I will do requests and am most familiar w/ the hermits, life series and empires-adjacent crew
flexible wrt gender headcanons but I will make everyone a switch (seriously, if you have any comments about how a character is "so weak they're obviously a bottom" or "too powerful to be ever dominated" I don't wanna hear them)
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spoilers all for HC1Ø!
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contents may include:
hypnosis, magic, mind altering substances
bimbofication/IQ play
dubcon, noncon, mindbreak, corruption
sexual bets, pranks, and long-term cnc arrangements
mobfucking, tentacles, eggs, inflation
gore, cannibalism, death/respawn mechanics
omo/piss
incest, selfcest
consensual but not safe or sane scenarios
kinks etc are tagged with a fog emoji🌫️ behind the word so they don't show up in maintags, should still be caught by blacklist
limits and specifics under the cut:
no heavy angst
no genital/reproductive system gore or injury
(CBT/genital torture is fine)
no underage characters
(ageplay, CGL, mommy/daddy kink are fine)
genderplay/misgendering kink is okay in a consensual context only, no detrans
RPF is fine but this is a character-centric blog first and foremost
genuinely i don’t think it’s possible to easily explain the explicit part of online friendships to people who don’t Understand. i don’t mean like, explicit in the sense of “oh you’re sexting” or whatever. no. i mean when you and your friend start gleefully making up explicit sexual scenarios for your shared blorbos and you get giddier and giddier as you add more detail and you’ll be grinning at your screen as you type away at mach speeds. and it’s entirely nonsexual in an interpersonal sense, you’re not really getting Into it, but ohhhhh it’s soooooo fun and satisfying. and you can NEVER tell someone who doesn’t also do this that your mood is actively improved like fivefold because you and your friend played Sexual Tuoys together because they’ll go “what the FUCK.”
It's there for her when she needs it. Pearl is the one who picks up the black velvet slip collar and tugs it over her head, fits it around her neck. No constriction, but an awareness of its presence. Then her hands drift away, down her collarbones, her chest, coming to rest loosely at her sides.
There's no magic. Just her mind and body knowing exactly what that gentle pressure means. A deep sighs huffs out of Pearl at the release of responsibility. Her ears perk up and her tail starts sweeping in an arc behind her, while the rest of her muscles relax. Everything is so much simpler like this. Her instincts tell her she's safe. The only thing she needs to chase is satisfaction.
Cleo's not surprised. In Pearl's absence she's arranged herself at one end of the long couch, leaving most of it free. Pearl sprawls herself out in that space without a hint of shame, her rangy body nestled against Cleo's stockier one, head pillowed on their thigh.
The velvet upholstery feels lovely against her bare skin. Puppies don't wear clothes. Pearl rolls around a bit in the pleasant sensation, until Cleo's hand settles on her head and stills her, taking over all of her input.
If she was fuzzy before, the gentle scritching motion scatters Pearl's thoughts like so much fluff. Her ears droop from their excited posture and her mouth lolls open in a dopey doggy smile as Cleo pets her. It crowds everything else out. Cleo's hands are no warmer than the air but the nice tingling feeling makes Pearl's skin heat up, her ears and scalp prickly and sensitive. Little zings of sensation in her head turn it empty of everything but eagerness and joy, travel down her limbs until she's squirming. It's almost too much but she's still pushing her head into Cleo's palm hard to get more of it.
Cleo cups the whole dense fluffy cone of one ear and gently squeezes it between their fingertips, working from the base all the way to the top until Pearl is whimpering. The heat is there in her belly now, and she doesn't know a lot anymore but she knows that Cleo will make it better.
Cleo knows it too, but they're going to make it just a bit worse first. Her other hand buries itself in the fur around Pearl's neck, pale brown tipped with a darker shade and bisected by the black velvet lead on her collar. They've been careful with their nails so far, but the thick ruff protects Pearl's skin and she likes it when they scratch more firmly at the base of her neck. Her tail is twitching underneath her, wanting to wag, and one leg slips off the couch at an angle.
With that motion, it's impossible for Cleo's eyes not to follow the trail of fur down between Pearl's breasts, into the dip of her belly, and between her thighs. Her sprawled position shows off her sheath, damp at the tip. It's a bit awkward to lean over like this, but their spoiled puppy is going to get just what she wants from them.
On the way down, their fingers catch the collar to give it a little tug. It doesn't tighten or command, but it's enough to capture Pearl's attention. To make her whole world center on nothing but being petted and belonging to them. Cleo holds that whole world in their hands right now, and it's still always a little bit scary, but it's thrilling as well. The demands of their body aren't urgent and can usually wait for later, but she feels the stir of it, the slight thickening of their shaft between their thighs.
Pearl's eyes drift closed, her face lax with bliss. Everywhere on her whole body is tingling with anticipation, and Cleo's touch makes those tingles swell and spread. Down the valley between her breasts, making her puffy little nipples perk up. Along her belly, which they spend a good long while petting and rubbing, until Pearl gets squirmy again. Every brush over the soft fur makes sparkles burst in her head, and a warm tightness gather lower down. Her sheath is swollen and leaking a clear steady stream.
Cleo's hand dips, covering the whole of it. Pearl lets out a startled whine, her cock is soft and tucked away but it's so sensitive, skin sliding over skin as Cleo gently squeezes. They toy with it, rolling her soft package against her belly, pulling the skin down until just her tip is exposed, dark pink and shiny. At the same time her other hand finds Pearl's ear again, thumbing the curve of it.
It's so good, so much. Pearl yips, overwhelmed with the flood of sensation, leaking a dribble of pre over Cleo's hand. They just keep going, smearing over the sticky fur, working the loose skin of her sheath up and down. One of Pearl's legs keeps kicking out. Her elbows are tucked in, hands curled up like paws, displaying herself. Cleo pets between her ears and it's like they're soothing away the last little scraps of alertness until she's just a simple, happy pet, wriggling and whining for their touch.
Pearl's thighs tremble, the muscles in her belly jumping. It builds up slowly in her, spreading out through all of her. Warm, sweet pressure that rolls over her in waves, getting impossibly better. The fur between her thighs is matted and sticky by now, and more slippery pre keeps bubbling up from her sheath every time Cleo's thumb circles the opening, just barely dipping in. Patiently working her up to it until Pearl quivers all over and mashes her head into their palm, shamelessly trying to get more of that numb fuzzy feeling of having her head petted while her climax hits her. Spoiled pet that she is, she gets all the pets she wants as it rolls over her without hurry. Slow dribbles of cum pulse out of her plump sheath with every stroke of Cleo's hands.
Pearl has forgotten all about how to make words, but she recognises the shape of Cleo's, calling her a good girl, their sweet puppy. The happiness fills up every bit of room that's left in her head as the aftershocks fade. Pearl nuzzles against Cleo's thigh in gratitude and keeps sinking into that space in her mind where everything is safe and warm and good.
Grian really can't complain about the quality of the restraints. Not a surprise, because Doc never fucks around when it comes to hardware, but this time it's on another level. They hold him so completely he can't even shift in place. He can try to fight them, can strain his entire body against the cuffs and straps, and all it gets him is the non-negotiable certainty of how very trapped he is. Installed inside a fucking machine like just another component.
And all it gets out of Doc is a low rumble of disapproval, because he isn't supposed to be moving at all.
It just goes to show the cruelty of the man. Like he isn't the one who dosed Grian with experimental potions that sent him into a feverish haze, colors smearing across his vision. It's not even that Grian set out to be a brat this time. He just really can't help himself. The steady, implacable pistoning of the toy lined up behind him is good, but in his drug-induced heat it's nowhere near enough for him. If he could, he'd be arching his back, thrusting his hips back to take it harder and deeper. Instead, all that's left to him is to beg and plead and endure Doc's gloating over his pitiful lack of self-control.
The remains of his dignity are liquefying. Dissolved by the unbearable chemical craving that burns in his bloodstream, they drip from him as sweat and drool. He doesn't miss them as he babbles and whines and debases himself eagerly for just a bit more stimulation. As he agrees that he'd do anything. His head unrestrained, he nods along dumb and desperate with every icy, judgemental word. Feeling good is all that matters. It's all he cares about.
And he can hear it the moment Doc relents, the hollow clank of the machine as it hits the next gear. Grian's vision spins. Some dim corner of his mind questions giddily if the sound is even necessary. Or if Doc put it in just because he gets a kick out of training him to respond to it. Anyway, it's working. Embarrassingly well. Grian's teeth catch his lip, toes curling in conditioned anticipation.
And it's only reinforced further as he feels every millimetre of the flexible rubber shaft expanding inside of him. The growing bulk simply makes room for itself, and his hole puts up no resistance. Soon the length of it is sliding in and out at a measured but unstoppable pace. Every thrust reaches deeper. Grian's stomach flexes as it prods a tender spot, helpless against the advance as it breaches it, opening him up. He clenches around the intrusion, the dull squirmy pressure of it, his breath forced out in huffs as his insides slowly relax and give in.
If there's something quite gentle about the way Doc's flesh and blood fingers thread through his fringe and grip it close by the roots, there's no kindness in it when his hand suddenly tightens and pulls Grian's lolling head up, sharp enough to make his eyes water.
Doc studies him for a long moment and then casually levers his mouth open, two metal fingers pressing down on his tongue. And that's all it takes. In an instant, his mouth is thoroughly claimed. Any remaining defiance collapses in a shamefully pleasurable rush. Grian's jaw and lips soften, offering no resistance. His tongue traces over the intruding digits, meek and appeasing as they explore his palate. It's all he can do to wordlessly beg mercy from the invading metal. The tears caught at the corners of his eyes swell and run down his cheeks. His insides clench around the reaming shaft, open and greedy from the flood of submission.
Another click. The animalistic quiver permeates Grian's whole body as he hears the sound. His tamed mouth impales itself on Doc's fingers with a muffled squeal of gratitude. The mechanical cock stretches him from the inside out, friction making his eyes roll back as it withdraws. Thrusting back in it bulges out his belly, the sheer uncompromising bulk of it forcing him to conform to its shape. It drags over his prostate ruthlessly until his cock twitches and leaks his submission in a steady stream, failing to get fully hard.
Most of his abstract thinking has been systematically fucked away, so it takes a moment for the meaning to sink in when Doc tells him to get ready for phase two. There's going to be more? More is possible? He's so happy.
Pipes chug. From openings along the shaft, the dildo starts pumping out potion-laced lubrication. Grian's skin flushes fever-red all over. His ears are ringing. With every heartbeat he can feel more chemically-induced lust being pushed into his brain. Patches of sparkling darkness take over his vision. His mouth is vacated and just hangs open now as he pants for breath.
None of it matters as much as getting his drugged, sloppy hole dominated by the machine. The toy grows another increment right at the apex of a thrust. The shock of it as it bulges out his belly pushes him into climax, weak spurts of seed forced out in the rhythm of the fucking he's receiving.
That breaks a dam inside him. He's nothing but a body pushed into reaction now, wrapped around the merciless girth of the toy and pounded through a series of orgasms that all start to blend together. His heartbeat speeds up. He can't stop cumming. He can't take a full breath.
A pulsing red haze is swallowing his vision but Grian can still hear the whirs and clanks of another level higher. Another hot, tingling dosage. His stomach deforms around the huge pressure, his cock spurts, his heart labours. Grian is floating above his body. He only feels the final rush of bliss hit his system, incomprehensible that anything can feel that good. Then blackout.
Clean clothes, cool sheets. He's on his back. Staring at a wall that registers slowly as Doc's bedroom. It takes longer to piece together that he's just hit respawn, and why. Grian blows out a breath. He feels fine. Respawning has cleared his system of Doc's experimental potions, of the endogenous drugs of sex and submission.
But the memories are there, and they're vivid. Of his thoughts blanketed by a drugged frenzy. His body surrendering, addicted to the massive stretch. Sucking on Doc's metal hand, an abject, mewling creature of pure need.
He misses it instantly. It hits his stomach, the kind of craving that makes him itchy.
That's when Doc sticks his head through the door in a way that can fairly be called a bit sheepish. Not that they didn't plan for this - Grian's spawn is set in his bed, after all. Hitting his limit is what he's here for. Why he offered himself up as a guinea pig in the first place. But Doc must have gotten greedy for his reaction. Impatient. He rushed through the process. Grian loves knowing he can make him lose his prized composure.
His smugness doesn't last. Doc looms over him, that implacable look settling back in place. Already plotting the next stress test. Grian feels himself go pliant. The submission floods him like a wave rushing back in. Luckily, they're far from finished.
omega Scar and alpha Grian actually makes so much sense if your brain is huge. You don't need to change anything about their bodies or personalities to make it fit. Grian may be smaller but he's protective, posturing and aggressive, and Scar loves flashing his assets and playing up his naivety with that "who, little ol' me 👉👈" act.
i mean, if you’d like, he can get super flustered about it and try to pretend he doesn’t, or he can have a huge guilt complex about his desires seemingly being at odds with his own ideal version of himself and how much he loves his partner, but at the end of the day, he’s still got one hand over his mouth to muffle his own whining as he thinks about having them in tears and begging for him to stop. true about all characters who are pure of heart, they told me so themselves
Gem should put Pearl on a leash, take her for walkies and make her piss on her own fire hydrants btw. Pearl all flustered and whining and thinking she can't do it, but the moment Gem orders her she's already squatting down and letting go. Her thoughts would just get in the way.
Grian will really take a deal knowing that it's crooked, experience the consequences of his own actions, and then whine about it. He loves doing that. It's like a drug to him.
