#my stinky evil man

[lilbitofmac]

A tempting offer from a familiar face…

[kerfufflearts]

[papastrawbeary]

Thinking about him again....

(Old art, done in watercolor and pencil)

[unaarista]

stinky evil bastard man was also a pin design (his pin also turned out subpar T_T)

[maraniraliann]

Archibald Snatcher from 'The Boxtrolls'!! 🧀

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024: Day 8 | Boot Worship Breeding + Murdock

Rating: NSFW MINORS DNI

AFAB!Reader/Femme

Pairing: Murdock (Markiplier CU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Breeding Kink, Eldritch Anatomy, Tentacles, Pet Names, Risk/Intent Kink, Helplesssness Kink, Risky Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubcon to Hell and back your honor, Murdock is just a nasty fucker ok

I can't write boot worship worth a shit so we're doin this. Also be aware that this is my brand of breeding kink. No, nothing happens. My brand.

My brand! i have speshul eyes 👁👁

Word Count: 916

Ragged, gasping breaths and desperate noises scatter into the air, puffs of condensed steam mingling together before fading into the twilight. Autumn chill nips at your bare skin, but the human-shaped space heater beneath you more than makes up for the cooler weather.

So focused you are on your pleasure, you barely register the cold now.

Murdock fucks up into you ruthlessly, wantonly–an overwhelming need meeting the desperate cant of your hips down onto his cock. Each thrust–god you can practically feel him in your throat–knocks the wind out of you, scattering your already hair-thin self control and tipping the scales in his favor yet again.

Greedy bastard.

This had all started out in a rare instance of you initiating, riding him–trying to regulate the encounter on your terms. Controlling the speed, the depth, teasing him–trying to get him to cum first.

A tall order with his stamina, but you’re no quitter.

Oh, but then you had to go and get cocky at a particularly uncharacteristic noise he made, reeling from an adrenaline high. You’d made some offhand comment, grinding down on his cock languidly–and the look he shot you when you stopped…

Murdock is never one to let hubris go unpunished.

And here you are. Forced to cum on his cock again and again, your mind systematically turned to mush, leaking out of your ears with the rest of your self control. Lost to sensation, to his sinful words and the inevitable end of your encounter–

Which is coming much sooner than you realize.

Murdock’s thrusts intensify, dragging you down onto his cock, jolting an incoherent cry from deep in your chest. Your hands splay across his bare chest as you try to reclaim some sort of balance but he doesn’t let you, firmly gripping your hips and fucking up into you with abandon. Practiced, intentional–he knows exactly what pace to take, which angle has you at your weakest.

Pliant for him.

You can feel yet another orgasm rushing up to meet you, that abused coil tightening up yet again, breath catching as you struggle to fight it. It almost feels wrong to do so, so attuned you are to his desires–but you started this, you want to end it on your terms.

So you struggle power from him the only way you know how: denial.

“N-No-” you choke out, trying to squirm out of his grip.

Murdock doesn’t stop, eyes glinting with a dangerous light as he slows down just enough to grind up into you. Forcing your clit against his pubic bone, delighting in the little squeaks each maddening swirl earns him.

“No?” he echoes mockingly, leaning up from his seat. You look absolutely wrecked and it does nothing but inflate his ego further. “Since when are you into edging, Sweetheart?”

You shake your head, pushing at his chest, trying and failing to get up out of his lap. “D-Don’t w-wanna cum-”

And that’s when he understands–at least his version of understanding. Your little helplessness kink, denial on the grounds of dubcon. Resistance.

Too bad he’s not into games, not when he’s this close.

Murdock smiles cruelly. Something small, devious and black flickers into existence by your hip. The newly manifested tentacle attacks your clit at the same time Murdock begins his pace anew–and every conceived plan of yours falls to threads in your mind.

Each thrust drags you closer and closer to that inevitable cliff, every twitch of that little bastard tentacle forcing you much faster than you thought possible. Within seconds, you’re curling up over him, mouth caught in a soundless scream, all but begging him for more and–

Then it all stops.

Murdock stops. Leaves you wailing, twitching, right on that blissful edge of oblivion, dragging you off his cock just as easily as you sank down upon it. You collapse onto his chest, squirming, incoherent pleas caught in your throat, desperation taking over and it burns.

That kind of denial always burns–

The world tilts suddenly and you’re on something soft–warm leather and the scent of pine, Murdock’s coat beneath you–before a heavy presence behind you brings you back to reality. Murdock’s hand around your throat, forcing you face down, ass up as he practically mounts you.

Balls deep before you can think, a languid thrust that forces all thought from your head, the breath form your lungs. Pressing your face into the soft fabric of his coat, muffling your incoherent sounds.

Your arms and legs tremble as you squirm, try to regain control enough to push back- but then there’s the familiar sensation of tendrils winding up your arms, pulling them behind your back and securing them there.

Shit– hell, where did this come from–

“There we go,” he rumbles from above you, breathless and hungry in his own right. Open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his warm breath against your ear. “Pretty little thing… you can’t expect me to deny you this, can you?”

“M-Murdock, wait-” you gasp out, cut off when another full-body thrust jolts you forward, a tentacle wound around your hips dragging you back into it. Hitting deep. Right where you need him.

“Especially with what day it is-”

Shit– Fuck– Oh god wait– Yesyesyesyes–

A shameful thrill shudders up your spine and he feels you clench around him, all the indicator he needs to resume that bone-rattling pace, fucking you into the back seat of his Challenger.

“M-Murdock!”

“That’s it, Sweetheart, fuck–keep saying my name. Missed this greedy little cunt-held off for a while, know how much you need it. We’re gonna make sure it takes this time.”

[dinglefu]

MORE BALD MEN ANGST!!!!!

Even though 096 has more to himself than how 106 perceives him, it's hard to actually express all of the pain and suffering he went through; he thought that he deserved to be a monster because he was killing people for practically "no reason."

However, he eventually realizes the pain he went through was but the product of his overwhelming fear: the fear that his recognition would cost him his life.

And despite desperately trying not to die, he couldn't find a way they could kill him; It became so prevailing that he couldn't shake the anger and horror of being seen.

It became his calling card against his will. It brought the threat to him. It brought his misfortune and rage on a rusted platter and force fed it to him.

Now he just wants to finally escape and find his home in the mountains where nobody would find him ever again.

It was unfair for a monster like 106 to perceive him as a monster too, as he believes he had a plausible reason and 106 didn't.

He decides to call the old man out for the bullshit, knowing that this close stranger had offered nothing but torture and pain, and never a single tear for the innocent who suffered.

That couldn't stop the attachment formed from this interaction, as not only was 096 emotionaly raw and vulnerable, seething with anger and grief of all of those who mistreated him, reaching to prove 106 wrong; but 106 learned not to bring something so burdening and claim that they both wanted to handle it.

Lessons were learned during that unfaithful breach.

(Oh and also the attachment would probably distress 096 even more because even though he doesn't have the innate murderous response to 106, he associated eye contact with something horrible happening a long time ago.)

[birbwaifu]

The grip this man has on me

[sillyfriendssharingablog]

sometimes i get worried to not portray some characters correctly in my fics.

beside sniper wolf. because from what i've seen and got from her canon characteristics are 1. being sexy 2. having a tragic past 3. being sexy.

canon wolf is (from what i've seen) just a pair of boobs that can kill you (still love her though). Literally in almost all her scenes she looks like she is about to makeout with solid (ew). while in my interpretetion she is a friendly dyke that doesn't take people's bs. I've mentioned she is hot a bunch of times and she has a makeout scene with her boobs out (wth a woman) but that's it. I think this is what kojimbo should have done but he was too much of a coward to do it.

[nikashoowo]

SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE MAKE ARTWORK OF WESKER IN A SKINTIGHT BLACK DRESS PLEASE I WILL KILL PLEASE GRGRFFFFHHHHHBARKBARKBARK

[gatorgrumbles]

Two different color schemes cause I cant decide on anything. But here this wretched man.

[thatoneartistinthecorner]

Stinky old man

[icewindandboringhorror]

[winter-tospring]

-My Uncanny Destiny, ep 17

[unholycourier]

sometimes i’ll make my ocs in the sims and what i especially love to do with this bastard is: fuck married men, tear the families apart and then trap random ppl i pick to be his enemies in the basement or a shed.

first Destroyed Family Victim is mortimer goth.

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024: Day 10 | Bondage + Heist

Rating: NSFW MINORS DNI

AFAB!Reader/Femme

Pairing: Heist Mark (Markiplier CU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Bondage, Toys, Edging, Petnames, Overstimulation (kinda.), Daddy kink, My Markus (Heist) is a stinky mean motherfucker sometimes and in this essay I will-

Word Count: 989 words

Satin binds cling to damp skin, spiraling over your trembling body in secure fastenings. A work of art, if they weren’t currently impeding you from achieving an orgasm you’ve been fighting almost an hour for.

Your sweat does little to aid in attempts to get free, though you don’t have the energy to fight your way out of them anyway. Marcus had made sure to secure them properly, and you wouldn’t expect anything less from a master thief.

Your Master Thief.

You squirm against the restraints for the umpteenth time, flutily trying to rock down onto the dildo thrusting into you at a snail’s pace. Normally, Marcus likes to use the fucking machine he stole to rail you into oblivion, turning you into a mess floating in the depths of subspace… but tonight is different. So frustratingly different. Markus sits nearby, languidly stroking himself while watching you struggle. There’s a dangerous amusement in his eyes as he observes you, akin to a dragon watching a knight drown in their treasure hoard. He hasn’t cum either, content to edge himself despite the whole scenario being the opposite of his usual preferences.

What the hell did Illinois get in his head this time, the nasty fucker? “M-Markus-” you whine pitifully, trying desperately to get some kind of relief, “this isn’t- fair!” The thief chuckles softly, head lulling to the side as he groans. “I never said that I was fair, baby,” the fucker muses, his hand never stops moving, claiming the pleasure that should’ve been yours.

For some reason, that makes you angry- seeing him so free and capable to get off as he desires while you’re helpless and burning with need… so you decide to do something about it. Something you’re not supposed to do when he’s in control like this, but you’re so desperate that you don’t care.

Slight motion, rotating your hips with every thrust, concentrating on his noises while letting the satin rope knots strained across your cunt catch your clit with the movement. You’re terribly sensitive, so terribly sensitive- and it all becomes a mind-numbing spiral latching on to your pleasure, real pleasure peaking through the overstimulated edging-

Markus doesn’t notice, groaning- and the fucking machine suddenly speeds up, catching you off guard. You wail, suddenly so very close, babbling pleas while the intensity bounces your body across the table. At least it tries, the ropes straining against your skin, a pleasant burn that just adds up to everything else.

Markus calls your name, commanding you to look at him–and you moan helplessly when you do. He’s watching you fall apart, fisting his cock like he’ll die if he doesn’t get to cum with you. A fierce determination etches the lust across his face, dark eyes focused wholly on you, and you’ve never felt so…

Wanted.

“Daddy, please!”

… The dildo stops moving.

The fucking dildo stops moving right as you peak and you scream, teetering on an edge you somehow can’t reach. It’s worse than any other denial Markus has given you tonight, sending your head into a dizzying spiral as your body rebels.

Markus, however, groans openly, jerking bodily and cursing as he tumbles over that precipice, ropes of white covering his chest as he throws his head back. The sight is almost enough to ignite that fire, cunt clenching desperately around the toy as frustrated sobs finally bubble out from your throat.

Bastard!

He finally comes to a stop, panting heavily, gaze skyward. The only sounds in the rooms are his breathing and your frustrated gasps, the quiet hum of the turbine in the machine waiting for more instructions.

Markus looks down to his chest, to the tapestry of cum across his abs, then to you–red in the face, shaking, still grinding uselessly. Fluid covering your thighs, having dribbled down onto the table between your legs.

It gives him an idea.

The thief stands up, collecting some of the cum on his chest with his free hand, a new, feral sort of look in his eyes. It immediately makes you uneasy, thinking he’s going to make you lick the cum off his fingers or something. While you have no problem with that otherwise, right now?

“Y-You’re an a-ss-shole-” you sniffle out, blinking away tears as he makes his way toward you. Fucker just smiles, patting your thigh, stopping by your hips and pressing the button to disengage the arm. "Poor thing, all hot and bothered..."

He gingerly removes the dildo from your cunt, ignoring your oversensitive shudders. A quiet whistle is all you get from how red and puffy your poor hole is.

“Running out of lube…” he remarks nonchalantly, as if you haven’t been stuffed with that same toy for 30 minutes- but then.

Then the fucker takes his cum and rubs it along the dildo, collecting every last drop from his chest and smearing it across the toy. He even fucks his fingers into your abused pussy, smirking when you cry out and thrash on the table.

“Guess we’ll have to fix that, huh, pretty?” he coos, leaning over you and kissing your neck. “Can’t have you getting hurt from this.”

“…Motherfu-” You have no time to snap at him, however, finding yourself quickly filled with that same cum-soaked dildo–and the very thought makes you whimper.

Nasty fucker-

“You want to cum, baby?” he whispers, voice dripping with debaucherous promise. You shake your head desperately, trying to turn your head to look at him, pleading with every fiber of your being. His hand wanders down your stomach, remnants of his orgasm sticking to your skin. All the way down to your clit, where he presses his fingers against the knot over that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you keen. “Then you’ll cum. You’ll cum for Daddy until your brains are leaking out of your fuckin’ ears.”

The machine starts up again immediately after that, max speed, and all your thoughts are rendered null.