#and it still depicts it

[saintedbyher]

Very kinky Angela x reader sex. I apologize in advance. So so so many trigger warnings, please read with caution. Read tags!

Thankfully, you were both into similar things. Kink-wise.

You and Angela have been together for six months and revealing your most shameful kinks to one another came pretty early on in the relationship. Everything from strap ons to sometimes calling her ‘mommy’.

Tonight, however, you were doing something new. Angela’s tied you up before but never with handcuffs. Real, metal handcuffs. They’re obviously different from the silk ties she’s used on you in the past, but they’re good. The metal scrapes against your wrists when you try to tug on them.

/“I want it to hurt,” you told her.

“Y/n, I don’t want to actually… hurt you,” she said like she was afraid to say it too loudly.

“That’s why we have a safe word,” you reassured her.

“I know, I know,” she said, twisting her mouth. She thought for a moment. “Ok, ok,” Angela sighed with a smile. “So I… pretend I don’t know you, right?”

“Pretend like it’s a one night stand. We’re strangers.”

“How bad do you want, you know, me to,” she struggled to even vaguely say what you were asking of her. You told her you wanted her to hit you, on your arms, legs, stomach, face. Spit on you and degrade you. It was sweet she couldn’t even say it. You knew it was a possibility she might be too sweet for this.

“As much as you want to,” you smiled. “I would love to see some scratch marks tomorrow morning, maybe a little bruising, but this is for you, too. I want it to be enjoyable for you, too.”

“Ok… I can do that.”/

Angela double checks the handcuffs to make sure they’re locked tight. There’s barely room for a finger in between the cuffs and your wrists. You tug on them again and they are definitely not going anyway from around the motel bed headboard. The metal around your wrists is tighter than you expected but you don’t say anything.

The bedroom lights are off aside from a table lamp in the corner of the room offering a soft yellow glow. The motel sign’s red light adds another light source creating the most perfect, sleazy ambiance you were looking for.

Angela is dressed in a black bra and matching underwear. Simple yet incredibly sexy. You’re in a gray tank top and pink boy shorts.

The cuffs dig into the bone at the end of your thumb when you try and pull. It doesn’t hurt but it would if you tugged harder.

The room is silent except for your breathing and Angela’s foot steps as she walks around the room.

Finally, she stops at the side of the bed. You can’t help but stare at her chest, how perfect her boobs look in the black push-up bra. The softness of her stomach, the curve of her hips down to the silk black underwear. What’s underneath is all that’s on your mind. You reach towards her, hoping to pull her underwear down, only to be stopped by the harsh metal against the jutting joints in your hand.

Angela laughs lowly. “Eager, hmm?” She runs two fingers along your leg, from the ankle to your thigh. Shivers make their way up your spine.

She looks down at you, staring for a moment, before slapping your thigh harshly. You grunt at the sharp pain.

“Oh come on, that wasn’t that bad,” she says ruthlessly. “You’re going to need more tolerance than that.”

She climbs onto the bed beside you, leaning in to kiss you roughly. She’s all tongue and teeth and you can’t get enough of it. You moan loudly into her mouth as she bites your bottom lip.

Suddenly, she slaps you. In the face. “Fuck!” you gasp. The force of it turns your head, cheek burying itself into the pillow as the opposite cheek burns.

A hand slips into your underwear, fingers exploring the skin beneath. Your hips involuntarily buck into her hand. You would be embarrassed if this was a true one night stand but it’s Angela. You know her too well to let shame be an issue. You know her too well to be afraid of what she may think. You know what she thinks. She’s yours and you’re hers.

The sting of the slap subsides a little but not enough to stop a tear from rolling down the side of your face.

“God, Ange,” you groan as she kisses down your neck. She sucks, teeth grazing your skin ever so lightly.

Her middle finger circles your clit in fast, tight circles. The pressure of her body on yours is everything you want and more. The skin of her legs on top of yours, her stomach on yours, her chest on yours. The way her chest looks squished against yours when she lifts her head up to look at you, shaking her hair out of her face, is unbelievable.

She forces her weight into you as she slows down her pace on your clit, letting you catch what breath you can, before picking up the brutal pace once more.

The handcuffs clank against the headboard’s poles as your hands try to come down and give you whatever relief from Angela’s rough movement. It feels too good. You want to curl into a ball to make it stop but at the same time you never want her to stop. Your body tingles from your toes to your ears. All you hear is her breathing in your ear and the squeaking of the bed. You know you’re groaning with every few circles but her pants and the springs of the bed are white noise. They’re the only noise you ever want to hear.

“Fuck- I’m- in-“ you try to say ‘inside’ but before you can your orgasm hits you hard. Your stomach tightens and the chain of the cuffs jingles against the bed frame as your arms shake. Angela’s knees hold your legs open. Your eyes shut tight feeling the explosion behind them. Her finger softens against you but doesn’t let up. She rides out your aftershocks, kissing your jaw gently.

“So good, baby,” she whispers.

“I-I don’t-“ you breathe out.

“Shh, I know,” she says. You realize the riding out of your aftershocks is not that at all. The pace on your clit has picked up again and it hurts. You’re too sensitive and she just keeps going.

“I-“ you’re interrupted by your own moan in pain. “Wait-“ you tug on the cuffs.

“Can’t take it, pretty girl?” she says, her movements not letting up. “Hmm?”

You try to bend one of your knees but she sits up as best she can to push your knee back down with her other hand.

“Agh,” your heads hits the pillow in defeat. “Ange, wait, I-I’m serious.”

She wouldn’t stop. Why wasn’t she stopping? You started to get pissed off. Your clit hurt, your wrists and shoulders hurt. Her weight on you now felt claustrophobic. You could barely move beneath her.

The bone of your thumb strains against the cuffs as you continue to pull on them in vain.

Suddenly you remembered you created a safe word. “Catfish cabin,” you wiggled against her. “Catfish cabin, Ange,” your voice strains.

“Mm-mm,” she hums against your neck. Her fingers still going fast against your clit.

“Angela!” you yell, surprisingly yourself with the volume and desperation you say her name with.

“Shut up!” she yells right back. She pushes her fingers sharply to your clit causing you to yell “ow!”

“Shut up,” she yells again, this time adding another slap to the same side of your face as before. The sound was deafening and so is the pain that follows. It feels like someone snapped a hundred rubber bands against your face.

“Angela, please,” your voice is softer and more of a desperate whine if anything. Your stomach flexes so much it’s painful. She’s never done anything like this. Angela is by far the sweetest person you’ve ever known. She didn’t even want to do this stupid game with you for she was too afraid of hurting you. Was that all a ruse?

You barely know the woman above you who won’t take no for an answer. Who is /hurting/ you.

The familiar feeling of the beginning of an orgasm wracks through your body. You whimper out of fear and pleasure. Pleasure you don’t want but feels so good.

More tears fall from your eyes. From pain, panic, and frustration. And shame as well. Shame that part of you is still enjoying this. Shame that your body is reacting exactly how she wants. Your hips move in turn with her finger’s circles.

You try one more time, using all the strength you have left, to wriggle out of her grasp. The cuffs clang loudly as you thrash your arms. You try to bend your knees again, try to get your feet against her to push her off but it’s to no avail. She’s so much stronger than you. Stronger than you ever realized.

The hand in your underwear leaves and you feel empty yet so relieved. The involuntary flexing in your stomach subsides and you can finally catch your breath. Though the euphoria that comes from it finally being over is quick to end when she hits you. This time, it’s a closed fist. You’ve never been punched and fuck does it hurt. She hit the side of your nose. She does it again, this time on your cheek bone.

You let out a sob, squeezing your eyes tight. You can’t look at her.

“Don’t fucking tell me to stop,” she says from above. Her right hand goes back into your underwear and three fingers push into you violently. It felt embarrassingly good for her to finally be inside you. The aching pain in your face mixed with her hitting your g-spot over and over again when that’s all you wanted all night sends you over the edge. Another sob escapes your lips. She kisses you and when she pulls back, there’s blood in her upper lip. Your blood. She hit you so hard your nose bled. You begin to full on cry when your orgasm calms down.

“Katchem,” you cry. “Katchem.”

Angela’s eyes go wide and soft. “Ok, ok,” she whispers and hurries off of you. She’s back in a second with the key to the cuffs and unlocks you. “Ok, take it easy,” she says back in her usual, caring voice while helping you lower your arms from their raised position. “Are you ok?” she asks, touching you as softly as she can. She lightly squeezes your arms down to your calves. One hand reaches back up to hold one of yours while the other strokes your hair. “Are you ok, Y/n? Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to go overboard. Fuck fuck fuck, I am so fucking sorry,” her voice cracks, eyes watering.

You start laughing. You must look crazy. Tears and blood streaking your face. She looks a little crazy too, though. She’s got blood on her too. Her big brown eyes covered in a layer of tears.

“Oh my god, Angela,” you sigh. You take a second to catch your breath. “You are amazing, /that/ was amazing.”

“What? Really?” she asks, blinking that causes a tear to run down her cheek.

“Yes!” you practically yell, sitting up. “Ow,” your arms still hurt a bit. “Angela you are fucking incredible,” you kiss her.

You hug her tightly as she sits on the bed, definitely still confused.

“But, but you started crying and-“

“I told you I probably would,” you reassure her.

“And you used the safe word so I got scared-“

“That doesn’t mean anything was bad, I just knew a third orgasm would destroy me,” you laugh and she hugs you tighter.

She lets go to look at your face. “You fucking scared me!” she says, pushing your shoulders a little.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, baby,” you kiss her cheek.

“Oh my god, Y/n,” she exhales, putting her forehead on your shoulder. You rub her back. The skin of her back is hot and sweaty.

“I love you,” you say to her.

“I love you too,” she says back.

She leans forward, pushing you into the bed. Her face nuzzles into your neck and one leg wraps around your waist.

“Come on, we should go shower,” you say.

“Can we, lay here for a minute?” she asks so softly you might cry again.

“Of course,” you scratch her scalp lightly and kiss her forehead. The two of you end up falling asleep until the morning.

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[wizard-laundry]

the text originally read "EGADS! DO MY EYES DECEIVE ME?"

[knightofleo]

Angela Orosco Silent Hill 2

[saccharind]

from Prokaryote Season by Leo Fox

[patolemus]

merlin magic reveal fic where arthur asks “why didn’t you tell me?” and merlin says, mirthless smile and haunted eyes “all my dreams end in fire. fire and burning and dying”

[liquidstar]

look this site really is awful for ppl with OCD so i just wanna reassure anyone that you are not Tainted Forever for consuming a piece of media with questionable content. the fact that youre able to recognize it speaks to your critical thinking skills, which is good, certain depictions should be critiqued. but you dont need to ruminate on it to the point where you begin to feel guilty for simply witnessing gross or creepy writing choices. you dont have to vindicate yourself to the fictional tumblr discourser inside your head, saying that youre now a bad person bc you watched the wrong anime. your actual response to it still matters of course, but thats that and this is this. just seeing it is neutral, you didnt commit a thought crime. its literally fine.

IF YOU ARE USING THIS POST TO ONLY FURTHER YOUR STUPID PEDANTIC BLACK-AND-WHITE DISCOURSE TO GET A "GOCHA" OVER THE OTHER SIDE YOU ARE THE PROBLEM. DON'T USE OUR DISORDER TO VINDICATE YOUR BEHAVIOR. THOUGHT CRIMES ARENT REAL BUT ACTIONS STILL MATTER. PEOPLE WITH OCD ARE CAPABLE OF THINKING CRITICALLY ABOUT OUR ACTIONS AND RESPONSES, EVEN WITH INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS AND RUMINATIONS. TREATING US AS IF WE CANNOT, ONLY TO FORCE US TO USE YOUR STRINGENT UNNUANCED DISCOURSE OPINIONS ABOUT "PURITY CULTURE" (TRIGGERING TO THOSE WITH OCD) AS THE ONLY REASONABLE GUIDE DOES MORE TO EXACERBATE OUR OBSESSIONS THAN HELP US. YOU ARE THE ISSUE AS WELL. YOU ARE ALSO THE TUMBLR DISCOURSER INSIDE OUR HEADS. DO NOT USE US FOR YOUR DISCOURSE. WE ARE PEOPLE, NOT HYPOTHETICALS TO USE TO EXPLAIN IF YOUR FROZEN INCEST FANFICTION IS OKAY OR NOT. TREATING US AS IF WE CANNOT AUTONOMOUSLY HAVE OUR OWN OPINIONS ON WHEN MEDIA IS TANGIBLY HARMFUL IS ABLEIST. FORCING US TO ABIDE BY YOUR IN-GROUP'S SET OF UNEQUIVOCAL MORALS IS ABLEIST. ACTING AS THOUGH THE ONLY SOLUTION FOR US IS MINDLESS MEDIA CONSUMPTION IN WHICH "EVERY DEPICTION OF XYZ, NO MATTER HOW POORLY DONE OR EXPLOITATIVE, IS ALWAYS OKAY AND IF YOU DISAGREE YOURE ACTUALLY AN EVIL 'ANTI'" IS ABLEIST. THOSE ARE THE SAME BLACK-AND-WHITE MORALS THAT SEND US INTO OBSESSIVE SPIKES, BUT FLIPPED. A SET OF MORALS IN WHICH QUESTIONING THE IMPACT OF A PIECE OF WORK MAKES YOU AN "EVIL CONSERVATIVE PURITAN "ANTI"" DOES NOT HELP MORAL OCD.

YOU ARE THE DAMN TUMBLR DISCOUERSERS MAKING THIS SHIT WORSE FOR US! YOURE THE EXACT SAME BUT WITH FLIPPED BUZZWORDS! YOU'RE MISSING THE WHOLE DAMN POINT!

[dykedvonte]

I think depictions of Anya being cruel to Curly or drawing out his suffering are artful and chilling but completely miss the point of the story and her character.

I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to have that "I told you so" moment with him but not in something callous or cold. Even if that is how it happened, she'd immediately feel guilty cause at that point she's not tormenting her tormenter or even the person truly at fault. She's doing something cathartic, similar to how Jimmy likely hits Curly to release rage he can't against the rest of the crew. She'd see herself as no different when she'd come back from the moment and see Curly cowering at her. She wants someone to take responsibility but how does being cruel to the defenseless help? Why would she want the power Jimmy has over her over Curly?

The idea of her extending someone else's pain is just so against the struggles she already faces and how she can't even bring herself to cause someone pain even to help them. Her very desire is to release herself from her own suffering and I doubt she'd even fine some sort of guilty release in being cruel to another.

[bunnieswithknives]

(nature au) you said that while dale dislikes dev using a cane in the house he doesn’t really care too much, but what if dev used a cane in public? i can’t imagine dale would be okay with that at all. he’d be pissed, like confiscate the cane kind of pissed

Originally the gag here was just going to be Dev clinging onto his dads arm for dear life while he shivers like a chihuahua but he is just. So small.. I couldnt get it to look reasonable

Bonus:

[milkamel]

Sudden kross thoughts + headcanons I drew in like 20 minutes I seriously can't stop thinking about these two idiots and I need to write about this somewhere..

Like- They're so different (also very similar) but complement each other so well- just perfect for each other. Cross needs someone to tell him that it's okay to relax sometimes and Killer needs someone to help him take care of himself more <3 gfjgkfgjfkh my sweet babies-

Killer belongs to rahafwabas Cross belongs to jakei

[herman-draws]

iS THIS CANON? DID THK'S ARM GREW BACK?? DID THEY DO IT JUST FOR THE PLUSHY TO BE MORE SYMMETRICAL??? TEAM CHERRY ANSWER ME

[turtleblogatlast]

Something about this kind of swimming getup for characters always immediately gives me transmasc vibes. Blue swim trunks and a tank top? Sorry man my brain already connected the dots. The vibes are there, and they’re not leaving.

[crtastrophe]

Kidpix commission for @facelessoldgargoyle! (character belongs to me)

[spicyboelives]

hey disclaimer cus I know there are some corners of the Mk fandom that treat the system weird, the top meme is light hearted and made with toungue-in-cheek, you shouldn’t refer to Alters in a system as “the voices” IRL. That detracts from them as people.

[conscydraws]

My first 15 hours in Death Stranding

[currymanganese]

"Bold strategy cotton, let's see if it pays off!"