Dasher Slash

Sorry I'm just pathologically homosexual

They actually scream and beg at me through tears to let them out of the sexual hellscape that is my mind but I am just the Jack Nicholson nodding yes gif

With all this talk about bluesky content terms, I just want to make it clear that not a single one of my characters has ever consented to anything that has ever happened to them, thank you

POV: You're Owen's bf but you're actually a kind person and he's happy.

Ben can't stop cumming. His bed is a mess of liquids from their dicks and the sweat pouring down their wet slapping bodies. He expects Owen to give up like the wimp he is. Collapse. Crawl away. But the otter's mind soaks up every piece of abuse, every smack, every pang of pain, every cruel word.

Sometimes, listening to his feminine boyfriend whimper and moan, watching him tremble in fear and sniffle in despair, and staring at his gigantic marshmallowy ass, the hare couldn't think about much other than cumming his brains out. And then cumming again. And again. And again.

The method underlying Ben's madness was at times tenuous, and sometimes it was easy to forget why he was doing what he was doing. Ben was an unstoppable force and yet Owen was soft and jiggly and plump and fragile and scared enough to take every blow.

The walls in Owen's mind crumbled. They weren't strong to start with. His parents never taught him how to build. It didn't take much more than a cock to crack them to the base, but it was the words that truly brought them down.

More Benji. Non-canon. Drawn for supporters.

Non-canon alt-universe power-tripping even-bigger-dicked black Ben I drew for supporters elsewhere.

Unfortunately, being my boyfriend destines you to be collateral in some bigger badder bastard's sexual conquest, and man, some of the studs I flirt with behind your back are real sick fucks. I can't help it.

*

Samples of a cockfucking series I did for Ambrose you can find in full elsewhere.

'This is what I'm made for', Owen thought. 'Taking dick and not complaining. This is my place. I'm lucky. If I don't like it it's only because I forgot my place. Because I'm stupid. Ben knows me better than I do. Knows my body better than I do. And it does feel good. My body likes it. Loves it'.

Owen started to realise he was so stupid that Ben even knew what to do with Owen's body better than the otter did. Even when his head was throbbing, his lungs were screaming, and his heart was fracturing. Maybe he couldn't trust the pain in his heart either. Ben was right. Ben was always right.

What a curious sense of relief it was that came with being given something much worse, much bigger to worry about, than a breaking heart.

An old part of Owen's brain, a young part that was frozen in time, knew, of course, that if anything was wrong, he was the one at fault. There was a relief that came with knowing nothing had changed. He was too fucking stupid to figure it out himself, but at least Ben hadn't discarded him yet.

It felt right for Ben, too. Looking at that face next to his penis... he knew which was more important to him.

With a chest full of pain and a nose full of ethanol, Owen knelt beneath the one person in the world who was kind and generous enough to put up with him. Aimless, directionless, and hopeless, being bossed around felt purposeful. Right. If not happiness, he deserved that, at least.

So stupid. He should be grateful. He was lucky. So lucky. To be so pathetic he deserved nothing, but still have a perfect boyfriend like Ben.

The otter spills his bleeding heart all over the floor in front of his boyfriend, even while he cringes over how irrational and neurotic he sounds. He should be brave enough, strong enough, to settle the pain himself, but he can't bear it anymore. "I'm sorry if I sound stupid".

A pressurised heart rips open and vulnerability bleeds out, and he is a scared little boy in a big adult body. It wouldn't take a surgeon to repair the wound, just a gentle hand holding it.

'Ben loves me', Owen reassured himself. 'He's the perfect boyfriend'.

Equilateral

Peak Physique Serial Killer

It's my birthday tomorrow and this was my present to me.

Fat, stupid, useless. Another year older, waiting for happiness, another year wasted.

It's my birthday tomorrow and this was my present to me.

Fat, stupid, useless. Another year older, waiting for happiness, another year wasted.

You're so purty @_@

Mummy and daddy whisper-yelling at each other about what the fuck to do with their useless son because he never stops beating his sloppy dick so loud they can hear the wet slaps and moans through his bedroom door. They're too scared to go in there and be reminded of the truth

It takes 160,000 hours and hundreds of thousands of dollars and an incalculable emotional and physical toll to raise a child to 18.

Then imagine your son just locks themselves in their bedroom and goons for 16 hours a day, wasting all that investment and hope and potential.

Super hot tbh.

Where does one find gooners?