#rule-masochism

[emmettland]

art request for @rule-masochism, back from the last Art Request Stream! i have permission to post him now. :3

this is Hans William Bentinck from its Alien Alien AU! i love Hans' design and drawing him getting some zappy zappys was very fun. love me some blondes in pain. <3

Hans William Bentinck belongs to @rule-masochism

my art x my whump x ko-fi

#whumplr #whump art #others ocs #hans oc #rule-masochism #emmett draws #emmett whumps #whump tag #art request tag

[whumpshaped]

im asking more hungary questions today... do u celebrate mikulás day and if not what DO you celebrate? or is it just christmas the way we know it in america?

sorry if this weird, from what i've seen the celebration days seem to vary a lot so im curious!

-@rule-masochism

I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS.

SO mikulás is the hungarian word santa claus for anyone whos wondering. mikulás/santa day in hungary is on december 6th, and it's complerely separate from christmas. kids put their boots out in the window and receive treats and gifts in it! (yes i always put both boots out bc... choccy... i needed as much as possible...)

and u know how bad kids get coal in america or whatever? bad kids in hungary get smth called virgács. its this thing. it gets translated by google as like "rod" or "birch" its basically meant as like "u should be fucken beaten w this thing for being bad". from what ive always seen, most santa day packages have virgács in them lol but like, along w the treats. ive never seen a kid actually just receive that as like a punishment ajdjdk just as im sure not many ppl just receive coal for christmas

now christmas is totally different thats obviously on the 25th (in our household, the 24th, but we're the exception since thats normally just christmas eve) but... if santa came on the 6th then who brings the gifts, u might ask. BABY JESUS. ITS BABY JESUS! baby jesus brings the gifts...

as for some other customs, we dont do stockings as far as i know. santa and the reindeer are a popular motif and stuff but it doesnt quite make sense for christmas? it makes more sense for santa day on the 6th... idk as a kid growing up w hungarian traditions but A Lot of american influence, i kind of associate the reindeer and the sleigh with both holidays, but i also remember mixing them up and thinking baby jesus was going around in a sleigh- idk. weird times. kid brains do Things.

basically we have two separate holidays in december and on the 6th we get some chocolate and maybe some smaller gifts and then the actual big gift stuff comes on christmas. also leading up to christmas we do advent calendars which are also a thing in america i think. i always had so much chocolate in december bc i got TWO advent calendars with chocolate for every day from my parents and grandparents and then me and my brother also had an additional advent calendar that was a cloth thing that we hung up in our rooms with pockets for each day and every day some kinda treat would Magically Appear in it. so much chocolate.

also i have to tell this story- my mom unearthed some incredibly old letter i wrote as a kid to jesus (with my christmas wishlist). and listen... i had no idea where the man lived so i put down the address as heaven street 777... no further comment on the matter

oh also part of advent preparations is the advent wreath! we light a candle every sunday leading up to christmas. the one with the 3 purple and 1 pink candle is the traditional, the pink candle is lit on the third sunday. the colour purple represents fasting, repentance, and reflection. the pink candle is for joy and the virgin mary. separately, the candles in order symbolise faith, hope, joy, and love.

also if ur in church during the holidays (and ur catholic) then u know the priest also wears purple during the advent time (the other time he wears purple is easter and when ur one-on-one confessing). and he wears pink on the third sunday. thats just smth i mention bc i think its neat, i havent been to church in a decade lmao

thats all i can think of!

#asks #rule-masochism

[emmettworld]

i swear you've never had this much hate before (not that i have seen, anyway). have ppl come to gloat about your blogs getting deleted? ugh you've got balls /silly 🫂🫂

ig i can bring in a good thing too? i got a new book about flags, which i think is meant for kids but it explains things so well! vexillology is one of my special interests :) have a good day!

-@rule-masochism

i honestly don't know, it could just be ramping up in an attempt to get me to delete this blog (i'm shocked nobody's sent a KYS anon yet!). or it could just be that they're pissed off i have people backing me up. but yeah, feels like every day brings something lol

oooh i had no idea that was a thing! i hope u enjoy your book then, and have a good day as well <3

#answered asks #rule-masochism #🫂❤️

[tmascfaggot]

sometimes i think abt how i did cum from spanking my clit once and how i've never been able to replicate it. i need to cum from pain again Right Now Please

#i was using a wooden spoon as a paddle #it fucking ruled #i think i could do it again it's just gotta be right #signal broadcast 📺 #t4t nsft #ftm nsft #trans nsft #ftm ns/fw #queer nsft #ftm sub #trans ns/fw #bd/sm masochist #masochist sub #masochist #masochism

[warlenys]

house causes wilson pain and wilson numbs house’s pain. house’s love for wilson is medicinal, wilson’s love for house is masochistic

#and the ending flips this. house suffers more pain to help lessen wilson’s #they assume each other’s positions #why were they like that #i love masochist wilson #love masochism shit rules #house md #hilson #+

[mafaldaknows]

The picture that’s giving you Johnny Rotten vibes...look closely at the top he’s wearing. I’m sure it’s the cover artwork to The Velvet Underground’s Venus In Furs. I haven’t seen this picked up elsewhere yet - please look up the lyrics to that song if you’re not familiar with it. Very interesting choice, Timmy! 😏🥵❤️

Hello, Anon:

The image on Timmy’s shirt is actually the cover of a book by sexologist Michael Leigh, published nearly 60 years ago, which inspired the name of the legendary band, when a friend of the band found a copy of it lying in the street.

The Universe speaks. ❣️✨🤘✨❣️😜😉

Instagram: britishvogue

So here’s where it gets interesting. Let’s hop down the rabbit hole, shall we? 🐇🕳👇👇

par·a·phil·i·a: a condition characterized by abnormal sexual desires, typically involving extreme or dangerous activities.

And here’s the connection to Venus In Furs, thanks to the random luck of TheUniverse™️

X

And here are the lyrics:

The Velvet Underground & Nico album which featured “Venus In Furs” featured the iconic Andy Warhol banana, which is another saucy rabbit hole in itself:

But this particular rabbit hole would not be complete without the book that inspired the song, so here you go:

X

This was a particularly fascinating trip down the rabbit hole. I think we’ve found plenty of dots to connect, don’t you, Anon?

Thanks for your comment. ☺️🖤✨🤘🔥😏

#hello anon #timothée chalamet #johnny rotten vibes #british vogue #photoshoot #rabbit hole #here we go #the velvet underground #michael leigh #1963 #the velvet underground & nico #venus in furs #1967 #leopold von sacher masoch #i follow where my mind goes #the universe speaks #iykyk #fascinating research #oh my algorithms #first rule of charmie #easter eggs #this easter bunny is so naughty #mafalda always looks for signs #tales from the charmiesphere

[sardonyyx]

Lestat in women’s/men’s redingote

#project tag: prove it on me #rule 63 #lestat #I think she only obeys sartorial convention to look more masc. which is why she’s wearing a cravat and not that lil shawl thing #bc not letting your chemise show is a modesty play and she’s not abt that #also realistically such a bitch who matches the embroidery on their bodice to their stays would also hv an embroidered chemise. but I forgor #me hand drawing the stripes: this must be what masochism feels like. I’m subbing for rmyself

[profanetools]

ngl i don't think i would have been able to make a character like vyra 10 years ago, it's extremely fun to explore this character with such extreme rage and a deep well of genuine trauma (most of which I haven't even scratched the surface of here) but also deeply middle class / economically secure in a way that also makes her sheltered, funnily enough.

#mzel finds her mystifying on some level that she would seek out hardship of her own accord #and it's in part this 'i have contacts who have money and opportunities but i'd rather let my pride rule' #the sort of self-indulgent masochism that feels deeply DISTASTEFUL to anyone who has a choice #there are adults in her life who love her DEEPLY and want to welcome her back into the fold with OPEN arms if only she'd DO IT #but for vyra there's also the dimension of toxic academia that hasn't been addressed #there's also the question of whether a life full of meaning is a class privilege #her being bankrolled by her shitty absent father at least for some of her merchant work #adds another facet to it #and there's the fact that vyra isn't really THAT young - she'd be in her mid 30s to us - in a way that makes this even more ridiculous #this isn't an adolescent strop. this is a high-powered woman who is regressing BACK into adolescent strop mode. in part because she doesn't #know what a healthy coping mechanism is

[carolmunson]

it's your party and i'll cry if i want to (sadist!daddydom!eddie x f!masochist!reader)

warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni. sadism/masochism. established relationship. intense spanking with hands and implements. angst. hurt/comfort. daddy kink, some major daddy dom energy from eddie in this one. lots of fluff at the end. some yearning. mild threats. accidental bratting/all around bad attitude from reader. eddie calls reader a 'bitch' outside of a scene. mentions of being on period. name calling: 'stupid' 'bad girl', pet names 'baby, angel, honey, etc'. mild exhibitionism (continuing a scene when someone walks in), YES there is aftercare/communication. anything i might've forgot, i'll add later. i'm sorry!

---

Eddie checked his watch for the third time with an annoyed grunt, elongated and growing in volume as he saw the time. 10:45.

And that would be fine -- that is, if he hadn't asked you to be at his trailer by 10:00 AM.

And being this late would have also been fine if you had called him to let him know you were running late -- like you were supposed to. It was one of the rules he gave you that was the most important to him. Not that he needed to know where you were at all times, he was just always quick to jump to the worst case scenario. 'Oh, she's late? She died. She definitely died. She's bleeding out somewhere alone.'

It didn't help that Eddie's van was in the shop getting fixed up. Sure he could've done it himself but the guys wanted to do something nice for him after all the extra shifts he'd been taking. So lately, he'd been relying on you to get anywhere that wasn't his job.

He hates how you drive, it's the only thing he doesn't like about you.

A few more minutes pass and he hears the familiar crunch of tires over dried leaves, the sharp blaring of your car horn beeping to let him know you were there.

You never do that. You always get out and knock to say good morning, to give him a kiss, to tell him how cute he looks in his outfit. Eddie frowns and opens the screen door, patting his pockets to check for his wallet and keys before closing the main door behind him. He sees you in the driver's seat and can tell you're in a mood so he swallows whatever venom he had collecting on his tongue.

"Morning, sweet thing," he says softly, opening the passenger's side door, "You okay?"

You take the keys out of the ignition and toss them on the seat toward him, "I know you're gonna ask to drive so, here."

You huff when you unclick your seatbelt and get out of the car, grumbling something under your breath that Eddie can't quite make out. He has half a mind to catch you by the chin and ask you to speak up but he shakes out the thought -- he punished you last week, he didn't need to punish you again. At least not yet.

Eddie gets in the driver's seat while you ease into the passengers seat, putting your seatbelt on before he can ask you to. Even though he never wears a seatbelt, so you don't understand his incessant need to make sure you're wearing one.

After he pulls out of the park and onto the road, Eddie settles into the seat catching glances at you when he can.

"Why didn't you call?" he asked, he tried to keep it as light as possible.

"Woke up late, slipped my mind," you shrugged, looking out the window at the orange and bright red leaves.

"I know it might've been a rough morning but you're supposed to call, baby," he turns his head to you, putting a hand on your knee, "I don't appreciate being left in the dark, you know that."

"It's really not a big deal," you mumble, moving your knee out of his hand and keeping your gaze on the Indiana foliage.

"Okay..." he says to himself, putting the spare hand back on the wheel to meet the other.

The first stop on your day of errands before movie night at Eddie's trailer was to the shop so he could check out the van. He didn't mean to be such a stickler about it, but that really was his baby. You stayed in the car while he went in, watching him look back at you with a little wave before he got in the shop.

When he got back, your mood hadn't subsided. He took a deep breath when he opened the door and you greeted him with a "What did you take the whole thing apart and put it back together? That took forever."

"Sorry, babe, they just had a lot to run down with me," he explained apologetically, "Didn't mean to take so long."

"It's really gonna be so nice when it's done though, they redid the carpeting in the back and everything," he tittered, knee bouncing with excitement -- only to have his smile fall when you mumbled a quiet 'yeah whatever' to the window.

Next was the grocery store for snacks and food for the party. You both stepped through the automatic doors in tandem, the scent of cinnamon hitting your noses hard as they had already switched over the Halloween displays for Christmas displays.

"It's October 24th," Eddie laughed, "Are they kidding?"

You just look at the display and then at the aisles ahead of you, walking towards the candy and cookies aisle where you know he'd be headed first anyway.

Eddie shakes it off, something had to be wrong. Maybe you just weren't ready to talk about it yet. You do like having your space, afterall. He catches up next to you, offering his hand for you to hold it and then dropping it to his thigh when you shove your hands into your pockets of your jacket.

He swallows a lump building in his throat. Was it something I said? he thinks to himself.

You get to the junk food aisle, scanning the shelves together and he speaks again, "Thinking about going for a red theme -- I'm thinking vampire movies, stuff that gives off bloody and disgusting. Y'know? Stuff like that."

"Get whatever you want Ed, I literally don't care," you say breathily, defeat and annoyance dripping over the words. His whole body turns to you, less offended and angry, more hurt than anything else. You never just dismiss him like that.

"Hey, hey," he says, soft but surprised. He presses you into the bags of chips puffing past the shelving unit, taking your face gently in his hands, "What's goin' on with you, hm? Did I do something? Are you mad at me?"

"No, Ed," you try to pull your face out of his hands and move but he replaces them on your cheeks swiftly. Your cheeks are hot to the touch -- maybe you're sick?

"Are you tired? Hungry?" Ed pleaded, eyes searching for a glimmer of a happier you in your eyes. You were acting a little hangry, you always were so huffy when you didn't eat enough. He guessed maybe you didn't eat breakfast since you woke up so late -- that had to be it.

"Want me to grab you something here? Or I can grab you something at a drive-thru. Is that what you want?" he's practically begging for you to smile, desperate to see you nod and say sorry -- you're just hungry, you're just tired, you just need a kiss. God, he hadn't even gotten to kiss you yet today.

"Oh my god, Ed, stop -- I'm fine. You're being annoying," you half-whine while pushing past him, "Just get what you need to get so we can go, please."

Ed heaves a big sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before closing his hand into a fist and leaning his forehead on it. You're in public, don't react the way you want to react right now. You just punished her a few days ago, keep your cool.

He opens his eyes and reaches for your keys attatched to his chain, deatching them and tossing them to you.

"Why don't you go wait for me in the car, okay? I won't be long in here," he offers. Maybe you just didn't feel like running errands, maybe you didn't want to go to the grocery store. You had told him once that the lights gave you a headache.

The late October air bites your cheeks when you step outside, savoring the heat in the car when you start it. Some time later, Eddie comes out, gocery bags in his hands that make him look like a Libra scale.

He knocks on the window, "Hey angel, can I get those keys for the trunk?"

You roll down the window just a crack and pass them through, satisfied by the exhausted sigh he lets out when you do it. His patience was starting to wear a little thin. Even more so when you kept changing the radio station so often that he just told you to shut it off and keep it off.

The next and most obvious stop was to Family Video to pick up the tapes for tonight. Eddie stopped for a second to talk to Steve at the counter, keeping his eye on you while you walked through the aisles and shelves of tapes. Robin came out of the back, so pleased to see you — Eddie watched your whole demeanor change. Smiley, happy, reaching out to hug her — toying with her new bracelet, giggling. His jaw clenched.

“You okay?” Steve asks, tapping his arm, “You look like you’re gonna kick Rob's ass.”

Eddie shakes his head to wash the attitude out of his face, “She’s just — she’s been in a mood all day. And all of a sudden Robin makes her happy? I mean, come on.”

“Ladies, am I right?” Steve rolls his eyes and looks over his shoulder at you and Robin. You’re reaching up to grab a case for Misery to read the back, your pinafore riding up and up while you reach. Eddie knows your body, the curve of your ass just hidden by the hem clinging to the fat just under it.

“Let me get it,” Eddie calls over before you put on a show for Family Video. His voice is sharp, making you freeze in place at first. Sinking slowly back onto your feet, you toss him a scowl while crossing your arms.

“I don’t want it anymore, it’s fine,” you mutter, disappearing behind another shelf. Eddie rolls his eyes with a huff, gesturing to you to Steve silently saying ‘See what I mean.’

"Someone's moody," Steve teases loud enough for you to hear.

"Oh my God," they hear you groan, hidden in the aisles.

"Guys, leave her alone," Robin chides, grabbing a box of rewound tapes off the counter, "Everyone's allowed a bad day, y'know?"

"I'm literally here," you snap, stomping out of the aisles, "Can you guys stop talking about me like I'm not here? For fuck's sake. "

"Hey," Eddie warns, his hand falling down on the counter. You close your eyes and let your breath out through your nose.

"Sorry, Rob," you frown, shoulders sulking. Robin shakes her head, making a face to imply that you didn't need to apologize, pulling you into a hug. You know what you're doing by not apologizing to Eddie or Steve, but you can't find yourself to care about the consequences.

Ed takes you by the hand to grab the movies for tonight, shielded by the sterile aisles and the smell of plastic. You hear Robin and Steve talk amongst themselves, the jingle of the bell as customers file in and out.

"Ah, the horror section," you mumble, completely deadpanned, "Never been here before."

Eddie stiffens, he doesn't feel bad anymore. Now he's angry. Now he thinks you're doing it on purpose.

"You wanna get whupped when we get home?" he asks sternly, "Keep it up."

He hopes the threat doesn't fall on deaf ears, but you aren't listening. You just cross your arms and burn holes into the back of his curly head while he picks two movies and tucks them under his leather clad arm.

He smiles at you when he turns around, squishing your cheeks between his finger and thumb, "Y'know, sucks that you have to be so mean 'cause you are awfully cute when you're in a little mood." He can play your game, too.

Ugh, fuck him. You roll your eyes and pull your chin out of his hand, you're like a woman posessed. This bad mood swarming through your body like sludge in your blood stream. You want to be happy, you want to be excited for movie night -- but you're just not. You wanna rip your skin off and scream in the aisles of Family Video. You wanna cause a scene.

At check out, the door opens and a hard gust of cold wind blows through the entry way. It wraps around your bare thighs and knee high socked calves -- you catch a little chill, a small shiver running through your shoulders.

"It's startin'a get too cold to wear these little dresses, baby," Eddie chastises while Steve scans the tapes and enters his employee number into the computer, "You're gonna get the flu."

"The flu's a virus, you can't get it from being cold," you huff, drumming your fingers on the counter. Eddie bites his tongue in his mouth, exchanging a look with Steve while he passes the money for the rentals over to him.

"Learn something new every day, don't we Harrington?" he asks, trying to keep you from bubbling over in front of your friends.

"That's basic high school biology Ed," you snap, venom stinging on your tongue, "No wonder it took you three fucking years to graduate."

"Woah, woah!" Steve's brow furrows, shaking his head, "Yellow flag. Not cool." Of course, a sports reference.

"It's fine," Eddie says quietly, his eyes cast downward, "We'll see you guys later."

He grabs the tapes with one hand and your sweatered bicep in the other, wrenching you out of the store to the car. He tosses the tapes in the back seat, peeling out of the parking lot with a screech.

You're silent on the road, not even the radio on to soften the tension, both fuming -- buzzing with anger. Eddie reaches for the cigarette tucked in his ear, hiding behind his long messy curls. It sits between his full lips, dangling while he searches for his lighter. You hear the flick and wait for him to take the first inhale, your teeth grind together so hard you swear he can hear it. Time, and time, and time again you had told him -- "Jesus Christ. Not in my fucking car, Ed."

You pluck the cigarette out of his mouth and toss it out the crack in your window.

Eddie slams on the breaks and you both jostle forward at the impact, the squeal of the tires echoing through the empty road. He turns to you with wild eyes, incredulous, "Are you on the fucking rag or something?!"

You don't respond, instead you cross your arms tighter around your chest and look out the window. You avoid his angry look, your heart pounding, knowing his is too.

"We're going home," he mutters, pulling a u-turn and heading toward the backroads that lead to the trailer park.

"No, no, you still wanted to stop at Melvald's for paper plates, and decorations," you offer quietly.

"Well maybe if you'd been such a bitch, I would've gotten to run all my errands," he explains, frustration bubbling in his chest. He swallows the lump building in his throat again. He didn't mean to call you a bitch, he's never called you that outside of play. But fuck did you have to bring up how hard it was for him to graduate?

"We can still," your voice lilts, going up an octave, "It doesn't have to be ruined."

"We are going home," he says with finality, eyes glued to the road. You can beg with your soft voice all you want, he's had enough today.

The both of you continue the ride back to Eddie's trailer in silence, just his and your shuddering breaths breaking through every now and again. You knew what you were in for when you got in the door, and part of you knew you deserved it -- but another part thought maybe, if you were sweet enough, he'd change his mind.

He pulls in with a quick turn, tires skidding in the dead grass wet with frost. You roll up your window and open the door, watching as Eddie reaches back to get the tapes out of the back. You step lightly to the trunk, waiting for him to come around with the key so you can bring in the groceries.

"Oh, you wanna be helpful now?" his voice is bitter, "You're a brat all day and now that you're in trouble you wanna be nice?"

You pout, just a little. Watching his hands as he unlocks the trunk and it eases open. As you reach for the grocery bags he swats them away, "I got it."

"Fine," you sneer, marching toward the door, "You got it."

"Oh-ho-ho, you just wait darlin'," he smiles while he slams the trunk closed, but it's the smile he does when he can't contain himself. When his hands are vibrating. When he wants to yell but can only laugh. Bar fights at The Hideout, blow out arguments with Wayne, when the gas station clerk calls him a freak.

Now it was you.

He walks past you, groceries and tapes in hand, fishing out his keys to open the door -- the door squeaking open. The sound of it mocks you because you know what's to come when it clicks closed.

Eddie puts the bags down on the table in the kitchenette, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on one of the chairs. You stand by the closed door, the leather of the belt hanging next to the door frame taunting you.

Eddie takes his time to put the groceries away, leaving out the chips and other snacks he picked up. He'd put them in bowls later for the set up. Fuck. He does have bowls or paper plates -- you didn't go to the store.

You watch him go to the phone on the wall in the kitchen, dialing without looking -- you can hear Steve's cheery voice on the other end. "What's up, Ed?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"You're the only person who calls me on my car phone."

"Okay, whatever. Sorry to ask this, but we didn't get a chance to go to Melvald's. Would you be able to pick some stuff up for me?" he asks while keeping eye contact with you. Now you feel bad. Eddie liked hosting movie night, he liked putting up decorations and making it feel like a party. It was something he looked forward to every month when it was his turn and his were always so fun that everyone ended up sleeping over. Now it felt ruined because you just couldn't stop. You couldn't let him have his day.

Eddie says his thank you's when he's done asking for Steve's help and hangs up the phone. He motions you over when he takes the few steps into the living room, sitting on the couch with a groan. You follow solemnly, standing across the room from him.

"Didn't I just have to punish you last week?" he asks while inching forward on the cushions, legs spread wide in front of him, "I mean, jesus baby girl, you're really just askin' to get whupped these days."

Daddy's home. Eddie always ended up adopting a mix of his co-worker's Hoosier accent and Wayne's slight southern drawl when he stepped into that role. Always coming out when maybe you needed to really learn a lesson. Whenever the brat came out to play without him asking for it.

It was your least favorite game -- not because you didn't like it necessarily, but Eddie relied heavily on making sure you were embarrassed. He wasn't mean. He was mocking. He liked how it made you feel, he liked how you turned red when he called you his baby. How your stomach turned when he put you over his lap. So rudimentary, but deeply effective. Somehow, getting spanked by his hand like this hurt more than anything else.

"C'mere," he says, waving you forward, "Come to daddy."

Your heart sinks and flutters simultaneously -- suddenly it's unbearibly hot in his trailer despite the light frost on the ground outside and your bare knees under your corduroy pinafore.

"Ed...c'mon, people are coming over," you say quietly, toying with the hem of your dress, "Can't you punish me later?"

"After you ran that mouth all day? After you showed up here late this mornin' and didn't even call? You broke all my rules," he scolded, "Get over my lap, sweet thing, gotta teach you."

"Please," you whisper, your glassy eyes meeting his, "I'll be good the rest of the night, I promise."

"That gives you way too much leeway. You'll start thinkin' you can get away with everything. You know what they say: spare the rod, spoil the child," he shrugs, "And you're so spoiled as it is. Aren’t you, baby?"

You nod, shifting your weight on your feet. Your skin crawls at the lilt in his voice; you can feel him getting impatient with you.

"So why doesn’t my spoiled little thing come over here and take her punishment, hm?"

You know if you don’t go over there, he’ll make you. His demeanor is so different when he’s like this, so sweet — cooing at you, gentleness even when he’s talking down to you. A soothing balm to help make you feel small, stupid, and needy. Like you can’t do anything without his guidance. He plucks at your emotional set backs as nimbly and expertly as he does his guitar.

“No, I think that’s too hard for you, baby. I'll figure it out.”

“Was that too difficult for you to understand? Why don't we try again.”

“I think you need a break, why don't you let Daddy take care of everything?"

"Let daddy do it for you. You need to learn when to ask for help when you need it."

"We can talk about it when you're not acting like such a little brat, okay?"

You inch over and slide over his lap and even though you know it’ll hurt, it’s so comfortable to let go for him. To let him teach you a lesson. To let it out on the couch cushions in the form of fat tears and whines and screams. Kicking your legs and squirming.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs while you get situation on top of him. eddie let’s a warm hand slide over your thigh before pushing your dress up over your hips to your waist, "Knew she was still in there."

Ed takes a moment to admire the softened bruises on your ass when he gathers your panties at the base of it, finally in their last stage of healing from last week's play time. Maybe he could afford to go harder than he expected. Excellent news for him, awful news for you.

“You don’t have to count out loud to me today, angel. Don't think you can count that high,” he teases, calloused hand smoothing over your ass before coming down hard over it with a loud smack ringing in the living room of the trailer.

“Ah-ow!” you yelp, his over the knee spankings just hurt a little bit more than anything else. Maybe it was the embarrassment of the position, the way he played with your mind a little before hand. Something about the crack of his palm against you when you felt dizzy like this was a different type of pain.

What a shame that you loved it so much.

“You know you deserve this, baby,” he says softly, “I don’t like to punish you, but I gotta keep you in line. You really embarrassed me today.”

“M'sorry, daddy,” you frown into the couch, hips jumping at the next strike. A warm little buzz forming on your backside while he continues.

"Are you?" he asks, his hand smacking especially hard against the swell of your ass. The first choke of a sob escapes your chest and he hums with satisfaction, "You don't sound sorry."

"I think daddy's gonna make you very sorry, though," he threats. Eddie takes his time switches his rings over to the hand he's using to spank you, knowing it just adds injury to even more injury. He smiles to himself when you squirm at the feeling of the metal skating across your warm skin.

"Don't like that?" he asks. You shake your head no and he 'tsks' above you, letting his fingers slide between your legs, "You sure?"

"Mmm," is all you can reply, feeling hazy and spacey under his touch. Your stomach tightens at his finger tips grazing your folds, presing slightly to get between them, a pool of slick welcoming them immediately.

"I think you do like that," he whispers headily. Eddie takes his fingers away, eliciting a wanting whimper from you, his chuckle was daunting.

His hand smacks upward and downward on one cheek, then the other, in a consistent rhythm. One, two, three, four, one, two, three four. Hard, sweeping spanks making a bloom of color spread over your skin more and more as he went. He does this for who knows how many minutes, as many as it takes for your legs to start kicking. For the color in your skin to fall to an angry crimson.

"Here we go with the dramatics," Eddie tutts, catching your ankles with his free hand, "What might happen if you don't stay still?"

You rack your brain and he isn't patient, raining down smacks in quick succession on your left butt cheek and then your right. The skin burning underneath his hand.

It comes to you hazily, what he says over and over again when you move around too much -- too many spots that could cause damage if he hits them instead, "I could get hurt," you whine out.

"Good girl," he coos, "Look at you, trying your best to remember -- my stupid little thing."

You can't help but pout at the dig, pouting more when his hand starts up their symphony again.

"Daddy, please," you cry, your hand reaching out to cover your ass, "Please no more."

"Excuse me," he hisses, spare hand now coming up to press your wrist against your back, "You earned this. Be a big girl and take it."

Your face burns when he admonishes you, embarrassment washing over your body. You can't help but struggle against him but he pulls you tight in place, steadying you before he starts again, "Behave."

You can feel Eddie's erection building against your hip, your mouth filling with spit at the thought of it. Maybe he'll fuck you if you just let him get through this part, he usually does. You're still playing afterall, this is just punishment -- you earned this.

Eddie continues, grunting with each stinging hit, as much force as he can into it. His tongue swells in his mouth when it watches the fat of your hips and ass bounce back at his assault. This was a show exclusively for him, the best part about impact play. You know, outside of the crying, and whimpering, and your shining wet pussy between your legs. And the power, fuck. Don't even get him started on the high of all that power and control.

Tears are streaming down your face, mixing with the strings of snot oozing from your nose. You look a mess, just like he wanted and just like he knew you would.

His smacks slow down to one every few seconds, like the end of a popcorn bag in the microwave, before smoothing his hand over your vibrating flesh.

"That was a good warm up, huh?" he asks. Your face pales.

"Wh-what?" you sob out, looking back at him. He smiles, his wolfish 'Master' smile, devilish.

"That was a good warm up, wasn't it angel?" he coos, nails softly grazing your thighs, making you hiss.

"Warm up?" you ask, eyes shining and round. He maneuvers you off his lap, steadying you while your jellied legs find some footing.

"You thought you were gettin' off that easy?" he asks, in that same soft voice, "That's cute."

You pout but it doesn't help, he pushes back on the couch and crosses his legs. Eddie's looking up at you but it still feels like he's looking down.

"Go get the paddle, baby," he instructs, "You know which one."

You swallow hard, shoulders shaking, "But why?"

"Because I said so," he says it like you're stupid. You feel stupid. You feel small.

You trudge to the bedroom and back to the livingroom with the paddle in hand: wooden and carved with holes. Beyond pain on it's own, extra painful with a warm up.

You reluctantly pass it to him and feel sick at how fucking hot it looks in his hand. With a sniffle and bite of your lower lip, you lay back down across his lap, bending at the waist, your toes meeting the floor in your socked feet.

He adjusts your underwear, pulling them back up to cover you, the elastic scratching uncomfortably on you, "How about we keep these on for this part? Does that sound good?"

"Yes," you shudder out, even though it doesn't make a difference. The cotton is so thin.

"What do you say?" he asks, sliding the paddle across your thighs.

"Thank you, daddy," you mumble into the cushion.

"What was that?" he asks, "Gotta speak up."

You know he heard you, he just wants to hear you say it again.

"Thank you, daddy," you say more clearly.

"Still can't hear you," it comes out like a song and the paddle comes sound with a loud SMACK across your thighs.

"THANK YOU, DADDY," you cry out, tears springing from your eyes. The air gets trapped in your throat, sputtering while you try to steady your breath. He gives you a moment to collect yourself, extra careful to check if you're too far gone to know how to tell him to stop.

"We're gonna do twenty, okay?" he asks, "Think you can do that?"

"Yes, sir," you sniffle out, head hanging.

"Twenty's good right?" he asks, you nod, "How come?"

"S'what I d-deserve," you say to him without thinking, fully obedient now.

"Smart girl," he coos, placing the paddle next to him so he can slide a finger into your panties, "Very smart girl."

"P-please," you whisper into the couch cushion, you pray he doesn't hear it but you also wish he would. You hear his pleased hum when his finger tip meets your soaked opening again, pushing further into you. He pumps it into you lazily, enough to watch your hips writhe in time against him -- but it's just not enough.

You know better than to ask for more, not letting more than a disappointed whimper out of your mouth when he takes it away.

“Maybe later, yeah?” he asks, voice mocking your wanton whines, “If you’re a good girl?”

You simply nod, bracing yourself when you hear him pick up the paddle again. Down it comes without warning, knocking the wind out of you once again. The pain shoots down your legs and up your back in in a shivering sting. You cry loudly, blubbering inconsolably into your forearms resting on the couch. This is what he wanted to hear. Thank god the windows were closed.

"Want you to think about this --" He grunts when he brings the paddle down again, "-- when you think about running that mouth to me."

He waits for the pain to almost stop reverberating in your body to bring down the next blow. Eddie never let you take a full breath between blows when you needed to learn something.

"When your in one of these moods you--" the next strike of the paddle elicits a near scream out of you, racked with tears, "-- talk to me about it before you start gettin' mean. You hear me?"

"Y-yes-s-s-s," you sob.

"Are you sorry?" he asks, the next strike is over your thighs.

"I'm sorry!" you yelp before falling back into shuddering cries, "So so sorry, I'm sorry."

He continues on without reprieve: 6, 9, 12, 14 -- or was it 13? -- you're not even counting -- you're not sure if you can count at this point. Your eyes have gone glassy, you're crying so hard that you're drooling.

The sound of a knock at the door takes you out of your haze for a moment but you don't feel Eddie's body tense, he just calls out, "It's open!"

You hear the door open and immediately reach for the hem of your dress to push it down, but Eddie's mean laugh and swat of his hand puts you back in place.

"Hey, they didn't have pumpkin paper plates but they had ghosts and I thought maybe that would be f-- oh," Steve stops with the plates in his hand, looking you both over, eyes lingering briefly on your reddened ass and thighs.

"Sorry to interrupt."

"You're fine," Eddie rolls his eyes, "You can put it all on the counter. Thanks so much, man. Let me know what I owe you."

Steve shakes his head with a little laugh, leaving the bags on the counter full of plates, napkins, and decorations. Listening to you whimper in the other room. Steve had been plenty privy to whatever you and Ed were getting up to. All of the older group was. The first time you showed up to a group hang with bruises was when you both had to come clean immediately -- there were hardly any secrets between the five of you anyway.

Plus, Steve liked learning new things.

Eddie doesn't mind the audience, bringing the paddle down again with new vigor. You try desperate to hold in the cry in your chest but it breaks when he speaks to you.

"What baby, you embarrassed?" Eddie coos, "You didn't have a problem embarrassing me in front of Steve earlier. Just returning the favor."

"You wanna tell him why you're gettin' punished?" he asks, one hand smoothing over your back while the other brings the paddle down again. You shake your head no, embarrassment washing over you in heavy waves knowing Steve is watching you get punished like a school girl.

"I think you should," Eddie continues, "Think it'll help the lesson sink in."

You know you don't have a choice, so you lift your head up mumbling weakly, "Because I was a bad girl."

"Little louder so Steve can hear," he encourages.

"Because I was a bad girl," you repeat. Your face was fuming with a deep blush.

"There we go," Eddie soothes to you quietly, "I think you had enough, sweet thing. Why don't you go wait for me in our room?"

You swallow, ignoring the shooting pain in your backside while you scramble off his lap and down into the hall to the bedroom.

Eddie turns towards Steve while you scurry away, "At least she's self aware."

"At least." Steve agrees, cheeks reddening, "Look I gotta go pick up Elaine, her sister took the car so she can't get over here. I'll probably be around when everyone else shows up though."

"So she's finally her real name and not just 'some girl'?" Ed asks, surprised.

Steve blushes, "Yeah I think she's gonna stick around for a while. She's been um -- really receptive to some new stuff we've been tryin' out."

"Well you're learning from the best, so," Eddie cockily meets his cheek to his shoulder.

"Pfft, okay," Steve rolls his eyes while he walks toward the door, swinging his keys on his fingers, "See you in a little."

Eddie watches him leave, stretching on the couch before getting up and walking slowly over to the bedroom. He slowly opens the door, listening for anything beyond your regular cry or whimper.

"Baby?" he asks, his voice back to normal. There you are on his bed, already in a pair of his sweat pants and a t-shirt. Your pinafore and sweater and socks folded neatly on the end of the mattress. Your makeup stianed face wiped clean with the cold cream and clean face cloths you kept on his dresser.

"Oh, baby," he frowned, "You look so sad."

"I'm sorry," you said, your shoulders curving inward in a sulk, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to take everything out on you today."

"I know," Eddie shuts the door behind him, just in case anyone showed up earlier than expected. He walked over to the bed, barely getting onto it all the way before you found your way onto his lap. Your tear stained face in his neck.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, rubbing circles onto your back and pressing a kiss onto your shoulder. You nod against him.

"I'm sorry," you repeat.

"It's okay," he coos, "I'm sorry, too."

You lean back to look at him and he looks at you with a smile, his big doe eyes warm and crinkling at the ends.

“I love you,” his voice is cozy. Medicine for you bad mood.

“I love you, too,” you respond, leaning in slow while you rest a hand in his cheek. Your lips find home against his and you hear him sigh with relief into it. He deeply reciprocates, mouth desperately meeting yours, hands resting softly in your hair.

“Haven’t gotten to kiss you all day,” he whispers. His next kiss is feverish and needy, pulling you close to him, pressed against his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to, I just…I don’t know,” you explained between breaths.

“S’okay,” he says, leaning back a bit to look in your eyes, “Can we talk about that?”

“Yeah,” you nod, sitting further back on his thighs.

“When we play, or when you make me upset, or if I’m feeling sad or angry - I don’t ignore you, right? I don’t deny you what you want or need unless it’s part of a scene? And even then you can always ask to stop?” he looks hurt when he asks, his hand finding your thigh, giving it a little squeeze.

“No, you always listen. You always communicate,” you say.

“So you have to offer me the same kindness, baby,” he strokes your cheek, “You really hurt my feelings today."

Your eyes water, chest aching, "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up high school or -- or act like I didn't care about t-tonight, or your c-car. I do care."

"Shh, shh, shh, I know. I know," he soothes, "But when something's bothering you, even if you don't know what it is -- I need you to communicate that to me. So I can try to help."

This isn't the first time you've had to have this conversation and he can see the defeat in your face.

"We're both learning," he says, pressing a peck to your lips and then your forehead, "We'll do it together."

You nod, resting into his soft hands that have now found your cheeks again.

"And I'm sorry I called you a bitch in the car," Eddie says and you know he means it, "I'll never call you that again."

"I mean, you will," you giggle softly. He melts at the sound.

"I will, but in a different context," he giggles with you, another kiss to your lips, "In the way that you like."

You match his posture, putting your hands on his face, pulling him close to you. Another kiss, slow and sensual, pillowy lips capturing eachother's with anticipation for whatever might come later. Clicks of spit exchanging and tongues dancing floating through the room like music -- their own language.

"I love you," he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeats. He needs you to know after scenes like that, where you're more vulnerable than normal. A real punishment that might make you forget.

At the same right, he needs you to say it back -- and when you do, he sees stars.

"Let me get you patched up, yeah?" he asks. You nod, laying down on the mattress to let him comfort you after such an assault. Feeling much better now that you had a sore ass and a good talk.

After the normal routine of aloe gel and a massage, you let Eddie get the trailer together for movie night while you took a break in the bedroom. Sometimes you needed a little time alone after a scene before you had to go be around people. Plus, he liked decorating by himself.

You can hear people start trickling in: Steve and his lady, Dustin, Robin, Mike, Nancy, their voices tittering their hellos while the screen door swings. You make your way out, padding down the hall in your socks.

"Hi," you croak out, your voice still scratcy from earlier. Eddie comes over to re-welcome you to the real world, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

Dustin looks at you quizically, "Are you okay? You look sad for movie night."

You shrug, about to speak when Eddie butts in, "She'll be alright, Henderson. She just got in a nasty fight with her dad."

You hear Steve snort in the kitchen and roll your eyes before you smile back at Dustin, "I'm okay, thank you for asking."

Eddie fixes you a plate of snacks while you fix him one. Somehow you still haven't realized that you should just get them for yourselves, but there's something sweet about the neutral need to always be caring for each other.

"More sour straws, you're lacking here Munson," you say at the exchange of plates.

"So true," he agrees, turning back around. The rest of the crew walks in, Lucas making a joke that Steve laughs at -- another snort coming out of his nose.

"You sound like a pig Steve," his flavor of the month Elaine laughs. You watch him smile at her, his eyes a little hard, and subtly reach for her chin. He leans in like he's about to kiss her, but before he does he offers a stern, "Watch your mouth."

Her face blooms with heat when their lips meet and you nudge Eddie in the arm, "What're you teaching him, Ed? He's a nice boy."

Eddie tosses you a sly smirk, "He's not as nice as he looks. I promise."

You take your plate from him, sour straws at the right amount, and take your place on the couch. He plops down next to you while everyone gathers in the living room around the TV.

"Day of the Dead, y'all. Let's get into it," Eddie says. He lifts the remote and presses play, turning out the lights at the switch behind your head. His hand falls to your opposite shoulder, rubbing it absentmindedly while the movie begins.

Your eyes meet breifly in the glow of the TV. He offers you a wink before spreading his lips into his regular award winning smile.

#eddie munson x you #sadist!eddie munson #sadist!eddie #eddie munson x reader #dom eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x y/n #stranger things smut #eddie munson au #mean!eddie munson #dark!eddie munson

[emmettland]

ok but you can't show off those killer clothing folds without telling us how you do them /silly /nf

-@rule-masochism

practice and observation, my friend. ;) it's taken me a while to learn how different fabrics and textures fold, and not just that, but how to translate that to my specific art style.

like here's how i was drawing clothing folds back in 2021:

i understood things like point of tension (the point on the fabric where the folds will crease the most and lead back to), and i kind of understood how fabric bunches together, but it doesn't quite feel like fabric to me. the curved line going down Logan's calve on the front of his pants makes that area look tighter where it should. Dirk's sleeve lines don't account for the shoulders, and his right cuff is just ugly. also way too many folds on his left side of the shorts.

compare that to how i draw folds now:

the 'outline' lines on Teddy's suit reflect the stiff texture of the material. the folds are focused more towards the lower center of his torso, where the material is pinched by the buttons and the natural shape of his chest. the crotch area of his pants has folds up at top instead of all gathered towards the thighs, and i'll typically do that now after having observed it on some reference images.

Logan's jacket not only has folds towards the tension point of his elbows (and the folds don't extend all the way, so it doesn't look as wrinkly and too-tight), but also has folds to show where the shoulders are and where the jacket seams are.

David's pants have folds going in the direction of where his legs are moving since he's mid-walk, and the folds in his shirt are straight, horizontal lines to show how it conforms to his chest and abs.

and i have learned the WONDERS that varying line width can do when it comes to folds, so now you'll see me use thicker lines for more prominent folds, and thinner lines to suggest where certain muscles or areas of the body are under the clothing.

like in this piece here:

the ONLY purpose those thin lines have is to show David's pec on his left side, and to hint at the musculature of his chest by having that line go down his side, curving in where the pec is. without those lines, the torso appears flatter and with less muscle.

#emmett answers #rule-masochism #art tips #emmett draws #i could go on but i'll stop there xD #this is a subject i LOVE in art

[whumpshaped]

crucifixion? for helle? i am LOOKING....

on a more normal note, have you ever read Seraph of the End? the vampire society has these legal punishments for any vampires that break their laws and conspire with humans, one of the more severe punishments being crucified and exposed to the sun for a certain period of time, so they literally just burn for days. it's a classic!

i was just wondering if that's what you're referring to with helle?

-@rule-masochism

:)

#i havent read it #but what a coincidence! #asks #rule-masochism

[emmettworld]

hey emmett, it's @rule-masochism !! rlly sorry about ur blogs all going down, i saw it all go down on discord. that's always been a huge fear of mine i'd be inconsolable 😬

i did notice you followed me on my main @/defensivelee, could i politely request that you follow me over on @/rule-masochism instead? thats my only whump blog !! ofc this is only a suggestion, unless you actually want to see the very whack stuff/content i post on my main xD

i hope this blog can stay around tho, please take care of yourself /gen <3!!

thanks man, i appreciate the sympathy. /gen

and omg of course! i've just been following back blogs that i recognize by name but i will follow your whump blog instead :3

thank you again! <3

#answered asks #rule-masochism

[fan-therapy]

General NSFW- Simon "Ghost" Riley and Konig

i hope all of you are surprised by me every time i post. one minute i'm writing for death note and danganronpa and then this happens. i don't plan any of this i literally do i what i want. no rules ever.

WARNINGS- NSFW NSFW NSFW. SMUT. i swear these are the horniest thoughts i could put in here, throat fucking, size kink, a tiny bit of angst with them being sad about hurting you, and yeah slight mentions of ACCIDENTALLY hurting you, mentions of handcuffs, oral (givind and receiving)

!!NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

Simon "Ghost" Riley

-hmm...

-throat fucker. but in the best way possible

-istg he can (and will) call you the sweetest names while he just destroys your throat

-size kink? yeah

-no matter how big or small you really are, he can STILL always make you feel tiny pretty much because he's strong enough to throw you if he wants to (he won't though)

-he absolutely will not bring pain or sadism/masochism into the bedroom. it is a hard no from him. he already feels like a bad person for what he sometimes has to do for his job but he cannot hurt you. he's not doing it.

-anyways

-he's big and he knows it. he knows EXACTLY how to use it.

-he's not big on quickies? he lasts kind of a while between rounds and will go multiple times if you want

-he's not big into risky stuff or experimenting? like i just don't think he'd be super into toys or anything

-i also think he isn't super loud. besides some groaning and panting, its not a lot of sound

Konig

-i think he's a little less confident (obviously)

-but he doesn't really recognize that he's really... big

-he might end up unintentionally hurting you but he doesn't mean to! he just gets a little excited and can't control himself very well

-but he feels really bad about it :( he needs a lot of reassurance so he really really never lets go of the incidents where he accidentally hurts you </3

-not super big into too many intense kinks

-he doesn't want to restrain you tbh, but if you want to, you can handcuff him if you feel like it

-i think he's a little louder than ghost, but not by much? he keeps it quiet cause he's embarrassed about people hearing him. but a lot of panting and probably some whimpers (oh jesus christ)

-he's big on giving and receiving oral

-he likes giving because it's fun to watch you squirm, and he just finds it enjoyable?

-but he likes receiving because it feels good...

-also isn't very confident in his skills, but he damn sure should be cause goddamn is he great at what he does

#smut #headcannons #x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #konig #konig x reader

[enchantingforestfeeder]

CW: Force feeding, extreme feeding and weight gain, bdsm, intox, masochism/sadism

"Dang, she's really going to give it to me this time," you say looking at your calorie tracker app. You forgot to track your lunch today because you went out with a friend. "Oh well, time to face the music" you say as you get out of your car and make your way into the house.

The smell of cooking food fills the house and makes your stomach growl, which wouldn't have been out of place on Thanksgiving. But today was a Friday evening in May. You'd only seen her cook this way once before and that was the most full you had ever been in your life. She must be pissed with you. As you make your way into the kitchen, you see her busy by the stove. At the table are 2 chairs: one with a rope bondage system and one with a packed bong.

"Oh, you're home! Did you have a good day at work?"

"Yeah, at lunch I went to go visit my friend and...."

"And what?" she interrupted. "And...forgot to log your meal?" she walks over to you and lifts up your shirt, revealing the chubby belly that she had been building for the past couple months. "This doesn't look like a belly that ate everything it was supposed to. I'd ask you what you had to say for yourself but I honestly don't care. You know the rules, now it's time for your punishment." Her voice was calm and collected, but you could see in her face how much she had been waiting for this. She was going to enjoy watching you struggle.

"You know what to do. Take off your shirt and go sit down. Dinner is almost ready." She says and goes back to her preparations. You do as you're told and sit in the chair next to the bong. It seems like forever waiting for her to be ready. All the while your stomach will not stop growling for her delicious food.

Finally, she walks over and grabs the rope from the other chair and uses it to tie you down around the ankles, wrist and waist. The loop around your waist is already digging into your newfound soft tummy. Then she picks up the bong and holds it up to your lips. Obediently, you take a hit as she lights it. She then holds it back up to your lips and orders "Another one." You're so screwed.

When she walks over with the food your mouth starts to water. In any other situation you would call yourself spoiled. There was a spread of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts, buttery corn on the cob, dinner rolls and gravy.

"This is what you get for not holding up your end of our agreement. You told me you wanted me to make you fat and I told you to do everything I say," She says as she starts shoveling the food in your mouth. "And what did I tell you to do?"

"Track my f-umph" you start but she shoves another bite in your mouth before you could finish.

"So if you know what I asked you to do, why didn't you do it? Did you want to make me mad? Or are you just to stupid to follow directions?"

"I didn't mea-umph," it seemed like she was shoveling bigger bites into your mouth and you were struggling to keep up.

"Stupid little pigs like you don't have anything meaningful to say. Just shut up, any time you spend talking could be spent chewing." She cracks open a bottle of beer and sticks it in your mouth. You take a couple gulps then start breathing through your nose to recover for a second. "Nuh-uh, No cheating," she says in a singsong voice and plugs your nose with her fingers.

"She's trying to suffocate me," you think to yourself. You're already getting really full and your not sure how much of the beer you can keep down. You can either choke on it and drink it. She'll probably punish you if you choke.

It seems like forever while you chug the bubble beverage. Eventually, the bottle is empty. You drop it an let it clatter to the floor. You try to catch your breath but are interrupted by burps from the expanding liquid in your belly. When you finally collect yourself enough to comprehend your surroundings through your weed induced haze, you see her smiling, standing over you. There was a crazy look in her eyes you had never seen before. Something awoke in her, something primal, something dangerous. Being strapped to this chair and too high and stuffed to move, you feel like she's fattening up her prey.

She leans forward to gently rub your over stuffed gut, then you kisses your neck and whispers in your ear, "That's my good piggy. I'll give you a second to rest. After all, hehehe, you'll get a stomach ache if you don't pace yourself. And since you decided to break your end of the deal on a Friday I have all weekend to make you suffer." She grabs your face and holds it close hers. Looking into her eyes you can tell how badly she wants to ruin you. It almost seems like she's becoming obsessed with making you fat and losing her grip on reality. "Let's see if your 'friend' that you met for lunch today, who was so important that you would DARE to disobey me, will even recognize you by Monday."

#wg encouragement #wg fantasy #wg fiction #wg text #immobile #death feederism #feedee belly #death feedist #bd/sm masochist #bd/sm sadist #feeding kink

[buckybarnesevents]

WE'RE BACK! Hot Bucky Summer returns for its second year in a row with new prompts to get those spicy ideas going!

This event runs from June 1st, 2024 to August, 31, 2024. Each week starting June 1st, we’ve given you a theme (phrase) and some further prompts to spark your imagination. You do not have to strictly include the exact phrase or prompt words in your works - they are meant to encourage you and inspire your overall idea!

📢 RULES

Tag accordingly, please! General blog rules apply to this, please read before participating.

There is no minimum or maximum limit.

We will not be reblogging works outside of the assigned week (ex: if you fill a week 1 prompt but we are already in July, we will not be reglogging), however, these prompts are meant to inspire your muses and you can use them as you desire.

Your works do not have to be inherently M or E rated to participate, they are up to your interpretation.

There is no limit on how many works you create. Even if you only participate in one week, we encourage and welcome all participants!

📢 HOW TO SHARE YOUR WORKS:

Please mention us (@buckybarnesevents) and use the tag #hotbuckysummer2024 in your post for us to reblog your works!

We MUST be able to clearly identify what week/prompt you are using. Again, we will not be reblogging works outside of the assigned week. If we cannot easily tell what prompt you are using when tagged, we will not be reblogging.

You can also tag us again in your masterpost for us to reblog a summary of your works for this event.

⏩ Ao3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HotBuckySummer2024

⏩ Discord: https://discord.gg/P5S3CjM6yU

⏩ Last year's works: https://buckybarnesevents.tumblr.com/eventarchive

For a word version (enabling copy and paste), please see below the cut.

Happy creating!

💙 HR

1 June 1st - June 7th | “Louder, let everyone hear you.” | [Screaming/Noisy Sex | Gangbang | Exhibiotionism]

2 June 8th - June 14th | “What should I call you?” | [Master | Alpha | Pet] 

3 June 15th - June 21st | “Really? Here?!” | [Someone Else’s House | Public Bathroom | Mile High Club]

4 June 22nd - June 28th | FREE WEEK | [Optional prompts: “A” - Anal Hook, Acarophilia,  Age Play]

5 June 29th - July 5th | “We’re…” | [Friends with Benefits | Exes | Enemies to Lovers]

6 July 6th - July 12th | “I won’t be able to stop myself.” | [Sex Pollen | Gone Feral | Fuck or Die] 

7 July 13th - July 19th | “Put this on for me.” | [Blindfolds | Cock Cage | Collars]

8 July 20th - July 26th |  “Maybe this'll help you relax” | [Hot Bath | Another Drink | Cockwarming]

9 July 27th - August 2nd | FREE WEEK | Optional Prompts: “W” - Wax Play, Watersports, WAM (Wet & Messy), Weapon Play]

10 August 3rd - August 9th | “Shhhhhhhhh…” | [Gagged | Voyeurism | Somnophilia]

11 August 10th - August 16th | “You look good like this.”| [Kneeling | Tied Down | Ruined]

12 August 17th - August 23rd | “What should I wear?” | [Lingerie | Chastity Belt | Nothing] 

13 August 24th - August 30th | FREE WEEK | [Optional Prompts: “M” - (Mutual) Masturbation, Masochism, Medical Play]

#bucky barnes events #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanart #bucky barnes fanwork #bucky barnes content #hotbuckysummer2024 #event page

[granolawriting]

To break you

pairing: sith!Anakin x princess!Reader

Summary: a suitless darth vader find your home planet to be a threat to the galactic empire. and as he takes you into his custody, he gives you an answer; to wed him, or to die. and as your decision looms over you, he makes it his goal to break you before the wedding day.

word count: 4.2k

content warning: NSFW WARNING!, dark!anakin, there is no fluff he is just using you, spanking, name calling (slut, toy), condesending pet names (my doll, princess), hair pulling, nipple play, kind of public p in v, he cums in you, no aftercare, master anakin kink, sadism/masochism, stockholm syndrome pretty much, cocky and evil vaderkin, forced submission kind of, kind of dubcon but you do enjoy it

masterlist

A/N: hello!!! this is super diffrent than what I usually write, and I would want to put a content warning that this is pretty dark, but the people want and I deliver! This was a request by this anon, so thank you for the request :) Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

“Kneel.” 

The hiss of a door that centered your prison was met by a brooding anakin. Well above 6 feet, drenched in black from head to toe did the heaviness of his boots only add greater loom of intimidation to engulf the room as he stood before you. Commanding you. 

Darth Vader. He is who stood before you. Who caged you in this prison and moreover, destroyed everything you knew in mere hours. Scenes flash before you of what once was your home, one where you reigned comfortable leadership. A princess of a far off planet, known for well intended democracy and a desire for unity within its people. You were happy, especially under the old republic's rule. Even knowing who vader was, be it briefly, before he became the man before you. 

Anakin skywalker. That's who really stood before you. No grimace upon a face, no merciless killings could ever shake him from being that person. The curve of his jaw in a scowl was the same one that greeted you all those years ago on your home planet-- sharing a single dinner together as he and his master asked for direction on a mission they were set upon. You knew what a smile looked like along his face, what a laugh may sound like from the cords deep within his throat. And as the man stands before you now, towering over you with no semblance of that boy surviving within him the scar on his face remains. The curl of his hair, the shape of his nose. It was all him, it was anakin. 

Your knees instinctively met the cold metal of the floor of your cell. Bowing before him with great fervor, fear enveloping every sense in your body. 

Looking up, you are met with Anakin as he looks down upon you. A face you couldn't read only exacerbated your fear as he looked at you with selfish intent. 

He kneels, shoes flat upon the ground as knees bend together to get a closer look at you. Still towering over you does he stay, studying you, every muscle on your face every inch your eyes move. A gloved hand reaches out to grab you, flinching ever so slightly as you feel the cool leather grip onto your jaw. He moves you, taking you in, you move with him and submit yourself to his touch. 

Standing up once more, a smirk grows upon a dark face. 

“Let me ask you, shall I wed you, or kill you?” 

your heart drops. It feels as though it stops beating as his eyes bore into you, taking in every lick of petrification that coats your face at the sight of his question. You knew deep in your mind there was nothing you could say to sway his decision, nothing you could argue or beg to urge one or the other; it was merely a matter of watching how you would react. The sadistic joy he felt in seeing you take in your options, the only two left for you in a life once bearing endless ones. Tears well in the sides of your eyes as you break eye contact with him, sobbing into the floor beneath you as wet tears hit the cool metal of the prison floor and a laugh emits from him. A sickening smile coats his face as he gathers great joy from your faltering. A once high princess, kind and polite, now bearing shackles at his feet. He found no greater joy. 

“You can stop the melodrama now, princess, is it? Are you even able to form a single sentence? Come on now, beg for my mercy.” 

You didn’t know what would be more merciful, to be ended or to be saved-- both with their pros and cons. But as you stare at the metal vaguely mirroring your reflection, you see your own face through muddled shapes. The look in your eyes, you were reminded of your humanity. Above all else, you didn't want to die. It wasn't your time yet. 

“Please, please master. Let me wed you, I beg you not to kill me. I will do whatever you please master Vader just, don't let me die.”

You double down, almost curling up as tears fall from your face and horror shocks you to your core at what you’ve just done. Begged for, even. To wed the man who killed your family, slaughtered them like animals. Use them as an example, the death of your home planet serving as a reminder of the power of the empire over any semblance of the old republic order. 

A small sucking of teeth exits Anakin as he paces back and forth, slow heavy stomping of boots echoing in the chamber, armed guards flanking either side of him. You can sense a smirk on his face, a sadistic smile growing on him as you kneel before him in pain and powerlessness. He gets drunk off the power he has over you, the way he can make you submit. He decides, it’s a fair thing to not give away. Not to mention the undeniable beauty you held, though that was only a bonus to him as such a beautiful face contorted to his favorite expression. 

“So be it then. By 3 days time we shall be wed.” 

He faces the guards stationed at the door. 

“Please send for someone to clean her up, and fix her a room for just the night. By the next, I shall have made arrangements for her cohabitation with me for after the wedding.” 

“Right away sir.” 

… 

You stare blank at the woman that looks at you within the mirror, studying her, questioning her likeness to you. It had been a single day since Anakin had taken you as his bride. And as the maids outside the steel door of your bathroom chattered about laced detailing and color coordinated floral arrangement, you were sick to your stomach in anguish over the dealings he’s made since. He reveled in the stir, the attention that was put on you-- the spotlight. He knew you hated it, and were humiliated by the mere implication. But as he sent maids to your room in and out as the day went on, asking your opinion on certain design choices and cuts of dress, he made you intimately tied to the process at hand. 

You knew anakin hated being in the spotlight, almost as much as you did. But he would do about anything to break you. 

…

Hiss 

Heavy feet invite themselves into your temporary home. 

“Hello lord vader.” 

You stand almost at attention, previously mulling over small books lying around to distract yourself from what glared ahead of you, standing up as his presence enters the confines of your room to face him with full alertness. 

“Please, princess. You are to be my wife aren’t you? No need for such formality. Anakin, will do. Master, anakin.” 

He seemed to enjoy it when you called him master, even as his old name still held in its following address it still set a dynamic of extreme power to tower over you and him. He got off on it, owning you. 

“Hello, master anakin. What can I do for you?” 

Though his demand for formalities was adhered to in their most basic sense, you still felt no comfort in portraying anything but robotic response to what he demanded of you, to try and cater to him as emotionless as you could. 

“Oh well, I was just stopping in to see what you were doing. Did you enjoy the wedding preparation earlier today?” 

He knew you didn't, and a smirk upon a dark face proved it. He wanted to get a reaction out of you, toy with you. 

“It was alright. Though, I don't understand why go through all of the hassle. I have no real say in the matter.” 

Anakin fakes a sense of hurt as you make such a claim; 

“No real say? Why could you say that? I tried to make every little part of the process down to your liking. It’s going to be quite large, after all. I even invited the remaining survivors from your planet, our own special guests to lie front seat to such a momentous occasion. Should you not be thanking me for such consideration?” 

your throat goes dry, and small balls form unconsciously within your fists. He was set on humiliating you, letting the people you swore to protect watch as you wed their captor, their murderer. Composed of women and children assumably, the next generation of your world strapped in to watch the death of what they once knew in a cacophony of sound and extravagance. 

Anakin watches as your expression grows dark-- he has gotten a reaction out of your stoned face. A sadistic grin grows upon his face. He steps closer to you.

“Oh my doll, no need to look so angry. It doesn't suit such a pretty face now does it? Come on, can you show me a smile, some gratitude for everything I've done for you? This wasn't cheap, you know.” 

A leathered hand outstretched to meet your chin, lifting it up as it faced inward to your chest as means to lock eyes with the ground, and not his eyes. Slowly, a heavy hand pulls your chin up to face him, as he bends his head low to greet your eyes while he towers over you. He awaits your response with eagerness. 

“Th.. thank you master Anakin. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” 

It falls out of your mouth through gritted teeth, rage stuffed deep inside of you as you watch him grow joyful at the sight of your repression and submission. His smile grows even larger at the sight of it. 

“Good girl, now-” 

He takes a heavy stride over to the lace and flower samples littered all over your room. He held his arms loosely to his back as he paced. 

“I've taken the liberty of choosing your dress, as well as the floral arrangements. I just wanted you to take a glimpse of all the options I had planned out for you, all the things I picked out with you in mind hm? I'm sure it was stressful, but what wedding isn't mmm? We will make sure to get you fitted tomorrow. And,” 

He now looks back over at you. 

“That shall also be the day I move you into my personal chambers.” 

your heart sinks once more. 

“Now, I know that it isn't your planet's code of ethics to bed someone before they tie the knot; however we are no longer on your planet are we? The repairs and modifications have been finished early, and I find no means to wait. After all, I would like to know what I have to look forward to in days to come.” 

Hooded eyes and lustful darkness overtake him as he takes in your body, its shape, and you feel utterly naked. He meant to test you out, before the wedding. Take what was never his thought in the process, please himself with the attraction he found to your body. You were just a toy to him, and by his means of taunting did he make that ever so clear. 

… 

White lace coated every inch of your body in extravagant pattern and stitching, a dress perfectly fitted to your body did it look utterly beautiful. Though as you gazed upon yourself in the mirror behind the curtain where you were to dress you felt nothing but despair. To look so beautiful, so wonderful, in the wake of such a nightmare was something you could only go numb to the feeling of. It was not one you would have chosen, the fit too tight for your usual formal attire, though he knew that well. This dress was out of your comfort zone, revealing, and above all else it was not who you were. Beautiful nonetheless, he wished to remind you that it is no longer you that exists within your body, it is his bride. 

“Come out for me, my doll, I wish to see the bride.” 

A coo coats the voice of taunt that Anakin relays to you at the wake of his impatience to see you in the dress he picked out for you. And thus slowly you emerge from curtained blockers to expose yourself to him. 

He goes speechless for a moment, taking in your frame as you stand there feeling naked-- his eyes undressing every part of you that was accentuated, exposed. 

“Maids, leave us for a moment. I shall call for you when you’re needed.” 

You feel a sickening fear pool within your stomach, anything that he wished to have you utterly alone for was nothing to feel good about. 

The hiss of the door signifying their exit left you trapped, utterly alone as Anakin was yet to voice reaction or concern with your attire. 

“Do a spin for me princess.” 

He is sat upon a cushioned chair, a leg crossed and back relaxed as he watches you, taking you in as you silently follow his command. 

Though as you finish a slow spin, he gets up to approach you, a loom of sadism follows his aura. 

“You look irresistible, you know that? I knew this dress would flatter you, your curves, however I could have never imagined it to look like this. You always wear such stuffy, loose clothing when you’re given the chance. No means to flaunt what is so desirable about you.” 

He outstretches hands to place on your waist, the touch of them sending shock up your spine as his touch feels so foreign to you. Any touch does, really. 

“Aww, what's that? Don’t tell me no one’s touched you like this before. Have you ever had a boyfriend before?” 

Fuck. 

“Uh.. no. no master anakin. This is uh, my first ever relationship, if you will.” 

A selfish and downright evil grin unabashedly covers his face at the sound of such things. That not only did he take you as his bride, but he took your first relationship. You were pure, starved of affection.

“Tch, what a shame that is. I would think boys would line up for a piece of you, princess.” 

His eyes trail down your body as his hands slowly move upward to your breasts, his hands softly cupping them as yellow eyes flick up back to your own to watch a reaction. Maintaining eye contact with you as he begins to massage them, slowly toying with them as you bite back any sort of unconscious response your body would have to such a foreign feeling. 

“Aw, come on now my doll, no need to hold back with me hm? No one has ever touched you like this before have they, I know it must feel nice. Look me in my eyes.” 

The thin fabric along your breast allows friction to your nipples that accentuates the feeling of his touch upon you. You’re not supposed to like it, but there's something irresistible about the feeling he gives you-- something you can't control. 

His fingers move to the center of your breast, moving small circles around your nipples as he watches your face for reaction, searching for the contortion of your eyebrows and the closing of your eyes at the feeling of his friction. He wanted to break you, make you grow desperate for his touch. He got off seeing you melt in his hands, an untouched body waiting to be used by him. 

A small moan escapes your mouth unconsciously as you’re unable to hold it in anymore, the feeling of him massaging you feels less like a violation and more like pleasure as the minutes pass, and as that happens a pool of slick begins to grow between your thighs as you keep eye contact with him, dark yellow eyes loom over your as brown waves softly fall to the front of his face, the tan of his skin growing more desirable as contrasted with the pink of his lips. As he made you so vulnerable for him in this position, the undeniable attraction that resided within his merciless body became evermore apparent. 

At the sound of your approval of his touch he slowly lets off of it, leaving you feeling bare and needy for more. 

“That's it, good girl. Now take that dress off.” 

“What?” 

“I don't wish to repeat myself again-- take that dress off.” 

“Y…yes master anakin.” 

Every inch of your body is screaming with sensitivity at the sight of such an exposing display. Anakin watched as the hairs stood up on your body, slowly as you disrobed yourself. The slipping of arms out of lace detailed sleeves sent shivers up your spine as the embarrassment of being watched overtook you. Slowly unzipping the back of your dress, allowing your body to shake loose it's tight curves on you and fall upon the floor with an airy landing, you stand before him in just what you wore beneath. Laced white underwear, matched with a laced white bra. 

Anakin circles you, once more with hands held behind his back as he studies your body, remaining perfectly still do you allow him all he needs to be able to take in everything you are. 

“I made a good decision deciding to wed you. Beneath those rags you wore I couldn't quite tell but now, now I know it was the right choice princess.” 

You watch as his eyes grow dark, hooded with lust as a smirk overtakes him. His fingers slowly make their way to your waist, feeling a hard leathered hand on one side and a calloused fingers on another as he makes his way up your naked body, sliding upward as he grips onto your breasts and watches the way they fall into his hand. His free hand snakes to the back of your bra, unclasping it as he watches them fall out of their hold. 

“Bend over. On that table for me.” 

He motions to a nearby table sized at around your waist. 

“Yes, master.” 

Eagerness seeps from your voice as his touch upon you grows more and more desired. The feeling of his attraction to your body becomes what weakens your knees as the sight of the unknown grows more enticing. Perhaps it was his brainwashing finally working, the desire to please him becoming genuine priority for you, or perhaps it was primal attraction to being used. Being his doll. 

You do as you're told, and as your exposed chest and stomach are pressed against the cool metal of the table, you feel as the cold air within the room hits the wet spot in now exposed underwear and makes you feel exposed. 

Anakin's hands reach out to feel your ass, toying with it in his hands with a heavy grip-- spreading it apart before slipping off thin underwear that kept him from seeing you entirely. You felt the slick of your excitement drip down the side of your exposed thigh as your underwear dragged along your legs to fall onto the floor. 

“Oh doll, is this all because of me? And here I was thinking you didn't like this. What a little tease, pretending like you don't want me while hiding this from me the whole time. What a slut.” 

A hand slaps an exposed cheek. The sting seeps into your nerves with masochistic pleasure, you weakly hold back a whimper. 

“Does this slut like being spanked around? You said you’ve never been with anyone but you still loved to be fucking used.” 

He slaps you again. 

“Spread your legs for me.” 

You obliged, and as the cool air hits your exposed fold you hear the drop of heavy fabric from behind you. You turn your head to see him, though heavy hand shoves your head back into the metal table; 

“I didn't say you could look at me, did I? Be a good toy and let me do what I wish without distraction.” 

You feel his cock touch your entrance and your breath hitches. Slowly he coats it with your slick as he feeds it in and out of your folds, feeling his tip hit a sensitive clit made your hips buck at the feeling. 

After small strokes along your clit he brings himself back to your entrance, penetrating you for the first time with little regard for how it may hurt for you. Not going too fast, but keeping a steady pace as he shoved himself deep into your cervix and making you yelp at the pain. 

“T..too big… please master..” 

A hand grips onto your hair, pulling you back so he can curve his body over yours, and whisper within your ear; 

“Keep your fucking whining for me baby, I love hearing how much it hurts.” 

And with that he keeps pumping into you, using your hair and waist to hold himself as he uses your hole like it's just a toy. Feeling him pulse inside of you at every sound of cried and yelps for how he slaps into you, echoing in the room sounds of moaning and grunts, wordless begging to go slow and the sound of him fucking into you. 

Though soon the pain turned into unimaginable pleasure, and your desperate attempts to make him slow down were exchanged for the feeling of your hips riding out his thrusts to amplify their intensity inside of you. 

“Feels…sogood.. Master..” 

“Yeah, my pretty toy finally likes my cock inside her hm?” 

He taunts you, teases you the whole time he’s inside of you. Fucking you in and out he calls you his toy, his slut, everything that you are he owns and is but an object to him. His words make a fire burn inside your stomach, white hot does it blaze as he goes faster inside of you with no sign of stopping. 

“God.. Anakin, master I, i'm.,.” 

You can't put together the words to say it, every word interrupted by a moan of desperation as you try and think while your body is completely enveloped by the feeling of him, completely ruined at the way he used you. You were his, and his alone you realized. 

“Are you going to cum? Cum for me you fucking slut, let it swallow my cock.” 

He increases his speed, your body falling up and down the top of the table as he rocks you back and forth with his intensity, and after only a few more strokes you feel your body convulsing over his cock. Legs growing weak and shaking and they’re barely able to hold themselves up anymore do you feel him keep pumping into you through your orgasm, his cock pulsing inside of you as your walls tighten around it. 

“God, fuck good girl, you’re so fucking tight for me i'm-” 

As your orgasm dies his begins, feeling liquid shoot deep inside of you for what seemed like an eternity, his cock warmed inside your pussy as he rode out the pulses of his seed in slow strokes in and out of you. Watching as he finally exited you and pools of his finish slowly seeped out of you and onto the floor. 

Before you could even properly adjust yourself, you heard as Anakin reapplied his fallen clothes and was headed for the door. 

“I will call for the maids to come clean you up.” 

… 

The day of the wedding had arrived shortly after, and you watched as the trumpets began to blair with a cacophony of sound to signify your descent upon the path to the rest of your life. Anakin stood at attention far at the end of white coated floors littered with different flowers, surrounded by the high emperors of the galactic empire as well as the front row full of your own people. You felt numb, broken. There was no fear left inside of you as you descended the rows, clad in beautiful white lace as the onlookers watched in awe. You felt nothing, watching Anakin at the end of the walk flanked by groomsmen he cared nothing about, and you soon to be flanked by bridesmaid you knew nothing of. Only a sick smile coated his face as he was drenched in black robes once more, watching you approach him with grace.

The ceremony began, a large beckoning exclamation filled the room as the looks of horror upon your peoples faces made you only avert your gaze. 

“You may kiss the bride.” 

Anakin's lips met yours, it was the first time he was to have kissed you. And the first of many he would use to remind you of your place, his hands folded to hold yours did you feel strings upon his fingers that held onto you like a marionette to a puppet. 

You watched as he let up from your lips, a cacophony of cheers erupts from the crowd as the only thing you can focus on is him, the whisper he lets out that only you can hear. 

“Til death do us part, my doll.” 

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