#and like you can use it in methods not just raw force

[theno1joelhater]

oh, sweet religion. the potential of a cgcu heaven and a cgcu hell. like 90% of the characters are being sent to the realm of fire and brimstone, including wayne.

i have little to no thoughts on the afterlife itself. i don’t know what happens after you die. but heaven and hell? i can work with that. wayne isn’t making past the pearly gates.

so in those brief moments between his death and rebirths (plural is crazy) (like was jesus even resurrected that many times? idk i’ve never read the bible) he’d experience hell. the worst torture known to mankind. not dissimilar to what he put cam through, for “i like torturing my favs” crowd (it’s us we’re the crowd).

for the first time ever, wayne was scared. even though his visit was brief, it still terrified him. he experienced real torture for the first time, raw fear and pain and nothing else. when he was brought back, he was relieved. so fucking relieved. he took a brief break, bc yk. just got back from being resurrected. needs time. but maybe, cam wants him to keep pranking. and he does, just less on cam and more on the other characters. he can’t risk going back to hell.

but when he goes off and pranks justin (top ten biggest mistakes in history and it isn’t 2-10!), he’s scared again. he doesn’t want to go to hell. even though he’ll probably get resurrected again he still doesn’t want to risk it. he can’t go through it all again. he can’t.

riffing off your ideas, i don’t truly believe wayne thought his situation was that serious. maybe, deep down, he understood. but he tried to make light of his situation. he didn’t treat it seriously, as he does with most things. so he tried to escape. sure, justin was prepared for everything, but wayne didn’t think so. he underestimated justin. he knew that there was a chance he could get caught and he was a bit scared of what could happen if justin found him, but his confidence took over. he tried to get out, but he was too reckless. justin found him and forced him to watch a cloning process. safe to say that was a huge wake up call for wayne. again, wayne felt true fear. what would happen after he’s taken over by the microchip? would he be sent back to hell? that thought terrified him.

the showing of the cloning process, i think justin would be selective on that. if they tried to escape, and if justin thought it would ruin their morale, he would. otherwise he’d just do some other method of making them stay. what that method is idk go ask justin.

and the gap between his second death and second revival had to have been longer, right? jctm1 takes like 1 day but we don’t know how long it takes for robin and max to figure out richard has god on speed dial. they probably took a small break or something to digest the justin stuff too. either way, it’s the longest wayne had been dead. and he’s more fearful then ever. you think at some point he might become desensitized to all the pain, and maybe that’s true. maybe he gets used to it, but physical isn’t the only form of torture out there. his mind keeps him occupied. he thinks of everything he’s done. he thinks of how he’s hurt everyone he knows and that this is all deserved. all these feelings he hid deep down, for the first time, surface. they all bubble to the top, and it’s all wayne can think about. his mind is torturing him.

i think i’ve said this before but cameron doesn’t like wayne at all, he only keeps him around for views n stuff. he doesn’t kill him because he doesn’t have a valid reason to other than “he’s annoying”. he came up with the perfect excuse to do so, but he brought wayne back. and wayne died again. and he was brought back again. it’s a cycle of wayne going tufar, getting killed, and being brought back. if that isn’t suffering i don’t know what is.

AAAAAAAAA JUSTIN CASE UPDATE??? WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE JUST POST RHE SPOILERS TO THE NEXT INSTALLEMENT OF THE STROY RIGHT THERE INSREA DOF BEING LIKE YEAH IM DOING IT IM KILLING CAM RN FUCK ME (ron intended)

anywayssssss

nathaniel is dead, not very skibidi sigma of him at all but i’m not too surprised, cam’s been trying to get rid of ol’ nathan for a WHILE (besides, look at his last name. it was inevitable)

cam added a mary sue self insert oc that’s basically a god into the cgcu who’s summoned by racism and sexual jokes. damn.

i get the ending and it’s alright, but also seems anticlimactic. like cam shows up and tells justin “dude you’re a fictional made up character on the internet you’re already immortal 💀” and justin’s like “oh fr then ig i’ll stop” which isn’t that satisfying at all. i don’t like that ending the discord’s ending (ask me for an invite link if ur interested in the server, we’re all very cool) is much better since yk. it has actual character development.

personally? i don’t like this ending much and i am unsatisfied. it might be better if he actually posts it but i still don’t like it much. if only…….i finished the goddamn animation……..ughhh

also……….max? whipping it out? right there? cam you better film this part or else /hj

[supatroopa]

I need to like get into actually watching TV shows this is brutal

[diamond-flavored-whump]

Best ways to restrain your Whumpees (a subjective scale)

Tied to a chair: 7/10. Classic, gets the job done. Rub their skin raw while you're at it.

Cuffed to the chair: 9/10. The more cuffs the better. Sure, cuff each wrist to an arm chair. But what if you also cuffed their wrists together with just enough slack so their circulation doesn't cut off? ... what if you didn't give them enough slack? What about their legs?

Chained to the chair: 4/10. Oppressive weight is nice and all, but unless you know what you're doing, these are easy to slide off and best used alongside other methods.

Strapped to the chair: 6/10. Better suited for impersonal settings.

Duct taped to the chair: 7/10. Potential 9/10 if you rip the tape off every time you move them. Do you do it hard and fast, listen to their sudden scream? Or do you do it slowly, savor each pitiful little whimper?

(Surgery required) Put magnets in their wrists: 9/10. Make them try to lift their arms, only to feel like their skin is ripping from the inside. Make sure they know you put the magnets in there. Nothing that will make them sick, you reassure. Just making sure they can't go anywhere without you un-magnetizing the arm rests.

Chained to the wall: 7/10. How much room do they have? Is it only one wrist, both on the same chain? Each one on opposite sides of the room? What about ankles? Do their steps rattle? Can they toss and turn in bed without making any noise?

Chained/cuffed to the floor: 10/10. Absolute humiliation. Forced to kneel, bow their head, cower like a dog before you. Their restraints holding them down every time they try to rise against you, reminding them of their place.

Ankles chained to a pole: 6/10. Oh sure, you can run. You just can't go very far. An interesting idea, but overall mediocre.

Leash wrapped around a pole: 8/10. Leave your pet unable to wander too far, perhaps keep their food bowl just out of reach. Make them dependent on you for bathroom breaks, food, and water.

Tied to a beam/pole: 8/10. How big is the pole? Are they tied so tight that all they can do is squeeze their shoulder blades together, and every time they try to relax the ropes tug them back? Is it large enough that their entire arms can wrap around it? A little too big for that? Did you tie up their feet as well?

Tied horizontally to a beam/pole: 9/10. So many ways this could go! Arms and legs above them like they're a pig on a spit, or one of those rotisserie chickens in the grocery store. Arms below, facing up, like they're laying in bed. Forced to look down at how high up they are, unable to do anything to get down.

Dangling by their wrists: 8/10. Once again, a classic choice. Rope or cuffs work here.

Dangling by their hair: 2/10. Not a long-term solution, hair will be pulled out. Only works with certain Whumpees. Only suited for short-term punishments.

Dangling by their neck: 7/10 if done right. Once again, a temporary solution best used to scare and threaten your Whumpee. I cannot overstate that you must be careful with this method if you like to reuse Whumpees. Remember to let your Whumpee down once they pass out!!

Dangling by their leash and collar: 6/10. Same concerns as above.

Dangling by their waist: 4/10. Has some potential, but have not seen it used much if at all.

Dangling by their ankles/feet: 5/10. A good way to disorient and weaken your Whumpee, but must be used in moderation. Excessive blood rush to the head can cause permanent damage and makes your Whumpee less fun to play with.

Standing in water: 4/10. A good short-term punishment, but can cause loss of toes and even feet of water gets too cold. Proceed with caution.

Gags: 9/10! Good for defiant Whumpees, Whumpees in transport, ones who can't learn the lesson not to speak. Just remember to take it off when you want to hear their screams.

Small rooms, holes in the ground, boxes: 8/10. Less about restraint, more containment, but still gets the point across. They cannot escape you, no matter how much they wish to.

I reiterate, leashes: 10/10. Hold their leash at all times, and you'll know when they try to run away.

[uhohdad]

(18+) ABUSE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊

König Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“I can make you talk.”

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“This is a huge misunderstanding! I just got lost!”

The coarse ropes around your wrists and ankles are unforgiving, a rashy burn igniting your skin with each desperate thrash against them. Another length of thick, scratchy rope is snug to the space between your chest and your stomach, keeping your back flush with the chair you’re secured to.

You have no idea if anyone can even hear your echoed pleas, the blindfold tied tightly around the back of your head sparing you from your unbearably quiet, freezing prison.

“Please!”

Your voice is raw and sniveling, tears soaking into your blindfold before they can crest your cheeks. You end on a whine, your head lulling forward in defeat.

The sound of a heavy metal door creaking open floods the room, and your head perks up with a gasp.

“Please, please - help me!”

You get no response, only the sound of heavy bootsteps as they approach. Intimidating and confident, each slow, rhythmic step making you brace a little tighter.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, shoulders pulled up and body trembling in your chair.

“Please,” You whisper, your shaky plea made of only breath, “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The bootsteps come to a stop in front of you, the sound of your squeaky, stuttered breaths following.

“No, you’re not.”

You flinch at your captor’s voice, rough and gravelly and stern, certainly not the voice of the savior you were praying for.

“So what are you doing here, hm?”

“I-” Your mouth is dry, words cracked and broken, “I got lost- Please! I made a wrong turn and I got lost! I- I didn’t mean-”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

He scoffs.

“What business does a brat like you have all the way out here?”

“Wh- it was - my friend! She got drunk, she needed me to pick her up from a- a party.”

His laughs, loud and hearty and truly gut-wrenching.

“There’s nothing out here but us.”

“Y- It was a woods, thing. I don’t know! Some rave in the middle of nowhere, I swear!”

He laughs again, this one low and sinful, a deep hum stitched in.

“Nice try, liebling.”

There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his low, raspy whisper is inches from your face. The heat of his breath on your cheek sends a shudder down your spine.

“But I don’t believe you.”

You let out a whine, your mouth parting and your brows pinching behind your blindfold.

“Who sent you here, liebling?”

“No one!”

He keeps his face inches from yours, surely enjoying the front row seat to your stammering bottom lip and your pathetic snivels.

“No one?” He asks, tone strict.

The ropes dig further into your skin at your heaved sob.

“I just got lost!”

Your captor laughs again, deep and weighty, a sound that makes your insides twist and forces another whine from your lips.

“I have to admit-”

The cocky smirk on his lips is palpable, dripping from his words and searing your skin on contact.

“I was hoping you would make this difficult for me, liebling.”

You flinch when a large, coarse glove gently melds the side of your face, a gentle thumb hooking underneath your jaw to keep your head titled up at him.

“Usually I prefer more -”

He hums in the tune of condescension as he chooses his next words.

“- Standard methods of torture - ”

He ignores your squirms and your nearly unintelligible, breathy pleas, his hand keeping your head firmly in place.

“But it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to play with a toy as pretty as you.”

Your body stills, breaths ceasing and heart pounding against your restraints at the implication of his threatening words - spoken with an arrogant, yet eerily soft tongue.

Your captor’s gloved thumb grazes over your chin, pulling down on your plush bottom lip and watching it spring into place once released. He guides your face to the side, soft fabric smoothing against your skin as he places a lingering, clothed kiss on your cheek.

The heart beating furiously in your chest halts at the sound of his pant zipper coming undone.

When he pulls away, he keeps his low, whispered words right in your ear.

“Maybe if I take that sweet little voice away from you, you’ll be eager to use it when I give it back.”

⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊

“They are no match for me”

“Let’s be honest, it’s better off in my hands”

[corvusblackk]

nea’s method. how i shift.

hello. i’ll be doing something different tonight, something that made me shift in the past. this worked for me so it might not work for you, but you already know this.

i decided on another reality to shift to only for this night because i’ve seen that getting too attached to a dr is only gonna take me back sometimes and make it forced. in the past i shifted to spiderman, fantasy dr and hotel transylvania with this method, so why not try it again?

basically, i just choose a reality to shift to, one that i’m not too attached to but still am interested to visit, could be even one that you’re “creating” at the moment. i don’t care if i have a script or not, actually for this new dr i haven’t made a script (just wanna go raw lol).

what i do afterwards is do my usual routine that doesn’t necessarily be about shifting, so i could just shower, eat well, and do breathing exercises. then, before going to sleep, i put on an asmr or ambience that reminds me of the reality i’m shifting to. and finally i would just fall asleep to that, so that it’s the last thing my mind thought about before sleeping, something similar to SATs, but not quite.

you can also visualise and do affirmations, but i shifted doing nothing and just watching the video, so i really just have to fall asleep to it as i used this only as a sleep method, idk if it would work as an awake method too (i mean of course it could work, it all depends on your assumptions).

-

about my new desired reality, if you’re ever curious, i got the inspiration from an asmr that i’m watching lately. it was very interesting to me because i usually only like older ambiences and realities, or even just present, but future? what even is that. so i was like, you know what, imma try it. i am a limitless being who can shift anywhere so why not try everything? so that’s what i’m doing tonight. no script, no idea where i’m going exactly, but i’m excited that’s what i can say for sure.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Homebrew Mechanic: Fixing D&D’s Gameplay Loop with Item Degradation

Normally I have snappy titles for these, but in this case I wanted to be super upfront with what I was getting you all into. 

Some people are not going to like the idea of introducing item degradation into the game, and they’re ABSOLUTELY right to be hesitant. Just about every attempt I’ve seen (includig both RAW versions from previous editions, examples from videogames, and those I’ve put together myself in the past) have been horribly clunky exercises in beancounting that only ever existed to needlessly slow down gameplay for the sake of joyless realism. 

I’ve come at it from another angle however, but to explain we’re going to need to get into some game design talk. 

The basic gameplay loop of D&D is supposed to be: 

Seeking adventure leads you to face challenges

Overcoming challenges leads you to rewards

Rewards Help you get stronger 

Getting stronger allows you to seek tougher adventures

After a while this system starts to break down specifically with regards to gold as a method of reward. Even if you’re the smart sort of DM who flouts the rules and gives their party access to a magic item shop, there’s an increasingly limited number of things to spend gold on, leading to parties acquiring sizable hordes of riches early on in their adventuring career, completely eliminating the desire to accept quests that pay out in gold in one form or another. This is a pretty significant flaw because adventures that centre around acquisition of riches ( treasure hunts, bounty missions, busywork for rich patrons that will inevitably betray you) are foundational to storytelling within the game, especially early on in a campaign before the party has gotten emotionally invested.  Most advice you can find online attempting  to solve this problem tends to dissolve down to “let them pour money into a home base”,  but that can only really happen once per campaign as a party is unlikely to want more than one secret clubhouse. 

TLDR:  What I propose is the implantation of a lightweight system that forces the party to periodically drop small amounts of wealth into maintaining their weapons/armour/foci. The players will be motivated to seek out gold in order to keep using their best stuff,  giving value to treasure drops that previously lacked it.  Not only does this system act as an insulation against powercreep at higher levels, it also encourages a party to engage with the world as they seek out workshops and crafters capable of repairing their gear. 

The System: 

Weapons, armour, shields, and caster foci (staves, holy symbols etc) can accumulate “ticks” of damage, represented by a dot or X drawn next to their item entry on the character sheet. Because you get better at handling your gear as you level up, an item that exceeds a total number of ticks equal to its bearer’s proficiency bonus breaks, and is considered unusable until it is repaired. 

Weapons and Foci gain a tick of damage when you roll a natural 1 on an attack made with them, or if they are specifically targeted by an enemy’s attack.

Armour and shields gain a tick of damage when you roll a nat 1 on a saving throw or when an enemy beats your ac by 5 or more. A character equipped with both can decide which of the two items receives the tick

Creatures with the “siege” (or any “does double damage to objects” ability) deal an extra tick when attacking gear. 

A character with a crafting proficiency  and access to tools can repair a number of ticks of damage equal to their proficiency on a four hour work period. This rate is doubled if they have access to a properly equipped workshop.  A character with access to the mending cantrip can repair ticks on any kind of item, but is limited to their proficiency bonus per work period.  

Having an item repaired by an NPC crafter removes all ticks, but costs vary depending on the rarity of the item:    5g for a mundane item, 10g for a common item, 50g for uncommon, 250 for a rare, 1250 for a very rare, 6250 for a legendary.  The DM decides the limit on what each crafter can repair, as it’s likely small towns have access to artisans of only common or uncommon skill, requiring the party to venture to new lands or even across planes if they wish to repair end game gear.

As you can see, degradation in this system is easy to keep track of and quite gradual, leading players into a position where they can ignore obvious damage to their kit for the sake of saving their now precious gold.  It likewise encourages them to seek out NPC crafters (and potential questhooks) for skills they do not possess, and encourages the use of secondary weapons either as backups or to save the more potent items in the arsenal for a real challenge. 

Consumables

Everyone knows the old joke about players hoarding consumables from the first adventure past the final bossfight, it transcends genre and platform, and speaks to a nature of loss aversion within our shared humanity.  However, giving players items they’re never going to use amounts to wasted time, resources, and potential when looking at things from a game design perspective, so lets work on fixing that. 

My inspiration came from witcher 3, which encourages players to make frequent use of consumables by refreshing them whenever the character had downtime. The darksouls series has a similar feature with the signature estus flask, which provides a limited number of heals before it must be refreshed at one of the game’s checkpoints.  When the designers removed the risk of permanent loss and the anxiety it creatures, players were able to think tactically about the use of their consumables confident in the knowledge that any mistakes were just a resupply away from being fixed.  

My proposal is that while the party is in town they can refill the majority of their consumable items for a small per item fee. Just like with gear degradation, this encourages them to seek out crafters and do quests for the hope of discounts, while at the same time encouraging them to explore new realms in the hope of discovering higher level artisans. 

The price for refills is set at: 5g for common, 25g for an uncommon, 125g for a rare, 625g for a very rare, 3125g for  legendary.  I encourage my own players to keep a  “shopping list” in their inventory with prices tabulated so they can hand out a lump sum of gold and have their kit entirely refreshed. 

Characters with a relevant skill and access to their tools can refill a number of items equal to their proficiency bonus during a four hour work period. With access to a proper workshop, this rate doubles.   ( At last, proficiency with brewers supplies, carpenters tools etc become useful) 

I encourage you as a DM to check out this potion flasks system, which I’ve found adds a delicious factor of uncertainty back into the mix.  Attached is also my super lightweight rules for tracking gear and supplies, which I absolutely refuse to shut up about.

Artist

[footballffbarbiex]

A little smutty something with Virg as promised, even if it's 24 hours later than I'd hoped!

warnings: breeding talk, threat of hitting it raw (but use protection of some kind peeps irl), dirty talk

In your humble opinion, there were few things sexier than a last minute winning goal. Admittedly, getting there is often pull-your-hair-out stressful and leaves you becoming infuriated as the match goes on but that high? That rush? There's nothing like it, especially if it's a goal that happens just before the last few seconds of the game.

Of course, it's not always welcomed when it's the opposition which do this. The temptation to riot is there and you feel like waiting for the ref outside and bringing the fight to him, but tonight - despite the frustrations and interesting refereeing decisions made - you don't have time to pick fights.

You'd watched as Virgil had celebrated, was interviewed, celebrated some more and lifted the trophy whilst being sprayed with champagne. They'd celebrated with the fans before heading back inside. His - and the team's - joy was contagious if you were a Red and it was clear to see how much this win meant to them. While they took the bus home, you'd travelled back from London on the train with some of the other WAGs, you'd spent enough hours cooped up on a coach to know that it wasn't worth the journey back via that method of transportation.

He's in too much of a good mood, no doubt spurred on by a little happy liquid, by the time he finally stepped from the bus making it so that you'd slipped behind the wheel of the car and set off back home. He flips between sitting back with a big stupid ass grin on his face and talking to you, but at all times, his hand rests upon the top of your thigh, fingertips moving ever so carefully without his finger itself moving. Every so often, he'd drag his hand further up, fingers stroking over your clothed inner thigh before moving back to where they'd originally started.

By the time you pull onto the driveway, your nerves are shot to shit and your underwear is no longer dry from the expectation and this brought on a whole new meaning to you of what edging was.

The key is barely in the lock when Virgil is behind you, hands pulling at your hips, forcing you backwards and holding you against his swelling cock. There's a slight shift as he bends to kiss your neck and instinctively, you tilt your head to give him better access.

"We're not even inside yet," you tell him, feeling your eyelids growing heavy with each blink becoming harder to open them as his fingers begin to undress you right here on the doorstep. It slips beneath the waistband of your underwear, pushes over your pubic bone and parts your folds. Your hand is fumbling, key struggling to turn as your concentration begins to focus on something else.

"Then open the door," his hand covers yours, turning it and pushing the door open within seconds with such ease, you should feel ashamed from the way your arousal has clouded everything else but you're having a hard time caring about anything but getting some part of this man within one of your holes.

"S-s-sorry," you stammer, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he kicks the door closed and keeps the hand that cups your pussy pressed firmly against you.

"You should be. Making me wait longer to fuck you." He reprimands, pushing you against the nearest wall and standing as close to you as possible so that he can stare down at you, reminding you in one way or another just how small you are compared to him. Realisation of this has your cunt tightening.

"I think you'll find the bus arrived half an hour after I did. It's you that made me wait." You try to make a joke to follow it but one long finger strokes over your soaked hole and teases the entrance with his fingertip, making your eyes close and you buck your hips, almost fucking his singular finger. "Fuuuuck Virg," the words come out as a hiss followed by a pathetic moan.

"Yes baby?"

Your mouth opens to speak but he slips his finger in further while his palm rubs against your clit in such a way you almost see stars from finally feeling some kind of contact after what felt like eternity. Everything about this, considering how eager and impatient he claims to have been leading up to this, is slow and drawn out. His finger works you until each time he pulls his finger back, you can feel your wetness drip from you. He adds a second, the pace now picking up and you're able to hear the lewd sounds of every thrust of them.

"I don't hear what you have to say," he speaks so calmly, it's hard to imagine that he's doing what he's doing.

"Need you." You manage to pant.

"But you're having me." his tone is almost mocking but you don't care.

"no. I need you."

"Use your words baby." he coos at you. "What do you want?"

"Your cock." you circle your hips and whine when both fingers are full within you at your request.

"Where do you want my cock?"

"In me."

"Be more specific."

"In my pussy."

"Yeah? Want me to go upstairs and get a condom?" He asks, eyes searching your face but you can't focus on him right now. Every thought and action your body is capable of doing in this moment is trying to keep you upright and not have your knees giving in.

"No." You say the singular word with such determination it brings a chuckle from him.

"Oh, it's not like you to want me to fuck you raw. What's wrong? Need me to breed you huh?" He doesn't need a reply, your walls clamp around his fingers in such a way, you're almost pushing him back out again with the tightness. "I think you like the sound of that. Me fucking you, barely pulling out so that you have every inch of me inside of you, fucking you until I'm done with you and filling you up. Look at the way you're fucking my fingers baby," he says as he adds a third too easily. "You're taking these too well, it's like you're desperate for my cock. Is that what you want?"

"Mmmmm."

"Then tell me. Tell me you want me to breed you."

"I need it Virg, need you to breed me."

"All you had to do was ask."

[romana-after-dark]

Tell Me (Repost)

Dark!Miguel O'hara x fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist

I posted this months ago and by the morning it only had like 6 likes by the morning lmfao and this was during the peak of Miguel days and I thought "wow this must be terrible" so I deleted it. However, it did well on AO3 so i decided to just report it.

Miguel tries to extract information from you via any means necessary DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

OH MY GOD DO NOT EAT IF YOU DONT LIKE DEAD DOVES

This is not like The Wrong Way where Joel alternates between horrific and soft. THIS IS JUST PLAIN DDDNE.

WARNINGS!!!!: DDDNE!!! Rape, non con, torture, verbal humiliation, degradation, forced anal, biting (fang baby), literally idk what got into me here, it's literally porn with no plot. I almost always have so much plot. Victim blaming, psychological torture, I want to reiterate its literally rape. I wanted to write for Miguel bc he's a hottie and spiderverse was amazing but lets be honest, its pretty popular on tumblr rn. However, I refuse to write without inspiration, so I won't just write something just bc it's popular. Besides, this may have gotten so far on the dark side it's not even gonna be liked XD anyway, i had genuine inspiration and I went with it. All apoligies.

700 words

*****************************

“Tell me.” Miguel O’hera grabbed your throat as you hung from the ceiling. He had been trying for hours to extract the information he wanted, using multiple forms of torture and you were exhausted, but refused to tell him what he wanted. When his hands began trailing your body, you knew the next method would be psycho-sexual.

“I’m not…” You gasp as a finger grazes over your tit. “I’m not telling you anything…”

“Hm.” was his non committal answer before cutting your ropes, watching you tumble onto the concrete. “I guess we’ll see.”

Only taking a moment to breath, you try to scramble away, but to where you aren’t sure. There’s nowhere to go, and a large man climbs on top of you hold your wrists together in on fist as his other undid his pants. You writhe underneath him, but screaming is useless.

“Get off me!” You kick and twist and scrape up your whole body that's exposed in the bra and underwear you were left hanging in, the cold floor ice against your skin. “GET OFF!”

“Oh, I’ll get off alright…” Miguel mumbles as he rips your bra off. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll stop.”

You weren’t sure you believed him, but you didn’t want to give up the information. Even as he strips off his pants, his insanely large frame keeps you pinned to the floor. There is no escape.

Miguel mumbles and scoffed ‘fine’ and two hands rip off your underwear, tossing the scraps aside. You scream as he pushes his fat tip into you, ripping you open slowly, slowly… allowing you to feel every inch, every vain, every hard and warm and pulsing part of him. “You can still stop this, carino.”

“No!” You whimper, deadset and determined to stay strong. You wouldn’t let him break you.

“Have it your way.” Dragging his hips back, Miguel pauses before he thrusted into you band fucks you mercilessly, you can feel the raw pain of him sliding in and out of you as you cry out, initially dry. The most humiliating part, however, came after several minutes of hm trying to coax the information out of you, slapping your face until your mouth bled, when he began laughing. “Oh my god, are you getting wet from this? So fucking pathetic.” 

Miguel looked down on you, your body wracked with pain and jolting with each thrust, he could practically feel your will breaking. “You probably enjoy this, do you play out scenarios like this with some pathetic little dicked man? Does it turn you on, knowing you have no choice? Little whore been fucked so many times she needs to feel like she’s being forced just to get wet?” His chuckle was dark and cruel as he continued to taunt you, your tears falling down your bloodied and bruised face. 

“You’re lucky I’m even touching this used up cunt.” Miguel leans over, licking at the tears and blood and spit on your face. “Tell me, and I’ll stop fucking your pussy. TELL ME!” He screams, painfully loud in your ear.

You break, telling him what he wanted. There wasn’t a part of you that really believed he’d stop, so you were surprised when he pulled out.

When he rolled you over, you began to ask. “What are you-” but are cut off by him ramming his cock up your ass. “FUCK!!!” You scream. He wasn’t lying, he did stop abusing your pussy, only to rip our asshole open.

“God, look at you…” Miquel sat back to admire his work, smirking at the way your ass contracted and spread around his thick cock. “I’d say you were made for me, but…” Chuckling, he slaps your ass. “But I can see how much you’re struggling to make room for me. No ones ever fucked you like this, have they? You should be thanking me.” Fangs dug sharply into your shoulder, drawing out more blood. “SAY THANK YOU!” Your ears rang with his screamed words, before another bite. “SAY IT!” He bit and screamed and bit and screamed until you finally cave.

“Thank you!” You sob, and he cums inside your ass with a loud, strangled groan.

Only when you shudder from the cold do you realize he’s gotten off you, his impossibly wide frame no longer covering you. Miguel tosses you a blanket, muttering something about how he may just have to keep you now.

******************

Eeeeeep well if you like it, please consider rebloging or leaving a comment!

[brujahinaskirt]

Just some lil' thangs you might not notice about the level of detail RDR2 puts into Arthur's interactions with horses if you aren't personally experienced with horses:

[Sorry if this has been done! I couldn't find a post like it in recent tumblr history, and hope I can at least add some thoughts that haven't been analyzed to death already!]

(First, a note about me: I was raised on a quarter horse ranch and trained by a cadre of old-school cowboys in the Western tradition. Some of them were excellent teachers and some of them were crabby-faced bastards who thought "horsemanship" = engaging in a constant war with your horse... which gives me a little insight into positive and negative horsemanship styles on display in RDR2.)

(Second, thanks to fellow horsegirl @mangocats for helping me compile this list!)

(Third, a simple note to say that although I playfully use the term "horsegirl" in this post, the notes here apply to any gender. Same goes for the use of terms like "horsemen," which is not commonly used in the Western equestrian world to indicate a rider's real gender.)

Now, without further ado:

Press X to Calm. Arthur uses a tried-and-true low-stress, gradual escalation method of approaching and calming a spooked horse that begins with establishing physical contact with one hand and slowly increasing contact until the horse is fully calm and is once more amenable to human direction & commands. This is usually a preferable method to getting a frightened horse under control imo, but it's a "soft hand" method, and not something you always see in machismo-loaded equestrian circles. I've written about this a little in another meta post, so I won't get too deeply into it here.

Overall Horsemanship Style. You'll notice that while he does occasionally drive them hard in emergencies such as escaping the law or chasing a train, Arthur never "forces" his horses to comply with commands; in other words, he doesn't use his strength to try and bully a horse into doing something, like crossing a river, or physically punish a horse to "desensitize" it. "Forcing" horses to do things using tack designed to create discomfort or using raw bodily intimidation + fear & pain-motivated negative reinforcement is a tragically common tradition in old-school Western riding (and still advocated by some popular TV equestrians whom I think are straight-up animal abusers... if you know you know). It's dismal, but for a lot of the cowboys I know/knew, when a horse isn't obeying, you need to "show it who's boss." Arthur never approaches animals this way. By contrast, especially for the time period, he is exceedingly patient with horses and animals in general. We can even see this in his dialogue to wild horses; when they gradually calm down after the initial "breaking in" process, Arthur usually says something companionable like, "See, we're friends now."

And a sub-point on that: Horsemanship Temperament. Arthur never gets mad at or yells at his horse. Even when he gets chucked to the ground, he'll yell DAMN, THAT HURT, and then it's back to trying to calm the spooked horse. Which is exactly the right attitude to have. (Though if you've never been hurled face-first into a pile of sun-baked manure because your horse saw, idk, a twig on the road, you might not appreciate how even-tempered a character Arthur is for never succumbing to the temptation to yell, "COME ONNNN GIVE ME A BREAK IT'S A STICK YOU SILLY BITCH!")

Horse responsiveness. The horse emotional cues in this game are incredible, from their reactions to other animals and weather events to their reactions to Arthur. You can see the horse's neck muscles tense and relax when being calmed, their eyes changing in size, their head drop and raise in response to the reins, and their annoyance seeping through with stomps and pinned ears well before they start to spook. When Arthur speaks to his horses, you can even see a subtle ear flick backwards as they listen to him. When he gives certain commands (such as a mild squeeze of the knees to speed up a bit), a calm and attentive horse will often issue an affirmative snort; this is incredibly lifelike and essentially a "roger roger" between horse and rider. I was also impressed that Arthur uses his thighs and his knees to cue his horse more than his heels. Usually you just see the dramatic heel cues in in video games, but in real life, a rider gently but firmly squeezes their knees/thighs far more often than laying into their horse with boot heels, which is a fabulous way to get sent to the moon. One thing I would have liked to see is more riderless idle horse animations. Lazy or bored horses do a very classic pose where they rest their weight on one side, cock a hip out, and jauntily kick a back hoof up. It would have been right at home at the hitching posts in RDR2, and the horses are otherwise so lifelike, I find myself missing this little pose.

Historical bits. As players, we don't have much choice with this, since Rockstar matched bits to saddles rather than letting us customize them. With that disclaimer out of the way: Arthur uses a wide range of bits, some of them much harsher than others, designed to offer more control over a difficult horse's head through pressure points within the mouth. This is historically sound and far from obsolete in modern horsemanship, though I would certainly avoid using some of the harsher bits in RDR2 on my horses to avoid hurting them accidentally. That said, it's important to note that "harsh" control bits (like those wickedly straight-shanked bits you see with some of the cooler saddle styles) aren't instantly or automatically painful. While many of us modern horsegirls may frown upon the just-for-the-hell-of-it use of many styles of old-school, Wild West bit, in the hands of an experienced horseman with a good sense of appropriate rein pressure (which we can assume Arthur is), even a curb bit should not be a tool of pain. In the hands of a novice, however, some of those bits would absolutely hurt a poor horse's mouth and are typically reserved for troublesome (potentially dangerous) animals who may need to be curtailed quickly. I'm assuming Rockstar chose them for style more than characterization... but I do wince when I see those hard stops with the straight shanks, every time.

Horsetalk. We all know Arthur baby talks horses, and that his babble to his horse increases in affection with bonding level and varies a little depending on the horse's sex. But he also does something peculiar and frankly delightful with his vocal modulation on certain horse chatter lines. In those moments where he seems to go a little vibrato, warbling his voice as he talks ("waiaiaiaiaiaiaiat! come bahahahahack!" he calls after a fleeing mustang), Arthur is actually mimicking calming/positive horse sounds (usually a friendly nicker or a greeting whinny) in an attempt to communicate in horse language. While I think a TON of horsegirls have secretly nickered at our horses when no one else is around the stable, making horse noises at your horse is not a "traditional" training technique, and imo is something other gang members would definitely make fun of him for. It is also very adorable. I wanted to add that while horses are excellent at noise commands (like whistles, clucks, kisses, etc.), they usually aren't very good at identifying spoken word commands, including their own names. Therefore, the majority of the talking Arthur does to his horse is just free companionable chatter, much like we babble to our house pets. The command is in the cluck, the leg pressure, the yah, the rein slap; it's not the spoken, "Come on, girl, here we go!" That's just Arthur being a horsegirl.

Saddle checks. If you pay close attention, in cutscenes and in the map, Arthur will occasionally reach down and test various pieces of his saddle. This is particularly true with checking the cinches (those big straps that loop behind the front legs and under the belly), which good riders often do, as saddles can adjust during a ride. Straps that are too tight or too loose will cause a horse discomfort, since they change the way the saddle rests upon them and distributes the rider's weight. You can even watch the saddle shift when Arthur mounts and dismounts, reflecting the changed distribution in weight! This honestly floored me the first time I saw it. Rockstar really consulted people who know their stuff.

Bad Habits. IMO, Arthur's a little slouch-backed in the saddle. This is noticeably worse if he's hungry or sleepy, but even well-fed and rested, his shoulders drop and curve out his spine more than is ideal. This won't hurt his horse, but it will come back to bite him directly in the lower back as he ages, and I argue it's probably biting him in the ass a little now. (More on that below.) Arthur's "behind the horse" etiquette isn't particularly lifelike. In RDR2 (as in life), sometimes idling or benignly messing around behind a horse will cause them to randomly kick, and any equestrian knows not to hang out aimlessly in the kick zone. IRL, if you're about to walk close behind a horse, it's good etiquette to reach out and gently lay a hand on a horse's hip to let them know you're going to pass behind them before you step into the kick zone. I would have liked to see an animation for this, but I'd guess this would have been a real pain to animate without "locking" Arthur in place (as with the petting and brushing animations), so I can't really count this against him in good conscience. He also holds his reins in a full fist rather than between the appropriate fingers. This is a novice mistake, but I'm guessing this is an animation choice more than a characterization one, because I can't imagine getting those wobbly rein physics to rest perfectly between a model's wee little fingers. Which brings us to...

Reins. Arthur keeps a pretty tight (though not oppressive) grip on the reins when he has a horse in motion, facilitating quick communication from rider to horse and increased emotional response from the horse, and he tends to use both reins when he isn't holding something else. This increases control and often allows for clearer communication between horse and rider in comparison to the laxer "rein knot" one-handed Western style. More on that point: Arthur sometimes holds the reins in one hand. This is not lazy horsemanship, but rather a mainstay of the Western riding tradition; holding the reins in one hand allows for a rider to keep one hand free for whatever they might need... usually rope/weapons. Using two hands, one rein in each, does deliver much more refined control (especially with a nervous or inexperienced horse), which is why you often see Arthur switch between one- and two-handed riding. Rockstar also makes the clever choice to make reins “stretchy” so they move with the neck and simulate rider give and restraint, rather than having them just flop around at a static length. This makes reining feel a lot more dynamic and responsive, in my opinion.

Bareback vs. Saddle: To Rockstar's credit, riders' carriage when bareback is entirely different from the saddle carriage animations, and displays a lower center of gravity.

This note is a bummer, but it is, I feel, an important one to know. Arthur is WAY TOO BIG to ride a significant number of horses in the game. Horses are not bikes or cars. In real life, it's extremely important to consider a rider's weight and height and general carriage when matching them with a horse, especially for long-distance rides... and unfortunately, Arthur is prohibitively huge. If I saw a man Arthur's size astride that teeny little Morgan, boots tips damn near dragging, I'd give him a piece of my damn mind. That said, it's just a video game, so if you love that white Arabian or that sweet little Morgan, ride without shame; you are not hurting a pixel horse! But if you're into max realism or a horse an experienced rider like Arthur might conceivably choose for himself, go for something larger, leggier, and stronger. Though Rockstar fictionalized their breeds a little bit, I think one of their taller well-balanced styles like the Dutch warmblood, standardbred, Hungarian, Andalusian, or even one of those svelte Americanized Belgians suits Arthur much more comfortably. Online's Kladruber would also be an excellent choice for Arthur. (Ain't nobody saying SHIT to Arthur Morgan on a heavy breed like a Shire, though they aren't well suited for everyday long-distance all-terrain riding, and I feel sympathy pains about that leg spread just thinking about it. Speaking of...)

Real talk about Arthur's "swagger": Though I'm 100% sure it's a dominance thing for some crusty ol' cowboys, most equestrians don't saunter around Like That TM because they are listening to Rod Stewart croon If You Want My Body And You Think I'm Sexy at all times. That "swagger" is just... well... to be blunt, it's sort of what happens to your gait after you spend all day with your legs straddling a big animal moving on rough terrain. Hang out with some adults who have ridden horses daily since they were wee beans and they'll tell you allllll about what it can do to your posture. Contrary to cowboy jokes, it's not so much about being bowlegged (which is massively exaggerated as it pertains to horseback riding) as it is about lowering one's center of gravity to compensate for things like muscle strain, spinal compression, and lower back pain. Due to the high impact nature of riding, many career horsepeople develop chronic back problems and "swaggers," and for some it's eventually more comfortable to ride than to walk. Not saying you can't hc an Arthur who struts his stuff, of course! Just saying that, for those of you who might struggle to reconcile Arthur's blisteringly low self-esteem in his physical appearance with his "swagger," here's a horse world answer.

Knights Templar'ing it. This is another bummer for a ton of cute fanfic scenes, but riding two-to-a saddle is really not good for a horse. It's not just about raw weight, but about the distribution of that weight and where the pressure rests on a horse's back/organs. A bean like Little Jack sitting right in Arthur's lap isn't going to add too much stress to a horse big enough to carry a tanky dude like Arthur comfortably, but a whole second adult sitting behind a saddle is a very different story. Imagine the difference between carrying someone piggyback versus having someone stand on your spine! It's all about the position. Larger breeds can tolerate riding double for a while, but it should not be done for long distances, and it definitely should not be done if a rider expects to need heavy exertion from the horse. Adults riding double doesn't happen too often in RDR2 (usually just during an emergency), so this isn't a critique of Rockstar or Arthur; it's more so a helpful realism note for fanworks. An experienced horsegirl like Arthur is sure not to ride double casually. Pro-tip: If you want someone to teach your (non-bean-sized) OC how to ride a horse, consider having the teacher controlling the horse from the ground via a lead/lunge line while your OC sits in the saddle.

Oof, that smarts... When Arthur picks up hay bales with short sleeves on/bare hands, he makes a soundless "OOF OOOH EEEE OUCH" face. The first time I saw this, I absolutely lost it with glee. Anyone who has moved hay (or straw; they're different!) with bare arms knows how prickly and scratchy and itchy it is, and it's loving little touches like this that make RDR2's horses feel so darn real.

That's all I can think of for now! I hope this list was at least somewhat helpful, even if it's far from an all-encompassing resource on horsey stuff in RDR2. Happy riding, meatverse horsegirls & virtual horsegirls, and remember to always thank your horse :)

[itsabouttimex2]

In your opinion who is most likely to be scary Yandere for you? Like what is the most terrifying Yandere that you are GLAD that you are not their obsessions?

Oh, this is an interesting question! I’m happy to answer. There’s four in total to go over here- and thank you for asking!

I’ve only written twice for Huntsman, (mostly because I can’t find gifs for him) but I genuinely find him to be the scariest Lego Monkie Kid yandere. His obsession with you is based almost entirely around your skills, either as a hunter equal to him or as prey worthy of pursuit. The love present between is mutual, in a way- grindstones alike, whetting your skills in lethal pursuit and escape. You invite his predation, then struggle to escape it. It’s a perpetual, equal race to the mastery of his and your respective skills, hunting and escaping.

If Huntsman does catch you, he’ll likely end with him stuffing your body as a dinner table prop or having you for dinner outright. At least he’s got a nice recipe for you.

Then again, you might just do the same to him if you win.

Either way, neither of you will ever forget the impact that the other has made on you.

Unlike Huntsman above, Tang Sanzang (also criminally few gifs) isn’t on this list because his intention is to harm you, or because he’s willing to follow through with actual butchery of your physical being-

No, it’s because he will win. There’s no escape from the pious pilgrim. He finds you, snatches you up, snaps a golden circlet or two onto your body somewhere, then forces you along on his journey, intending to make something better of you.

And after enough tightening sutras and lectures and escape attempts that are thwarted by his loyal disciples… you break. Confidence, stubbornness and rebellion can only last so long before you are left wearied and in need of comfort.

One moment you’re sniffling and clutching at the bands that cover your wrists, the skin long worn raw from repeated punishments. You stand on shaky feet with your head bowed, trying to stay strong in your quest to abandon this long, arduous journey.

The next moment you’ve got your head in his lap, sobbing your eyes out into the pants of his cossack. You apologize for every last thing you can think of, desperate for his kind touch and forgiveness. Sanzang offers you both in plentitude, his hands stroking down your hair and rubbing at the bands that have tortured your wrists for so long.

He’ll hold you close the rest of the day and then all through the night, his gentle fingers patching your wounds with herbal paste and untangling the knots in your hair.

And you’ll wonder why you ever wanted to leave in the first place.

Power, wealth, status. Big Mama has all three in abundance. She’s got a collection of mystic baubles and magical curios as far as the eye can see. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of servants and slaves gladiators.

And she’s very, very, cunning.

The webs she weaves to deceive are more than tangible- they’re snared to achieve a position where you’re forced into submission.

Big Mama will have you.

With an arcane bibelot to tamper with your mind and leave you unsettled. Using a rather disposable servant to stage a rescue that leaves you indebted. Sending a Yōkai to demolish your workplace and leave you in desperate need of her ‘generous’ offer to sign you on to her staff.

By brute, overwhelming force, if she must personally collect you. If you fight her too much here, she’ll leave you strung up from the ceiling with web over your eyes and ears to deprive you of your senses. Only for a while, of course. It wouldn’t do to damage her new little darling too much, even if her method of procural leaves you bruised and battered.

No matter the manner, she will have you.

(I held off on writing for this guy for the longest time, because I wasn’t sure if my followers would enjoy darker content. But I got the go ahead!)

Dabi’s a monster. He’s a man who prioritizes the downfall of his father above all else, and he’s a mile-long sadistic streak to pair with it.

He enjoys hurting people. Innocent people, to boot. No regard for their friends, for their families. No regard for the snuffing of precious, fragile life.

His mind is fractured from the strain and heartbreak of being cast aside by his father, replaced by his brother, and forgotten by his family in short turn.

You’re a outlet for Dabi, not someone he loves.

I don’t think he’s capable of love anymore.

You scream when his flaming fingers jab deep into your skin. You cry when his fingernail cut into your skin and ignite. He grabs big fistfuls of your hair and burns them off, chuckling as you sob, stinking of charred keratin.

His touch is tricky, mixing torturous pain with gentle relief. His softer actions are not true kindness- he’s only patching your wounds and stroking your hair so you’ll never now exactly what his next touch will consist of. Is he going to beat you? Pat your head? Rip out your fingernails?

You can’t know, not with the deliberate duality he displays. Every time he comes close to you, you tremble and whimper, smelled of burning hair and charred flesh. And Dabi hurts you, again and again and again.

But he won’t kill you. If there’s even a single, infinitesimally small speck of love left in his heart, it is dedicated solely to not killing you.

That is not a mercy.

[eldritch-spouse]

Giving Cero a handjob while reading to him our marriage contract and fawning over him

Can I also just say your blog is the love of my life I love your characters and content you put so much heart into it so just thank you and hope ya basements always full of bagels😭💞💞🫶🫶🫶

[Girls, guys and ghouls give it up for the biggest brain in the basement! Also, thenk you so much, that means a lot to me. :'7 <3 Fem reader.]

Cero expected a couple of outcomes when he slid the marriage contact your way and sat at a certain distance as you read.

You could be intelligent, come to the conclusion that he's offering you a better life than you'll ever have otherwise, recognize him as the savior he is and sign it. You could sign it out of fear, not ideal but he'll take it. Or you could throw a little baby tantrum and force him to use less appealing methods of making you reconsider.

He did not expect this however.

Maybe in his fantasies. The type of thing he'd sooner be caught dead than admitting he wastes energy conjuring in his mind.

You liked that contract.

In hindsight, you liked a lot of things, not just the contract. The demonlord had simply been far too busy trying to predict everything at once to notice the way your eyes would sparkle up at him whenever he said anything, how he basically didn't even have to tug you along to this room, how you exuded raw admiration watching every new room of his mansion revealed to you. Typical that, in his own magnificent intelligence, he didn't even stop to gouge your reactions. Regardless, the contract must have been the straw that broke the camel's back, because the moment you signed it-

-By the Rings, Cero didn't even get the opportunity to gloat about the fact that you signed it- You fucking signed it so fast! So readily! So willingly! You're so docile-

You threw yourself at him like a bitch in heat.

Normally, he wouldn't stand for this. Cero doesn't want to encourage this lack of self-control and discipline in his future Queen, it would be disastrous and cruel of him to allow you to behave so beastly. But, perhaps it was the sheer infectious glee in the air, the euphoria, the anticipation, the feelings he's never felt before being so quickly returned in spite of the minuscule speck of doubt that kept rearing its head... It all sparked together in one horrifically uncouth explosion of base urges gnashing their teeth.

The monster tried to keep his composure when he offered you a drink and dragged your chair closer to himself.

Several glasses of Gluttony's finest wine later, he's standing by your side, panting quietly, sharp yet slightly fogged eyes watching your small hand stroke languidly along his twitching length while you read several sections of his written work -It's a fine contract. A bit rushed, but a product of raw talent and passion he's well and truly proud of- Both of you tug at your own clothes to combat the heated friction in the air, and Cero has to hand it to you, your diction is commendable for someone so incredibly drunk on their first taste of Hell's crimson.

" This is marvelous... " You utter after a short pause when turning the page.

Cero schemes the outline of your tits through the shabby rags you call clothing, hips rocking ever so slightly as he considers dragging his cock between them, size difference be damned. You respond by squeezing around him a bit harder, delightfully so. " You expected less from me? " The last word dips into a poorly concealed moan.

Your grin is lopsided. " ... No. "

Cero will deny it with all his strength later, but his eyes rolled a little at that timid confession.

" Very good. " His clawed hand comes to guide your harmless one more efficiently, letting you know how he likes to be worshipped. After all, it's relevant to the next part you're going to enunciate. " Continue. "

The Icon pays close attention to the reactions in your face as you re-read this particular section. Because, while some parts were left deliberately vague, he knows you can pick up on the insinuations behind much of his professional language. He took care to make it tread that thin line between perfectly adequate, easily defensible, yet deviously secretly filthy. How could you ever miss the meaning interwoven in his phrasing when his dick hovers dangerously close to your face?

The more you read, the more you seem to buzz with arousal. Cero doesn't need to be a concubus to understand those clenching thighs and hasty breathing. He bites his lip for a moment, his own excitement beading at the tip of his member, used by you to further slick things along, a lewd sound now accompanying that trembling speech. You're almost picturesque like this- With your rosy lips, that flustered blinking, reduced to a mess by the mere terms and conditions he crafted. Cero would tease you about likely making a puddle on his chair's cushion if he wasn't already biting back snarls of pleasure.

" G- God, I- Fuck... " You whisper, whatever it is that you're imagining bringing a bead of sweat to your visage.

Unable to keep himself straight for much longer, Cero bends to loom over your figure, one hand bracing his weight on said chair's top rail while a boot rests on of the stretcher.

" I'm sure you must be dying to get started, no? Why, you're already practicing! " Some humor bleeds into his poisonous tone, though the King is much too turned on to make it sound as playful as he wished.

A shiver that looks more like a death rattle makes its way down your back and, adorably, you find your tongue tied in knots. Cero all but chuckles cruelly when you can't find the voice to continue reading, mind muddling into blind want.

" I'm... I'm sorry I- I can't... "

" Hush. You're forgiven, inamorata. " There's no shortage of jubilation in the Icon's toothy sneer when you effortlessly allow his digits to beckon your head closer, turning it.

He swipes the pristine pages from the table, the tip of his cock parked at your lips. You kiss him without being told to, already showing a lot of promise, and he casts you a slightly softer look while he buries as much of his length down your throat as you can handle.

" I'll do the reading for us now. "

[hogans-heroes]

can i ask about the learning curve wip? maybe get a snippet? 😊

Of course! My most beloved wip rn, my chaptered Alex pov. I made a descriptive post about it here and posted a snippet here! (with mini visuals). But I'll give you another longer snippit because I love you and your writing! (Also, as much as I love this fic I've been getting stuck with it lately so am writing other stuff atm. Will get back to it very soon).

Alex’s dad was a psychologist, and boy would he have a field day at Stalag Luft III.

He could practically hear his father’s voice in his head as he watched the guys mill around the camp compound, narrating their actions and picking them apart to gently expose what was inside, for their own good, to study them like wild creatures who in extreme circumstances often reverted back to cavemen, to more raw forms of behavior.

He can’t use his words, his dad would say. Because at some point he tried and tried and tried, and they never worked. “To hell with this,” the brain says, “we’re gonna go back to the basics,” and that’s usually physical expression.

There’s really only two core emotions at the heart of a human. If you keep peeling at the bottom of every action and reaction, every visible emotion, you’ll find either love, or fear. And they’re usually connected. That’s all humans are really made of.

So his dad might have gotten a little philosophical too. At least it gave Alex more thoughts to keep himself busy and not go crazy locked up. It was fun in a way, collecting bits of information and arranging them like a child would blocks. That Bachelor of Science degree in Chemistry and Biology he had earned before the war wouldn’t do him much good if it didn’t at least help keep him alive for the duration. The camp was only a new study he could apply the scientific method to.

So far it had been going well, and every piece fit together in its place. The one thing Alex could not grasp however, that was driving him crazy, was the two majors from the 100th.

Egan and Cleven? Buck and Bucky? John and Gale? Alex wasn't sure what combination of names he should be using or even who was who most of the time, but the names always went together. Not a single person Alex had encountered had ever used the names separately. The way prisoners talked about them, anyone would have thought they were some dual-soul deity the stalag had built a religion around, yet since Alex had been assigned to their barrack room all his careful study of them had only resulted with a handful of pieces that didn’t fit together. Major Gale Cleven “Call me Buck,” with eyes that could pierce your soul like an x-ray and “just” John Egan. Buck, whose impossible gentleness was at odds with his rock-wall presence at the front of his men, and Egan, who treated Alex like a disease though it didn’t seem to be for the usual reasons, he treated everyone that way, walked around with volcanic ash trailing from cracks that Alex wondered if only he could see. What pieces Alex had gathered of the two of them wasn’t the same as what he was hearing from the 100th. The supposed yin-and-yang duo vacillated like a metronome between hostile and devoted and it drove Alex insane.

Pain shot up his leg and he caught himself on Daniels’ outstretched arm, jerking him back to his body moving one foot in front of the other and two comrades beside him, having lost count how many times they had circumnavigated the camp. They were passing their own hut again and this time Buck was sitting on the steps with his nose in a book, his messy hair fallen over his forehead and long fingers clenching the worn cover with more force necessary for a book on native plants of Ireland (Alex had read it the week before). He remained laser focused on the page with a furrow in his brow, scars on his cheeks contrasting sharply with the soft angles of his face, and Alex jumped when Macon knocked him on the arm. 

“Pay attention man,” Macon quipped. “We’re still on for our escape, the last thing we need is for you to adopt some sad-eyed White boy.”

Alex wasn’t sure if he should be insulted, but frowned anyway. “Buck’s my friend,” he retorted. 

“Oh it’s Buck now? That’s a fuckin’ major, man. A squadron commander with more flight hours than actual goddamn birds and you’re calling that Buck?”

“Just don't get too attached,” Daniels interjected. “The less people we trust here the better.”

The image of Buck sitting in the library with his chin on his knees, gentle blue eyes giving undivided attention as Alex explained some fighter plane or science subject made his stomach twist at the suggestion of not trusting him, or even worse, leaving him behind. Alex had spent most of his life being teased for being too soft, too kind, too trusting. He’d gotten himself in a bad spot several times because of that too, so he probably should be more careful, but sue him, he was tired and aching inside and Buck had actually listened. 

[codename-adler]

My AFTG take is that I'm actually baffled by how little people see the Riko/Kevin dynamic as having a sexual undertone. Like they were romantically involved in previous drafts of the story and for me it shows? And I don't even mean as they necessarily being exes or even an unrequited love situation, I just think Riko comes off as someone who feels entitled to ALL of Kevin. They are sooooo toxic codependent teen girl friendship to me.

(prefacing this by, again, admitting to not reading the EC. it's starting to feel a lil shameful in here... but i'm stubborn like my mama (she's actually not, that's just what the father says) so i'm still putting that off for as long as i can)

you is absolutely right. it's not a coincidence AFTG's antagonist is a man who has no concept of boundaries whatsoever, and that the main characters, and main couple, are people who have been severely hurt and traumatized by others disregarding their boundaries. it's the whole goddamn shtick of the story.

Riko knows no limits. i don't even believe he knows he can, and should, have his own. "no," "stop," "too much," "wrong," and "boundaries" are simply not part of his vocabulary, and i mean that. these words mean nothing, represent nothing; they're completely foreign, because he hasn't been taught, hasn't been shown, what their meaning is. nobody ever told him no, but nobody ever heard his no either. nobody ever told him to stop, but nobody ever stopped when he told them either. so when you give him a team, when you give him a toy, a pet, a companion, it's only natural he does unto them what he's only ever known. and i'm not saying that to take away his responsibility, to pity him. i'm trying to articulate how genuinely he believes he has access to another person. Riko is terrifying because he truly knows no limits. he cannot be taught. he cannot be changed, persuaded, helped. not in the short time the story unfolds. everything is happening so fast, Riko is so unrelenting, the threats are coming from everywhere and taking Riko in, helping him and undoing his toxic psyche is just not a viable option.

and so with Kevin... Kevin being the only remnant of normalcy and good Riko has been allowed to keep from his childhood? but Kevin refusing to be the way Riko is? it's an exposed, raw nerve begging to be pulled. does Riko keep digging deeper into his monstrous self in the hopes to corrupt Kevin? or is to force Kevin to watch and hope, despite all, that he'll still stand by his side and love him? Kevin does not know how deep his claws are buried into Riko. he doesn't even know he has claws, and much less powerful enough to grip the entity that is Riko. but Riko knows. imagine being a limitless man whose one thing holding him back isn't even aware it's doing so. imagine having the one thing you could consider your other half not giving his all like you do in everything. you go mad. and you don't care. you go all the way, because it's the only way you know how to do anything.

the lines from psychological violence and manipulation to physical violence to sexual violence are only lines to us. to Riko it's all a blur of the same thing. to Riko it's not even violence, it's the natural way things go. they're not "new" methods of torture; if one goes, anything goes, it's only a matter of what is available to him in the moment. everything is dark, everything is toxic, everything is pain.

"Riko comes off as someone who feels entitled to ALL of Kevin."

yes. that's exactly it. you cannot reason with him why certain things he is not allowed to have when Kevin has given him other parts of himself. why couldn't he touch Kevin like this when Kevin has given him his game? why couldn't he be allowed to have Kevin like this when they share a locker room and public showers? why could Thea kiss him just so and make him moan like that and not him? Riko does not know the difference. does not understand the intricacies, does not see the nuances. his world is divided in this is mine and this isn't mine yet.

and Kevin. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. a childhood with Riko and a passion for the game is not enough to justify the tension he's got with Riko. but that's the Nest for you. it's not called a cult for nothing. the tension tumbling into sex or sexual is inevitable. Riko managed to break Kevin's mind, break his game, his body. all that Kevin can get back with the Foxes. but a broken heart? a broken intimacy? only Riko has that powerful hold on Kevin. only him could potentially heal Kevin. but the thing is, he doesn't see those things as broken. they're simply done, and his.

Andrew's promise to Kevin wasn't to physically take on the Moriyamas. it was to push Riko out of his head when things got hard. Riko is so deeply embedded into Kevin's being, his veins, his stomach, his back, his tighs, his hands, his eyes, his neck, his chest. Riko is so much part of Kevin that Kevin himself starts to fade, and when his feet take him back towards Evermore, it's not because Riko's voice convinced him to, it's because Riko is in Kevin, and Riko belongs in the Nest. that is what Andrew has to protect Kevin against. that is the job he's been dealt: untangle Riko from Kevin.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

A homoerotic snippet in which the hero and villain are forced into close proximity? Thanks!

“If you move one more muscle. I’ll scream,” the hero said. It had been a long day. Getting his ass kicked by some new villain, getting the call for the special mission, getting stuck in a vent with the villain — it had been a long, disappointing day he wanted to forget.

He was close to losing his temper which was an occurrence in a millennia. He always managed to keep his cool but today, for some reason, he wasn’t necessarily keen on sticking to any sort of moral code.

“Oh, come on. This is very fun unless you’re claustrophobic.”

The hero sighed, hating how his enemy was touching every inch of him, except for his back. He couldn’t move. But the villain could, he just chose not to.

Like some medieval torture method. The suspense was aggravating the hero the most, the position wasn’t even that bad.

“I could get used to this.” The villain’s breath tickled the hero’s neck and for a second, the hero thought the world had stopped spinning.

“Cut it off, will you?” His voice was softer now and a certain melancholy took over his mind, replacing the raw and distasteful anger. He didn’t know what drew him to the villain so frequently. Didn’t know why he had called him, asked for help. Didn’t know why he needed to see him.

Or maybe he did, he was just too afraid to name it.

“You’re no fun,” the villain said, his finger boring into the hero’s side. It made him flinch embarrassingly. “Little puppy. Always coming when he’s called. Always doing what he’s told. You’re no fun.”

Aghast, the hero stared at him with from the side big eyes, hoping he couldn’t see the soft blush on his face.

“We can’t all try to dominate the world, can’t we?”

“You think that’s what I am trying to do?” the villain said, no, whispered, his lips dangerously close to the hero’s collarbone.

“I think you want to destroy as much as you can,” the hero said. He thought the villain would finally release him, not too thrilled to have this conversation. But the villain didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

“Destroying things in the process is collateral damage. Just wanna live without getting bothered. I’m willing to fight for that.” The hero laughed at that humourlessly, mouth splitting into a grin.

“Poor villain. Too popular for his own good.”

“Listen, pretty boy.” The villain grabbed a handful of the hair on the back of the hero’s scalp and pressed him forward, cheek into the cold metal of the vent with such a force that for a second, the hero couldn’t breathe. “I’ve worked for where I’m at and I am not ashamed of the blood on my hands. You may think you can live with it, too. But we both know that you are haunted by the ones you kill. Of the both of us, I am free.”

“Y’wanna ask me to join you?” the hero asked, panting as the villain pressed him into the plain surface.

“Wanna ask you to reevaluate your words. At this point, I am the only one who can help you. Quite literally. So be a bit nicer to your saviour or I’ll start to bite.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Amarantha x f!reader: The High Queen’s Courtesan[*]

Warnings: right I don’t know what the fuck happened here but water-boarding while squirting???, facesitting, sex-slave things, dubcon but you really have to squint.

“Is Rhysand going to join us?” You question, tilting your head as she prowls toward the bed. “If I wanted to fuck him, I wouldn’t be with you now, would I?” She speaks, her icy voice sending flame licking between your legs. You pout, thighs squeezing together as you look up at her, “I could fuck you.” She raises a brow as you shift to kneel before her, “just give me a strap,” you raise your hands to her thighs in supplication, “I’d treat you so good, my Queen.”

She grins, that cruel glint in her eyes sparking heat between your legs as her nails rake over your scalp, tugging at your hair harshly, “if I got you a strap, you’d spend your days choking on it. I’d fuck that pretty mouth raw.” She delights in your masochism, how your lip is tugged between your teeth, arousal permeating the room. “You could gag it to my mouth,” you breathe, leaning into her desperately, “ride me for real,” you pant, brows curve up at the idea.

Her fist tightens in your hair, pulse increasing as silver lines your eyes, cruel, wicked delight coursing through her body. “My good little pet.” Her words are cruel and demeaning, but so arousing. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d like to have my thighs spread over your mouth, able to watch as I fuck myself, hm? Collect the slick that drips down?”

You whimper, curving your brows as you look up at her pleadingly, desperate to have her seated on you. “Please, my Queen.” She only laughs, the sound lacking any kind of amusement. “Lay on the bed. Face up.” Excitement flares in the pit of your stomach as you wiggle back onto the bed, positioning yourself how she likes. You make no mistake in thinking she’s doing this for you - it’s all for her own pleasure. It just happens that you delight in being used, and she needs an obedient toy.

She prowls around the bed, crown resting on her brow as she slides out of her robes, making you wait. You bite your lip as you watch her near the foot of the bed - closest to your head. “If you don’t satisfy me, I’ll throw you beneath the mountain,” she threatens, and you know she’ll follow through. What good is a toy that doesn’t fulfil it’s purpose? “Leave you to starve, be eaten by something stronger.”

A throb of arousal sparks between your thighs at the reminder of how replaceable you are. “I’ll satisfy you, My Queen,” you breathe reverently, “satisfy you until my last breath.”

That seems to please her, though her mouth doesn’t change from it’s cruel set. She turns around, leaning over as she spreads herself wide, your eyes fixated on her wet heat, her scent slamming into you. Your eyes roll.

From above you, Amarantha watches between her legs. She’s never understood how some fae can be so content to act as slaves for another. Your lack of dignity is embarrassing, but beneficial. It’s disgusting how you beg for her to commit depraved acts on top of you. How you ask her for things even she hadn’t considered. But she gets a sick thrill every time, one that has become desensitised even to her favourable torture methods.

You truly put Rhysand to shame with how whorish you act for her.

She settles on your face, pleasure slicking her hole as she perches on your mouth, recounting every obscene performance you’ve thrown at her feet. Remembers the first night you’d been used, how she’d been in need of a flash of excitement, in need of inflicting a lash of pain.

She remembers how she’d forced you to kneel before her in her then-empty throne room, and slowly hooked a leg over the arm, baring herself. In most cases, the fae would shatter right then and there, understanding where she was throwing them. To the bottom of the food chain.

Yet you’d dived right in. At first she has assumed you were just desperate for life. It was only when her release gushed from her, soaking your mouth as it spilled over you to the dais that she’d understood your succubine nature. How you’d sealed your lips over her, drinking her down as your eyes latched onto hers, pleading. Pleading for it to continue.

When you’d finished with her, she had been ever so slightly slumped on her throne, circlet tilted forward. She’d been furious at you, furious at you for having that effect on her. Her nails had scraped over your scalp painfully, tearing, and you’d leaned into her, letting her jerk your head back.

She remembers how she’d landed a kick to your shoulder, sending you careening down the dias steps until you were sprawled at the bottom, arms bound behind you. She remembers how she had stalked down the steps until one leg was either side of your face, sinking down onto your mouth as her hand had tangled in your hair, smothering you.

And here you are now, set beneath her wet cunt as her nails scrape through your hair, jerking you against her as she slides her hips back and forth, humping your mouth. She knows you can’t breathe, slowly suffocating beneath her pussy but that’s you damned job, it’s certainly not hers to care.

Amarantha watches with drawn back delight as your eyes roll at the feeling of having her atop you. How many times have you begged to have her seated on your mouth? It was a peculiar fixation to have, but one that solely benefitted her so she couldn’t care less over the reasoning.

Her brow dips in displeasure when your hand taps lightly against her thigh, disturbing her. She glared down at you, ice in her eyes. What? The look says. Amarantha observes as your lower lip is tugged between your teeth, an expression she recognises as you having a suggestion. Her brow quirks in irritable question. This had better be good or she was going to have you flayed. No matter how well and obediently you had serviced her, failure was failure.

“Spit it out,” she drawls, her words razor sharp and dripping with poison. Your eyes latch onto her own, they’re wide and dilated with pleasure. “Would you…be interested in bringing torture into the bedroom, my Queen?”

“Do you not count your lashings as torture?” Heat flushes your cheeks. No, she supposes, you don’t. “What do you have in mind, whore?” Your hips buck lightly at her title for you and she feels how the pads of your fingers press lightly into her plump thighs. “I would request you place a cloth or rag over me.” You shift beneath her, “to absorb your release, my Queen.”

Her lips tilt in sinister pleasure, “you want to drown in my come?”

“Only if it would please you.”

Her brow narrows. “My Queen.”

She turns the idea over in her head, the idea of you suffocating on her release sounding wickedly appealing. Into her hand drop a thickened sheet of fabric. “Set to work, whore.” Immediately, your mouth is reattaching to her hot sex, tongue lapping deeply as you await your torture impatiently. Her hips wind over you with a new vigour.

You feel her tighten around your tongue, a sure sign she’s close. When she doesn’t lift to allow you breath, you know she’ll be unraveling in moments, masochist euphoria hazing your dumb mind as you persist in pleasuring her. Arousal builds equal to anticipation as she hits her peak, pushing the fabric between you and her as she winds over the rough material, delightfully textured. You take care not to suck in a breath.

Hot liquid sinks into the cloth, spilling over you as she comes, hard. Her growls of pleasure echo throughout the chambers while you gasp for air beneath your Queen who uses you like a saddle. Euphoria bursts within you as your mind short circuits, unable to oxygenate your mind as she keeps her thighs spread, pressing into you as she rides out her mind-shattering high.

Your eyes roll back into your skull from the overwhelming pleasure, dizziness swirling through your conscious in a torrent of euphoria, knocking you out cold. All you remember is the scent of her arousal soaking into you, erotic contentment singing in your blood to the comfortable weight of your Queen seated on her rightful throne.

[coffinsister]

I think Andrew was probably poorly raised enough, without proper sex education, that he fully and honestly believes in the pullout method. In the vision Ashleys like "something else fit in my mouth just fine" because its how Andrew finishes because as much of a breeding kink he has he doesnt want her getting pregnant

Does Ashley leg lock this man because all his dirty talk is them having a baby? Yes. Is it the only reason she ends up getting pregnant? Absolutely not

I was about to say no way anybody can be raised that badly but then I thought back to my classmates who at certain points thought that their dick had like a maximum of uses they could give it because it was constantly breaking away each time they used it and then when they arrived at that maximum it would fall off forever

So yeah you know what knowing that his mom had him at 15 I swallow that he does genuinely think pulling out works

Also Andrew really be like only breeding no kids, I think maybe he would try to get them to use condoms at first but Ashley just kept popping holes on them regardless so they just started going raw

He makes sure to pull out and just pull on her hair and choke her on him to see her eyes watering and her lips stretching red until she runs out of air and is forced to swallow all of it down

Andrew can safely blame her for getting pregnant after her own breeding kink just snaps and she doesn't let him pull out but honestly the way they were going it was bound to happen regardless at some point