In This House Its Either Fuck Ai 🚫 Or Fuck Ai 🍆

(. Y .)

Why am I fucking hardwired to crave negative attention more than positive attention? I get so giddy thinking about purposefully angering girls so they’d take their frustration out on me. I need a girl to be disappointed and yell at me right now; that sounds good. I want her to beat me until I’m bloody and bruised.

“It’s plastic it can’t get you pregnant”

Not with that attitude it can’t

Was just diagnosed with “need to bite you” disorder. Yeah sorry it’s terminal. The only cure is biting you. C’mere.

the witch pushes you down on the bed, straddles you, holds you in place with one hand on your chest. she waves the other hand, and her nails unfold into glittering, iridescent fractal claws.

"there's too much of the Real about you still, doll-thing," the witch mutters. "show me where."

you reach up, below the twitching blades, and wordlessly take her wrist, guiding her to your throat. she grins in understanding, and lays her claws against your skin.

her touch blooms into you like the heat of a blush, then like the numbness before the pain of a bad burn.

she tells you, "prepare yourself, doll-thing. i will count to three."

you nod your readiness eagerly, a part of you disgusted by how needy you must appear, how badly you want this, how scared you are that she'll sheathe her claws and walk away.

her eyes are the uniform violet-white of a plasma arc, with no pupils. you cannot guess what she sees.

she counts, "one," and then her claws close around your throat and you don't even get to scream.

they cut through your skin and below the Real and tear through its roots into you and she draws out something, dripping with red gore, and eats it.

you gape and gasp but cannot form a single sound.

she chews, streams of blood and shining mirror-ichor running down her face. and only when she swallows does your body finally emit a high, pure moan.

she licks her fingers clean, long tongue fearlessly darting into the fan of jagged claws, and then the witch who ate your voice rolls off you and tells you, "i'm done with you. go clean up."

you nod. there is nothing eager about it now. just measured movement. but she grimaces, and admonishes you, "use your words, doll."

so you use them: "thank you, my mistress."

somewhere in your throat, you feel the lingering reverberation of tiny chimes. □

Important announcement,

DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS DRAGONS

Thank you, that is all

Now this, this would be wonderful training

👉👈

Imagine being trained to pleasure someone exactly how they want. You don’t get any enjoyment or release from it, your actions only in service to helping them reach climax. If you do as well, consider it luck. The entire focus of your actions, doing as you were told, pleasuring them, serving them, as only an obedient partner can.

no, yeah i'm into some suuuper freaky stuff like my biggest kink is this thing called being desired, being yearned after, being wanted

yuo heard of it?

things that, unfortunately, make the brat listen:

“eyes on me.”

“use your big words.”

“you can ask better than that.”

“care to repeat that?”

“pretty little doll.”

“my love. you are far too wet to lie to me.”

“you better watch your tone.”

“that my good baby.”

“my good girl.”

“kneel.”

“watch that attitude if you still want to sit comfortably.”

“the brattier you get the softer i fuck you.”

“no buts.”

“behave.”

“on your knees.”

sending you a hug in case you had a bad day