiver's hair to pull them closer.
[tie.] sender binds receiver's wrists with rope / belt / tie / etc.
[bite.] sender sinks their teeth into receiver's neck / shoulder / skin.
[scratch.] sender rakes their nails down receiver's back.
[drip.] sender drips spit into receiver's mouth / onto receiver.
[69.] sender and receiver go down on each other at the same time.
[needy.] sender teases receiver about how desperate they look.
[deep.] sender pushes receiver's head down during oral until they gag.
[eager.] sender holds receiver's head still and fucks their mouth.
[anchor.] sender pins receiver's hips while eating them out.
[grind.] sender grinds their hips into receiver while receiver gives them oral.
[press.] sender pushes a hand against receiver's stomach while inside them.
[hold.] sender grabs receiver's hand to hold while they have sex.
[pin.] sender pins receiver's wrists above their head.
[straddle.] sender straddles receiver's body to restrain them.
[clutch.] sender clutches receiver's jaw to hold their head still.
[hollow.] sender presses a thumb into the hollow of receiver's throat.
[cradle.] sender cradles receiver's throat in their hand, applying light pressure.
[stay.] sender cockwarms receiver.
[breed.] sender fucks receiver deep and finishes inside.
[stare.] sender forces receiver to maintain eye contact.
[cling.] sender wraps their legs tight around receiver's waist while they have sex.
[elevate.] sender places a pillow beneath receiver's hips during sex.
[suckle.] sender sucks on receiver's chest and nipples.
[eavesdrop.] sender fucks receiver where others can hear but not see.
[praise.] sender praises receiver for taking it well.
[hush.] sender forbids receiver from making a sound.
[chokehold.] sender locks receiver's throat in the crook of their arm.
[mark.] sender leaves hickeys on receiver where they will be seen later.
[nuzzle.] sender buries their face in receiver's neck mid-fuck.
[rut.] sender gets caught up, fucking receiver harder without warning.
( another collection of smutty dialogue for you heathens (affectionate). please do not interact if you are under eighteen. feel free to edit and change how you seem fit. )
❛ i know my worth. and if you want me, you'll do as i say. ❜
❛ you don't want me here? then why does your body say otherwise? ❜
❛ oh? does that turn you on? ❜
❛ you look good on your knees like this. ❜
❛ i'm not jealous. you're just mine. ❜
❛ i need you. please. i'll be quick. ❜
❛ you used to hate me, and now you can't take your eyes off me. ❜
❛ you want me quiet? make me. ❜
❛ i know you have one more for me. come on, i'm not done yet. ❜
❛ fuck, that was so hot. ❜
❛ such a good boy/girl. making me feel this good. ❜
❛ go on. fuck yourself on my cock. ❜
❛ you have no idea how long i've thought about having you like this. ❜
❛ keep the noise down, baby. you're too loud. ❜
❛ you taste so fucking good. ❜
❛ they can't fuck you like i can. ❜
❛ fuck, i've missed you. ❜
❛ keep going. just like that. ❜
❛ they don't get to have you like this, but i do. ❜
❛ pretty good, huh? i told you i'd make you feel good. ❜
❛ you're mine. and don't you forget it. ❜
❛ i'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that, sweetheart. ❜
❛ what, got nothing to say? no matter, i'll have you screaming in no time. ❜
❛ just a little more. you can take a little more, can't you? ❜
❛ getting close? don't worry, i'll take care of you. ❜
❛ what would they think if they could see you now, huh? ❜
❛ maybe i should put my dick in your mouth so you'll shut up. ❜
❛ maybe if i sit on your face, that'll shut you up. ❜
❛ look at how well you take me. even though it's been so long. ❜
❛ it's apparent in your eyes — you desire me. ❜
❛ don't stop. please, don't stop. ❜
❛ fucking doesn't involve this much talking normally. ❜
❛ you want this, don't you? want me all over you? inside you? ❜
❛ don't forget who you belong to. ❜
❛ if you want something, then you ask for it. ❜
❛ when was the last time someone fucked you? ❜
❛ i'll make us feel good. you'll love this. ❜
❛ how was that? satisfying enough for you? ❜
❛ oh no, i'm not finished with you yet. ❜
❛ what, afraid i might break you? ❜
❛ what, afraid you'll break me? ❜
❛ stop teasing and just put it in already. ❜
❛ fuck me harder. don't you want to make me feel good? ❜
❛ that's it, babygirl. ❜
❛ you want me to sit on your face? ❜
❛ i want this. let me have you like this. ❜
❛ now that you've given me what i want, i can give you what you need. ❜
❛ don't just stand there, you tease. come here and let me taste. ❜
❛ i want you like you used to have me. like we had nothing else to live for. ❜
❛ how do you want me — spread out on the bed or up against the wall? take your pick. i don't mind. ❜
“How does it feel, my come leaking out of you? Knowing that you’ll be a mother?” / Garling to Aquila @seaoftales
The brunette moaned as she let her husband release another load inside of her after they had been working on producing another child after being married for nearly a month. Shamrock was away on a mission which made it the perfect time for the couple to have alone time. For days on end now they had stayed in their chambers just focusing on pleasuring themselves. Her whole body was trembling as her milky white skin was covered in bruises from his hands holding her and the markings he left to show everyone that she was his.
Aquila listened to the male speak before she turned her head smiling up at him lovingly. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke to respond to his question. “Receiving your seed is the highest honor my body could receive. Baring you a perfect child is what I was made for. I was meant to serve you and being a mother of your children would bring me no greater joy.” The divine goddess could feel his cum dripping down her thighs and leaking down as she was stuffed to the brim many times now. When she bathed, Garling had her wear a plug so nothing would be wasted, but she did not want to stop. Moaning softly as she felt his member twitch inside of her, the female was in the doggy position before hugging the pillow to her chest for support.
Unlike most of his old pleasure slaves, the female was greedy and had high stamina from keeping in shape with training. Shaking her hips like a common whore, she knew exactly how to turn the male on. “Please Kamisama. Fill me up to replace everything that leaked out.” Giving him praise and calling him that nickname to show respect, she was showing she knew her place. The goddess belonged underneath the superior divine being with her legs spread out for him. “For this is my rightful place underneath you like this.”
“Don’t squirm, sweetheart. You’re my breeding bitch, now.” / Doffy to Cosima @seaoftales
Cosima had Doflaimgo eat the goddess out after a stressful party in which she had to endure humiliation from her cousin saying insulting things to her. In a rage, she pulled the blonde to her chamber and pushed him to his knees while telling him to pleasure her with his mouth. The male had made the divine being climax about twice now as she panted looking at him. His face was cocky with that signature grin before he spoke some words. Her eyes snapped open to look over to see that he was getting ready to enter her without permission plus he thought he was the one in control.
Growling like a feral beast, she tugged on the collar's leash, causing him to drop to his knees again while she stood up. Her skirts covered her legs after she had them up for him to pleasure her as she did not even bother to take off her heels previously. Yanking the leash to pull his face closer she dug her nails into his cheeks as she spoke in a venomous tone. “You forget yourself, mongrel.” Forcing the male to gaze up at the goddess, she stared down harshly at him before slowly lifting her heel to brush against his hardened erection which was outside of his pants. She did not give him permission to please himself, but she was not going to waste this chance to remind him. It was only the second month into the yearly service she bought him and he had yet to enter her to use him. The goddess was building the tension and training the male to do everything she liked, but she had yet to allow him the pleasure of entering her garden. If the dog wanted a breeding bitch, then she would give him one.
Yelling at the top of her lungs for the bodyguards outside of her door, “Guards bring slave 43 to my chambers to be used.” Her thighs were dripping down her legs to her ankles, a mixture of her cum and his saliva as her heel was pressed against his member just enough to give him pleasure and pain. Shuffling outside as they left to bring the slave she requested as she smiled down at the male and spoke in a sweet tone, “You want a breeding bitch, well I’ll give you one.” Minutes passed as she did not move from that pose just staring at him and waiting until the doors to her chambers opened. The guards dragged a brunette slave stripped of all clothing and clean as it was from a fresh batch just bought. Releasing the blonde’s chin from her nails and letting go of the leash, she stepped backward to sit on her bed before crossing her legs. “Go on, no need to hold back. It’s all yours. Breed your bitch.”
It was the wedding night that Iolite had been forced to prepare for after being kidnapped to the Holy Land to become the wife of a Celestial Dragon. The princess had tried fighting it at first, but after the first month, she gave up as it was becoming hopeless, and it was better to accept her new position. Lady Aquila had taught the female everything she would need to know about society etiquette for Celestial Dragons, along with a pleasure slave teaching her about the methods her soon-to-be husband would like. She was a quick study; even though the princess was meek, she was growing confident. Finally, the wedding ceremony came and went quickly, and it was time to fulfill her duty. Iolite was wearing nothing after the servants prepared the female with an oil bath with the scent their master liked the most.
Shamrock walked into the bedchamber in his uniform before taking a seat on the bed while the female had been sitting covered up in one of his capes that was left in the room. Her face was red as she was not looking at him through embarrassment, however, she knew that he was not going to have much patience for her. Inhaling deeply, she stood up and dropped the black cape that devoured her body. Iolite walked over to her husband before dropping to her knees to be eye level with his zipper. Lady Aquila had encouraged her to act enthusiastic, and being shy would be cute for a bit, but she needed more than that.
Iolite wasted no time getting to work. Looking directly at the male as she unzipped his pants to reveal the prize underneath. The female brought her lips over the head of the shaft before rolling her tongue around the top. Carefully moving her lips around the edge of the head before she started to use her hands as an extension of her mouth. Iolite was trying to do this seamlessly, so his hands and mouth were working together to put tension on the top of Shamrock’s cock. Exactly as she had been taught by Stella, and she was doing her best to reenact it. The princess knew she needed to slide the member alongside the roof of her mouth to start with slow and even bobs before picking up speed. At first, the female was going very slow, experimenting and watching the male carefully to see what he would like. She was not as skilled as his pleasure slaves as it was her first time, but keeping eye contact would show her effort as she would get better with more practice.
Her pink opal color eyes looked up at the tall male as he smiled down at her, not missing a single beat as Iolite bobbed her mouth against the head of the shaft. Shamrock was gently combing his fingers through her black-purple locks, watching the performance. The female moaned, taking Shamrock’s member deeper into his throat. However, the male had decided to take matters into his own hands as he grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her deeper down. Iolite whimpered at the sudden action; the male was now leading the female by pushing her bobs and quickening the pace as he moaned, closing his eyes. Muttering out loud, the male said, “Faster.” The princess was becoming a mess, as she felt herself choking from gagging from his member before he suddenly removed his grip from her neck.
Coughing, Iolite quickly retreated a few steps backwards as she fell away from the bed after her position was changed when the male took over. His eyes glared down at the female, waiting for her to catch her breath as he decided to be nice to his wife. Normally, he would not give his partner a chance to prepare themselves, especially virgins, but he was giving her this opportunity. “Prepare yourself.” The female nodded her head as she was finally catching her breath after gasping for air for about a minute. Standing up, her legs felt shaky like a newborn fawn, but she made her way over towards the bed to sit across from him. The mattress was plush and very soft, and Iolite felt like she was crawling on clouds. Once she found a spot a few feet away from him, she inhaled deeply before spreading her legs.
Iolite slowly dipped her hand down in her thighs and was slowly playing with herself. She noticed how wet she really was as she let two fingers slowly circle her clit. A soft gasp escaped her soft lips, her free hand covering her mouth. She rubbed a little faster and threw her head back. Sticking in one finger, she was moving and exploring her body, trying not to think about the male watching her with a predator’s gaze. Her hips were buckling from the sensation as she was getting excited, feeling good before glancing to see Shamrock was now hovering over the female looking down at her. A whimper and gasp left her lips as she was scared to see him so close, like a little rabbit that was cornered. Letting out an animalistic growl, he pushed her quickly against the mattress, pinning her arms above her head.
Her husband’s lips attacked the woman’s neck, his hand groping one of her breasts roughly, which in response gave him a small mewl only muffled halfway by kisses too rough and hands too coarse as his mouth drags over all inches of the pale skin. “Kamisama, please –”
The ginger bites hard onto her bottom lip and tugs, the shock of pain turning her on excruciatingly fast. Hooking her thigh around his waist and thrusting her hips in turn rubbing against his length, she had been taught by the pleasure slave that this would show encouragement. “Good girl,” he muttered, pushing her harder against the mattress as he buried his face into her neck again, biting and bruising clean skin and blossoming dots of red and pink that’ll surely leave a dark purple haze tomorrow morning.
His hand started trailing itself down over the round outline of the breasts and rosy peak of nipples while he moved his lips down to the collarbone, his erection stiffly grinding into her stomach. “Don’t move–” His fingers found their way to her clit as she gasped. “Husband…please.” His wife spoke breathlessly, against his lips, mustering all the power in her to ignore his rough and irregular palms rubbing hard on her clitrous while she uttered the words she was taught. No sooner had the words left her rosey lips, she was spun around and her neck pushed down, her back arched and Shamrock’s hands tangling itself into the dark hair, a whistle of wind and a sudden tingle of uncontrollable pain sending shocks down her spine and to her pooling heat, crying out before she was silenced with a predatory, much too gentle shush. The sweat on their bodies made them even slicker than normal.
“No.” The male brought a ruthless hand down, and as the female winced at the sting, a soft, gentle smoothing over the pale bruised flesh while another hand worked away ministrations that created the absolute lewdest sounds she’d ever heard, wet noises with a muted touch of animalistic craving in its purest form. “You have one chance to say it again before I have to do something very bad with that dirty mouth of yours.”
“K-kamisama,” Iolite sputtered out helplessly, giving in almost embarrassingly fast; the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out combined with the aftermath pain of the pain coursing through her body unable to form logical sentences, Shamrock’s hands digging hard into the flesh of her sides. “I-I’m so sorry, Kamisama, please forgive me –” “Really?” The man hisses, cutting her off mid-sentence as he pulls her up from doggy position to flip her over to face him as he looks directly down at her. Her flesh was covered in bruises from his kisses and where his hands had gripped her tightly.
“Good girl – you’re so gorgeous like this –” Shamrock’s breathing was shallow and uneven, the dark undertones of his voice overpowering the woman’s silenced moans. He took the moment to line himself up and quickly moved his hips to thrust inside of her while she was relaxed. Iolite felt the pressure as her hymen was broken, as everything was overwhelming her. Her husband’s palms held her hips as he thrust into her relentlessly. The sensations were too much for her to handle, and the string of gasps leaving the woman’s lips was too unbearable for her. The sweet mix of the bathing oils and arousal pulled her faster towards the peak –
The female’s orgasm ripped through her body, and she shuddered, the pleasure too overwhelming as Shamrock rode out his high and hips slowed down to a final stop. Looking down at the female as her thighs were dripping a mixture of her blood and his seed, he pulled her closer, not leaving just yet. The sight was breathtaking as his wife was filled to the brim and belonged fully to him. The excitement quickly got him hard again before he bit down on her neck and started to thrust into her more. Holding the female close in his arms as they snaked around her waist, holding her tightly. Iolite felt sore as her hips were trying to match the male’s pace and her arms wrapped around his chest trying to hold on the best she could. The male continued to take his wife, fulfilling his pleasure needs until hours went by.
After he climaxed inside the female for the fourth time in a matter of hours, Shamrock stumbled a little, his hair a mess and his breaths jagged. The princess was on the edge of the bed and would’ve fallen onto the floor if he hadn’t caught her in time, gently laying her head onto the cold marble floor of the bedroom before he stepped off the bed. Her thighs were sticky and wet from the mixture of the fluids while the female groaned softly. The marble floor was cool and comfortable against her burning hot skin and the untimely breathing coming from the woman’s heaving chest. Iolite did not know how many hours had passed, but she knew that she was tired as she felt herself falling deeper into a sleep.
The female turned over the fur skins from the animals that Cyrus had hunted and skinned for the pelts to help them keep warm for the winter as they traveled. The winter was brutal and long nights, but morning was over the horizon when the blonde hair woman woke up. She was naked alongside the male as it was much warmer that way for their body heat to stay up. Stella was fully awake for a little over ten minutes now as she glanced at the other soundly asleep. His morning erection had caught her eyes as she glanced at it before licking her lips. Stella was in the mood this morning as it had been a few days since he had pleasured her since he was busy gathering supplies and hunting. She craved his touch, even if it wasn’t soft or gentle, but it made her feel alive, and free. Slowly crawling closer to the larger human, she climbed on his thighs and lap allowing the skins to surround her.
The member was large and hard, but her own juices flowed as she softly rubbed against it testing to see if Cyrus would wake up. Closing her eyes she allowed her hips to buckle to a fast pace as she was slowly coating the member enough as she planned on riding him soon. The male acted feral, sometimes taking her as he pleased, so she wanted to do the same. The blonde was straddled across his waist as her hands were on his stomach as she continued her pace rubbing against the erection to allow their body fluids to become mixed. Opening her eyes she growled from her chest as she had enough preparing herself and lined up with his member at the entrance. Slowly inch by inch the female took the male deeper inside of her until she came to the end of the line.
Her heart was racing inside of her chest and her own arousal was filling the air as she finally felt full for the first time in a while. A moan left her lips before she bit down trying to be quiet before glancing up to see if the male was awake. Panting softly to steady her breath, she could feel the pressure building up in her lower stomach. Stella rolled her hips forward as she started to move forward to take him out before taking him back in at full length. A moan escaped her lips as her fingers dug into his stomach to help support herself before picking up the pace. Stella was allowing the feeling to consume her as the pressure was building up.
Whimpers and moans left her lips as the sound of the skin smacking against each other surrounded them. The blonde moved faster and harder chasing after that ride as the sweat was rolling down her body. About a minute later, the blonde felt her orgasm explode as she continued to ride the high a few more times as the male was still stiff. Her body shuddered and shivered from being sensitive before she whimpered softly, “Please wake up ... .I want more.” Stella still kept the erection inside of her as her muscles clenched around his cock and she laid her upper chest on his stomach to catch her breath. She was hoping maybe his body would move natural thrusting into her more as she loved when he over stimulated her, but she needed to catch her breath first. “Cyrus.”
Cosima had wait nearly a year since her son had been born from their marriage which was to strengthen their empire. Now the empress wanted her heir for her kingdom and had been waiting for the best moment. A small rebellion had broken out so the prisoners were brought to the throne room and quickly executed by Cyrus.
The room was drenched in blood and littered with pieces of the corpses which looked like they had been ripped apart by monsters. Most people would be terrified of her husband, in this moment covered in blood and gore from his victims but Al she saw was her lion. Careful the Queen walked out with her heels clicking against the stone floor. Her attire was revealing as the leather top barely contained her breasts. The silk fabric ran down just the sides of her legs giving full access to a view of everything underneath.
This outfit had been made by the gifts he had given her and she wanted to show off her body. Walking with her head held high she met his gaze and did not break it for a single moment. Each stepped caused the crimson liquid to splatter on her flesh but she maintain her elegance. Smiling as she walked up the stairs to their thrones she stood before him. Tilting her head her smile soften as she spoke in a sultry tone, “My Lord, I missed you so much and watching your display I couldn’t contain myself anymore. Please allow me your touch and seed so I may have my heir.”
His body trembled, not with restraint, but with the sheer weight of unfiltered rage surging through his veins like molten iron. The air itself felt thick, suffocating beneath the pressure of his fury, a silent storm coiled within the breadth of his frame, ready to strike. His breaths were slow and guttural, dragging through clenched teeth in a sound akin to the distant snarl of a beast prowling the edge of violence. And yet, they had still dared. They had still tried. Whispered in the dark corners of his kingdom, plotted beneath the roof of the very halls he ruled, spun their little schemes as if he would not know, as if his wrath would not find them, as if asking for mercy would ever be an option.
But there was no mercy. There never had been.
His grip was iron—digits like talons, swift, unrelenting, carving deep into flesh, crushing windpipes, splintering bone between fingers that had held both crowns and corpses alike. One after another, they fell before him, their final sounds nothing more than garbled, wretched gasps drowned in the blood pooling in their mouths. He watched the light dim from their eyes with the same interest one might afford a dying ember, expression unreadable, untouched by their suffering. Their treason had sullied his kingdom, had poisoned the very air he breathed, and he would cleanse it in their blood.
The throne room was no longer a seat of governance, no longer a place of judgment—it was a slaughterhouse, its once-pristine marble drowned in crimson, the scent of death thick and cloying, seeping into every stone, every breath. The bodies lay where they fell, strewn like discarded refuse, limbs bent at unnatural angles, flesh torn, gaping. And still, it was not enough. It never was. His gaze, sharp, pitiless, cut through the remaining few like a blade pressed to the throat, watching as they cowered, as they pressed themselves against the cold, unfeeling walls, shaking, whimpering like rats in the presence of a wolf. The pathetic scurrying of men who once called themselves his subjects, his trusted advisors, his own.
They were not even worth the weight of his sword.
Slowly, menacingly, he stepped forward, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in the silence, his shadow swallowing them whole. He reached out, fingers curling around the jaw of a man who had once sat at his table, dined in his halls, whispered empty flattery in the hopes of favor. The sheer audacity of such men, to think themselves untouchable, to believe their cowardice could shield them from his wrath. "Mercy?" The word was a cruel thing, foreign on his tongue, devoid of warmth, of even the pretense of humanity. His grip tightened, nails digging into flesh, the sharp crack of splintering bone met with a wet, strangled whimper. "You do not deserve to beg."
And with that, he twisted.
The sound was sickening, the sharp snap of vertebrae folding beneath his strength, the final breath stolen from the traitor’s lips before his corpse crumpled to the floor, another piece of filth discarded. Blood smeared across his palm, warm and thick, and without a thought, he wiped it against the tunic of the next shaking wretch in line, watching as they recoiled, as they flinched at the mere brush of his fingers.
How filthy. How lowly they were. Not even worthy of comparison to the peasants who toiled beneath the sun, who bled and broke for a land that did not know their names. They had wanted to play at treachery. Now, they would learn the cost. A hefty palm wrapped around a new victim, a slender throat, the grip tightening as the wretch beneath him gasped, their body writhing, hands clawing uselessly at his wrist. Their breath hitched, strangled, choked between the trembling, pitiful sobs that spilled from their lips. Tears and snot streamed down their face in uncontrollable intervals, dribbling onto his gauntlet as they convulsed in fear, their body no more than brittle twigs caught in the storm of his fury.
“P—P—Please, your grace—” cried the traitor.
A mistake.
A snarl tore from his throat as he yanked them forward, fingers locking around their windpipe like a vice, the sheer force of his grip pressing bones to their limit. The sound that came next was something primal—a wet, gasping choke as their plea died in their throat. His hold was not just that of a man—it was a beast’s, a predator’s. He snatched them up as a lion would its prey, jaws on the throat, not to wound but to end.
"Shut… your… mouth."
The words were not spoken—they were hissed, laced with venom, seething through clenched teeth. His breath came hot and ragged, his chest rising and falling with the slow, measured breath of someone barely restraining himself from tearing them apart right then and there. His eyes burned—not the cold, calculating gaze of a man, but something far worse. Something hungry. A gleam of crimson flickered within his pupils, unnatural, eerie, like the glow of embers beneath a storm-lit sky.
And then came the teeth—canines far too sharp to be human, gleaming like polished ivory in the low light as his lips curled back in a growl. He did not just hold power—he was consumed by it, reshaped by it, an embodiment of the wrath they had so foolishly dared to test. "You are nothing but a meat sack for maggots to digest," his voice dripped with acid, each syllable enunciated. His grip tightened, fingers pressing deep into fragile flesh, feeling the erratic pulse beneath his palm, the way their body trembled with terror, uselessly clawing at his wrist as if their pitiful hands could pry him away. He leaned in, close enough for them to feel the heat of his breath, the ghost of a snarl curling against their skin. "But lucky you…" Cyrus’s voice was sickly sweet, venom wrapped in a mockery of kindness, the ghost of humor slithering between his words. "Instead of maggots… how about being fed on while alive?"
The traitor’s breath hitched, a sharp, desperate intake of air as his eyes widened, pupils blown in sheer, unfiltered terror. A choked sound, something between a whimper and a sob, clawed its way from his throat, but it was lost beneath the sickening crack of his body being hurled through the air. Cyrus barely exerted effort, yet the force was monstrous, sending the man flying like a ragdoll.
Bone met stone. A wet, meaty thud echoed as his body slammed against the staircase leading to the throne, ribs caving in with a sickening crunch. He crumpled, coughing, sputtering blood onto the polished floor, trembling hands clutching at his throat, where the King’s grip had already left bruises deep enough to mar the skin in ugly, darkened shades of purple and blue. His breath was ragged, hitching in short, pained gasps as he tried to gather himself, to think, to move—but then, a sound cut through the death-stained air.
A whistle. Low. Slow. Eerie. It came from Cyrus’s lips, effortless, haunting, a tune that did not belong in a world of men. And then—snarls. From the shadows, they emerged. Grotesque beasts, monstrous in size, their hulking frames unnatural, grotesquely twisted mockeries of what hounds should be. Their fur, matted and dark, barely concealed the rippling muscle beneath their flesh. Their teeth—serrated, pearly white yet drenched in the stains of past kills—dripped with thick ropes of saliva, the smell of decay radiating from their breath. Their maws curled back, lips peeling to reveal the promise of destruction as guttural, rolling growls rumbled in their chests.
The traitor’s body seized with terror, the raw instinct to run overriding all reason. He scrambled to his feet, legs weak, stumbling forward with the frantic desperation of a man who knew he was already dead. His bloodied fingers scraped against the cold stone floor as he pushed forward, heart pounding a deafening rhythm in his ears, limbs failing him as he forced his body to obey.
But it was useless. A blur of darkness. The first beast was upon him before he even reached the edge of the hall. Teeth sank into his calf, a horrific, wet rip filling the chamber as flesh and tendon tore away like paper. His scream was instant, raw, unholy, the sound of a man whose body was betraying him, failing him, being consumed. He crashed to the ground, fingers clawing at the stone as agony burned through his veins, fire igniting in his nerves as the hound wrenched its head back, taking a chunk of his leg with it.
His sobs were incoherent, begging, pleading, words that meant nothing, words that would never be heard. The second beast lunged. Its massive paws pinned him down, its weight crushing, ribs snapping under its strength. The scent of putrid breath filled his lungs, warm and suffocating, before teeth sank into the exposed flesh of his shoulder, the pressure so deep it grated against bone.
Another pull. Another rip. His body spasmed, wracked with unbearable pain as skin and muscle were stripped from him like meat from a carcass. His own screams shattered in his throat, caught in the gurgling of his own blood, bubbling up in a spray of crimson as the beasts feasted—tearing, gnawing, yanking his flesh apart in grotesque synchronization. His vision blurred, body trembling, twitching. His fingers twitched uselessly against the stone, eyes rolling back as his body betrayed him, muscles going slack, the warmth of his own blood pooling beneath him, seeping between the cracks of the floor, staining the throne room in his final, useless existence. Cyrus watched. Silent. Unmoved. His beasts would clean up the mess.
Blood coated his features, his arms, his clothing—thick, warm, and seeping into the very fabric of his being—but it did not bother him, not in the slightest. The scent of iron clung to the air, heavy and suffocating, yet it was a perfume he had long grown accustomed to, a fragrance woven into his very existence. Carnage stained the throne room, bodies torn, flesh flayed, limbs splayed in grotesque, unnatural angles, yet none of it stirred so much as a flicker of hesitation within him. If anything, it was fitting—the chaos, the violence, the absolute and undeniable power that came with it.
With the last of the traitors executed, Cyrus strode forward, his steps slow, deliberate, each one echoing with the weight of dominance. He did not rush, did not spare a second glance to the corpses littering the floor, nor to the whimpers of dying men gurgling in their own ruin. Instead, his path was singular—his throne, the seat of his rule, the symbol of his unyielding might. With an ease that belied the destruction surrounding him, he settled onto it, leaning back into the embrace of his own authority, fingers curling over the armrests as his gaze swept across the remnants of his work.
Oh, how splendid it was.
To rip and damn a soul from existence, not because of necessity, not because of reason, but simply because he could. There was no greater show of power, no grander declaration of sovereignty, than the absolute control over life and death itself. He had decided, and so they had perished—crushed, broken, erased.
The grotesque hounds remained, their feast uninterrupted, their muzzles buried deep in the carnage, tearing, gnawing, rending fresh flesh from bone with sickening efficiency. The wet, sloppy sounds of devouring echoed through the chamber, a testament to the fate of those who had dared to cross him. Guards stood at the edges of the slaughter, their faces blank masks of obedience, but their bodies were rigid, taut with the silent understanding that a single misstep, a single wrong breath, could seal their fate among the fallen. They did not speak. They did not move. All they could do—all they had ever been allowed to do—was watch and obey.
Narrow eyes, filled with dark satisfaction, peered toward the woman clacking her way through the battlefield he had so beautifully carved into existence. The throne room reeked of death, of split flesh and blood left to pool in shallow, sluggish rivers along the marble floor, yet she moved through it as if stepping over nothing more than discarded scraps. Her dress—tantalizing, revealing—caught his eye, a sinful contrast against the carnage that surrounded them. It caused his skin to prickle with something unpleasant, a slow, disgusting desire slithering beneath the high of his kill.
He was still riding that euphoria, that intoxicating bloodlust that coursed through his veins like fire, making his heart hammer against the walls of his chest. And then, her—his Queen, equally insatiable in her hunger for control, for destruction, sauntering toward him with leisurely purpose, hips swaying in slow, deliberate arcs that demanded attention. Lust burned within the pools of her eyes, dark, knowing, drinking in the aftermath of his work with something akin to admiration.
His blood heated at the sight of her, not out of love, nor did his quickened breath stem from any tender affection. No—what he felt was base, primal, a response ignited not by devotion but by the very nature of his being. He was a predator who had just slaughtered, a beast reveling in the scent of death and power, and she was a creature who thrived upon it. Skin flushed, body thrumming with residual hunger—not for her, but for more. Yet his gaze remained fixed, locked onto the sway of rounded hips, the elegant rise and fall of full breasts that bounced so gracefully with each step she took toward him. She was a vision against the carnage, a living, breathing temptation wrapped in the same hunger that drove him to kill. And as her lips curled, as she neared, he knew—she had come to feast as well.
"Hmm? Is that so, woman?" His voice was hushed, thick with something cruel, something dark. There was no warmth, no tenderness—only the weight of his power, the unrelenting force of a man who commanded rather than loved. His satisfaction dripped from each syllable, his amusement tainted with something far devious.
A thick brow arched as his gaze roved over her body, slow, consuming, shameless in its assessment. Every curve, every tantalizing shift of her frame, was absorbed by his stare, the hunger in his expression far removed from affection—it was possession, indulgence, dominance. A tongue, sinful and unhurried, snaked from his mouth to lap up the warm streak of blood that had splattered across his lip, the taste only fueling the fire simmering beneath his skin. "Come, then, woman."
It was not a request. It was an order. A command laced with the arrogance of a man who took rather than waited. Adjusting himself, he spread his legs wider, the heavy shift of his frame making way for her to kneel before him, to assume the position expected of her. The air between them thickened, charged, as the last traces of regality in his ruined garments strained against the growing evidence of his desire. Filthy, indeed—but he would not deny himself. Not now. Not after such splendid slaughter. "Put that skilled tongue of yours to use, and prove to me why you deserve to be filled to the last drop."
Without any hesitation, the female walked forward with a grin across her face as the rest of the court was watching with sneaky glances to see if the rulers would actually dare to do anything here. Standing before the golden throne with the male sitting upon it, any other time she would never knee in front of others, but she needed to keep in a good mood. The tempertess had a goal in mind and decided to play along for now with the performance. Without him even having to command or say another word, she dropped to her knees before crawling in front of him like a common whore. Inside Cosima was cursing, but she kept a pleasant smile on her face before allowing her hands to trail up his legs as the blood was spreading onto her flesh as if freshly fallen snow was being doused in blood and becoming tainted.
The fabric was beyond saving nor did she really care. Humming softly almost like a purr from her throat she spoke, “My king. I shall obey your commandment.” The female could feel the semi-erection before her which must have occurred from the slaughter so Cosima wasted no time getting to work. Her golden painted nails easily tore the fabric away from his flesh to release his member, like a predator ripping away the skin on the carcass. The ginger brought her lips over the head before rolling her tongue around the top. Her lips were around the edge of the head before she started to use her hands as an extension of her mouth. The woman was trying to do this seamlessly, so her hands and mouth were working together to put tension on the top of Cyrus’s cock. The shaft was sliding alongside the roof of her mouth with slow and even bobs before the blonde started progressing to faster ones trying to wake up the male.
It was a sight to behold as not many females would be able to fit the size of the member into her mouth, but over their marriage, the female found ways to make it possible. Members of the court were watching from afar at the sight of the arrogant queen on her knees like any other female that knew their place. A few of them turned away flushed as they were getting hard at the sight while others continued to stare while swallowing nervously from their bodies' reactions. Cosima was aware of all the court noblemen that were witnessing this act and she planned on giving them a show. Her eyes were lust of lust and want as she only wanted the male for his seed.
Her pink eyes looked up at him as she smirked up at him not missing a single beat as she bobbed her mouth against the head of his cock. She knew that he was aware of the others, but it was exciting to her letting them watch. The act was getting her own juices flowing as she moaned taking his member deeper into her throat. Cosima was determined to make him come undone while helping herself. Her hands were covered in a mixture of her saliva and his precum before she lifted up silk fabric to reveal she had no underwear on. Taking the male deeper to the back of her throat, the queen wasted no sticking in a couple fingers to help loosen herself up. She was becoming a mess, but that was okay as she groaned with pleasure.
The blonde slave had been tasked to care for the creature or monster as her master referred to him, the being down in the basement that was chained to the floor and wall. He had bought it months ago and tasked the female to care for him. She had helped care for him by cleaning him the best she could, helping nurse his wounds, and giving him his meals. Stella had come to care for the being as if he was a companion to her in this nightmare, as she was a lowly slave not treated much better than him. Over time, she noticed his body was normal and would have times when he would need to be released down below.
Today the nobleman was hosting a ball upstairs which the female had been entertaining using her beautiful singing voice to set the tone for the evening. Due to this she had been late giving Cyrus his meal and by the time she came down, she had the meat she sneaked from the kitchen which was fresh and cooked with clean water. A fresh meal for a change, but the only difference would be her attire. Stella was wearing a collar that was made from gold and jewels, but could be attached to a leash along with thin silk barely covering her body which was covered in scars and the slave crest on her back.
However, the woman was still very beautiful with her milk white flesh, golden locks, and blue eyes which was not common in this region. She was a songbird taking care of the wolf in the basement. That was how she felt companionship to him in a way. Walking down the stairs she smiled and spoke softly to him, “Cyrus, I have fresh food for today.” The female stopped in front of him with the plate and mug of water waiting for him to see the meal. The chains were long enough he could move his hands and arms within a certain reach, but she was not that scared of him. At first she was, but over time they had gotten used to each other. Something else that was different about the female today was the master used oils and perfume that made her smell like flowers and floral which gave her a sweeter scent than usual.
Even as the large male moved, the tiny blonde hummed softly before holding out the plate for him to feast on the meal. Everything happened too quickly, like a predator snapping its jaws around its prey’s neck, the plate was snatched up. However, this caused the female to get off balance and a tiny gasp to escape her lips as she fell forward. The juices of the meat dripped down her body and spilled onto her chest along with the water as she clinged to his chest. Holding his broad shoulders, she was closer to his face than usual which caused her heart to race quickly within her chest. Dipping her nails into his chest, she could see how handsome he was and muscular which made the female excited.
It had been awhile since the female released her own tension and her own juices would be dripping down her thighs very quickly. “Cyrus…” She whispered his name almost like a whimper when she felt his breath against her body. Goosebumps spread across her flesh as she shivered before looking up at him directly in his eyes. She made eye contact with him and stared at him as her fingers slowly trailed across his chiseled body. Her mind was wondering as she wanted him to devour her as she always did her best to satisfy him using her hands, chest, and mouth, but she never had been able to be properly fucked by him. Chewing her lip, she was deep in her thoughts not realizing that she was biting hard enough to break her flesh to cause blood to spill. Stella was a mess, her scent mixed with floral, meat juice, and her own excitement which made her truly feel like an animal. She spoke in a whisper which she was not even aware left her lips until it was too late. “Cyrus, don’t waste the meal I brought you now.”
Cosima had wait nearly a year since her son had been born from their marriage which was to strengthen their empire. Now the empress wanted her heir for her kingdom and had been waiting for the best moment. A small rebellion had broken out so the prisoners were brought to the throne room and quickly executed by Cyrus.
The room was drenched in blood and littered with pieces of the corpses which looked like they had been ripped apart by monsters. Most people would be terrified of her husband, in this moment covered in blood and gore from his victims but Al she saw was her lion. Careful the Queen walked out with her heels clicking against the stone floor. Her attire was revealing as the leather top barely contained her breasts. The silk fabric ran down just the sides of her legs giving full access to a view of everything underneath.
This outfit had been made by the gifts he had given her and she wanted to show off her body. Walking with her head held high she met his gaze and did not break it for a single moment. Each stepped caused the crimson liquid to splatter on her flesh but she maintain her elegance. Smiling as she walked up the stairs to their thrones she stood before him. Tilting her head her smile soften as she spoke in a sultry tone, “My Lord, I missed you so much and watching your display I couldn’t contain myself anymore. Please allow me your touch and seed so I may have my heir.”
Send a symbol for a short NSFW drabble starring my Muse! Feel free to reblog and add your own!
☚: My muse sneaks out after a one night stand.
☛: My muse is sexually frustrated/turned on and can’t do anything about it.
☜: My muse is caught by another either masturbating or looking like they were.
☝: My muse has to find a new location for their sex toys and/or porn stash.
☞: My muse is secretly reading/watching inappropriate material in public.
☟: My muse keeps getting interrupted every time they try to get sex started.
✍: Someone discovers one of my muse’s kinks and they have to explain themselves (or not).
Welp, I made one for M/M. So here’s one for M/F. No other reason than wanting to make another. Please specify muse when you send any of these. I claim absolutely no ownership of any of the gifs utilized here.
Cosima was urged to have children, so she invited the male over to her home to make a deal with him as she saw him as a stud candidate. She had stopped taking her birth control for a few weeks now while he was away to get her cycles back on track so that way it would be easy for the ovulation to occur which was currently happening. She was wearing a thin silk robe with only her undergarments underneath when he arrived at her home, so she took him to her study. What the goddess was not aware of was how sensitive he was going to be to her scent that it changed due to her ovulation, meaning she was fertile and ready for breeding. The male surprised the female as he reacted first for once which caused her to gasp with shock before her panties were forced out of the way.
They were red lace that were easily broken from his claws as he shifted into his hybrid form. Cosima had taken him many times in that form, but something seemed different today with his feral growing. She was holding the desk for support for her upper body as he held onto her and lifted her up. “A-ah.” As soon as his tongue licked her clitous, she was seeing colors as her hips bucked into the roughness of the tongue. A moan left her lips as she glanced back at him acting very naughty, returning a cheeky smile to him. Catching her breath slightly as her heart was racing, she spoke in a playful tone. “Naughty kitty ... you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you…I’m not on any preventives anymore. I need to have children and I want your help with it.” The female knew the male was eye level to her private region, so she shakes her hips to taunt him. Like a female leopard, she was daring him and informing him how fertile she currently was. “So go ahead kitty…breed me..” Cosima was giving her permission as she knew this was the first time she was telling him the truth in the matter.
He didn't even need to smell her he could see the fluids that were slowly dripping down her thighs, he could hear how she sounded. The desperation in her voice and with how she was already trying to work herself up now in front of him in the doorway didn't leave much room for him to ignore her even if he had wanted to. How could he possibly ignore when such a beautiful girl was presenting herself to him?
In an instant one of his feet had turned into a lightly glowing blue talon, grabbing Sedna quick but maintained a gentleness to him as he quickly closed the door. A soft cooing sound is the first noise that the first commander had made when giving Sedna a small toss into the nest that he had created, the shirt he given her being added to said nest.
Three tails had emerged behind the blonde but he didn't pay them any mind, they were a part of him and it was the phoenix's way of wanting to show off a bit for Sedna. They were always a bit of a vain creature, wanting to show off their beauty and to know that they were doing well for whatever partner that they were having.
"You really came all this way looking for me to take care of you? You say it's my fault you're like this but I haven't had the chance for any attention. Don't you think that I should have a little care before we get to the main event sweetheart~?" His hands gently brushing along her skin to get a feel of what was sensitive for her and what wasn't.
Allowing the male to grab her with his talon, very gently, she whimpered from the aching inside of her lower belly. She heard the phoenix cooing at her as she was presenting herself as she was placed inside of the nest. His scent was intoxicating as the mermaid could smell it everywhere as she snuggled into the nest deeper, maybe to try to rub his scent onto her. Her hands trailed down her body and over her chest as she wanted the other show off for her. A small smile was on Sedna’s lips as her hips were moving trying to get some friction as her fingers teased around the outer region of her clit.
Once the male stepped closer and was asking questions the female only nodded as she spoke between pants, “Yes, please ... .you triggered this. Please..” Sedna’s last begging was when she was going over the edge again as she started to cum undone as he touched her cheeks. She was so needy and wanting for him, that she had tried to cool off the heat by getting herself off, but nothing was helping. It was only making the aching deep inside of her worse. Her ears, neck, and inner thighs would be the most sensitive, but she wanted to show him too. Once she had come down from her high, her eyes glanced down at him taking what he said into consideration. Reaching for his pants and belt buckle, she was going to show him some affection as well. “I can take care of you if you take care of me.”
Within seconds, Stella was scooped up in his arm, Shanks having no troubles at all carrying her like that. Another kiss was shared between the two of him, his lips greedily working against hers as he slowly made his way back inside their cabin. Luckily, Beck was there to handle the rest of the crew, starting to bark orders at them the moment he managed to pull out of the mild shock of seeing Shanks like that.
The moment the door to their cabin was closed, Shanks put Stella down, pressing her against the door while his hand worked on the cloak which was promptly discarded on the ground. Only then did he resume, lips hungrily seeking out hers, hand roaming her body, finding its way between her legs, a smirk spreading on his lips once he felt how wet she was.
❝ You want me that bad, hm? ❞ He asked in a whisper, mouth next to her ear, slowly tracing kisses along her neck and jaw.
Stella watched her lover carefully as she kept a calm and playful smile on her face as he scooped her up. Normally he would be such a gentleman and they would take their time with love making, but today seeing him caused something to awaken in her. She wanted to be ravaged and fucked throughly by him. The female wanted Shanks to take full control today unlike all the other times with her in charge. As he was kissing her, she returned the enthusiasm in kind as she had wrapped her arms around his neck, but she allowed her nails to dig into his flesh to show what she wanted…no need from him.
As soon as the door was closed, the male made quick work in removing his cloak, as the blonde went to his waist to start undoing his belt. Stella smirked, as he started to feel between her legs to see how badly she wanted him, but once the realization would dawn on him that she was wearing nothing under there it would be so fun. Humming softly as she undid his belt quickly, it fell to the floor as she looked up at him. Hunger was burning in their eyes, but she wanted him badly from the moment she saw him fighting. “Yes…from the moment I saw you above deck, I needed you. Beckman holding me back did not help…I wonder if he noticed as there was not much in between his- thigh and my legs.” The blonde was challenging him and stirring his emotions to get him to punish her. Licking her lips seductively, as she bucked her hips against his fingers to further prove her point, she moaned softly from his kisses