This is my pinned post, I'm using my partner's pinned as a model for this one. (@purple-n-red)
First, a few warnings:
☆ DO NOT REBLOG OR REPOST THE POSTS TAGGED AS #ogcontent
☆ ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED - THIS IS NOT A SAFE BLOG FOR YOU, so get away (seriously, I was groomed as a minor, so by interacting with me, you're not only disrespectful and putting yourself in danger, you're putting /my/ safety in danger as well. GET. OUT.)
☆ DNI: MAPS/NOMAPS and other pedophiles; Feeder/Fat fetish blogs; TERFS and other Transphobes; Physical and psychological ableists (mental health stigma)
Now, introducing myself!
I'm Pink. I'm polyamorous and demisexual and demoromatic - So do not make sexual/romantic advances on me, I have a Master, one of my partners (Gold). I have other partners as well. So I'm fucking taken. My boyfriend's are Grey, Yellow and Purple.
All of the tags here mean someone on my polycule, so be respectful. I also have other color/themed tags that are about me, and those I might explain if you ask respectfully about it.
This is a sideblog where I post and reblog (but mostly reblog) kinky and spicy things, including some original content here and there. Those underneath are some things you might find on my blog:
• d/s, master/slave, master/pet relationship themes (again, I have a Master)
• T4T and Polyamory discussions
• somnophilia and similar CNC situations
• hierophilia (angel/priest/religion kink)
• SAFE knife/blood play
• public play
• T4T and Polyamory discussions
• primal stuff
• breeding kink
• petplay
• CNC (consensual non consent)
• size kink
• denial
• overstim
• degradation
• praise kink
• free use
• drug kink
• wax play
• kitten
• omorashi/bladder control
NOW,
If you have a trigger that you would like to be tagged so you can safely follow me, feel free to DM me and I'll try and add it on the future posts!
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"Your clit? Come on. You're a man. That's a cock. I don't care what size it is, it's a fuckin' dick. Y'know what, maybe I should suck it. You gotta ask for it though. Say "suck my cock." Attaboy."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Want to whip someone's cunt with a belt so bad. Force them to hold their legs up, with their hands under thier knees. And just slap a leather belt right over thier cunt and watch them them cry 🥰
Brain Stuff. You’re hunched over your desk, the glow of your laptop screen casting shadows across your cluttered apartment. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to type the next paragraph of your dissertation — something about neural plasticity in machine learning models. It’s brilliant stuff, the kind of work that’s gotten you whispers of “genius” from your PhD advisors. You’re in the zone, your brain firing on all cylinders, when the front door clicks open.
“Hey, babe,” comes his voice, low and casual, like he doesn’t know what it does to you. Your boyfriend steps inside, shedding his jacket. He’s got that easy grin, the one that makes your stomach tighten. You glance up, meaning to say something sharp and witty, but he’s already peeling off his shirt, revealing the lean muscle underneath. Your mouth goes dry. The words you were about to type — something about synaptic pruning — slip away like sand through your fingers.
“Missed you today,” he says, crossing the room. He’s close now, close enough that you can smell the faint spice of his cologne. Your pulse kicks up, and you try to focus on the screen. You’re a goddamn scholar, you can handle this. But then he leans over your shoulder, his breath brushing your ear, and says, “What’s my smart girl working on?”
Your brain stutters. “Uh… it’s, um…” You squint at the screen, but the words lose their meaning. Neural what? Plasticity? Fuck, you know this. You wrote fifteen pages on it yesterday. His hand slides onto your shoulder, thumb brushing your neck, and your IQ takes a nosedive. “It’s… brain stuff,” you manage, voice small. You hate how stupid you sound, how you can feel your own brilliance leaking out of you as he closes the distance.
He chuckles, soft and loving, and that sound alone makes your thighs clench. “Brain stuff, huh? Tell me more.” His fingers dip lower, tracing the edge of your tank top, and you try — God, you try — to string a sentence together. “It’s about… how brains… change?” Your voice lilts up like a question, and you want to scream. You’re not some ditzy undergrad; you’re a fucking PhD candidate. But his hands are on your chest now, cupping you through your shirt, and your thoughts scatter like dropped marbles.
“C’mon, babe,” he teases, turning your chair to face him. “You’re usually so quick.” He’s smirking, and you hate how much you love it. You open your mouth to snap back, to prove you’ve still got it, but then he’s kissing you, hard, messy, all tongue and heat, and your mind goes blank. Not fuzzy, not slow, just empty. You kiss him back, hands fumbling to his waist, and all you can think is cock. One word, looping like a broken record.
He pulls you up, backing you toward the couch, and you trip over your own feet. Normally you’d curse yourself for being clumsy, but right now you just giggle. High pitched, brainless. “You’re so hot,” you blurt, and it’s the most coherent thing you’ve said in minutes. He grins, shoving his jeans down, and when you see him — hard, thick, right there — your knees buckle. You drop to the cushions, staring up at him, mouth slack. You should be analyzing data right now, not drooling like some horny idiot.
“Fuck, look at you,” he mutters, climbing over you. His hands yank your shorts off. You’re already so wet. You try to focus, one last chance to claw back a shred of intellect. “Wait, I... I need to finish...” you start, but then he’s pushing inside you, slow and deliberate, and the rest of the sentence evaporates. Your head lolls back, a moan spilling out instead. You feel him stretch you, fill you, and your brain shuts down completely. “Oh… oh God,” you whimper, legs wrapping around him on instinct.
He starts moving, thrusting deep, and you’re gone. No more dissertation, no more research... just his cock, slamming into you, turning you into a panting, writhing mess. “Tell me something smart,” he pants against your neck, mocking you now, and you want to, you need to, to prove you’re not this dumb slut he’s turning you into. “Th-the brain… it… f-fuck, it d—” You can’t finish. Every thrust scrambles your thoughts more, until you’re babbling nonsense, hips bucking to meet him.
You’re frustrated, somewhere deep down, because you know this isn’t you. You’ve presented at conferences, dismantled arguments from tenured professors, but right now you can’t even remember your own name. “Please,” you gasp, not sure what you’re begging for — him to stop, or keep going, or something else entirely. He grabs your hips, angles himself deeper, and you stop caring. “Sho… haaard…” you slur, drooling over the syllables, “sho… deeeep…”
He laughs, a low rumble. “That’s my girl. Just let go.” And you do, you can’t hold on anymore. He fucks you harder, faster, and you’re nothing but heat and need, whimpering every time he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his back, and you’re close — so close — then he groans, loud and guttural, and you feel his hot cum pour into every crevice. You climax alongside each other.
It’s instant. The second his cum hits you, it’s like a switch flips. Your vision clears, your breathing steadies, and your brain kicks back into gear. Synaptic pruning. Neural plasticity. Machine learning models. You blink up at him, still slick with sweat, and push him off with a shaky hand. “Rude,” you say, voice sharp again. He flops beside you, grinning, while you stagger to your desk, naked, his cum dripping down your thigh. You sit down, pull up your dissertation, and start typing like nothing happened. Sentences are crisp, ideas flowing.
“Welcome back, genius,” he calls, still sprawled on the couch, annoyingly smug. You don’t even look at him, but your lips twitch. Just ignore him, you’re back, and you’ve got work to finish. At least until he gets hard again.
I am just thinking about orgasm denial, and I probably will forever
There’s just something so hot about being told no when you ask to cum. About someone controlling whether or not you experience that pleasure. About being so CLOSE it’s JUST out of your grasp but you never quite reach it only to have it pulled away from you at the last moment. About the concept of someone else OWNING your orgasms??? You are not responsible enough, worthy enough, good enough to be able to choose whether or not you can cum, so you give that responsibility to someone else and if they say no???? Just. Urhebfktmfjsbnfgnnd
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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You know whats fun? Playing with someone’s pretty little clit just enough to make it feel good, not close to an orgasm, but starting to feel really good, and then stopping. Denial is so fun.
thinking about filling a pretty girl up with my strap, making her take it right to the base - because I know she can. she'll whimper and squirm, but I know she feels better like this, so full of me that she can't even form a coherent thought that isn't about me. I'll fuck every last thought out of her sweet little mind. and afterwards? I'll tell her what a good puppy she was for me, taking me so well just like a good girl should.
I love telling them they’re not allowed to cum but then doubling my efforts in fucking them just so I can punish them for not following my orders later :)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I love the transition period of becoming an anal slut.
It started with a little edging “no cumming tonight but of course you can cum tomorrow.” Then it becomes “if you’re a good girl you can cum next week.”
A few weeks later it’s “you’ve been so good during edging sessions this week, let me finger your ass while you cum tonight.”
Next week “If I can fuck your tight ass once this week, I’ll let you cum, if you aren’t ready for that then I guess you aren’t ready to cum.” eventually the desperation forces you to give in.
Then the rule changes to “I’ll only allow you to cum if I’m fucking your ass. Fucking your ass will be a special occasion, it will be for your pleasure, you can cum any way you want to, but I will be balls deep in your hole when you do.”
From there it isn’t so hard to progress to the next stage. “I’m tired of using your pussy, it’s boring and loose. Maybe if we stop using it, you’ll become a virgin again. From now on I’m just going to use your ass. We can edge you with your clit until you learn how to cum from your ass.”
The final step “Let’s tie these hands up. Your clit is dirty, it makes your other hole wet and gross, so you aren’t allowed to touch it anymore. You’ll cum from anal this time. Oh you don’t think you can? That’s not my problem. You’ll learn to edge and cum only with your ass. I don’t care how long it takes, you’ll spend hours every night with something in your ass until you learn how to edge it.”
