#r@pe warning

[intoxicating-goddess]

You are walking home at night as you pass the ally I am waiting in, I grab you one arm around your waist and one hand over your mouth. You struggle to get away I show you my knife and say stop struggling or I will cut you slut. I remove my hand you start to scream I slap you hard on the face you fall to the floor in a daze allowing me to rip off your panties and gag you with them and tie you spread eagle to a steel frame. You start crying. I lick your tears and slowly rip off every piece of your clothes. You panic and your panic grows with each piece of your clothes I rip off. I run my 55 year old hands all over your gorgeous young body. You try to scream again but the pantie gag stops you. You can't believe it but you are getting wet. I rub your wet pussy. I start to suck lick and nibble your lovely young nipples. They get hard and your pussy gets very wet. My hand playing with your pussy is soaked with your pussy juices. I rub your pussy juices all over your face. I get my nipple clamps and put them on your hard nipples and squeeze them hard. You try and scream again. I kiss my way down to your soaking pussy. I kiss, lick nibble and play with your clit until it is over stimulated and your body betrays you and you cum hard. I start to finger you tight pussy 2 then 2,3 and then 4 and I rub your over stimulated clit with my thumb. The intense pleasure and intense pain. You can't think as the intense orgasm over takes your mind. I get my 12 inch thick cock out your eyes go wide with alarm you try to speak I remove the gag you say no please it won't fit. I ram my massive cock inside you as I rape your pussy. You gasp and cry in pain but you know with your rapist pleasure will follow. I fuck you harder and harder faster and faster deeper and deeper my cock fills you completely. you are so close to cuming again. Your pussy walls clench around the cock invading your pussy. I explode deep inside you and all over your cervix. You cum harder than you ever thought possible. I say I own you now body mind heart and soul. You say yes sir. I give you an address and say be there tomorrow. I say if you tell anyone what happened or you don't turn up I will send the video of your rape to everyone you know your boss, your dad and mum, your friends everyone will know what a cum slut you are. I get dressed and go leaving you in a pool of cum and a pile of shredded clothes.

😍 This made me so horny 🥵

[your-fuccked-up-dad-volume61]

[chaos-potat]

I still find it funny how a pr*shipper called me an anti as if it was a negative thing to dislike ships that are problematic, y'all know the "pro" in "proship" stands for problematic, right? <-(probably a false statement but that's how I've heard it)

I'm not usually a hater but like, they came to my post (one where I said "I take shipping rise April with the turtles as inc*st since she's depicted as their sister and is even referred to as family by Karai") and told me that I'm crazy for saying that shipping people who call each other family makes me sick???

My brother in Christ, it wasn't a debate, it was a boundary, and you're added to my blocklist

[eggyrocks]

i’m going to say something controversial. i think it’s fucking weird to write reader insert fanfictions where characters sexually assault the reader. and i think that maybe fantasizing abt being sexually assaulted is not an effective form of coping with trauma

[allovesthings]

I've read some fics with Dick being rescued from Tarantula (usually by Jason) and he usually kills her... And it always bothers me that we never get Dick's reaction to that ? Or that he is okay with it at all ?

Yes, Dick was sexually assaulted by her in the comics but it's not the only thing that happens to him in this arc.. Specifically the reason he is there on the roof, having a panic attack/being in shock is because he finally broke and made the choice (in an extremely compromising emotional state, pushed to that point by blockbuster) to let someone else kill Blockbuster, How do we think he would feel if someone did the exact same thing for him not even five minutes later ?

I'm not saying, you the reader, can't want her gone or whatever,I'm saying Dick, as in the character specifically would not want her dead and he would not be okay with someone else killing her for him either and he is already robbed of his agency by her, shouldn't he get that agency back when it comes to dealing with her ?

[spicyclover]

All the things you said | Finale part

Summary: A big dinner is organized by Charles to bring together some pilots and their wives, girlfriends, sister and friends. Everyone enjoys the evening until a topic of conversation leads to dark revelations. What secrets will be revealed?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section!

I'm open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: mention of SU*C*DE WARNING !R@PE! TOUGH CONTENT, BE AWARE!

If you need help. Please get help. You are loved, and your life is valued. Even if you don’t see it, you are loved.

DISCLAIMER:  This story is fiction and has no correlation with reality. All site names making acts, violence or any other type of aggression are used for artistic purposes, and they did not commit those acts.

He acquires at her request despite himself. Unable to fight anymore, fatigue slowly eats him away, and he knows that he is of no help if he is exhausted. He leaves the room not without a last kiss, a last look, a last goodbye.

On the following day, Charles came. Staying for hours next to you. Stroking your hair, mumbling your name, praying for you to wake up. He can't take you out of his brain. He can't take you out of him. You're haunting him. We realize how important it is in our life when we lose someone we take for granted. Charles looks at you as a friend until he realizes he loves you. Is it too late? Were you supposed to be?

Sebastian came a few times, only a few minutes. He can't unseen what he saw. He plays and plays the night in his head over and over again. Wondering what he could have done differently.

The doctors are not really optimistic about your recovery. Your body is tired. Your mind is exhausted. They did all they could do. All we have to do is wait. Wait for you to come back. Wait for you to fight for your life. How could you fight if you're not even awake? It's painful.

Strangely enough, he came. The rapist. The abomination of your life. You came late at night when everyone left. He felt bad. "It's too late to feel bad," you think when you feel his hand and you. You wanted to cry, to scream, but nothing. He left shortly after. Looking at you one last time. Looking at what he did to you. You hear from Lando a few days later that he got arrested. Other girls spoke, and there were enough accusations to start a trial. Even more strange, it did nothing to you. Well, how could you feel? When he toked everything you got and smashed it in a million pieces?

Sometimes, you can feel the warmth of the afterlife tingling your skin. You feel it right near you, calling you. Calling you to answer the call. You want to feel this feeling of peace, this quietness. You don't know how to feel. You just want to float. You forgot how to be happy. How to be. Why fight if you may never find yourself again? What were you made for? You wonder to yourself.

Time flies. A couple of weeks passed. You made some improvements for the doctors to feel optimistic for you to wake up eventually. You're stabilized by all those machines. Your parent finally arrived a few days after you were admitted. You can feel your mother's tears on your cold hands and the soft kisses of your father on your forehead. You can smell the sunflower Heidi brought you every time she comes to see you. Sometimes you want to react. To show her you listen. But you can't. Or you don't want?

The feeling of loneliness passed. You can see now how much you're loved. How they love you. You love to hear Arthur talking about your favourite series. You love to hear Sebastian remembering childhood moments whenever he found the courage to come. You love to listen to your mom singing your favourite songs. You love to hear Daniel telling dad jokes, hoping you'll smile in your sleep. You love hearing Lando talking about his latest Quadrant adventures or Twitch lives. You love to listen to Charles saying how much he loves you. How much his life is plain without you. You can't imagine somebody else cared so much about you.

That makes you cry. You can't show them you can hear. You can't show them you love them too. You can't show them how grateful you are or will be. More time passed, and the more you could slowly feel you were losing yourself. All you need to do is happen your eyes, but for some reason, it seems an impossible task to do.

"This is impossible," Alices says in disbelief at the creature rising upon her.

"Only if you believe it is." The hatter whispers, scared of the outcome of all this adventure. But wasn't this all the point of this madness?

"Sometimes, I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

"That is an excellent practice." The hatters says. "However, just now, you might want to focus on the Jabberwocky."

"Six impossible things. Count them, Alice. One, there's a potion that can make you shrink. Two, and a cake that can make you grow. Three, animals can talk. Four, Alice, cats can disappear. Five, there's a place called Wonderland. Six, I can slay the Jabberwocky."

You feel yourself falling into the rabbit hole, and you have been in Wonderland all this time. That's it! You can do it. Six impossible things before breakfast.

"One, you will get a major in architecture."

"Two, you can drive an F1 car."

"Three, you can be happy again."

"Four, Y/n, there's a place for you in this universe."

"Six, I will fight for my life."

At this, though, he feels darkness rising upon you. Everything fades away slowly. You can hear the constant beep of the machines around you. You can feel Charles's hands against yours. You can smell the hospital room you're in. You can see the light shutters again you close your eyes.

Then... you breathe.

Feeling the grass on your feet. The autumn breeze cools down your spine. For the first time, you appreciate being alive. To fill your lungs with air, to hear the water crash against the rocks, to feel the sun warm up your skin, and to taste food again.

You feel a hand around your waist, and Charles brings you closer to him. He sticks you to his bare chest. He holds you firmly for fear that you will disappear again. It makes you smile to see him so loving, so gentle, and so attentive. You turn your gaze from the blue horizon to meet his emerald eyes. He smiles tenderly. His eyes sparkle with a thousand lights when you return his smile. You hold these eyes a few moments before you look wandering towards his lips.

If only it could be true.

If only you could be with him.

______________________________________________________________

This is the end of All the things you said. I know it's sad, but it must come to an end. Let me know what you think in the comment. <3

Tag list: @tyna-19​ @dessxoxsworld @ynbutbetter @alexander-hamilhoe @honethatty12 innieblogg janeholt3 mloyer heeseung-baby 

[kiddosplayground]

this is a regression blog. ageless = blocked

hiya ^u^

sooooo. basically i'm using this blog as a place to be small or submissive. i'm a switch and have a few other sideblogs. youve probably seen @momsdegeneracyblog or interactions from @imsort-ofokay :3

call me whatever you want, i dont have a name :3

he/they/she

anyway, i'm very friendly! send asks! i will not dm you, i don't want to :3

*HARD KINK WARNING*

m just a kid. please do not gender me. this post will get longer over time probably.

[wronggalaxy]

We need to talk about the absolutely shitty way male presenting people are treated when raped, especially when it was a female presenting person who did it.

1) Most feminists need to shut up about how they "support male rape victims when men don't". If your support doesn't start until the rape happens, it's not support. If you only put support line cards in women's spaces, it's not support. If you always use she/her pronouns for victims and he/him for abusers, it's not support.

2) It's a lot harder for people presenting as men to come out about being assaulted because of the way they're sexualized, the lack of emotional support they receive, and the idea that all men are big and strong and aggressive.

3) All though female presenting people aren't taken nearly serious enough when raped, it's much easier for them to make it seem like their victim was the abuser than you think it is. Even when the victim is a child and the abuser an adult.

4) If a little girl starts sexualizing herself or others it's more likely people will recognize the signs of assault than if a little boy does.

And a billion other things to.

And BTW, I'm an AFAB female presenting genderqueer feminist who has been sexually assaulted by boys(my age and older), so don't even try and tell me it's just my gender or sex or political beliefs or lack of experience clouding my judgment. I know what I'm talking about.

[kald-dal-art]

4 and 22

already answered 4 in prev answer

what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?

I'm proud of my country being very for equal right and being one of the countries with the least Gender inequality (but also maybe not with recent news stories that I'm not get into right now 🙃) Not proud of Norway's history and mistreatment of the Sami people that is still an issue to this day

[lostryu]

The wild part about tr*ns*ndrophobia is how happy and quick people were to latch onto a term coined by a guy with a lesbian correctional r*pe fantasy who also loved the idea of r*ping butches into being trans men. Not to mention all of the perpetuators of tr*ns*ndrophobia all support Saint as well.

Like I dunno, maybe these guys do not have both lesbian's and women’s best interests at heart.

[lost1in2hope3]

Im looking for something valid, to make you believe me.

But all you do is saying, I'm a liar. That makes me crazy.

[otmaaromanovas]

@melthehoneyjar posted an excerpt from this article saying that on the way to Yekaterinburg, OTMA got sexually molested. Is this true because i do not think it’s true and @melthehoneyjar is also unsure.

TRIGGER WARNING - sexual assault and rape

This is a very sensitive topic so please don't read it if you will be triggered! It's difficult to talk about this and I want to stick to what the sources say. I've added a cut so you can skip this post easily if this is upsetting and/or triggering for you

The article linked is by Simon Sebag Montefiore, who is most well known for writing the huge book 'The Romanovs'. Like Helen Rappaport, there are a lot of mistakes in it, and he doesn't provide references in the actual book itself. The references are instead buried online somewhere on his website.

I'm going to reference only primary sources (writings made at the time by the Romanovs, or by the people who knew them, so are directly from the time period and not a historian's interpretation). Some people believe that OTMA were raped on board the steam ship Rus, which took them to Tobolsk, then to Ekaterinburg. Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia all shared one room on the ship.

There is no evidence in any of OTMA's, or the other Romanov's written work, including letters, diaries, and postcards that have survived, to suggest that they were sexually assaulted

Sidney Gibbes, the English Tutor, says that he heard the girls screaming in their cabins whilst they were on board the Rus. However, this source came from Greg King and Penny Wilson's book 'The Fate of the Romanovs', which popularised the lie that Maria had a relationship with a guard. They also relied on a lot of unreliable material, such as Tatiana Botkina's memoirs and Yakov Yurovsky's 'unpublished memoirs'. They also allege that Sophie Buxhoeveden betrayed the Romanovs, which is categorically untrue. This lie has sadly tarnished Sophie's reputation in history. I plan on making a post debunking the lies in that book.

Their research was not thorough, and the book aimed to sensationalise. Furthermore, the book I have that is comprised entirely of Gibbes recollections, writings, and diary entries make no mention of this. King and Wilson claim that they heard this information from George Gibbes, Sidney Gibbes' adopted son. The only reference for this is simply "George Gibbes to King, May 1989".

This book is the only book, and the only place where this rumour, originates from. Nothing in OTMA's personal writings suggested that they were assaulted. It must be considered, however, that they might have been and didn't put it into writing. But the lack of reference to this by other writers such as Pierre Gilliard, who sought to emphasise the villainy of the Bolsheviks, could suggest otherwise.

I am going to include information regarding the Rus steam ship journey from primary sources:

Gilliard about the journey on the Rus steam ship, from his diary: "Monday, May 20th. At half-past eleven we left the house and went on board the Rouss. She is the boat which brought us here with the Czar and Czarina eight months ago. Baroness Buxhoeveden has been granted permission to rejoin us. We left Tobolsk at five o'clock. Commissary Rodionof has shut Alexis Nicolaievitch in his cabin with Nagorny. We protested: the child is ill and the doctor ought to have access to him at any time."

Nicholas' diary, 4-5 August 1917: "4th August. ...There, the train arrived almost next to the wharf, so we only had to walk down to the ship. Ours is called Rus . They started to load our things, which continued through the night. Poor Aleksei went to bed God knows when again! Banging and pounding lasted all night and did not let me sleep. Departed from Tyumen around 6 o'cl.

5th August. Cruising down the river Tur. Alix, Aleksei and I each have a cabin with no facilities, all the daughters are a five-bed [cabin], the suite is close by in the hallway; farther towards the bow cafeteria and a small cabin with a piano..."

Nicholas' diary, 10/23 May 1918: "In the morning we were told within the space of an hour: that the children were a few hours from the town, then that they had reached the station, and finally that they had arrived at the house, although their train had been in the station since 2 o’clock at night. It was an immense joy to see them again and to embrace them after four weeks of separation and uncertainty. There was no end to the mutual questions and answers. Very few letters had got through either way. The poor things had suffered a lot of anguish, both in Tobolsk and during their three day journey. Of those who accompanied them, only the cook Kharitonov and Sednev’s nephew were allowed into the house."

To conclude, although we don't know for sure, the lack of first hand writings from OTMA and the Imperial Family make me unsure to conclude that they were assaulted. The only source for this being from a flimsy-researched book and from word-of-mouth rather than a concrete piece of writing also makes this questionable.

I just hope and pray they weren't.

Sources:

A Lifelong Passion - Maylunas and Mirenko

The Fate of the Romanovs - King and Wilson

Thirteen Years at the Russian Court - Pierre Gilliard

Diary of Olga Romanov - Helen Azar

[spicyclover]

All the things you said | part four

Summary: A big dinner is organized by Charles to bring together some pilots and their wives, girlfriends, sister and friends. Everyone enjoys the evening until a topic of conversation leads to dark revelations. What secrets will be revealed?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

I'm open to requests.

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: mention of SU*C*DE WARNING !R@PE! TOUGH CONTENT, BE AWARE!

If you need help. Please get help. You are loved, and your life is valued. Even if you don’t see it, you are loved.

DISCLAIMER:  This story is fiction and has no correlation with reality. All site names making acts, violence or any other type of aggression are used for artistic purposes, and they did not commit those acts.

It’s only when Charles' phone starts ringing that he looks away. He calmly enters the room and answers.

“Hello?”

You always liked the fields. You always loved hiding in the big wheat fields surrounding your grandparents' house when you were little. This stretch of yellow was as far as the eye could see. You liked feeling the stems between your fingers, the seeds melting to your touch, and the particular smell of wheat.

You remember a hot summer day. Lying on a tablecloth after a picnic, nature calms by this overwhelming heat, especially the calm of this yellow and green nature. You remember the farmer who held the farm. You spent days watching him working. Helping him through the mould. Watching him turn wheat powder into cereal. You remember this great man, always with a grain of wheat in his mouth that was constantly chewing.

You remember the hum that bees made at work. From wheat to wheat, pollen is harvested. You remember the nests in the hives that you created one summer. Your grandfather, with his jumpsuit, would go every morning and inspect the nests, and you loved watching him do it. You also loved to taste honey with each harvest. Honey is good. It’s sweet. It’s sweet. It’s wild.

You remember Sebastian. His blond hair, his smile, the sound of his kart engine. Many hours passed in his company at the track with his dad. You remember your big brother, following him and Sebastian all day long, like the annoying little sister you were. You remember falling from a tree after the boys thought it was a great idea to climb it. You see your brother jumping down the tree to get to you and hear Sebastian running back to the house to get help. You spent the night at the hospital. You broke your arms that summer, and you had a commotion. Your parents were furious and punished your brother for the rest of the vacation. 

You remember your first winter in the mountains. Mornings skiing, and afternoons making snowmen, eating maple syrup, drinking hot chocolate, just playing in the snow. See your happy brother’s face after he managed to get the last pancake.

You remember Sebastian’s victories. To see him move up from category to category. You remember his encounter with Hanna. You love Hanna. She is so sweet and kind. You remember your great jealousy towards her from the height of your twelve years. She who steals your Sebastian. She who steals your second brother. Oh yes, you were jealous, but she knew how to win your heart, and after all, she stayed.

You remember the Ferrari years. Everyone was in red. You saw the world with red glasses. Red like love. Red like anger. Red as the colour. Red as blood. It’s kind of at this time, when adolescence really starts that you start to change. Physically, mentally, and spiritually, you were no longer the wise little girl your parents admired and your brother despised. No, you grew up making mistakes, a lot of mistakes, until you met him.

Him. The golden boy. The one destined to be great.

You remember his perfume, his smell, his laughter, his mimics, his way of speaking, his way of being and his way of simply being. He intimidated you so much; this guy was destined for something big. Whereas you, we never expected much from you besides being pretty, lovely, not disturbing, quiet, and reserved.

Quiet. 

Reserved. 

Pretty. 

In those words, your brain falls into the dark side of your life. The darkened side of time. Painful and unhappy memories. The memories of him, the one who once was your best friend. He who once was your confidant. He who once saw fit to r*pe you.

To find you after the Grand Prix, in your apartment, in your house, in your home. To be a little too drunk, surely. To hold you firmly. To put his lips on yours. To hold your wrists. To put all his weight on your body. To force you into bed. To beg him to stop. To cry in silence. To feel it in you. To feel dirty. To feel unloved.

To feel alone, so lonely, too lonely. 

To find yourself curled up in a ball in a corner. To wait until morning for him to leave. To want to end your life. To end your nights. To seek help. To be abandoned. To be alone. To be dirty. To be silent. To be reserved. To be pretty.

To be pretty. 

To be pretty. 

To be. 

Silent is all you ask for. 

It’s been a long night. The hours have been staggering. The noises of monitors, nurses, doctors, and ambulances invade their ears. No one speaks, and no one dares speak. It is as if a white veil covers the weighing atmosphere and borrows all those present.

The wait is long, too long. They wait patiently for the outcome of this atrocious night, something that does not happen. Sebastian holds his head in his hands, tears have finished flowing, but his eyes are still red. He feels bad. He feels immense guilt. This mixture of shame, sadness, contempt and anger is eating him increasingly as the hours pass and pass before his eyes. He blames himself for not coming sooner. He blames himself for not holding you back. He blames himself for not seeing. He blames himself.

Full of life and ardour, this little girl was smothered under this icy water. Frozen in time. Only the repetitive sound of drops escaping from the pipe disrupted this freezing scene. She hides all her problems behind her smile. Never in his life has he thought of having this vision of you. This pure horror vision of an act yet so courageous. Because it takes courage to think about yourself before thinking about others. It takes courage to put yourself forward and not others. It takes courage to achieve what others have likely failed to achieve.

The roar of the machines stifled Charles. He closed his ears in the hope of silencing them. To see you with your tubes hanging around you, in you. On this hospital bed, this white bed, this room that feels the end. Eyes wet, Charles looks at your pale, serene face. The doctor’s words are dry and not encouraging. Your parents arrive a few hours later, a flight later. They cry. Your brother has tears in his eyes. Sebastian collapses in a corner. Hanna is there; a veil of sadness covers his eyes. Heidi cries in the arms of Daniel, who looks again in the eyes of Charles. Charles holds your hand, your hand. Your hands are icy by the water, frozen by the consequences, icy afterwards. Lando doesn’t dare come back. He feels guilty because he refused to believe you, to reach out to you, see you, and see your distress. He preferred to become blind rather than awake.

Charles, sitting next to you, is watching people walk by. To say goodbye to you, goodbye, forever. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. You’re still breathing. Your heart is still beating. So why do you have to leave? Why did you choose to go?

“Why?” He mumbles one more time, his head against your ear. “Why are you not fighting?” 

“Cha... we have to go.”

“No... I-I-I can’t. I can’t leave her.” His voice breaks in a sob.

“Charles,” Pierre says, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder. “Let her go.”

“No...” Charles pushes him away, gripping your hand tighter. “She’s going to survive. She’s going to live. She has to live. You have to live.” He prays, kissing your cold skin.

Pierre sight and get out of the room. His family, her family, his friends, and her friends are here waiting for him. The visiting hours are almost over. Everyone wants to go back to their house and sleep a bit. They haven’t slept all night. Charles hasn’t slept all night. Pascale enters the room quietly. Staring at his son. 

“Charles. We need to let her rest. Will come back in the morning, d’accord mon bébé?” She says, taking him in her arm. 

He acquires at her request despite himself. Unable to fight anymore, fatigue slowly eats him away, and he knows that he is of no help if he is exhausted. He leaves the room not without a last kiss, a last look, a last goodbye.

Tag list: @tyna-19​ @dessxoxsworld @ynbutbetter @alexander-hamilhoe @honethatty12 innieblogg janeholt3 mloyer heeseung-baby 

[wronggalaxy]

When you have all the signs of sexual assault but you ignore it because you can't remember anything happening but also you can't remember most of your life and actually sometimes you can remember parts of it but you don't know if those are real memories or not and you know certain things/how to do certain things that you can't remember learning and they are not innocent:

(This is coping right?)

[horrorbidcuriosity]

please let me crawl inside your body and rot in there so we can be together forever<33

[vampygoodboy]

i want to suck daddys nipples :3