Imagine your F/C reluctantly agreeing to try dominating you. It's not like anything they've ever done before, and they're terrified they'll hurt you, but your confidence and enthusiasm have swayed them.

They straddle you and clumsily wrap a hand around your neck. You suck in an eager breath, your eyelashes fluttering. You'll never, ever forget the way F/C's eyes catch on fire, their whole face glowing with understanding and excitement. They watch you with sadistic fascination as they tighten their grip, burying their nails in your skin, killing a cry in your throat and making your eyes roll back.

"Oh," they breathe, "I'm going to destroy you."

Hello again!

Didn't queue any of the latest submissions bc I honestly forgot how tumblr works! I haven't been on this site in years (moved over to Instagram @candy.constellations if you're interested but it's a cosplay account nothing like this tumblr lmao.) I will try to continue to periodically pop in and publish submissions here!

Imagine coming home from work one day, very sore and very tired. Upon hearing your complaints of an aching back and aching legs, your F/C offers to give you a massage. You take some convincing, but they promise you a fantastic massage and something “extra special” if you stay awake long enough for them to finish.

You agree, and they instruct you to lay in bed, of course nude, as they prepare. Soon your F/C emerges with lotion and several candles. You haggle them about their “fantastic massage” as they light each and every one of the candles about your bedroom and even lower the lights; despite their stalling, you can’t deny that the setting excites you.

Your F/C straddles you as you lay prone, chuckling as they drizzle sweet-smelling lotion onto your back. It arches as their hands drift across it and work the lotion into your skin, your F/C instructing you to relax as they “work their magic”. Their voice is soft but undeniably lustful, adding an edge to your own arousal.

Your F/C proves to be quite the masseuse/masseur, making you moan and sigh longingly as they work the tension out of your most bothersome muscles. It hurt so good, and you can feel your F/C’s arousal pressed against your buttocks with their movements.

“Does that feel good?” They inquire your moans, relishing them, even stopping to give your ass several rolls with the heels of their palms with another chuckle. “Tell me that feels good.”

The obvious request to be verbal with your pleasure makes you grow even hotter, and you decide to accentuate it with several more moans of your F/C's name. Your F/C tells you to turn onto your back, and your arousal is quite obvious to them. They joke once more about their “magic”, about how they didn’t even need to touch you “there” for you to get so hard/wet. Eager to take a jab at them for their lewdness and their use of something so trivial for their entertainment, you mention the same for them, how you felt their arousal with just massaging your back.

Stalling once more, your F/C lifts your leg and begins to massage it, eager hands kneading the tense bulk of your calf. The sensation of their eyes drifting down your body and lingering at your groin grows to be too much, and you tell them to forget your other leg and to just fuck you already.

“My, my, it seems as if my ‘magic’ is just too strong for my own good!” Your F/C quips as they clamber on top of you. They lavish the expanse of your chest and neck with kisses before telling you to turn over a final time. Mindful of your fatigue, they instruct you once more to relax and “work their magic” as they fuck you slowly and passionately, the remainder of your soreness melting away as they drive you to an intense orgasm.

Imagine your F/C is a divine being or spellcaster that uses glyphs or runes to cast spells. You are their lover, and they take the time to carve these symbols into your body. For lust, submission (or domination), darkness, desire, passion and anywhere in between to shape their S/O into the lover or pet they’ve, deep down, yearned for.

Imagine your FC has plans tonight, and they require you to look your absolute best. Over the phone, they go into detail on what you have to do for the party/get together/etc; they have a perfect picture of you, and it is definitely in your best interest of maintaining that image, and in this case, their own image as well. You start up an unplanned shower and lather up, scents that you don’t like and never will begin to permeate the already heavy air. You follow their orders to a t, as if it’s their own hands taking the lead. In the past, you knew next to nothing about make up, about braiding hair and the actual effort behind a pretty face. You look in the mirror after the shower and the hair drying and the plucking and painting and you don’t recognize yourself for so many reasons more than just the foreign face gazing back out. You pick up on another face in the mirror and you jump back, surprised they had made it home so early, surprised by how quiet they can be. They have bright and loving smile but their eyes reflect a darker intention, they hand you the outfit they personally picked out for this occasion and ask you to hold it up so they can be the judge on whether or not it’s up to their standards. They approve the attire on the condition that a little something goes with it, and leave you to dress while they fetch it. You stand in front of the mirror once more and feel more distant from what you see. You feel like a clown in this overly fancy get up, as if this was all some twisted way to further mock you over how low you are willing to go. Every stitch in the dress was for them and for their ‘audience’. Sneering at the sight, you balled your fists at your sides before you see something dangling in front of your face. Next to you, this was the most valuable possession in their collection, a jewel that you couldn’t hope to compare to and yet, one in the same to your FC. They wrap the chain around your neck and smile at your reflections together. “Now, it’s perfect.” “...I hate it.” The chain of the necklace pulled back, just enough to stress your throat but not leave a mark. “You are going to play nice.” The fear in your eyes was enough of a yes for them to release it, letting you take small, shaky breaths. “Get in the car, my diamond, we can’t be late.”

Imagine your FC, sitting in a comfortable, fancy arm chair, while you sit at their feet, looking up at them. Imagine them collaring you, the firm leather snug around your neck, and then attaching a leash. They insert a vibrating anal plug with a tail, turning it on to a high setting, before slapping you hard on the ass and then asking you to kneel. They smile at you lovingly, looking into your eyes, just for a moment, before pulling you towards them and taking on a harsh, dominant demeanor. They command you to suck them off/eat them out, and you obey without hesitation, taking their genitals into your mouth and licking them carefully and adoringly. They grasp your leash with one hand and have the fingers of the other curled into your hair, tugging it occasionally to bring you deeper into them. They lean their head back into the chair as your tongue finds their sweet spot, and they moan your name and "pet" with every breath. You can't help but feel the vibrations of your plug, causing you to whimper, which only adds more stimulation for your FC as you move your mouth on them. 

"I'm getting close, pet..." they manage to get out, their grip on your head stronger, now. "Oh, fuck... fuck..."

They pull you down as far as you will go, before cumming in your pretty little mouth. They smile, their eyes glassed over, as they pull you back from their genitals, your mouth wide open and tongue out. Their cum drips from your lips, as it was too much for your mouth to hold. You look needy and aroused, and it just turns them on even more. You do not spit or swallow, as you have not received permission.

"Swallow." They command you firmly, all traces of their smile gone from their lips. You know they intend for you to clean up all of the cum, so you get to work, gulping it down and licking it off of your own face, before going back down to lick it off their genitals.

Once they are clean, FC pats their thighs, instructing you to straddle them, and you do, placing your legs carefully on either side of them, as they grab you by they love handles. They kiss you roughly, bringing one hand to you collar and pulling it closer to them. They pull away from your lips, and stare deeply into your eyes.

"You've been such a good girl/boy for me, babe. I love you."

Imagine you’re sleeping with your f/c at night. You wake up from a bad dream. You notice they're awake too. You tell them you had a nightmare. They spoon you. You’re the little spoon. They begin to pet you, and as they do, they reach up your shirt as they kiss the back of your neck. Then, they reach into your pants and stroke your sex while whispering sweet nothings to you. The rest is up to you!!

Imagine your favorite character sometimes has these... moods. You used to think they came out of no where, but after a while, you began to see the very telling pattern.

Someone else flirted with you openly while you were together, someone was a tad too friendly towards you in their presence, or maybe you had paid someone else endearing compliment, gave someone else too much attention. Or maybe they simply felt you needed a reminder..

Whatever the case, you knew the second you noticed a hitch in their step, a twitch in their smile, you were in for it. You could feel the tension in their arm as they guided you away from whatever offense they had taken. Something inside you curls and tightens and you know it won’t release until later that night.

And there you are. Chained up and blinded on the bed, of all the things you don’t know are going on in front of you, you can’t tell if the loss of sight is a blessing or a curse. It all starts with your mouth. Two fingers sink deep into the wet warmth it has to offer and you fight the urge to immediately bite the intrusion, a reflex that has gotten you in trouble before, hours of trouble. It’s their turn to feel the uncomfortable twitch in your muscle as they drag the appendages around the inside.

They know you love it when they race their fingers over eager yet obedient teeth, you want so bad to bite or at least be bitten, lord knows that will happen soon enough. You know they love it when they retract those teasing intrusions and leave you panting. A whine also escapes your maw and in the dark you hear their snickering.

You can’t beg for them if things are in the way, after all.

Imagine it's your first time giving your FC oral. You're very inexperienced and your excitement is possibly too much for your own good, and you end up getting hiccups in the middle of it. With a little bit of laughter from the both of you, you manage to finish with plenty of praise for your effort.

Imagine you and your FC work together, and though they are not the boss, they certainly hold a good amount of seniority over you. And boy, have they taken to you quickly since you’ve joined. Your work is a lot of fun and you love what you do, in fact, working here has been a dream of yours for some time now. But you can’t help but to notice FC’s eyes combing you during your shift, or the noticeable change in their attitude when they talk to you. It doesn’t matter that they are known to be a creep around these parts; if you need to speak to them for any reason, they put on their best act to some how charm you. Though they have never shown to be friendly towards anyone else, they are oddly affectionate towards you, never hesitating to wrap an arm around your form or grasp your hand during a conversation. It’s always perfectly timed so no one would see, no proof to show of their unsettling behavior. They have been there for so long, they know all the inner workings of the work site, not to mention they are incredibly proficient in their position. Basically, if you were to complain, they would win every time. Hell, even if you had proof, you would just be kicked to the curb and out of your dream job. While trying to think of a way out of the predicament one day after a late shift, they call you over to their station. You feel a chill run up your spine but obediently head over. You step inside of their work space and they flash a crooked smile, you can tell they have been waiting for the end of the day to arrange this meeting, when no one else was left at work. They stride over to you, guiding you over to the counter away from the door, and you pick up the click of a lock. Your eyes go wide and they notice your alarm, but before you could do anything in retaliation, they bend you against the wood surface with surprising force that knocks the wind out of you. They keep your arms in place with one hand, using the other to grip your neck from behind where they now hover over you like a vulture, telling you all about the things they want to do to you, what they want you to do to them. Pushing up and off the counter only serves to delight them with the friction that comes from resistance. They bite their lip and hiss about how lovely it is having you squirm under them, how they are going to take their time with you tonight. By the time you are free to go, there is no part of you left untouched by some kind of mark. Your neck and shoulders look like a demented star map with all the teeth and bite marks they gave you, and you know your abdomen looks very much the same. Wincing from the pain from rubbing the fresh bruises on your sides, your fingers trace over the impressions they left behind; unless you come to work in a parka, there is no way you can hide all of them. Everyone at the job will know whose twisted jaw was all over you tonight, and you can’t wait for the next time they decide to show off who you belong too.

Imagine you’re a maid/assistant to your FC who’s a king/queen. You have eyes for them but you don’t know if the feeling is mutual, though they do seem fond of you and they sometimes call you things like “sweetheart”. One evening you’re dusting/re-shelving books in their personal study when they walk in, clearly exhausted, and sit down at their desk. “Rough day?” you ask. They nod and proceed to vent to you about everything they had to do that day. As they do so you walk up behind them and start giving them a massage around their neck and shoulders (not something you would normally do). They start to relax, complementing you on how well you’re doing and letting out a few sighs and groans of pleasure. This of course starts to get you rather hot and bothered. Feeling confident, you ask in a sweet voice “Is there anything else you would like me to do for you, Your Highness?” Catching on to your intentions they reach their hand up to your hair and start to play with a strand of it. “That depends; what would you be willing to do for me?” they ask. You lean down to whisper in their ear. “Anything you ask, my king/queen”.

What happens next is up to you.

Imagine you’re a servant/employee to your FC who’s a king/queen. You have eyes for them but you don’t know if the feeling is mutual, though they do seem fond of you and sometimes call you “sweetheart”. One evening you’re dusting in their personal study when they walk in, clearly exhausted, and sits down at their desk. “Rough day?” you ask. They nod and proceed to vent to you about everything they had to do that day. As they do you walk up behind them and start giving them a massage around their neck and shoulders (not something you would normally do). They start to relax, complementing you on how well you’re doing and letting out a few sighs and groans of pleasure. This of course starts to get you rather hot and bothered. Feeling confident, you ask in a sweet voice “Is there anything else you would like me to do for you, Your Highness?” Catching on to your intentions they reach their hand up to your hair and start to play with a strand of it. “That depends; what would you be willing to do?” they ask. You lean down to whisper in their ear. “Anything you ask, my king/queen”. They order you on your knees, where you proceed to give them oral while they continue to play with your hair.

Imagine your favorite character coming home from a long and tiring day at work and just curling up on your lap as you rub on their shoulders and back.  "Mmm, (Y/N), you have magic hands, I swear," they groan as you work out a sore spot.  They sit up suddenly and kiss you gently, wrapping their arms around you.  "I might feel better if you used them on more than just my sore neck."  The two of you spend the evening making slow, sweet, cuddly love under the blankets and eventually fall asleep still wrapped up in each others' embrace.

Imagine teasing and touching your F/C until they're begging you to just fuck them already. After you think they've had enough, you slam them against the wall and fuck them until their nails are digging into your back and they're screaming your name in pleasure.

Imagine your favorite character making love to you sweetly and softly while whispering sweet things into your ear.

       Imagine you and your f/ in a heated sexual conversations. You're both talking about each other's turn ons, and off's while alone in secret. "So uhh..I heard a rumour that your into some....Dark stuff huh?" They ask leaning in just a bit closer, you gulp, knowing full well you have some kinks that should be considered unhealthy to have.

F/o starts rubbing your back, consoling you, making you feel safe. "I'm not ashamed by That Kink Y/n....In fact. I'm flattered that you'd let me do that to you to help get over your fear and cope." They whispered low into your ear while biting it gently, knowing that'd get you riled up. Your starting to feel SLIGHTLY awkward, but, this is your f/o. Your baby, your husband/wife. You know they'll take Good Care Of You...And your body. "Please......" You plea softly, in a whiney tone of voice filled with need, desire, lust, and greed. This makes your F/o snap, and lose their calm, cool, yet cocky attitude they just had a minute ago.

The moment they pinned you against the cold floor, was the moment you knew you'd be in for the roughest night of your life.

TW: self-harm, depression, BDSM

Imagine you are your favorite character's sub.

They like to inspect you before every session. They seem like they're checking out how turned on you are, or inspecting your privates to turn themselves on, but they also ask questions about different bruises, scratches, and other marks on your body that they haven't seen since the last time you were inspected. You answer honestly, as a sub should never lie to their dom. Your FC warns you very quietly, but strictly, "Your master would be very cross to find that you are hurting yourself." You feel tears stream down your cheek. Your FC says in the same tone, "If you seek pain, my pet, then come to me. Allow me to handle that for you." Your FC wipes your tears away, telling you to repeat what you were just told. You repeat that you will come to your FC every time you seek pain, and you apologize as you did not mean to violate the bond you have with your dom. Over time, you simply cannot live without your FC's control in your life. Your FC helps you work through all those feelings of self-harm and self-hatred to replace them with a deep love and understanding only they can provide. You grow to be healthier, and your FC loves the fact that you come to them with absolutely everything now.