haiiiiiii im reynard. this is not my main and if you have a guess KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. im undercover. shhhh. anyway nice 2 meet u. or MEAT. hahaha. divider from benkibear!
- i can be easily convinced 2 care about any cubito/cubita but as a gay man i am largely going to post about the uh [clears throat] men.
- i am also primarily an english-speaker so it's likely going to be anglophones however i do contain multitudes (a wealth of portuguese-speaking blorbinhos. and elotes)
- im not going to beat around any particular bushes here; this blog is partly for The Freak Shit (value-neutral). the kinda stuff youd pair with a "dead dove" tag
- please talk to me im so niceys. send me requests! do weird shit in my inbox! develop personalities beyond your wildest imaginations! idc!
YES: i don't have like a full list but here are the vibes
- always down for good fun normal sex
- consensual but not safe or sane
- noncon/dubcon (whether by altered mental states, possession, drugs/chemicals, hypnosis, or straight-up magic)
- cannibalism (my thoughts on this are incredibly nuanced)
- corruption/the deep and slow change into something unrecognizable
in abstract:
- sex about the absence of the third
- generally a lot of plot and nuance
- an intricate tangled weave of polyamory and metamour-dom
- gore and violence
- hands
NO*: pregnancy, piss, shit, sounding, tba
*all the power to ya for enjoying it if ya do
[revs up defibrillator] CLEAR [pulses this blog] i got a little too silly in the book club and now i think i hauve the plague. anyway, inspired by @mmegagayzone being reminded of the thigh highs chant during MCC pride last year
still thinking. about it. maybe he's reminded, puts it as a subgoal, doesn't think too much about it until the end of the stream brings a hype train and uh oh. that number's looking quite close. and he's sat there, stuck by his common courtesy from ending stream, and he's doing his usual whining about it but there's also the very real and very approaching possibility of, y'know, putting on thigh highs. because kristin said to.
so the stream ends. and the next stream starts, two days later, and phil does the whole everybody's rooftop run opening and then the little guitar notes hit and the opening screen swoops away. and for all intents and purposes, phil is wearing A Normal Outfit for him-- t-shirt, shorts because it's starting to get hot, ones that fall down to the knees. and chat goes PauseChamp and phil goes "🙄fine" (secretly flustered and anticipatory) and stands up and hikes up the shorts. bam. thigh highs. some cheap amazon ones, or ones from kristin's collection, simple and plain and solid color but Staying Up, the elastic around the thickest part of the thigh making that little overflow of skin. maybe he hikes them up a little overkill, maybe chat sees a hint of his boxers, nothing more than a centimeter.
and then he sits back down. "jokes on you guys," it's like, "i'm sitting down the whole stream". it's not like the dog ears or anything where it was on his head or face! you don't see him from the waist down! "what a waste, chat, you got scammed".
…and then mid-stream he gets up to go take a piss and chat sees them again and once more when he sits back down. jokes on the old man.
Just. 13. Literally any characters you want, any fandom, I just want some more CNC in my life and out there in the world.
Yeah, um, hi. Maybe not what you wanted?
13: cnc
Pac is sobbing.
Pac is sobbing.
It is a ghastly fucking sight. Fit has seen Pac crying. He's seen him cry before, for terrible, awful reasons. He saw him crying after facing off against Cellbit. And crying in the aftermath of Mike's disappearance. And crying after the children were taken away from them.
But Cellbit isn’t here, and Mike is tinkering away in the basement—the clinking of metal on metal is loud enough they can hear it two floors above him—and the kids are safe and sound.
And Pac is sobbing.
Which is good. He’s acting. It’s a game, and Pac is playing his part effortlessly. They’re playing pretend, and the pretend is that Pac doesn’t want his big, rough hands digging in the soft, slightly slimy moss around his hips, the pretend is blunt fingerpads scratching at his face and aiming for his eyes, the pretend is strong legs trying to kick him off and too-blue tears following familiar tracks down his cheeks.
“Calm down,” Fit tries to coo, but his voice breaks halfway. “It’ll hurt more if you flail about.”
It’s the wrong thing to say: Pac flails more wildly, tries to kick him square in the chest, his sobbing gets loud enough to leave Fit’s ears ringing.
“Please—” he’s wailing, “Please, please, no, I don’t want this, it isn’t you, Fitch—”
It isn’t him. It isn’t him. Right?
So why he’s bowing his head to latch his teeth around a tender patch of skin, cool and tingly, and biting, revelling in the frantic squirming of the body under his?
Pac is strong, he knows. Strong enough that, if he wanted to, he could easily push Fit away, and he doesn’t.
It’s just pretend.
But Pac is sobbing himself hoarse, hands tugging weakly at the metal fingers holding his forever bruised wrists together above their heads, as Fit’s flesh hand travels down his chest, gaunt and mottled, scrapes his nails against bare hips and soft thighs and the warm, pulsing place hidden behind a cloud of dark fur.
When Fit’s fingers make first contact with Pac’s clit, they both jerk away, like burned. Pac whimpers out an uneven plea, but Fit can’t hear him, because his head is spinning, spinning, spinning, he can feel the harsh sand slap him in the face, the blood-curdling stench of things rotting and dying of radiation sickness, and, and, and—
He’s pulling away.
“I—I can’t. Sorry, Pac, I—”
Pac’s sobbing quiets down immediately, and he looks up at Fit, eyes wavering, still full of unshed tears.
Then, “Oh, Fitch,” he says, low, and despite everything, Fit flinches at the rough edge of his voice, even as Pac is rising to wrap his arms around his shoulders, guide his face against his chest, against the hammering of his heart under his ribcage. “It’s okay, it’s okay, nenê, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything. Thank you for telling me.”
Fit can’t bring himself to feel the burning edge of shame, curled in Pac’s arms.
fuck it we ball, yog enjoyer back at it again! (but im on desktop so idk how i'd claim an emoji or whatever lol) Lalnable Hector is my horrid little meow meow and i want him to fuck me senseless and let me suck his tits n then throw me to his clones so he can watch me get gangbanged by em, just passing me around like a joint and stuffing all of my holes. i wanna look like that miserable "full of milk" kitten except im full of clone cum. "ill take five more of these little blonde bitches"? cowardice. call me Grant O'Brien cause ill take 50
i'm going to write characterization-heavy porn of a cubito pairing i've had for a decade andnobody is going to stop me and you all are going to cheer for me. Trust.
no but wanting cubito RT ravished is so real. i haven't been keeping up with his minecraft letsplay but his entire thing is rediscovering the wonders of modern minecraft, right? comparing what he knows to what he absolutely doesn't?
well. bro certainly doesn't know how getting fucked with a bunch of tentacles feels. they've got their own minds, almost. imagining c!RT with his bumbling little "oh"s and exclamations of shock, unable to really be able to give any actual commentary. he respawns after and just sort of. is shocked. clears his throat and tries to move on like he hadn't just gotten half his brains fucked out by this thing he's never seen before. Oh well!
- 🐦⬛ (yeah i have the range. what of it)
no bc rt has this thing with the deep dark. it becomes a running bit where he has to know more about that biome and all of its secrets and you cant tell me its bc he didnt get fucked crazy style by the warden or even just the skulk sensors and wants it again. its for research he says. he has to know everything about this weird life form for science obviously. hes completely obsessed.
definitely the first time he discovers the sensors, he trips and falls directly onto one. the noise of him falling makes the tendrils active and suddenly ensnare him in place, trapping his legs so he cant get up. he struggles but it only sets off the sensor more, agitates the tentacles even further - namely the ones hes sat on, which thrash underneath his weight until they can squirm free, pressed way too close to his crotch. every time he makes a noise, the tentacles move. he has to stay calm and still so they can relax, but each misstep makes them grind directly against him until hes half-hard. its embarrassing and humiliating being trapped like this. it doesnt help that even as he tries to stay quiet, the tendrils continue moving - even wraps around the outline of his dick in his pants and starts to squeeze like its feeling him.
panic surges through him, making him even more restless, and more tentacles squirm against his cock in response. its an instant feedback loop he cant help but give into because of the direct stimulation around him. worse yet, its barely enough to do anything through the layers hes wearing.
he has no chance of escaping, not with how good this feels. he throws his head back to moan, loud and unabashed as it echoes through the cave. the sensor underneath him clicks and the tentacles switch to overdrive, gripping and sliding over his bulge and vibrating on top of all that. god, that feels even better. the noises spill out of him them, desperate to get off, hips rocking to find something more he can grind against. the sensor rumbles with each airy huff he breathes. even the tendrils start to vibrate with how much noise rt starts to make, only doubling his efforts and his desperation to cum in his pants.
the cave is quickly filled with skulk sensor clicks and his moans, “hholyshit, fuck, fffuh- fuck me, oh please,” and the whiniest, strangled moans as he finally reaches his peak - tied up with tentacles vibrating against his cock in his pants, pulsing and throbbing with each spurt of cum in his underwear.
when he gets a silk touch pickaxe, he just so happens to get a handful of the sensors to study back at his base.
just to study. in the safety of his home. and the privacy too.
(he couldnt stop thinking about how the tentacles would feel if he was bare, so he had to test it out.)
I did a vod watching of etoiles return stream today ; the man had the AUDACITY to say that he was a porn actor before streaming and that now people could see him with clothes on (??) in a place with « more midlane and less doggy-style » ?????
He then said that he got famous thanks to his onlyfan ??
And last but not least, he compared sex to video games (of course he would do that) and said that anyone good at games would be good at sex because it was the same thing : fingers, understanding, analysis, endurance, and fun (in this order, very important)
hello???? I know he often talks about button mashing and fast fingers but…
I try to be normal when i’m watching him but it’s impossible when a pretty men is teasing you like that 😔 help
I think foolish would be pretty easy to hypnotize. He’s such a himbo you could tell him to look at the pretty spiral “for the bit” and he’d do it. He’d be so sure it wouldn’t work on him and then before he knows it, he’s been turned into a dumb slut on his knees, obeying every order thrown at him
Quickly made a sideblog for nsfw when I saw people mentioning my twitter post from months ago on nsfw qsmpblr. Someone wanted to view the video without having to make a twitter account so I'm uploading it here for them!
It's just a compilation of Pac moaning and groaning and all that. not put in a particular order but if anyone else does end up putting them in a particular order feel free to share it with me
i have such a thing for tryhards.... so down bad for all of them. etoiles, philza, roier - if theyre good at pvp i want them carnally. they should practice butterfly clicking on me. mash my buttons. is this anything i can hardly put any coherent thoughts into the horny i just want them
Phil wouldn't dare admit to finding someone's voice attractive, not unless it's Missa's. He knows Missa can sing well, and hell even his speaking voice is attractive, whether he's speaking Spanish or English. He makes it well known to Missa just how much his voice affects him, and how recordings of his voice were one of the things that kept him going after harsh long nights without him. Phil knows it, Missa knows it, whatever.
So while Missa is railing Phil into the mattress one night, draped against his body as Phil arches his back to grind against him, Missa decides to have some fun, dipping his head to whisper in Phil's ear, "You said you like my voice, Phil? Do you still like it when I talk like this?" His voice drops low, low, low, a deep growling sound in his ear, so deep that it's nearly impossible to make out the words as all Phil hears is lip smacking, but knowing that voice is coming from Missa makes him arch against him and cum immediately, voice wringing out in a high-pitched moan as if his body had been toyed with all night.
Missa wraps his arms to hug Phil, laying on his back as Phil slumps forward and ducks his head in his arms. "So cute, I didn't even touch you, querido. You really like my voice that much?" Missa giggles as Phil's cheeks grow hotter and he doesn't respond, only continues to bury his head in the pillows to hide his shame.
It's ridiculously cute, and Missa finds it endearing, so he lifts himself up to continue his previous work of railing Phil, until Phil looks up at him with pink cheeks and pupils blown with lust, "Can you use that voice again?"
And Missa complies like the good husband he is, dipping his head down to growl into Phil's ear once again.
Etioles whimpered and moaning as he rutts against Phil’s leg, Phil looking down at him with in difference HHHHHH
OHHH WOAH YEAH. etoiles whimpering and rutting while phil is in his study, sorting through his photographs and evidence, barely even glancing at him. when he does look down, there's nothing in his eyes- not a flash of remorse, or lust. slight irritation, even.
"can you be a little quieter? no need to moan like a fucking porn star."
and etoiles nods, watching him with stars in his eyes like philza hung the fucking moon in the sky, grinding pathetically against him, trying so hard to get off, to be good...
[pulling up bootstraps] so i've gotta do everything around here. okay in line with the other cc confessions (🫡); i keep fucking fantasizing about ccphil and it's life-ruining. It'll never happen. he's a married man. but. [covers face with hands].
sometimes i really do imagine kneeling at his feet-- doesn't matter what the fuck he's doing-- mouthing at the denim of his jeans, over his cock, haphazardly rocking against my own thighs. sometimes i imagine him just stopping me with a palm against my forehead or a hand tangled in my hair, pulling me off, and i imagine him crooning "oh, you're desperate, man," and laughing at me when my face goes all red. fucking me open with his fingers. trying to stop himself from giggling at my whines.
congrats fang anon, you get two posts to your ask ;]
heres the screenshot of the prompt for reference
THE HANDFEEDING THING YES OKAY sorry i got a little too excited over possessive phil thats my fatal flaw </3
this came out hornier. and longer. than anticipated. yet again. whoops. i know theres some parts of humiliation at play when it comes to hand feeding but that isnt really my thing in all honesty?? so i hope this suffices lmao
phil’s eating something with etoiles curled up beside the chair, not exactly sleeping just to ensure he doesn’t miss anything phil says to him. it’s in the evening, nobody else is home, and it’s just them in etoiles’ room. the only thing he wears is his puppy hood, dark green and black with a yellow trim, handmade by phil, while phil is fully dressed - usual attire in this room, in this scene.
phil always eats first. those are the rules. some part of etoiles’ brain, semi-rational if you could even call it that when he’s like this, makes him think of pack order, leaders eating first, and it cements itself in his brain like it fits. even if phil isn’t his leader anymore. he’s still phil’s.
his name is called as phil finishes his meal.
etoiles immediately sits up at attention. the hood only covers the lower half of his face like a muzzle, his white hair tussled where the straps are fastened around his skull. phil reaches to adjust it as best as he could, and etoiles’ eyes flutter shut, bumping his muzzle into phil’s touch.
when phil asks if he’s ready to eat, etoiles nods his head with a faint whine.
cooing, phil reaches to unbuckle the hood from his face and sweeps his hand over etoiles’ exposed jawline and cheeks, soothing over the red lines the mask gave him. before etoiles could sink too deep into the affection, phil pulls back
there’s a bit of hesitation that always comes with hand-feeding etoiles.
even though he’s deep in the puppy headspace, he has to remind himself that puppies don’t eat food with their hands. he always flushes a darker green, eyes flickering between phil’s patient albeit mirthful smile and the food in his palm. the first time they did it, phil gave etoiles the opt out of it was too much - but etoiles shook his head and bowed his head to take the offered piece of food between his teeth.
now, after that brief moment of internal struggle, etoiles leans in to lap it up into his mouth. phil warbles proudly, petting his puppy and praising him as always. etoiles gets more confident the more bites phil offers him - he’s a bit messy, which comes with the territory, so anything etoiles’ tongue doesn’t catch phil wipes away with his tongue. he even encourages etoiles to clean his thumb off, and of course etoiles listens.
it isn’t kitten licks like with cellbit, combined with the barbs on his tongue - etoiles drags his whole tongue against phil’s skin like he’s hungry for whatever crumbs that stick to it. maybe it’s deliberate, or maybe etoiles doesn’t know that it makes arousal bubble inside phil, roasting him over an open flame.
still, phil focuses on the task at hand. this isn’t meant to be sexual. most days, etoiles isn’t in the mood, so phil just ignores it in favor of feeding him more.
eventually, the plate is cleared. phil’s palm is sticky with etoiles’ spit, and he’s about to wipe it off on his pants as he announces that dinner is done when etoiles whines, sharp and clear. he cranes his neck up to nudge his nose against phil’s palm, wanting something. curious, phil concedes and lowers it down to etoiles’ level.
etoiles flattens his tongue against his skin and drags it across the width of his palm slowly. it’s wet but firm, insistent, as if there’s a taste in phil’s flesh he’s searching after.
phil can’t fathom what that could be, but he flushes anyway. the wet glide only gives him reminders of where else that tongue has been - and heat rushes south.
tongue tracing the callouses of his hand, lips nipping and sucking on flesh, etoiles smothers phil with his enthusiasm, like he’s hungry for more but not finding anything else left to taste. light pants fan over wet skin and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. it comes to no surprise that when he reaches phil’s fingers, he takes two digits into his mouth and sucks around them.
a groan threatens to leave phil. etoiles knows what he’s doing, squinting his eyes open to reveal a happy shine in his eyes to be worshipping phil’s hand like this. he’s so attentive, ensuring every inch of phil gets coated with his saliva. phil fights the urge to fuck his fingers into that hot, wet cavern of his mouth. it’s obvious what etoiles wants.
and maybe phil’s weak, but he’s willing to spoil his puppy just this once.
because he can, etoiles’ teeth - lightly - sink into one of phil’s fingers.
phil yelps and quickly retracts his hand, narrowing his eyes at the cheeky grin etoiles gives him. if he had a tail, it would be thumping against the ground, all playful-like - and the thought makes phil soften his glare, unable to stay mad for too long. so instead, he admonishes his puppy, telling him if he keeps that up, he won’t be getting the rest of his meal.
etoiles perks up. he straightens himself from the slouched position he took, so fixated on phil’s hand, and looks up at him with his eyes wide, mischief forgotten in an instant. endeared again, phil huffs out a laugh and runs his hand through etoiles’ hair.
wordlessly, he shifts the chair away from the table to give himself more space. etoiles backs away dutifully, curious, non-existent ears pricked at attention - phil notes distantly that he isn’t hard, but that’s no matter. he made his intentions quite clear to phil.
he settles into his chair and beckons etoiles to him. with his puppy nuzzling into his hand, eyes pinned on him, phil leans back in his chair and spreads his legs, baring his clothed crotch to him.
im too lesbian to be a ccphil crusher but I think you should talk more about it anyway. the ecosystem is sorely lacking in people horny for phil. gamer tryhards are hot who said that
THIS IS SO REAL. i have to fight the internality making me incredibly embarrassed but as soon as i have it strangled down. dude it's over. every day i think about fucking that old man
