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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 months

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thinkin about polite gaz being... not so polite when he realizes you're attracted to him.

not like you let it slip on purpose. he only catches on because he's teasing you and flirting with you and he gets playfully physical and pins you against a wall. he does not miss the way your breath catches in your throat or the way you flush. bit submissive, aren't you?

his attitude changes instantly. he bets you he could keep you pinned right there. hell, he bets he could pick you up, toss you over his shoulder if he wanted to. when you ask him (a bit too breathlessly) if he'd really do that, he smirks at you and says there are plenty of reasons he might have to pick you up. makes it easier to show you who's boss, yeah?

your face gets so hot you think you might actually pass out. you fucking bottom.

he leans in, getting closer this time so you can't shy away; you have no choice but to hear him clearly. "you think you could handle being thrown around?"

if it killed you, you would die happy.

"how about i just throw you into bed instead?"

please, you squeak out.

his eyes gleam and he chuckles. "say please again and it'll be the floor."

nsfw ↓

he's not kidding about being able to pick you up either. or throw you. the moment he has a chance, he's definitely getting you into bed. and he's definitely enjoying how you squirm.

can i ask a favor of you? he asks, so politely, like he's not literally on top of you, pinning you down.

literally anything. you would do literally anything he asks.

"say please again. for me."

you stutter.

"you asked quite nicely for me to throw you. so if i ask, would you beg nicely for me to do other things?"

oh god. oh god. you're glad you're laying down, because you're sure your knees would give out if you were standing up.

when your brain reboots, you stumble over yourself to say yes, absolutely, please kiss me, please tear my clothes off, please hold me down and have your way with me--

god, he really likes that look on your face. he is really going to enjoy you.

"you really are an excitable little thing, aren't you?" he says, smirk widening as his hand traces along your hip.

is that bad? you ask him.

"it's really hot. almost makes me feel bad for everything i want to do to you."

no, please, don't feel bad, you tell him. you immediately shift, trying to press yourself up against his body. you want him to use you for everything he wants. everything.

"so eager. can't wait, can you?"

no, you can't. you'll die if you have to wait. you try and fail to reign yourself in and be so fucking needy. you fumble with the buttons on your shirt, undoing them one by one, impatient and frustrated. he just smirks at you, letting you get yourself all worked up. just leans back and watches you, enjoying the sight.

when your mind catches up with what your hands are doing, you stall out on the last button. then, finally, he gives in and reaches forward to unhook it himself. then he yanks the whole shirt out of the way.

"good girl. god, you're cute when you're so red like that. you're really into this, aren't you?" his voice is sultry as his caress moves down to the button on your jeans. really just takes his damn time, enjoying how the slower he goes, the more desperate for him you get. but the way your hips twitch when he lays his hands on them has him fighting demons.

"that's it. keep moving. keep squirming." his voice is low and slow--he's trying to keep himself under control as much as you are. he wants so badly to grab your hips and just fucking rail you into the mattress, but it's more rewarding to be patient. how's he going to hear more of those sounds, see more of your desperate ploys to get under him, if it's all over right away?

obviously you have no such reservation. the moment he has your jeans unbuttoned, you're wiggling out of them and flipping onto your stomach, pushing your ass up in the air and fucking presenting yourself to him. please, you beg him, losing your goddamn mind, you can't take it anymore. can't he just...?

gaz damn near short-circuits at the image of you with your ass in the air. he barely manages to stop himself and weigh whether he should deny you a little bit more to heighten the anticipation.

fuck it. he can torment you more after he's inside you. multitasking.

you squeak in delight when he plants his hands between your shoulder blades and pushes your top half into the mattress, dragging your hips up toward his. he pushes you down, fitting his body over yours and putting his mouth next to your ear. he whispers right in your ear. "say please again."

please, please, please, you'll do anything, you tell him, wiggling your hips at him.

and he plans to take you up on that offer.

he leans in close, his breath warm on your skin. "good girl, he tells you. obedient girl."

you've never wanted to be under someone so badly.

your easy submission has him grinning. "are you a good girl all the time or just for me?"

for you, you mumble, hot with shame.

he pulls himself back even more and puts a knee on each side of you, pushing your legs apart. it gives you a shot of dopamine so intense you almost can't keep your ass up.

"are you being good right now?"

you could be better for him, you tell him, so much better.

he likes the sound of that. it's getting hard to think, having your legs open and right there and he's trying to hold himself back but who wouldn't fall for the temptation he's experiencing right now? "how much better?"

you tell him you could please him more if you knew what he liked, if you could focus on him, if you didn't need more right now, if you didn't need him inside you so bad. your hips twitch again as you ramble, almost mindless.

"i like it when you speak so earnestly," he tells you.

that approval sends another shot of dopamine through you, and your hips buck against nothing. he hasn't even touched you there and you feel like you could finish any moment just from his voice. you're gonna die if you can't have him right now.

he's breathing heavier now, eyes fixed on your opening. his voice almost wavers, heavy with implication. "how bad do you need me, darling?"

you start to dissolve into begging again--god dammit, he said he wanted you to beg and he's not even doing what you want, what you're begging for--and he interrupts. "you're going to ask properly first."

of course he's gonna make you fucking say it.

you beg and plead in every way you know how, promising every debased act you can think of. when his fingers finally press up against your heat--a teasingly light brush at first, and then a firm press--you dissolve into a mess of broken cries and pleas for him to keep going.

obviously he keeps talking to you in that low, sultry voice, telling you what an impatient little thing you are. chastising you. just another way to flex a little more power over you, and you're so weak for it. and then for that, he praises you.

"such a good girl," he tells you. "you want more?"

you open your mouth to say yes, you want everything, but then he presses his fingers in just the slightest bit, fingertips splitting you the slightest bit, and all you can do is keen. you rock your hips back into him desperately, sliding his fingers into you, and something in you snaps. you tip over the edge. oxytocin floods through you, your legs lock up, and shameless sounds fall from your lips. gaz's breath catches as you finish. then he grins.

gaz pulls you up to him fully and lies down above you. kisses you on the mouth and then trails his mouth down your jaw to your ear. "that was perfect," he says, breathless, and unashamedly horny about the fact that you just came on the second knuckles of two fingers.

you stare at him in muted shock yourself. you can't believe you just... you really just came like that? what's wrong with you?

"how about this," he says in a low, smooth voice. "since you were good, why don't you lay back down and let me fuck you properly?" he lifts your legs off the bed and raises your hips toward him. "let me do everything i want to you."

you swallow and nod, not trusting yourself to speak without squeaking.

"good girl." this time there's no hint of teasing. his eyes are hungry. "let your man take care of you."

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Gaz / masterlist tag

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zhxngii · 6 months

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I need to talk about this bc of some art i saw. i know i might've mentioned this before (idk?) but omggg

⎯⎯ 𒁍 Having a man on his knees before you as you sit there before him in such a pretty little outfit paired with some nice heels. He sits there with pink-tinted cheeks, looking almost embarrassed as he realizes just how hard he's become while in this position, a whine coming from his throat once you give the leash a small tug, lifting his chin with the tip of your heel afterward for him to look at you.

Oh, the look in his eyes like he just wants to eat you up already, wants to follow every order you give him. Will gladly sit there through your teasing antics, might just get desperate and beg for you to give it to him already but he's enjoying it so much with how turned on he is right now.

The satisfied moan coming from his lips once you finally hover over him and sink your wet cunt onto his cock. The way he'll pant and tug at the restraints around his wrists behind his back, leaving him no choice but to just sit there and take your slow pace. How badly, terribly how he wants you to go faster, trying his utmost best to keep still and not thrust up into you because of how good you feel.

Kaeya, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Childe, Diluc, Zhongli, Itto, Jing Yuan, Welt Yang, Gepard, Blade, Sampo, Dan heng. + your f/os.

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trying-harder-then-u · 1 month

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Philip wasn't used to all the stares he was getting from his workers; for god's sake, he was the CEO, and they should be paying respect to him, but instead all the builders to whom he paid the salary just stared in confusion and pity at the tall man in his suit guiding the investors around the construction site.

His black suit, thin build, and clean-shaven appearance drew a harsh contrast to the men that watched. The bored faces of the investors showed that they were just as interested in this as he was, so it was a respite when he managed to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

Stumbling along, dirt and dust caking his boots, he finally ran into the manager of the property, a bulky man with a short fuse. "Where is the bathroom?" he inquired, only greeted by a judging glance as he stared down. "It's employee only; the public bathroom is a block away." Philip was shocked by the never-ending argument, but he made a mental note to find some recourse for the attitude. He picked his way through the clogged city blocks, finally coming to the public bathrooms.

As he walked into the graffiti-covered stall, he felt his disgust build as he saw a strange liquid covering not just the floor but the bathrooms and walls as well. and judging from the smell, he could tell where this liquid came from. Knowing that he didn't have time to waste, he quickly rolled up toilet paper and wiped down the seat of the toilet. After a few seconds, he went to chuck it when he stepped into a large puddle of cum, glaring at the gunk stuck on his heel. Using the wall to support him as he tried to scrape it off, he only managed to get it on his clothes before finally feeling more drip from the roof on top of his bald head.

Now thoroughly disgusted, he went to leave but found he couldn't; he seemed to be...

rooted to the spot? Phillip's whole body began to shiver as his eyes moved rapidly in his sockets. The shivering began to localize on his legs as a cracking sound filled the air. Did the door seem to grow bigger and bigger, or was he getting smaller? He remembered from the view that his height had gone from 6 feet 3 to 5 feet 6. His mind kept screaming as his body tingled, his thin arms tingled, and he began to thicken along with his legs, a small gut growing out.

His pale skin soon would change too as his skin darkened and tanned, matching that of his many workers. changed rapidly now, his once clean, shaven body growing hair all over and his slightly below-average "tool" shrinking a few inches. Finally able to leave, he felt his head fuzz as if his thoughts were being yelled at him through glass, but he did begin to panic when he didn't return to his investors but rather to the man. "Where have you been?" Phillip thought he was yelling; he couldn't hear anything, though. Looking down, his clothes also changed to a plain tee and some shorts; he truly looked just like a worker now.

The next 5 hours, his body went on autopilot, working harder than his old body ever had, but when the work day finally ended, he kept walking to a house he had never seen, climbing stairs after stairs before finally coming to a door that reeked of cum and sweat. Opening in, he saw a young Latino man, no pants, and busy playing some kind of video game. He somehow knew that this was the man whose cum had covered the bathroom that had caused all this.

glancing over the man—his boyfriend? No, that can't be. He was married, and his thoughts were getting harder. Mmm, Phillipe could see the bulge in the other man's underwear, and the other man obviously could see Phillipe's eyes. "Why don't you come help Daddy out, baby?" excitedly he moved forward and began stripping his BF. "That's it, ik you liked the stuff you found in the bathroom you slut, come get some from the source" as he greedily sucked away his memories. Natural, his Spanish accent? attractive to the ladies, not like he needs it with his boyfriend around. His memories shifted fully, and Philip was gone. He was Philip, a Mexican immigrant working hard so his hot boyfriend could play games. His life was difficult with working and then doing all the chores, but at least he got some good dick. and not a person would miss who he was...

#straight to gay #personality change #mental changes #top to bottom #racial change #gay tf #race change #male transformation #dom to sub #cock shrink

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houseswife · 4 months

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one of my favourite things that the house md writers ever did was balancing out the overwhelming Heterosexuality™ of huddy’s getting-together episode by adding in whatever the fuck you call this

#wilson staring directly at house’s dick will never not crack me tf up #this was some of the most pointless faggotry they have ever employed #they were like yeah house has a girlfriend now. here’s some weird kinky homo imagery #also I’m not gonna lie season 7 had the dom wilson agenda fighting for its life #I guess that was his punishment for letting cuddy cuck him this bad 😞😞#house md #greg house #gregory house #hilson #house/wilson #james wilson #hatecrimes md

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butch-patriarchy · 3 months

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You forcemasc the tomboys so that you have brothers in arms and you forcemasc the femmes so you have boy toys to force fuck.

#ftm dom #ftm nsft #trans supremacy #butch patriarchy #forcemasc #forced masculinization #trans nsft #trans cnc #cnc cw #butch nsft #butch/femme nsft #ftm tf #mlm nsft #nblm nsft #nblnb nsft

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ultram0th · 6 months

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31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 30: Daddy

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27 │ 28 │ 29 │ 30

Derek didn’t like being called “Daddy”.

The werewolf bristled whenever his boyfriend, Stiles, would call him it during sex, but would try to brush it off. It wasn’t because of anything too bad, really. Derek just associated the name with being old. When he’d admitted his dislike of the word to Stiles, Stiles understood, but there was a clear disappointment on his face.

At first, Stiles accepted it and opted to call Derek “Daddy” in his head, yet after one day of looking through one of Peter’s magic books he got a mischievous idea…

Derek came home from work, his muscles feeling slightly achy from a long day at the auto shop. A dazed smile was on his face as he smelt whatever delicious thing Stiles was cooking in the kitchen, mingled with some random incense that was burning throughout the house.

“Hey Stiles,” Derek said as he walked into the kitchen, hugging his boyfriend from behind.

Stiles smiled back, “Oh hey there,” he greeted back, a playful tone evident in his voice. “Did you have a good day at work… Daddy?”

Instead of cringing like usual, Derek was surprised when he felt his cock immediately rocket to life. His seven inches went full mast the mere second he’d heard Stiles call him “Daddy”, even feeling goosebumps erupt all over his body as he shuddered with unfamiliar pleasure.

“Um, y-yeah,” Derek stammered, his cock throbbing with intense need. He was confused over how turned on he was, but that curiosity rapidly disappeared and his face broke out into a playful smirk. Of course Stiles called him “Daddy”, as he frequently did in the bedroom.

Derek tightened his grip on his boyfriend and playfully rutted his hard cock against his butt.

Stiles pushed back into it. “Oh,” he grinned, “I guess you’re feeling a little frisky, huh… Daddy?”

Derek tensed up as his cock throbbed even more, twitching and leaking precum into his boxers. He felt so tortuously horny, licking his beard-framed lips with want…

Derek cocked his eyebrow and reached upwards with one hand, running it over his previously smooth face. The lower half of his face was covered with a thick, black beard that felt so large that it would’ve taken a few months to grow. It wasn’t Santa big, yet it was big enough to where it went past the typical gymbro beard and bordered Daddy-territory.

“Hey, Stiles, do I…?” Derek’s voice trailed off as he was about to ask Stiles if he looked different, feeling silly all of a sudden.

Of course Derek had a beard. He’d begun growing one the year he and Stiles had started dating, loving the way his beard tickled his boyfriend’s neck as he’d hungrily suck on it. Plus, he loved the way Stiles would shudder as his beard rubbed the inside of his thighs as he sucked him off, making sure he was a good daddy by taking care of his boy’s needs.

Stiles turned around and looked up at Derek with wide, admiring eyes. “What?” he asked.

Derek blushed a little and scratched at his beard. “Nothin’” he shrugged, “just having a weird day, I guess.”

Stiles mock frowned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Well, why don’t you change out of your work clothes, and I’ll finish getting dinner ready… Daddy.”

Derek bit down on his lip as his cock surged once more, feeling as if he was about to explode right there. “Y-yeah,” he panted, jerking back at the sound of his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Be right back.”

As he walked upstairs to their bedroom, Derek could’ve sworn that his voice sounded deeper. It wasn’t exaggeratedly deeper, but the baritone resonated a lot more and there was a more mature quality to it, almost manlier.

The werewolf kept puzzling over it as he entered his and Stiles’s bedroom and began to take off his grease-stained work clothes. As he shucked his pants, his hard cock bobbed wildly in front of him, and he was on the fence between taking care of it real quick and rushing downstairs to ask Stiles to handle it.

Snickering, he opted for the latter and made a move towards the door, clad only in boxers, when he stopped in front of the mirror and gasped loudly.

Derek leaned in even closer to his altered reflection in disbelief, marveling at the array of grays that peppered his hair and beard. As he ran a shaky hand through his salt-and-pepper colored hair, Derek finally noticed the new lines that were near his eyes, indicating the slight beginnings of crows feet.

His heart raced in his chest as he looked like he was much older than he should’ve been, however, his cock throbbed once more and his fear evaporated into thin air.

“What a day,” Derek sighed, rubbing his mature face with his hands. Of course he looked a bit older for his age. He was a total daddy after all, and having a boyish face wouldn’t play into that role.

Shaking his head at his dazed feeling, Derek went back downstairs, his tented boxers out in front of himself.

When he entered the kitchen, Stiles’s grin grew even wider as he looked his boyfriend up and down. “If you need some help with that, you gotta give me a second because this is boiling,” he said, gesturing at the pot on the stove. “But it shouldn’t take too long… Daddy.”

Derek grunted as his cock spasmed again, a large wet mark starting to form on the front of his tented boxers from his precum drooling out his hard member. He put on a coy smile of his own, crossing his arms in front of his hairy chest. “Well, you better make it quick, ‘cause Daddy’s getting impatient,” he grunted.

Again, Derek felt like something was off as he looked down at his hairy chest. The older hunk could’ve sworn that his chest was naturally smooth and typically devoid of any hair, but that thought was quickly proven wrong as he stared down at his hairy pecs and stomach. In fact, his whole body seemed to be covered in coarse, black hair. It covered his strong arms, thick legs, and even disappeared into his tented out boxers.

Derek snorted at himself. Of course he was hairy, and he’d always melted at the sensation of Stiles running his fingers through his thick chest hair. He just chalked up his foggy brain to his insane horniness that he felt, his cock aching for his boyfriend to touch.

Derek squirmed in place, his cock twitching madly as Stiles finished up at the stove. Once the burner was turned off, Derek couldn’t contain himself anymore and eagerly rushed forward, easily tossing the smaller guy over his shoulder as he stomped towards the couch.

Stiles laughed. “Damn, I guess you’re really frisky,” he giggled, “…Daddy.”

“Hnng,” Derek bellowed as his cock leaked even more precum, his thudding footsteps sounding heavier and much louder than normal.

For the millionth time that hour, Derek scrunched up his face in confusion as he lumbered towards the couch. The way his thighs rolled over each other as he waddled felt wrong to him. Whereas Stiles felt lighter in his hold for some reason, Derek felt as if his own chest was much heavier than it should’ve been. He glanced downward at his hairy pecs, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull at the way his bulbous pecs jutted out in front of him, having ballooned to such a large size. They blocked the view of anything south, forcing Derek to stare at his hairy mounds and the tips of his nubby nipples. He blushed as he felt a foreign jiggling at his gut, and upon glancing at his blurry reflection in the TV, he could make out a large, hairy musclegut that his large pectorals rested upon. His boxers had magically disappeared, and the werewolf nearly sputtered at his massive ten inch monster cock that bobbed in front of him. Even his hairy butt had bubbled out, jutting out from his broadened back at a large angle. To finalize his growth, Derek’s arms had doubled in muscle, explaining away at how Stiles felt lighter.

It was hard to deny it now, as Derek stared at his altered reflection. The large muscled up, hairy older man who stared back at him from the TV’s glare. He finally pieced together what was happening: Derek was turning into a total daddy.

And he loved it.

As shocked as he was, Derek’s panic was quickly replaced with lust as he flexed his free arm with power, loving how big and manly it looked. He knew deep down that Stiles had somehow played a hand in this, and he loved him even more for it. Mental images of the two of them out in public, Derek completely dwarfing his smaller boyfriend who called him “Daddy” for all to hear filled him a giddy excitement, and he couldn’t wait to have Stiles run his fingers through his chest hair.

Derek tossed Stiles down onto the couch and loomed over him, smirking hungrily down at him. He couldn’t resist leaning forward and flexing his beefy, hairy muscles. “Who’s your daddy?” he bellowed in his deeper voice.

Stiles could only grin back up at him in anticipation before lowly whispering, “You… Daddy.”

“Uuughh!” Derek grunted as he came, loving how his bulky muscles bounced as his cock erupted, shooting his fat load up onto his hairy pecs. He knew deep down that he’d just cemented his transformation into a muscle daddy, but the second he looked down at his boyfriend, his enlarged cock shot straight back to life, and he pounced, forcing Stiles to take care of his daddy all night long.

#31 days of derek hale #tyler hoechlin #Sterek #stiles stilinski #Teen Wolf #Age Progression #Daddy #Daddification #Daddy TF #Muscle #musclegrowth #Pecs #Hairy #Cockgrowth #Dom Daddy #derek hale

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rakurairagnarok · 6 months

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Hi there! I'm heading to the U.A.E. from America in a few days and I'm quite anxious. I was wondering if there was any clothing at Rakurai Inc which would help me fit in better with the locals and boost my confidence and assertiveness?

Glad you got in touch! We have exactly what you have been looking for!!

You found a package when you got home from work. It was a completely blank box except for a small sticker reading Rakurai Inc.

You open it up to find a slick looking headset in it, with some arabic inscriptions on it. You look around the box, but can't find anything on how it works. It doesn't seem to have a jack in it nor any way for you to connect it to your phone with bluetooth so you decide to put it on.

Immediately it starts to play a tape.

"Learning module activated. Scanning for necessary courses"

Suddenly a weird humming begins to drone in your ears. Along with it certain arabic sounding phrases started playing in your head. The first few times you couldn't understand any of it, but suddenly you understood most of it.

"Big, strong, fertile"

Images of big strong arabic men appear in your head. You stumble a bit as your sense of balance was thrown off. You look down and see the legs of your pants have gone up your legs. You watch it with facination as the headset continues.

"Large, Leader, Rich"

Your head begins to spin again and you can barely get yourself on the couch.

You look down to see your pants tight on your legs, almost painted on. You see your bulge growing in your pants, and with it waves of pleasure start spreading through your body.

The tape speeds up, a larger variety of phrases being pushed into your brain, while your mind fogs over due to the pleasure.

"Plump, handsome, regal"

"In charge, charismatic, addictive"

"Cultured, gorgeous, playfull"

Your body keeps growing. Bisceps exploding through the fabric of your shirt, while your pecs are involuntarily bouncing. Your waist snaps, slimming down while your abs flex and push to the surface. Your back widens, shoulders rounding out. Your growing cock starts leaking, before bursting free from the confines of your pants. Your moans echo through your appartment, a previously unknown amount of pleasure radiating through your body.

Your hands explore your growing body.

"Wanted, desired, needed"

"Hungry, hungry, hungry"

You are hungry. A primal hunger that you couldn't satiate here. You need ... you want to be...

"Topped, fucked, bred"

Yes... your mind racing, you want cock, you need it, but you are in charge.

Your ass growing, you feel your hole pucker. It tenses, and releases. You know. You don't get fucked. You fuck. You aren't just a bottom. You drain your partners. They aren't penetrating you, you allow them to enter you, for them to experience the best moment of their lives.

"In charge, draining, dominant"

A grin appears on your face, a face that has been perfected due to your new toy. Sharp jaw, perfectly trimmed beard. Plump lips to get their tool ready.

You make them desperate for more. You got loads of different "tops" on speed dial. They say they're a top, but they are actually too afraid to take it, but you're much better.

You take of your headphones and look around your room. It's a penthouse in one of the most expensive buildings in the U.A.E. which had been gifted to you by one of your clients. You look at your phone and see a few notifications telling you of the massive amount of money you have made from your previous night out.

You smile, life is good.

I hope you enjoyed our trial edition language learning headphones!!! As seen in the picture they are state of the art and can be modified to fit any needs. Be aware some side effects may occur, cultural switch, sluttyness, or iq loss are some of the most common. Please continue your patronage with Rakurai Inc.

#transformation #male muscle growth #rakurai #gay tf #male transformation #race change #arabic #power bottom #dom bottom

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fredwkong · 4 months

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Hi, there's this Filipino guy on campus who I'm really interested in. He's got those big muscles and not exactly the smartest guy. I wanna ask him out, but he's only ever dated other Southeast Asian men, and I'm just your typical white twink. Could you please help me out, Genie?

“I wish he liked me,” you whisper, watching the Filipino hunk from across the quad.

“Then do I have the product for you,” crows a genie dressed like he’s on his way to a business meeting. “Just apply this lust patch and you’ll become the perfect guy to nail him down.”

You take what looks like a nicotine patch from the genie. It looks shockingly dark against your pale skin. Picturing your boy in your mind, imagining every inch of his big hairy muscles, you stick the patch to your skinny bicep.

Immediately, it seems to sink into your skin, the deep brown colour spreading up your arm as your muscles spasm and grow. Your hand flexes, the fingers thickening and turning leathery with calluses. A tattoo swirls into existence on your growing delt as the colour licks up your neck. You feel your jawline crack and sharpen, then your nose grows, your eyes darken, your brow lowers. Your hair turns black as your mind is overwhelmed.

Your thoughts are suddenly in Tagalog. You stand up and swagger through crowds of students until you’re standing in front of your target. He looks up at you, and you can see the submission in his eyes. Who’d have thought that the way to get this horndog to settle down was to be an even more dominant Filipino?

Of course, along with the masculinity, your new bitch’s perfect man is even dumber and more promiscuous than him. It’ll be hard for you to keep up with your classes between fucking your way through the football team.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

#male transformation #mental change #answered ask #muscle tf #male tf #dumber tf #race change #wish granted #genie #asian tf #filipino tf #dom tf #all fwkong

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iikoru · 1 year

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super late to the fandom but it's better late than never 😎👌

#megzag #hades #hades fanart #zagreus #megaera #zagreus x megaera #I bought it during a sale and holy shit its been eating at my brain 24/7 #im such a sucker for f/m ships where the f doms like OUGHH it makes me JELLy #i WILL be drawing more of these two for self indulgent reasons #sorry to people who followed me for smth else but i only rlly ever draw whatever tf my brain wants #sketch

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luveternals · 5 months

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paring: TF141 x male reader. rating: mature, MDNI. cw: (heavy stuff guys, I think) violence, death, implied suicide, failed suicide attempt, implied temporary death, morally grey reader, insanity, immortality, not a poly (lol too possessive irl for it, sorry). this story is... mostly just angst and mainly not finished (meaning possible serie? Idk). a/n: took me an eternity bc I didn't know who to write for... nice. Anyway, status update for steven grant x reader is scheduled for next week(Nov 30th). y'all went mad for it while I said I wasn't sure about it! lmao (psst, I approve) ~ ~ ~

When all sensations and feelings get ripped away from you, you realize that the wait is worse than pain.

And it grows more and more unbearable the longer years go by.

Wander the city without destination. Expect that cursed urge that comes yanking at your insides and guiding your body like a puppet. Never be sure when it'll come, but know that it will. At the start, it was nothing but a growing emptiness carving itself deep inside you, but now it’s become an insatiable hunger that never seems to leave you alone.

And when that urge eventually comes, it's worse than the wait.

The knowledge that you are finally about to fill the emptiness as you follow whatever it is that it’s tagging you along. The realization that you are nothing but a selfish bastard who is letting his greed guide his very being.

All at the simple price of a stole life.

You stand on the edge of the roof and peer into the streets below.

The longer you wait the more you feel like you’re fading away, and the deeper the hunger grows. And so here you are, jumping over the edge and glading down through the air like a leaf falling off a tree. Your feet brush against the pavement without a sound as you land at the mouth of the alley, the breeze blowing louder than your presence.

Deep into the alley, a man presses his back against the farthest wall, terror blurring his gaze as he grits his teeth. One of his arms hangs limply against his side while the other presses against his stomach over the nasty slash sipping blood into the fabric of his tunic. His eyes jump from the approaching thugs blocking every escape to the sword he’s lost somewhere near the entrance of the alley. It lays at your feet, useless.

The stench of death grows stronger the larger the stain of dripping blood grows under him. You creep closer, waiting.

“Sorry, pal,” one of the attackers says, a nasty grin tagging at his lips, “it’s you or us, y’know. Gunna be luckier next time, ay?” he raises both his arms over his head and brings his sword down onto his victim wih a final ‘whoosh’.

Blood splatters into the wall and the thieves are onto the body before it can even fall onto the ground, ripping at its belongings like vultures. It takes them less than a minute and soon they dart out of the alley cackling and whooping.

You stand over the body, staring at the despair frozen into its expression for what seems an eternity. Then you crouch down and lower yourself over it. A shriek cuts through the air but you are too far gone to care for it. Your body feels heavier as your soul sinks lower, bones and flesh latch into your very being. You let yourself go, ignoring all sounds that break the still silence surrounding you and all voices that echoe inside your head.

What if this is another failure? What if this is actually not possible?

You try to open your —his— eyes, but the lids are heavy and when you finally do open them, your vision is blurred. There is someone staring down at you, their hand slapping at your face to keep you awake. “—hear me? Help is on the way, but you need to stay awake.” Their voice is muffled, as if trying to talk to you through water, but their concern is palpable even for your half-conscious brain.

You grin at them.

You did it.

You’re alive!

They've gotten good at it, you'll give them that. It hasn't been a month yet and they've already found you.

Granted, it's gotten challenging to stay hidden for longer than a few weeks before your needs start to mess with your head.

You're running, slipping through the crowd with delirious laughter. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you watch the helicopter follow your every move.

You won't be able to hide. You're trapped, and they know.

You shove a man out of your way, jump over the railing and land on the sidewalk below with a roll.

They've blocked the traffic and redirected it to keep any car or vehicle from running your way.

“They're learning,” you grin and glance over your shoulder, making sure they can see your expression. “Let's see how much, though.”

You push forward and rush your way to the other side of the road to the railing of the bridge. It's a fall of over fifty meters. This body will not survive the impact with the water below.

You're at the railing when something stabs into your side and an electric current sends your senses to overdrive.

You wake up hurting. And it's one of the most intense pain you've experienced so far. But before you can scream at it, numbness spreads through your body, and all your senses grow muddled.

You can't move. You can't feel. Only see and hear, though even those are muffled.

It reminds you how it is to not have a body and not be able to do anything about it.

It's worse than the pain.

The second time you wake, you're sitting in a chair, head hanging and limbs restrained with more chain than it's probably strictly necessary.

The numbness is gone and you let yourself let out the softest sigh of relief.

There's a camera blinking at you from a corner of the ceiling and you let a smirk cut through your expression. It's sharper, meaner than you usually would give your hunters. But the memory of numbness they put you through sends phantom tingles to the end of your fingertips, and you can't find it in yourself to be anything but nasty right now.

There's an ugly, useless table made of metal before you, and you don't even stop yourself from rolling your eyes at it.

Right. At least they're not some mad scientist cutting you open to study how you work. Not that they'd find anything useful really.

The door past the table opens and your captures finally make their entrance.

“Is this how you make friends?” you says, leaning back into a lazy slump, despite the restraints, to stare at them as they move deeper into the room. “You electrocute them and tie them up with a nice, little steel ribbon?”

They're all wearing full masks (skulls, how fitting) and gear, covering most of their features besides the more obvious. Their height and the like.

It doesn't bother you. You're not here to familiarize with them, but it would have been nice to see the faces of those who've finally managed to catch you and lock you up.

“Have you no shame?” one of them says, but his tone doesn't betray his true emotions. He sits on the chair opposite yours and folds his hands in front of him, resting his arms onto the table.

There's four of them, the ramain three spread around the tiny room. Standing by the door or looming over your shoulder like a creep.

“You steal the faces of others and make whatever you want of their lives.”

“So? They are dead. Like it or not, they won't miss their lives since they'd already found a new one on the other side.”

There's nothing to hide here. They're simply trying to guilt trip you. Everyone knows what you are, and the world has been alerted about your existance. It's just that they've never managed to catch you.

What you do might be cruel to some. But to you, it's the only option you have to live.

Your 'victims' — as everyone so loves to call them — are already dead by the time your soul replaces theirs. You have never killed anyone but yourself and consequentially their empty body. But you have never taken the live of another to make it yourself with your own hands.

All you are doing is trying to keep your head above a water that is a life with no ability to feel. Sensations and emotions both. All you are doing is keeping from losing yourself to madness.

Is it too much to ask?

“They might be dead. But you're hurting those you love and care for them.” the man says, “dying isn't the problem. You are not the one hurting. Those who you leave behind, they are the ones to really suffer.”

The words are like a sword through the heart, sharp and incessantly slow as it sinks in. You hang your head and grit your teeth. “Shut up.”

Laughter echoes into your ears.

“Shut up!” the chains rattle and strain when you throw yourself forward. They leave angry bruises on your skin.

“This is not the end,” he smiles and cups your face, his frail, trembling hands passing through your cheeks as he forgets himself. “this— you'll find a way when you're ready. And I'll see you on the other side.”

~ ~ ~ reblog, comment and/or follow if you like what I write. please and thank you. without feedback I don't have a reason for keeping this blog alive, since I created it so I can practice my writing.

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 month

Text

11 / 2476 words / sequel to falling into bed with impolite soft dom gaz

...

The next morning, when you wake up, there's a feeling of dread in your chest. You can't believe you did what you did last night. You can't believe who you did it with. The things you said to each other. Was it too much? Were you too much?

Gaz is already awake, laying face-up with one arm folded behind his head. He seems to be thinking about something. Not a good sign. You mentally prepare yourself. He turns toward you slowly, lifting his head so he's looking over the top of your body. "Good morning, darling."

You swallow, your gaze pulled down to his arms, his chest, his abs, and lower.

"Hi. Um." You drag a hand over your hair, sure it's messy. Sure you just look like a mess in general. "So last night..."

His smile falters. "Yeah... last night was..." He shifts until he's leaning on his elbow so that you two are looking directly at each other. "It was really good."

Your heart skips. "It was?"

"Too good," he says, a playful note creeping into his voice. "You were way too good. You might be in trouble." He smiles at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze.

Your face heats up at his smile. Oh no, oh no. "I... I think this isn't how this is supposed to go. You're supposed to awkwardly offer to make me coffee but lowkey tell me to leave."

"Nah. I think I'll keep you around for a bit. I like you." His eyes are a little soft and a little wicked as he says it. "The way you were so eager to, to..." His voice trails off. He clears his throat and leans slightly away from you. "You're a... unique breed of woman."

You try and fail not to squirm under his gaze. "You brought out some things in me last night. I said a lot of things."

"Yeah, you really did. I don't think I've ever heard anything like it, to be honest. Made me feel like a king." There's a pause. Neither of you say anything. He's watching you, his eyes raking over every inch of your body. "You're my kind of woman."

Your heart beats even faster, and you have to look away as your cheeks go pink. You bury your face back into your (his) pillow with a groan. "Just tell me to leave. Please. At least then I know what to do."

He looks surprised, his voice growing gentle again. "Why would you feel better if I told you to leave?"

You smush your face more firmly into the pillow. "Cause... then I feel like you're being honest about it instead of being polite."

"Ah, I see. So I shouldn't be polite to you?" He leans a little closer to you. "Do you want me to be brutally honest, then?"

You peek at him and nod, face still red.

His look softens. He leans himself over you so that you have to look directly into his eyes. "I'll drag you back in the moment you try to leave."

You stare at him, struck dumb. He has no idea how dangerous he is. That smile, those muscles, that voice, and that personality... Christ.

You sigh into the pillow, feeling hot and fluttery and weak. "You promise?" you croak.

"I promise." His eyes flicker down to your lips, and he leans a little closer still, his voice low and husky. "I promise to ruin you. And if you don't listen, I'll tie you up again to make sure you stay put."

The way he says it... his voice dips into the same commanding tone it did last night, and your body responds immediately. You squeeze your thighs together under the covers. Another wave of heat passes over you, dizzying. "I... see."

"I'm glad you understand. And do you agree?"

"I, ah... if that's not too much. If I'm not too much."

"Are you too much for me? Is that what you're saying?"

You look away. "Sometimes I get carried away about everything and I've been told it's too much."

"Are you telling me I'm not man enough to handle you?"

"No!" you squeak. "You're man enough! Please handle me."

"Then don't ever tell me your needs are too much for me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," you say quickly.

"Good girl." He smirks. "I'll never let you forget that it's my duty to give you exactly what you need." His voice drops again, barely above a whisper. "I'm not planning on letting you leave, and that's all there is to it. Do you have any issues with that?"

You practically swoon. "None, sir."

"Good, good." His voice softens again, fraying into a tease. "That means you're all mine, then. I own every inch of you until you say otherwise."

"Until I say?" you ask.

"Until you safe-word," he says. "Any hint that you want me to stop, and I will. Until then, you're all mine."

"I don't really know how that works," you admit. "I've never had a safe word before."

"It's whatever word you pick. If you say it, I'll stop whatever I'm doing and check in. It's basically a hard stop."

"Stupid question, but, um, why would I ever want you to stop?"

He grins in pure, debauched amusement, his chest momentarily swelling with pride at himself for making you say that. Then he collects himself. "Sometimes these things can hurt and you might want them to stop. Some people might get tired and need a break. You don't have to say it unless you really want to. But you do have to remember it," he adds, voice playfully stern.

You grip your pillow for a moment as memories from last night distract you. "Whatever you want it to be, I guess?"

"Then here's what it's going to be," he says in a firm tone. He's still close to you, leaning on his elbow so his face is right next to yours. "We're going proper old-school with yours. Your safe word will be 'red'. So if you tell me 'red,' I'll instantly stop whatever I'm doing and check on you. Fair?"

"Yes," you say immediately. At his amused look, you flush and scramble to repeat it. "The safe word is red. I don't have to use it, but I can if I need you to check in. Got it."

“Good girl.” He says, the amusement still in his voice. “It’s your responsibility to make sure you know it properly. Remember it. Can you repeat it one more time, just so I know you remember?”

"Red." You already get a little shot of dopamine just from doing what he asks.

He can't help but smile, which he makes no effort to hide. “Good girl.” His nose is almost touching yours as he says it, and he looks very close to kissing you. His voice is low. "I want you to forget this whole act of srhinking yourself down and pretending you don't have needs," he purrs, "and just let yourself have what I want to give you. No more playing it cool with me. Okay, sweetheart?"

A little bit of embarrassment picks at you. "Oh, um, was I being cool? Could you tell?"

“You're not fooling me, darling. I can see straight through that little front you put up. You’re not going to get anywhere by trying to make me think you're too demure to have impure thoughts.” At your abashed look, he smirks. "Just embrace your natural state, yeah?"

"My natural state being...?" You know you're fishing here, but you can't help it.

"A sweet, needy little submissive who wants to be taken care of." His smirk grows ever wider as he continues. "Who needs me to pick her up and throw her into bed, hold her down, and have my way with her. You can enjoy that. It's only the two of us here, darling."

You practically melt into the bed at his words. "You don't think that's unfair? If you're doing all the work and I'm just... enjoying it? What could you possibly be getting out of it?"

"Control." His voice is still that low, quiet murmur, and he's still so close to you. "The control you give me by being so completely and utterly vulnerable and exposed. You have no idea how many men would kill to..." He takes a deep breath.

"Control? That's it? It just seems like it would be a lot of work to me."

His expression softens. "I live in a world where everything is chaotic and unpredictable, and it's my job to put order to chaos. I want to keep people safe. So when I see someone like you, all powerless and eager to depend on me, it's... validating." He chuckles, letting his knuckle ghost up your thigh. "You need me. It makes me feel like I'm providing you with something you can't get anywhere else. And I get to enjoy your body."

"Oh."

"Last night was really something. Had you ever done that before?"

You look away from him, shaking your head. "I've never been with a man who encouraged me like that. My last boyfriend just told me to tone it down all the time. He wanted me to act more confident. Like a pörnstar, I guess."

"But that didn't make you more confident, did it? Just made you self-conscious."

"I guess so."

“I want the opposite. I want you to become completely comfortable acting and sounding every bit as submissive and needy as you are, deep down. I very much enjoy that part of you. Do you understand?”

"I'll try. If you promise not to resent me."

“The only thing I’ll resent is if you don’t fully let yourself go and let me have power over you. When I give you instructions, you’re not expected to stop and ask why. The answer is that I’m in charge, and you need to trust me to take care of you. I know it's a bit selfish, but that's what I'm asking of you."

"You think you're being selfish?" You blink at him in surprise. "I thought you were giving me permission to be selfish. You're just making me feel good all the time. How is that you being selfish?"

He pauses for a moment like he's reconsidering things from your perspective. "I might be doing things that make you feel good, but it's about my needs, too. I might be taking care of you, but in return I get your complete attention. To the point of obedience. You depend on me to take care of you. When you're willing to submit to me because you need me to satisfy you... it's addicting. Would you do that for me?”

"Yes," you say immediately. "God. Yes. That sounds like a dream."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

He leans closer again, looking as if he's about to kiss you. Instead, he gives you a small, teasing smile. "I certainly wouldn't mind hearing you call me sir in that sweet voice all the time. Anytime, anywhere."

"You mean, like, other than in bed?" you ask.

"Everywhere. At all times," he says, eyes molten.

"You mean you want to hang out together? Not just here?"

"Of course. This isn't going to be a one-time thing, is it? I've been wanting to have you. Now that I've got you, you're mine forever." He kisses your nose sweetly. "So I'd like it if you acted this attentive in public, too. Selfish of me. But you can just be my little girlfriend while we're out and about instead if you don't want to go that far."

"Your girlfriend?" That dizzy feeling comes over you again. "I am? In a real way, or?"

"A real way," he says softly. "Are you okay with that?"

A new wave of butterflies sweeps through you. You fall back into the pillow, feeling like you might pass out for real this time. "Yes."

"You don't realize just how adorable you are when you get flustered." He smirks down at you. His hand drifts down your arm and rests over your knuckles. "You really have no clue, darling."

You shiver at his light touch. "As long as you think so."

"I know so. If you're gonna keep dismissing my compliments, I might have to do something about it."

You lean up to him immediately, eyes bright as you put your lips next to his and wait, hoping for a kiss.

His smirk grows even wider. "You're a quick learner. You should do that whenever you want my attention, by the way."

"Do what?"

"Look so eager to please me."

Your toes curl. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what would make you even cuter?"

"What?"

His voice is playful as he whispers back. "If you just begged, I'd be even more pleased. If you could just give a little push and beg me to take you, that would make for a very pretty picture."

You jump at the chance, your brain already half-empty. "Could you take me again? Please? Right now?"

Your words send a jolt through his system more powerful than anticipated. "You little tease. Get on your back for me. I'll take you just like you want."

You fall onto your back immediately and open your legs, staring up at him, shifting and scooting down for him as he hovers over you.

His eyes narrow as he leans back and looks you over, taking in every detail. Your cute, blushing face, your eager expression, and that submissive sparkle in your eyes. He wants you so badly.

“Should I beg like this?” you ask.

He swallows, staring down at you. "Be careful talking like that, love.”

“Why? I’m yours, aren’t I? You told me not to hold back.”

“I’m starting to worry I’ll never recover from this, to be honest. How am I supposed to maintain any sense of humility or decency around you?”

"So the more I boost your ego, the more you want me?"

"Absolutely. And a woman like you... you make me feel like a king. This is nothing but trouble."

"I can make you worse," you say instantly. "I can give you a god complex. If, um, you want me to."

His eyes darken with hunger, pupils blown out. "You catch on too quick. You know I'm not letting you out of this bed until you make good on your word."

"Yessir," you squeak.

"You are a dangerous little minx."

You bite your lip through your smile when you see how your offer affects him. "But I'm your dangerous little minx, right?"

"That you are." His voice is a low, sensual rumble. His hands slide over your palms, pinning them to the mattress, and his fingers thread through yours. "Mine and only mine."

...

part 1 / [part 2]

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