ellievsbear
almost home
Jules of Nature
dirt enthusiast
$LAYYYTER
Three Goblin Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Discoholic 🪩
Misplaced Lens Cap
Mike Driver
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trying on a metaphor
ojovivo
KIROKAZE
Sade Olutola
if i look back, i am lost
oozey mess
Janaina Medeiros
Game of Thrones Daily
Monterey Bay Aquarium
seen from United States
seen from T1
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@shiver-scream
hi, call me emory or gwen! i’m an ftm, bigender, bisexual sadomasochist. my main nsfw blog is knifepup, but i follow from dwarfmun.
kinks on this blog:
♥ snuff
♥ torture
♥ knifeplay
♥ gore
♥ necrophilia
♥ cnc/rapeplay
♥ kidnapping
♥ stalking
❤ incest
interactions of all kinds are great! tell me how you’d kill me or how you want me to kill you.
all fantasies on this blog are fictional and consensual. play responsibly.
tags: teddy talk, killer thoughts, victim thoughts, dungeon
There is something really good about collapsing into sobbing and pleading until you realize there's nothing you can do to stop it, so your captor doesn't even need to beat you into submission anymore. You just lie there gasping and weeping in their arms as they comfort you, weak and fading. The "please no no no" becomes broken silence, gazing up at them, maybe clutching at their arm for a scrap of comfort as it happens.
This is normally like a snuff thing but it should be applied to many more settings. It's a delicious flavor of forced orgasm, leaving time between accepting you can't fight it anymore and it actually slamming into you. That endless moment of agonizing dread, suspended in despair and anticipation, cringing in pain and disgust. You'd almost prefer to just cum and it to be over with but even that mercy you're denied. You must wait to suffer.
Obviously there's also forced intox. There's nothing like realizing you're coming up and helpless to do a damn thing about it. You can panic, scream, sob, bite and scratch, tell them how much you hate them, but it's inevitable. You'll be weak on the ground soon, too dizzy to fight, too confused to argue. This is where brain breaking can come in! They can mind fuck you and turn you into something else inside, and all you can do is watch ❤️
And finally, five pages of bonus art!! While drawing “NEVER ENDING FUN,” I worried it wasn’t unwholesome enough for @unwholesomeocweek… So I compiled all of these to fix that LOL
Prompts: [D1] hatefucking, violence, divorce, [D2] body horror, coercion, [D3] corruption, power imbalance, [D5] dubcon, unethical experimentation, possessive behaviour, [D6] wound f*cking, [D7] bad sex, cannibalism, codependency !!
Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, or commented on the original comic for staying along for the ride! ;u;)/ I feel a bit anxious and silly making such “grand” things with my OCs, so your support means the world to me. I hope you enjoy this extra food, and have a great day!
(And if you’re been following me long enough to recognise some of the older images—thank you so, so much. I hope you enjoyed the trip down memory lane QwQ)
Plausible Deniability
CW: cnc that's a bit weird about the c part, emotional sadism, rape kink metacommentary
"It's not exactly rape if you're enjoying it." I point out.
"Just because I'm asking for it doesn't mean I would enjoy it."
Not the answer I was expecting. The usual response I get is one of mildly frustrated pushback, pouty faces, muttered accusations of I-know-but-you're-supposed-to-play-along. I have a reputation, and that reputation invites a crowd I don't care for.
See, people say 'rape' and mean 'sex we pretend I am not into', because they've got hangups about being into sex. Of course we all have hangups - I just don't want to indulge those particular ones. It always feels like I'm expected to read someone's mind and then play dumb about what I see there.
She continues. "I know myself. Know I'd hate it in the moment. Just thinking about it makes my stomach seize up. Talking about it, too. And yet I want it. Simple as that."
"You can want it. Doesn't mean you can consent to it."
It's bait. But I want to know her own justification, in her own words.
"People get tattoos, run ultramarathons until their bodies give out, take molly and struggle their way through suicide Tuesday. This isn't any different. I get to make my future self suffer if I want to."
I nod, pretend to think for a moment. Then I speak.
"Six months. One month. And then three months."
A moment to build anticipation before I explain.
"Six months for me to work my way into your life. Calls. Hangouts. Heart-to-hearts. One month for me to strike, if I feel like it then. No restrictions beyond that. Maybe I'll get you at midnight on the first day. Maybe I'll wait a bit. Maybe I'll tell you I changed my mind, that I just want to be friends, and then I slip something in your drink two days before the deadline."
Words are so fucking limited a medium. I desperately want to describe the face she makes at that. I settle for committing it to memory. Outwardly, I just keep talking.
"And then, three months where I won't do anything. Won't allow anything. Time for you to think about what happened. I suggest spending some of it far away from me."
I watch her think. Stare hard enough at the cave wall, and maybe you'll figure out what's casting the shadows. I'm not acting the way she expected. But I'm not acting the way she feared, either.
Eventually, she decides that she understands me. Her voice is softer than it was a moment ago. Reverent.
"...you're giving me time. To make sure this isn't a whim. To process everything. You... obviously you're okay with me being hurt. But you don't want me to be hurt more than necessary."
Something inside of me shifts.
I don't quite know how it shows itself. I've tried to understand, though - have asked a few people to describe how I look like this. Sudden and terrifying, one got stuck on. A more poetically inclined soul said it was like I swapped out the soul behind my eyes.
"Do I?"
How would she describe it, I wonder?
"Maybe I just want to build trust before I violate it. Maybe I want to watch you, month after month, as you grow ever more comfortable around me. Maybe I want to see you try and forget what I'm going to do to you. Maybe I just want time to make sure it hurts as much as possible."
She doesn't flinch, but I watch her pupils dilate, her hands clench. There's a gap between being composed and being calm, and I fight the urge to stick a knife in there and pry it all the way open. I do twist it, just a bit.
"Or maybe I just want to make it seem like I care. Play the part of the ethical sadist because that's a type of person you need to be real. You're a good person. If you think I am too, if you think everything I did was with your well-being in mind, then I'm safe. You won't do a thing to hurt me. Won't think I deserve that."
There's a moment, uncertain and delicious, where I wonder if she'll turn and run, but no one ever does. I soften my expression in a flash, keep quiet but smile in a way that implies a thousand reassurances. Did you have fun? Are you okay? The scary dom act really got to you, didn't it? I hope it wasn't too much?
She relaxes a bit, and that's when I go in for the kill.
"God. You really are so eager to assume the best of someone willing to rape you."
I savor the way she shivers at that. Whatever my other reasons, everything I said, I said so I could see this.
It's going to be a fun six months.
they're saying bloodletting is the new foreplay
hey me and my partner saw you from across the bar we want to kill and eat you
sex is when i kick you in the stomach with my boot as hard as i can
snarling and growling through my teeth as i bite down at the crook of my prey's neck. pinning their pelvis to the ground with rough, deep, downward strokes that stretch them out with my knot. claws grabbing a handful of their hair, pressing their face into the floor to muffle the screams and sobs. breeding them full of werewolf pups and fucking the cum deeper inside of them while they helplessly writhe in protest under me.
Any brute can kill, it takes an artist to force life upon their victims. First you bring them to the point where they're begging for death, and then you deny them.
Whispering into your ear "it's not your fault" while I slide my fingers deeper into your open wounds
coming back full circle after my ex made me feel like shit about being a sadist has been very satisfying. i went from struggling to even think about putting a knife to someone, to embracing being a rapist top. nature is healing<3
Sure I'd love to be collared, but there's other signs of ownership I'd be happy to wear. Indented bruises around my neck from where I've been bitten and claimed over and over again. Welts and scars along my thighs, my butt, my sides from being whipped and caned until I cry. Deep purple bruises on my bottom that make it impossible for me to sit comfortably. Boot prints down my spine from being ground into the dirt where I belong. Ownership literally carved into my body by knife.
top 5 things to say during sex:
man up
the fuck you're yelling for it's literally just a hunting knife
you're actually getting off on this?
stop fucking crying bitch
dude you're bleeding so much should i call an ambulance
need a lesbian who's ev— (remembers i don't believe in evil) — need a lesbian whose material conditions incentivize her to be mean to me
