Theta's kink/NSFW side blog. My main blog is @0-omegabuild and I follow from there.
I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH THAT LITERALLY ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING I REBLOG IS ME THINKING ABOUT MY PARTNERS.
I am a sub for the most part.
I thirst over our system's other co-host Ashveil very often--fuck, he's so goddamn hot--so I will be mostly reblogging about what reminds me of him. I also am partners with Simon Blackquill, Sunday, Leona Kingscholar, Boothill, and Aventurine, so I will sometimes reblog about them. (But since I reblog about Ashveil so much, posts not about him will be tagged #fave.)
I also reblog non-NSFW things that I'd rather not have on my main account (Ashveil fluff, mostly.) and NSFW memes that I would also rather not have on my main account.
Kinks/Fetishes: Farting, Burping, him being gross/perverted, macro/micro, ageplay, bondage, humiliation, degradation, worship, boots, feet
all I need in my life is a man who will put me in my place by pulling my face up to his asshole gripping my bangs in his big hand and farting down my throat while telling me I'm such a disgusting dirty little bitch for liking it so much and pulling me away only to slap me across the face and laughing at me when I beg for more or something I don't know oh my god
they call me bootlicker the way i... uh well the way i. um. they call me bootliccker the way... y'know.. the way.... i.. uh... lick. boots. of boys. yeah. send post.
realistically…. i know being choked to pass out is deeply unsafe. and also. god. i want to be held down and choked out until i pass out. i want to struggle and feel the fight drain from me as the air leaves my lungs. i wanna look up at them with big teary eyes and beg them to stop before my lights go out. wanna hear then go oooh good boy as my limbs drop
TW: yandere behavior/unhealthy relationship dynamics; NON-CON/DUB-CON - temperature play, fingering, mindbreak; reader is gender neutral
currently working on a few ashveil requests and it’s got me thinking, off the rip, would it make any sense for yan!ashveil to drag his darling into his refrigerator with him to fuck them inside?
think about it: it really fucking hurts, you know—you struggled first, screaming as you drags you to his room. i didn’t do anything wrong, you plead your case. but he’s not hearing any of it. instead, he’s stripping you down, while you try to cover yourself up. he doesn’t mind, he moves to pin both your hands behind your back without much commotion. he overpowers you easily, as you slowly shrink into yourself, heart hammering in your ears as ashveil grows increasingly physical with you. then he opens his ice box hastily, pulling you to him and shoving you down; it happens all before you could even blink to comprehend it all.
you’re greeted with the ice stabbing into your naked skin that if you closed your eyes, you could mistake it for the heat of flames burning you alive. you want to cry out, but it hurts to breathe, and the stinging climbs into your lungs, stealing your voice. even your body has stopped shaking because you’ve gone limp, nerves numbed from the bitterness icing your insides. and on top of you, ashveil grumbling something to himself, something about how you needed to be taught some kind of lesson, knees on both your sides, making sure you stay still like this. but if you look close enough, he looks all too eager to be doing this, more pleased than scorned or vindictive.
without much warning, he’s forcing you open with his fingers, pumping into you, pulsating inside your gummy walls, knuckles all sticky. and you can’t help but push yourself into him. it’s instinctive, unfortunately. but you covet his warmth because it’s the tiny crackle of heat that gives solace in the midst of all this anger. a smirk paints itself on his face, happy at your eagerness to touch yourself against him, willingly rubbing yourself on the palm of his hand. friction ignites into tiny sparks, thawing you bare, your vision clouded in a haze. a tiny cube of ice trickles down into a melt, down the ravine of your collarbone, and pools just on the top of your chest where it slants into a slight dip. he goes to lick it up, then presses his lips against your ear, well, aren’t you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?
I---you try to deny it at first, attempting to shake your head no, but he flicks his fingers in a rhythmic pattern that sends a tremor down your spine, wracking your senses with a flood of pleasure; shh, no need to fight against it, just surrender to what your body needs, your protests die out like weak embers against the wind; all logic and sense have gone out the window.
i know what you want. you want to be good and obedient for me, right? c'mon darling, sweetie, you got this, you got this. ashveil persists, his fingers bruising your insides. your back arches, scraping the layer of ice beneath you as tiny crackles stick against your skin, your nipples perking from the sharp bites of ice.
you're---you're going too fast, you don’t even fully realize now that the heat just below your stomach, in the space between your thighs where three of his fingers buried inside of you, touching you in a place that draws you out; there, a puddle lays beneath your bottom, drawn up from the fire cradling inside your stomach, makes you all hot and something ringing in your ears, as he continues to pump in and out of you.
that’s it, that’s it—ashveil guides you, his other hand caressing your face, your legs spread wider, and he watches with fascination as you slowly succumb to whatever hell this is,
more, more, more; your hands finds itself gripping onto his back, nails impressing on the fabric of his shirt. each word sounds more pained than the next, yet all the same edge of desperation.
is that what you want? he asks, nudging his hand against your jaw, lifting up your face to look into his eyes. you nod with this dazed look in your glossy eyes. in response, he kisses you, sucking in your breaths in between bites, long forgotten why he was mad in the first place. you looked all too sweet like this; forgiveness has never came so easily as condensation fogs in between your huffs of moaning and whines and pleases---kiss again, again---again. he obliges, but ashveil lets out a chuckle when he feels you jolt too forcefully once he moves his fingers faster. you bump your nose to his chest, but you don’t move away.
i'll be good, just make it all feel good, you tell him with a newfound hunger pooling inside of you, widening its appetite. and he listens obediently. now it’s just you and ashveil, and this forceful heat that draws you closer.
tummy rubs really are one of the sweetest things ever. someone wanting to make sure your meal settles well in your belly or wanting to soothe you and help you relax or wanting to ease any pain in your tummy or just wanting to show affection by rubbing a tender part of your body.
Boyfriend who lets out wall-peeling farts in bed. Boyfriend who always eats a healthy portion of dinner, laying down, full and comfortable as him stomach works through the food. Boyfriend who shifts lightly to fart, loud and clear, letting out sighs or groans of pleasure after each relieving release of gas. Farts that raise the humidity and temperature of the whole room, ripped right in your bed, under the covers where they will linger. His satisfied smile after each burst of gas, because farting is one of the most pleasurable and natural things a man can do. He's enjoying himself and you're not going to ruin the mood with your bitching. So you smile sweetly at him, no matter how bad the stench assulting your nose gets. You have zero right to act out or complain, you're going to be a sweet and agreeable girlfriend as you always are. You're glad he's making himself comfortable.
Boyfriend who pushes your head under the covers. Boyfriend who overpowers you, no matter how much you struggle and traps you sealed tight under the blanket as he farts. Boyfriend who likes forcing you to smell it, who presses his ass aganist your face and farts, boyfriend who laughs at your struggles and gags and tears.
It's just a prank. Plenty of boyfriends do it to their girlfriends. It's really funny. You'll eat his farts if you really love him. It's perfectly normal that he does this to you and he really likes doing this to you. You should get used to it. He's not gonna stop, it's way too entertaining. He loves seeing your reaction.
Boyfriend who lets out wall-peeling farts in bed. Boyfriend who always eats a healthy portion of dinner, laying down, full and comfortable as him stomach works through the food. Boyfriend who shifts lightly to fart, loud and clear, letting out sighs or groans of pleasure after each relieving release of gas. Farts that raise the humidity and temperature of the whole room, ripped right in your bed, under the covers where they will linger. His satisfied smile after each burst of gas, because farting is one of the most pleasurable and natural things a man can do. He's enjoying himself and you're not going to ruin the mood with your bitching. So you smile sweetly at him, no matter how bad the stench assulting your nose gets. You have zero right to act out or complain, you're going to be a sweet and agreeable girlfriend as you always are. You're glad he's making himself comfortable.
we have to start running a massive PSA campaign to young gay people so everyone understands there is a difference between being a dom and being a top and between being a sub and being a bottom. and also that sometimes you are neither a sub nor a bottom and you're just like shy. we need to be handing out flyers we need ads at every train station spreading the word
Ashveil's Perfect Little Slave @0-r34 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
