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bakerstreet2023-10-21 06:53 pm
whataboutasock) wrote in bakerstreet2023-10-21 06:53 pm
The New and Improved Grotesque Meme.. IT'S HALLOWEEN!!!!
WARNING: This meme focuses on guro, or grotesque, kinks. This means it concentrates on sexualized violence. This meme will inherently include themes on death, mutilation, amputation, abortion and miscarriage, executions, and interrogations. It will potentially include themes on the following; dub-con, non-con, power-play, child abuse, incest, etc.
HOW TO PLAY
What to do:
1. Post with your character.
2. Include you preferences and any other information.
3. Reply to others. You may use a RNG for scenarios if you'd like... though nobody really uses that anymore, do they?
4. Have fun!
SCENARIOS:
HOW TO PLAY
What to do:
1. Post with your character.
2. Include you preferences and any other information.
3. Reply to others. You may use a RNG for scenarios if you'd like... though nobody really uses that anymore, do they?
4. Have fun!
SCENARIOS:
1. Eye on you. Eye Gouging. Perhaps it was an accident, or you wanted a token of your lover to keep. Either way, it’s coming out. Now is the jar ready? Or will you be crushing it between your fingers?
2. The rabbit done died. Abortion/Miscarriage. Perhaps things didn’t go to plan, or you just couldn’t keep it. Either way it’s over, and there is gore in the wake of the event.
3. The cage around your heart. Rib gouging or breaking. Are those lovely slender bones exposed or just crushed beneath black and blue skin?
4. Hats off to you. Decapitation. With a guillotine or perhaps the swing of the blade, the head is removed with an impressive slice. Perhaps you prefer a good saw however.
5. A bite to eat. Vore. Does the cannibal eat with his hands? Well he at least eats yours.
6. A helping hand. Amputation. Perhaps it was an infection, or an injury, but either way the limb must be removed.
7. A handkerchief please. Blood vomiting. Either from an injury or disease, maybe even poisoning, suddenly you’re choking on your own blood. Such a mess!
8. Bull’s-eye. Impalement. Well I guess you didn’t dodge in time! There is now a blade, spear, glass, cutlery, or any nasty thing slammed into your body.
9. Slice and dice. Cutting. Dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of little cuts into the skin.
10. Memento mori. Scarring. A nice little reminder of an injury to remain on the skin forever. By blade, branding, cauterization, or burning, the memory will remain etched on the body.
11. Pricks and pokes. Piercing. Pain is only skin deep, but the prick will become a permanent fixture in the skin.
12. My heart is yours. Heart removal. By hand or blade, it may be the ultimate act of loathing or love.
13. Visceral viciousness. Gutfucking. Such lovely innards you have!
14. Beautiful and awful dreams. Poisoning. Arsenic, cyanide, barbiturates; so many lovely little chemicals to induce agony or even death by the end. Administered by injection or orally, knowingly or unknowingly.
15. Turning a lovely shade of blue. Asphyxiation. Maybe that breath will return to your lungs, or maybe you'll breathe your last.
16. What's inside of you? Dissection. Just take a little peek...
17. Frankenstein's Monster. Experimentation. Attach this here, reattach it there.
18. Any last words? Execution. Whether by hanging, by electric chair, by beheading, your time is up. Time to meet your executioner.
19. Like a lollipop. Eye-licking/oculingus. What? There have been weirder things.
20. The most sacred of places. Genital mutilation. Yeowch.
21. Get a bowl! Illness. Are you being nursed back to health, or has someone made you this way, and won't let you go?
22. Lie still and don't move. Necrophilia. Maybe your partner's getting a little cold, but you like that about them.
23. Pure red. Menstruation kink. This is about the tamest on this list! And if there's anything this meme has proved, it's that there's nothing wrong with getting down and bloody.
24. Pretty little head. Skull-fucking. Make a new hole!
25. A buzzing in your ear. Insects. Parasites, creepy crawlies...
26. The bells of Notre Dame. Disfigurement and mutilation. They've made you into a monster.
27. A necessary end. Death. Good night, sweet prince.
28. Scream for me. Torture. By whatever means. Hell, use these prompts as inspiration to enact all the horrors you please!
29. Ladies’ Choice! Free-form kink. Don’t see your kink listed? Don’t fear, the above are only to jog the creative process, please feel free to include your own kinks in your logs as you like.
pukin | magical girl raising project:limited | f/f
pukin is a handsome, princely woman who also happens to be terribly arrogant and sadistic. she is a canonical serial killer with a penchant for torture and cannibalism, as well as a 'taste' for pretty girls... no pun intended. these two things combined are a perfect recipe for these prompts.
i prefer sexualized violence over gen.
favorite prompts: 1, 4, 5, 6, 12, 13, 15, 22, 24, 27, and 28. though i'm open to adding in others!
hard no: 2, 20, and 25.
misc kinks can be found here, and general info can be found in her journal! i am happy to play pukin with a penis to make certain prompts work. )
Miklan Anschutz Gautier | FE16
outis | limbus company | f/f
prefer scenarios where outis ends up losing control and going further than intended with her partner, though i am also interested in exploring a similar scenario with outis's time during the war she fought in. maybe an interrogation gone wrong, where the perpetrator never leaves the room again? or a "spoils of war" sort of situation, pillaging a town and taking a woman for herself, you get the idea. hooray war crimes!
can also do a scene against her fellow sinners from canon, and take advantage of their ability to ressurect from the dead? awkward for dante, but it's ok.
favorite prompts: 1, 4, 5, 6, 12, 13, 15, 22, 24, 27, and 28. though i'm open to adding in others!
hard no: 2, 20, and 25.
outis is in her mid-to-late 40's - early 50's. prefer partners over 18 for this. )
riruru sakaki | original | ota
interested in prompts: 1, 5, 6, 9, 10 (her favorite!), 11, 13, 15, and 24.
she is also willing to do the not-so-deadly prompts to her lover/fixation, such as engraving her name into their skin or something similar.
additional kinks can be found here. )
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[ Tsukasa's voice doesn't carry a hint of warmth. She pulls out of Riruru, the dildo attached to her hips by straps soaked in her girlfriend's juices, seemingly bored with Riruru the moment after she's spent and done. There's a particular coldness in Tsukasa's handsome features, a detached boredom that reaches her vacant eyes.
Her gaze falls over Riruru's naked body, at the swell of her petite breasts marked with little red bruises, pondering what might be fun. Tsukasa has fucked Riruru so much that she's lost her novelty. As pretty and perfect as her body is, Tsukasa wants a little more.
A slight smile curves against her mouth as her line of sight falls on Riruru's pale arms, above her head in a tangle of pleasure. ]
Hey. Wanna let me do something interesting? [ Tsukasa brushes the slick head of the faux cock against Riruru's thigh, leaning over to run her thumb across her slender stomach. ] You owe it to me, y'know; I haven't even gotten off yet.
🩷
[ Laying on her back, Riruru stares up at her lover with dewy blue eyes. Her cheeks are pleasantly flushed, and there's a thin layer of perspiration covering her slender body, a single line of sweat curving down the valley of her breasts. The hair she spends so much time brushing and fussing over is in complete disarray. It isn't surprising; she and Tsukasa have already been through a few rounds. Her disheveled appearance hardly registers, anyway.
When she is with Tsukasa, her world seems to close in incredibly small. All that matters to her is the other woman, this pink bedroom, and the amount of pleasure she's given. She doesn't realize it herself, but Riruru is simple-minded. Whatever gives her a thrill, whatever she ends up liking most at the moment, she will indulge in without relenting in the slightest.
And right now... she likes Tsukasa. ]
And sure. If it's interesting, Riruru will do it for you. You've already made her cum lots.
[ She lowers her arms from above her head, reaching out towards Tsukasa with a gaze that's brimming with affection. Yet, somehow... they appear very dark, too.
Riruru's love can be stifling, after all. ]
Ranka Lee | Macross Frontier | OTA
Would love a scenario with an idol competition of some sort where the loser is snuffed on stage. Also into the idea of someone breaking into her apartment to kill her, possibly met with Ranka going 'yes please I couldn't manage to do it myself'.
Favs are: 4, 5, 6, 12, 13, 15, 16, 22, 24, 27~ ]
Nagisa Misumi | Precure | OTA
Favs: 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12, 13, 14, 22, 24, 27. ]
Re: Nagisa Misumi | Precure | OTA
She ran her hands up her body. There was pleasure mingled with the pain. She felt good. She was naked. Her cock was throbbing. A giggle escaped her lips. She was having fun. Right?
But there was something wrong here. Something she couldn't...she spotted another girl across the room and a thought finally clicked into place like a lego. Right. That's what she was supposed to be doing. And with a wide giddy grin she went running across the room, fist raised and ready.
((ooc: leaving it open to existing injuries and other heroine corpses around them, similar to the other one but a more "into it" mood. Let me know if this works. Powers dampened of course, just enough to enable and prolong the fun as needed. ))
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Whatever had gotten her here, she... she needed to beat the shit out of this woman. The thought had her cock bouncing as it hardened. Nagisa was shorter and slimmer, less endowed both top and bottom, but she'd fought plenty of bigger foes.
"You look excited!"
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No. No. The idea of punching this cutie in the face was what had her so damn horny. Her heavy footfalls sounded with each step until she stepped on something solid. Something that quickly became gushy and slippery beneath her foot with a loud and wet crunching noise. The busty blonde heroine skidded into a lunge as she swung her fist, her aim diverted from Nagisa's face to somewhere at her torso.
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No, she needed to fight this heroine, regardless of Honoka's status. Nagisa didn't even dodge, didn't feel the need yet, as she drove forward as well, swinging a hard punch right at her opponent's tit - even as a fist landed heavy in her gut, knocking the air out of her all at once.
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But nevermind that, she had a fight to focus on. She thrilled as her clenched fist connected with the younger girl's belly, giving it a bit more of a push and twist. She loved the look on Nagisa's face as her lungs emptied out.
She was so used to being impervious. Being able to shrug off pain or at least not feel it at the same thresholds. Nagisa's strike to her tit hurt! Hot waves of pain welled through her chest and ran through her. Was it supposed to hurt this bad? Fuck! It felt so...so...SO GOOD! She shivered as her body was wracked with pain and pleasure, her already well edged dick shooting a thick load onto the younger girl's bare chest.
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Her eyes bugged out a little at the punch, making her stagger and cough. Her cock was starting to twitch and spill pre as well, but Power Girl came first, spurting onto Nagisa's tiny tits as she grimaced. "Oh you... really are... having fun, huh?" she taunted, before lunging to throw a matching punch at her other fat tit.
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"Mnnhnnh~ Gonna have fun...fucking your guts!" Power Girl rose from her crouched position while attempting to grab and lift the other girl. One hand went for her face while the other for her belly. She wasn't planning to be kind with her grip, intending to dig her fingers in to whatever she could get hold of.
Yuko 'Shamiko' Yoshida | The Demon Girl Next Door | OTA
Favs: 1, 4, 5, 8, 9, 12, 13, 15, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24, 27, 28. ]
arlecchino | genshin impact | f/f
can absolutely play up on that aspect of her character, or do a scene between one of arlecchino's adopted daughters - or biological daughter, for an AU? daddy kink, parental incest between father and daughter, arlecchino being consumed with lust for her daughter until it boils over.
prefer sexualized violence. arlecchino is the aggressor.
favorite prompts: 1, 4, 5, 6, 12, 13, 15, 22, 24, 27, and 28. though i'm open to adding in others!
hard no: 2, 20, and 25.
you can check her journal for more information and kinks. )
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would you prefer that the two of them have been in a sexual relationship prior to this, or did you want it to be the first time? )
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How could Colette know what she wanted? She was just a child. But given that Arlecchino was her Father - she had been, since she'd taken Colette in and given her a home, a warm bed to sleep in, and food to fill her tummy—Colette was not stupid. Arlecchino had raised her to be smarter. Though Colette did not quite 'like' her Father's sneaking touches, brushing fingertips against budding breasts and carressing the feminine, soft curves of her hips in a way a Father should not touch her daughter, Colette still did not fight Arlecchino.
It was the same today, as ever. Colette had been fresh out of the bath, and Arlecchino had beckoned her to her room soon after. Pulling Colette onto her lap facing away from her, she inhaled the scent of her daughter's hair deeply.
Already, a particular hardness nudged against Colette's ass as she dipped a hand between Colette's thighs. ]
You should not have bothered getting dressed, [ Arlecchino murmured into Colette's ear. ] Are you trying to tease your Father? Could it be that you want me to undress you?
[ Her desire for Colette burned hotter than any flame, and no matter how many times she would fuck her, it wasn't enough. Her desire grew stronger with each hitch in Colette's breath, the way she shifted uncomfortably atop her Father's lap as she forced her daughter to feel her cock through her pants. Her body was so petite; so easy for someone like Arlecchino to effortlessy destroy. ]
Or were you ashamed to walk to my room bare and vulnerable?
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Colette needed to get over it, then, somehow, to make sure Father got what she needed from Colette. It was so much easier than raising a growing teenager, after all.
Still, she'd dressed, and she squirmed and blushed when pulled into Father's lap. ]
I d-didn't want... anyone else to see.
[ As if they would. This was a private place for them, for her and the woman who was getting hard again. And Father would... would penetrate her too-tight body again, and she would try not to cry. She had to learn to feel good. She needed to. ]
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[ It was just excuses from her petulant daughter. Did Colette not know how much worse it could be for her? She could be left to a cold, dark orphanage, without the same love and care that Arlecchino showed her, and Arlecchino—Arlecchino could be far crueler than this.
She wanted to be. ]
The maidservants? [ Arlecchino moved her hands up Colette's body, intent on touching every part of her teenage daughter. With one hand between Colette's thighs, keeping them open, Arlecchino squeezed at one of Colette's breasts. ] They don't matter. Or are you lying to me? Honesty... is important between family, Colette.
[ Yet Arlecchino had not been honest with Colette. The depths of her lust for her daughter felt insatiable, as if every moment in-between was meant to keep the real monster at bay. ]
You don't want to be fucked? Mm— [ Arlecchino nudged Colette's soft blonde hair out of the way, brushing her lips against the back of Colette's neck. ] Even though you've made me like this?
[ Her body was so little against her. Arlecchino was a large woman, in stature, presence, and what she had tucked away behind the belt of her pants. She dwarfed Colette completely in all aspects, further sealing her fate of being unable to wriggle away from her. ]
no subject
It could b-be... them...
[ She squeaked lightly at the groping, of her tiny breasts and her slender thighs. ]
N-no one but you should... see me, Father.
[ That was an excuse, and the truth. If Father made her feel this way, then no one else should even see her nude body, her skinny, childish figure. She was... in between being a child and an adult. Still smaller than Father, so much smaller, so overwhelmed by her size. ]
But... I'm... I'm yours... Father. J-just yours.
Tomoko Kuroki (aged up) | Watamote | OTA
Favs here: 1, 4, 6, 9, 11, 12, 15, 16, 19, 22, 23, 24, 27. ]
kanou aogu | cell of empireo | m/m 21+
yoshida hirofumi / csm
no: 2, 9, 13, 16, 18, 22, 23, 24, 25
dm first: 5, 12, 14, 17, 20, 26, 27
interested: 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 15, 19, 21, 28
dm about anything else or if you have specific ideas! ]
Jun Wu | Heaven Official's Blessing | m/m (warning for possible novel spoilers)
no: 2, 13, 22, 23, 24, 25
favorites: 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 26, 28.
More likely to be in control, but I'm open to ideas. Feel free to DM for plotting.]
The Prophet - D&D OC
Open to 7, 10, 11, 14, 21, 27, 28 on the receiving end. Prefer to fade to black for anything smutty. Guro does not squick me, but sex does.]
fever (dark urge) | baldur's gate 3 | ota
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that'd be perfect! i have no preference whether it's either of them undergoing the torture or some hapless victim, let's go!]
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Hours it had been since a knife first kissed the long delicate column of the woman’s throat and in that time her flesh had been turned into a canvass of open weeping wounds. Skin and meat and sinew hacked and sawed and sliced down to slippery crimson bone, viscera unfurling in petals of red, red rose. And still she screamed. How she screamed! Her voice raw with abject agony. Her howls echoing upon the far-off cavernous ceiling, but her whispers – those are just for Bhaal’s children. Those incoherent babbled prayers to gods too weak to intervene in the house of their unholy Father.
It's enough to make Orin’s intestines squirm, slick heat wet between her thighs.
Beside the altar, the Butler lies dead in a pool of his own gore. Well, dead for now. He’ll be back come morning, undoubtedly. Orin’s knife remains where she left it: driven deep through his hands and into his offending mouth for daring suggest he assist Fever in the butchery of this sad little lamb. Orin stalks in slow loops about the altar, pale eyes dancing between the shivering sacrifice and her kin, lips pulling into a wretched smile as she drinks in it. She doesn’t disguise her hatred, her envy, or the sheer manic euphoria that the both of them – her sister, their prey – inspire in her.
Instead, she sidles closer, nuzzling her cheek against the sweat-slick strands of hair at Fever’s nape, tongue darting out to taste a rivulet of blood rolling down toward her shoulder. ]
Oh, sister sweetest, have you lost your appetite? Your hand grows so slow, heavy. [ Orin’s lips catch against skin with each word, voice sing-song. The fingers of her right hand circle around to drag along Fever’s thigh, her abdomen, higher still toward her waiting knife-hand. ] Are you upset about your Butler?
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Orin's presence is tolerated - she would have preferred the Butler as her wayward surgical companion, but his misspeaking is his own folly. instead, she leans back a little into her kindred. acceptance, amusement, but also a warning. mess up her work, and it'll be her on the slab - no substitute. let Orin hate. let Orin witness, in all her envy. Fever's voice is nearly serene, save for the low tremor that betrays how loud her own blood is in her ears.]
Hardly. You've been kind enough to expand his knowledge - how many can say they've touched death itself so many times? He should be honored. [ordinary souls shriek and howl when their laughter is tinged red. Fever merely laughs, true delight when the dying woman's rattling throat half forms another god's name. even an avatar would not walk these halls unchallenged.] And if I am slower, it is because the work asks it of me - watch.
[pulling the blade back, it goes in her belt to get out of the way, but this is what she wanted in the end. bones taken apart, organs removed like puzzle pieces, still breathing, beating - disassembly while held in just the right suspension of consciousness. and then, two hands, picking up the heart. still attached, still beating. the network of veins around it intact, pulsating weakly.
artistry is not what Fever strives for regularly - not a perfect kill laid out before her, overcomplicated, but deaths that cannot be avoided. ruthless and cold. this, this dissection, this extended torment? it furthers knowledge, it is divine meditation. a heart filled with inescapable agony, precise and unceasing blades, despair that might turn one to godlessness.
the victim long since has lost her eyes. she cannot see the smile, know what's in it.]
Perhaps if she asks our Father for mercy, he may yet grant it. To fix her.
[it is a cruel game. there is never any mercy. but to those addicted to prayer, they would seek anything that might help them cling onto their wretched lives.]
What do you think?
no subject
Instead, she leans forward, body molding comfortably, if entirely too familiar, against Fever’s back so that she can peer over her shoulder. Tension coils through her and Orin’s breathing quickens as she watches her sister’s work. The wretched, pitiful mess of the woman upon the altar is as beautiful as any poet’s lyrical waxing or painterly canvass. A finite sculpture of flesh and bone and blood fed to their Father. Violent and ephemeral.
Orin’s hand snakes around from behind Fever’s back to reach forward toward the beating heart held in her bloody palms, fingers briefly trembling with anticipation. She strokes her sharp, translucent nails across its quivering flesh with obvious reverence. Manic laughter bubbles up and she shudders. ]
Father’s mercy, yes. Our blades will offer only the sweetest salvation for it.
[ Orin’s fingers twitch and her nails bite deep enough into weakly pulsating heart to leave behind gouges, blood and plasma and tiny bits of fibrous tissue caked up to the nailbeds. ]
Even if this tawdry-trussed varlet, slopping with swine doesn’t deserve it.
[ She abruptly peels herself away from Fever to stand at her slaughter-sibling’s side before their Father’s altar. She leans close enough that her hair tickles against the mutilated woman’s face, left hand planted upon the stone slab. She strokes away tears of blood and vitreous fluid from her cheek with her right. ]
Shh, shh, shh. The Murder Lord is listening, little lamb, pray to Him. [ The hand upon the woman’s cheek drifts down and Orin takes her by the chin, turning her blind, empty sockets toward the sigil of their Father – bright fires burning in the graven skull’s eyes. ] Beg for His forgiveness.
no subject
and later, when she adds the eyes in a vial to her collection, the last image they'll ever see being her knife, she'll recall this and sigh with happiness. such a special project. of course the woman doesn't deserve such an honor. but aren't they kind to offer her such a transformation? to become a testament to Bhaal's power, and His children's enactment of His will.]
He hears you.
[and He does not care. but more lies on more lies - oh, she could devour the heart right here and now, but it would spoil the game, if she lets impulse guide her. no, no, she has a better idea, and ever so gently places the heart back into flesh.]
And you will be restored. Put back together, as the faithful supplicant you are. It will hurt - but birth always hurts.
[catching Orin's eye, she shakes her head once. there will be no fixing this, no undoing the damage. and Fever takes the knife from her belt, offering it out to Orin. all the organs she left intact, everything she had been so careful to preserve, is now ripe to be utterly destroyed. kill her, sister-mine, as you wish.
there is no restoration. the false hope raised can be slaughtered with extreme prejudice. as loathsome as the proposal from the Butler had been, to help, this is a contribution that Fever will not begrudge her, for how it will please.
the life that is still maintained in this sacrifice's veins will only be extinguished when she realizes what she's done to her own soul.]
alex karamazov | original | ota
faves: 7, 14, 15, 18, 21, 26, 27, 28 ;
hard no: 2, 5, 13, 19, 20, 22, 24
comment or dm to negotiate before threading 🖤 ]