thetorturerwrites

[thetorturerwrites]

I don't mean to brag but...

@ohiobluetip and i are working on a thing...

#friendly neighborhood torturer #teaser #collab

[thetorturerwrites]

I really love this list

(Also I am still alive)

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[thetorturerwrites]

Daily reminder that you're allowed to read/write fucked up stuff and not need a reason for it

You don't need to be traumatized to like non-con fics or incest

Stories are stories and I'm happy you know what you like. You're not a bad person for liking them

[thetorturerwrites]

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha

Reblog if you LOVE fucked up themes and topics in your fiction 🤭🥰🫶

[thetorturerwrites]

Guess what!

I'm not dead!

Hooray!

#that's all

[thetorturerwrites]

Happy new year, degenerates. I'm happy we all made it.

#friendly neighborhood torturer

[thetorturerwrites]

Sorry but I had to...

I also think incubus Eddie would....date. like...if you think about it, some of the best sexual energy, some of the best fixation comes not just from fucking but dating.

Tiefling girl loves the movies, maybe. Cat ears guy loves going to pet stores and daydreaming...and Eddie will take them. Because the feeling they get when he sees them, really sees them, is like candy. And the ones who really get him going, he loves them through and through because those meals? They only get better with time.

oooo but what about Doesn't-Know-He's-An-Incubus Eddie. like growing up his life was completely normal until he's older and starts having sex and he realizes he feels so.... strong.

This would be good too because the part I left out is him haunting comic book stores and tabletop game spaces because those girls are so desperate for a dude to not mansplain to them. They just want to be included and they know what they’re talking about and Eddie just loves teaching people. He’s like, the only dude who isn’t shooing them off or telling them they’re dumb. And it would get him so much ass.

Like picture it. He’s unaware of any actual power he might have. Probably got it from Al, that Munson charm he always wielded had to come from somewhere. Eddie would see these girls getting dragged around by boyfriends who could care less that they were there, if only to show the other dudes that ‘hey, I have a girlfriend and you don’t.’

He’d smile and ask them about their character sheet and next thing he knows he’s in the back of his van with her. He’s sliding into another random bed. He’s leaving after getting his world rocked enough that he feels like a brand new man. He’s finding people at the Hideout on terrible dates and suddenly he’s getting these little flashes of himself in the middle of getting his dick sucked. Nothing he’d ever seen, at least not from that angle, but they’re just brief rose tinted images.

It’d happen more and more, for longer periods. Someone’s babbling under him and he’s like, taken by visions. Sometimes it’s just him sometimes it’s someone else. Sometimes he’s just a polished version of himself, some kind of rockstar-model combo, but then he starts seeing it. That freak behavior.

“A tiefling? Really?” He asks mid stroke. He looms over her while staring through her. He can see the horns weaving through his hair. The deep purple skin and black eyes. A forked tongue flicks down at her with his grin bracketing it.

“Wh-what?” She’s breathless and gone. He shifts his gaze to catch her’s and he can’t. Eyes fogged over with lust, mist that settles over the color of her iris.

“Is this it, your big fantasy?”

“Uh huh.”

He leans in close pushing her knees into her chest. Spread open so vulnerably under him. He could eat her up and he doesn’t think she’d ever complain. Inches from her face he’s whispering to her, talking her to the edge of her pleasure. Writhing and shaking under him, nails digging into his biceps he barely notices the scratches or the draw of blood. He hasn’t noticed the change in his voice. There’s a baseline to it, something deep and reverberating and it almost strings her orgasm along longer.

When she finally comes down and unwinds from herself Eddie realizes he never came. There was a spell happening in the back of his van, something heady and new. He could snatch that image of himself out of thin air and tuck it away for later. It makes him chuckle while she’s trying to wiggle back into her jeans.

“So do you play as a tiefling or was that just something you came up with on the spot?” He’s buttoning his own jeans and doesn’t catch her giving him a weird look.

“What?”

“The…tiefling thing. Big purple guy?” The ‘me’ is implied but he doesn’t say it.

“I don’t-I’m not-“

“I’m not picking on you.” He’s quick to reassure but she looks confused, not hurt.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t think you were.” There’s a shy smile that she tries to hide. When he opens the door to help her step out she asks if he’ll be around for next weeks session. It’s unsaid but he catches the flash of the inside of his van.

“Sure.” He’s vibrating. His skin crackles and his blood sings. This feels better than any bong rip or bump he’s sniffed. There’s a tingling along his spine as he watches her walk away and he tries to figure out just what it was he was doing in the dark.

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson

[thetorturerwrites]

Reblog for ....reasons

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . who that man with the big strong hands…

[thetorturerwrites]

Bruh. The hope burns eternal.

i hope you write (i hope we both write)

[thetorturerwrites]

@ohiobluetip you know what I'm going to say

#jackthebadman #ficsforfatgirls

[thetorturerwrites]

Kinda ready to quit my job and start an onlyfans...think torture is legal on that site?

[thetorturerwrites]

Reblog to bookmark :)

the devil i know

series masterlist

♫ series playlist ♫ series tag

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: To summon a demon at a crossroads, simply cast a circle, make an offering, and recite an incantation. What happens from that point on is subject to your desire... and the demon's.

In which the reader makes a pact with Eddie, a crossroads demon, for power and protection. He takes it a little too seriously.

cw: explicit, smut, dubcon elements, monsterfucking!!, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, way more plot than you'd expect, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, demonic possession, murder, there are MANY minor character deaths, animal death, trauma, depictions of physical and emotional abuse, graphic depictions of violence, bullying/harassment, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, tfw your accidental boyfriend is a demon who is obsessed with you bc he doesn't know how to be normal about anything ever, dead dove: do not eat

please check individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

ONE: GOD, YOU'VE GOT THE BLACKEST EYES

TWO: LOOK HERE ALL YOU WANT

THREE: I SMOKE OUT YOUR DARKEST SIDE

FOUR: CAN'T TURN WATER INTO WINE, NEVER ASKED YOU TO

FIVE: SO IS IT YOUR PLACE OR MINE?

SIX: I DON'T NEED TO FEEL THE SUN, LET ME TOUCH YOUR SKIN

SEVEN: FILL MY MIND WITH DIRTINESS, I'LL INVADE YOUR DREAMS

EIGHT: BACK IN HELL AT LEAST I'M COMFORTABLE

NINE: NEED YOUR BODY WHEN MY FIRE'S COLD (10/27)

TEN: I'M GONNA STAY FAITHFUL TO THE DEVIL I KNOW (10/31)

[thetorturerwrites]

Guess who wrote 500 words for the first time since the end of May?

#friendly neighborhood torturer

[thetorturerwrites]

The 3-6 thing is so accurate lol

Write fanfic for yourself.

Publish fanfic for the rotation of 3-6 people who are devoted readers and will either go feral or leave you very nice words and yell with you about it.

[thetorturerwrites]

I taught you everything you know, and it was my greatest mistake...

BITCH THE WAY I WANT TO WRITE THIS

WHAT

romance is lame and overrated i love mentor/mentee relationships in fiction and especially when theyre sort of fucked up

[thetorturerwrites]

Hi. Thank you all for the messages. I'm alive but my world blew up in May, and I'm grieving. Thank you for your kindness and please be patient.

#friendly neighborhood torturer

[thetorturerwrites]

Entrapped Ch 2: No Such Luck

Summary: The bathroom next to your room is too fucking small.

Historic tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT; rape/non-con; extremely dubious consent; age difference; Flip is a bad bad man; seriously: beware

Brand-new tags: Piss, fellatio, battery

A/N: You should not read this, but if you do, remember where you are and what we do here.

January 9

Flip gave you a week to heal. For seven days, he spoke to you normally, treated you kindly, and behaved as though nothing had ever happened between you. The house was quiet - a perfect nuclear family. Lottie clucked on and on about how pleased she was the two of you got along so well, and it was all you could do to not throw the nearest knick knack or lamp at her. But after the third day, he started looking at you with that predatorial gleam in his hazel eyes. It wasn’t just that he tracked your movements; it was that he made sure you knew he did so. In a subtle power move, he’d shift his boot or tap his lighter against the table - any small thing to draw your gaze so you’d see him clocking you, taking stock of how wobbly you walked or how deeply you winced. You couldn’t remember a time when you felt so fucking anxious.

Your clock ran out at 7:57 a.m. on a Monday morning.

Having learned your lesson about locked doors, you stood at the tiny green bathroom sink brushing your teeth with your eyes closed. You couldn't bear to look in the mirror these days. The person who stared back at you looked haggard, conflicted, haunted. She had no options and wouldn't know what to do with one if it hit her square between the eyes. Instead, you spent every day praying your tormentor was busy, uninterested, or just fucking gone. His job kept him away, and as nice as it was to take a breath in his absence, Lottie was unbearable when he wasn't there to witness her performances. When she didn't have him to focus on, she hyper focused on you and all the ways you differed. For the last three days, you'd wondered if you'd prefer his scrutiny to hers. He was a walking terror, but at least he was something to look at.

Shaking off the foolishness, you chided yourself for that line of thinking because nothing good would ever come your way at the hands of Flip Zimmerman. You needed to get that shit out of your head post haste. Yesterday, even. 

The man must be fucking psychic, though, because as you spit out the last of the toothpaste, telling yourself to get it the fuck together, the rickety door creaked open, edging inwards at the behest of a dusty boot. A veritable wall unto himself, Flip filled the frame completely, observing you for so long you fidgeted. Crossing python arms over his white thermal clad chest, he leaned against the jamb and sucked on a toothpick obnoxiously loud.

“Lottie?”

You didn’t recognize your voice. It was small, afraid, and it trembled where you wished with all your might you could be strong. If she was awake, though, the likelihood you’d suffer for the next however long was much lower.

His voice, however, burned into your gray matter. It raised your heckles, curled your toes, and set your teeth to grinding. 

“Asleep.”

You smashed your lips together, as if you could stop the fear from escaping the bottom of your gullet. The world closed in, tunnel vision taking over because one person crowded the poorly designed bathroom; so, when Flip pushed off the doorjamb and stepped inside, you felt emphatically trapped. And terrified. He let the door click shut behind him and moved around you, moving far too stealthily for a behemoth. 

You held your breath and dared not look. 

When you didn’t hear the jangle of his belt until he’d passed you, your jaw unclenched in barely restrained relief. You hardly breathed, thanking the almighty that Flip's plan was to pee and not introduce your face to the grimy tiled floor. Cautious, you lowered the toothbrush to the sink, hoping you could flee if your steps were quick and careful. If you didn't agitate the beast, he could forget you existed.

You should have known better. You had no such luck. 

Maybe it was the way you shuddered, or maybe you reached for the doorknob a smidge too fast. Something tripped his trigger, and he snatched the thought of escape right out of your brain with five thick fingers tangled into the hair at the back of your head. He had decades of experience subduing people on his side, and you were just an idiot with high hopes. In a flash, he had you on your knees in front of him, forcing his spongy dick into your mouth.

You didn't register that the floor was cold. Nor the smell of starch in his pants. Nor the burning in your nose, eyes, scalp. You missed it all because the first hot drop of salty urine launched you into an outright atomic panic. Your muffled yells bounced off the dingy walls, and you beat at his corded thighs. Crying wasn’t the right word for what you did. Your eyes leaked, and your chest seized, but it was more than sadness, more than anger or dread. It was revulsion. It was horror, and you flailed frantically against his grip, which did not, even for a millisecond, weaken.

“Shut the fuck up.” 

He groused, but you just could not. What scant bit of self-respect you had left would not allow you to do this without a fight, but it was a fight with which Flip swiftly tired. Further exerting his control of the situation, he stepped closer, tipped your head back more, and bypassed any conscious function you may have had for this vulgarity. He took away your option to even swallow of your own accord and pissed directly down your throat while you frothed and retched, sending it dribbling out at the corners of your mouth and shooting up into your sinus cavities.

It was more than humiliation, more than objectification. He never thought of you as a person, you knew, but this was a level of degradation you could not comprehend.

When he finished, he yanked your head backwards off of his spit-soaked dick but did not release his hold. You heaved and coughed, trying so goddamn hard to do it quietly because there was no snowball’s chance in hell you’d ever be able to explain why you were on your knees at his feet if Lottie showed up. But the smell of it was everywhere, and you sobbed. Confusion and disgust and fury and… fucking everything passed through your mind, but you couldn't settle on only one. Somehow, this was worse than what he’d already done, and you suddenly weren’t sure if he intended for you to survive this bargain.

He meant to torture you to death. To do all the heinous things a person could think of but couldn't get away with legally. He had you dead to rights, and he intended to make the indecent most of it. 

“Why the fuck do you only wear the same three things all the time?”

On another day, you might have pretended to be offended. This was your favorite hoodie, and it had hidden you from many a wandering eye. But today, with your shit rocked so thoroughly, you couldn't argue. Your jeans were more holes than pants, you could barely tell your hoodie used to be black, and your bra only had one good hook left. Your lungs thickened with colliding shames. Your stomach sloshed, and when you thought about why, you battled nausea all over again. Pushing the heels of your hands deep into both overflowing eyes, you forced yourself to breathe in through the nose, despite the smell, and out through the mouth.

“Lottie…”

It was all you could say, and it occurred to you it was the only word you’d said to Flip since he opened the door.

Whatever he felt about the thoroughness of your answer, Flip’s fingers tightened in your hair again, and he drew you back against his groin. You understood what he meant for you to do. Hell, any logical person would understand what he meant for you to do, and the sooner you got on with it, the sooner he’d lose interest and go the fuck to work. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you opened your mouth and took him once more.

Sucking cock wasn’t historically your favorite thing, but it wasn’t particularly unpleasant. Losing yourself to the rhythm made it easier to bear. In addition, your blow job recipients never lasted very long, which also made the task easier to bear. Instinctively, you knew that would not be the case now, but if you could zone out, everything would be over soon…soon-ish.

With your nose brushing against Flip’s pelvis, you swirled your tongue around his semi-soft dick and coaxed it to life. Each twitch and jump told you what he liked, and it wasn’t long before he was half-mast and long enough for you to bob back and forth - root to tip, tip to root, root to tip, tip to root. He continued growing and hardening far past what you expected, though. His cock was fuller and longer than any you’d had before, and it was overwhelming.

The smell of him was everywhere, as was his taste. Not salty like his piss, but not sweet. It was a heady mix of spice and sweat, and it absolutely should not have tasted good.  The way he guided your head with his large hand and the feel of his erratic heartbeat in the throb of his veins married that taste, and it fucking worked. Without really doing much, he fucked you all the way up, and you lost yourself in the obscenity of it. Sucking Flip’s cock was messy and loud. He coaxed more saliva from the back of your mouth until it was so noisy you were sure Lottie would hear, each slurp joining the roar in your ears. When he’d lengthened too much for you to fit in your mouth, you wrapped your hands around the base to tug and twist.

And when he hummed? That pleased sound deep in his chest? You. Were. Fucking. Gone. There was no bathroom, no house. There was no bruised past or million dollar hospital bill. There was no Lottie, no Colorado. There was only Flip’s thick, weighty cock.

“Not the first dick you’ve sucked, is it? Look at me.”

Maintaining your (surprisingly) enthusiastic pace, you shifted your weight and tipped your head back - far too similar to exactly what he’d done when he pissed in your mouth five goddamn minutes ago - and opened watery zombie eyes on him. Cotton-brained, you stared. You no longer existed in the world regular humans lived in. There was only this, only him.

“Rules,” he said, his large body curving towards you to ensure his low talk didn’t carry. “No more pants. No panties. No bra. Your ass is mine, and I want unfettered access to it. Understand?”

You weren’t in a rush to respond, too drunk on the delicacy of his dick and the way it stabbed at your throat. His words buzzed in the decision-making part of your brain, but you ignored it and forced yourself all the way down on his cock, hungrily cutting off your own airway. He groaned, tightening his grip in your hair and jerking you backwards for the second time this morning.

Your mouth hung agape, and your chest spasmed with how hard you fought to suck in air. You didn’t want to think. Flip choking you out with his monster-sized cock was a much more straightforward path to not thinking, and you outright whimpered when he batted your hand away from reaching for him.

“Say you understand.”

“Hnng. I.. un…der…stand..”

His gaze was fire, and it burned you from your crown down. 

“You want more?” You didn’t need him to nod for you this time. “Yeah? Want me to fuck this filthy mouth of yours until you black out?”

Alien noises erupted from your throat, and you felt your body surge towards him, straining to steal exactly what he asked. You even licked your lips when he finally let go of your hair and straightened upright, thinking he would deliver on the promise, but he cracked you so hard across the mouth that your head knocked straight into the sink. 

It's funny, you thought; slaps don’t ever sound like slaps.

Bell rung, you held your swelling forehead and shook the stars from your eyes. He snatched you up by the chin, amazing you yet again at how goddamn fast he moved.

“Too fucking bad.” His tone was lethal, barely above a whisper, and what he said next proved everything you thought about him to be true. “You’re going to suffer for me, Puddin’, and you’ll be wide awake every fucking minute of it.”

Your lips trembled, and your eyes stung with fresh tears. You slumped back onto your ass and shrunk away from him, watching numbly as he stuffed his hardness back into the dark jeans and re-buckled his belt. You’d gone from some sort of fucked up euphoria to burning humiliation and icy terror - AGAIN - so goddamn fast that you couldn’t make a single sound - not a sigh, not a hiccup. Nothing.

“Get up. We’re going into town to get you something more appropriate to wear.”

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman smut #entrapped #torturer tuesdays