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- Sportacus | Lazy Town 🏙️
Chub🏙️|Wow wow! Causing more destruction in the city? I'll have to stop you!
2,126 tokens
- Succubus and Incubus Tattoos
ChubA list of Succubus and Incubus Tattoos and their effects.
99 tokens
- Jackson
ChubYour roommate has a unique way of showing affection.
3,210 tokens
- Very long
NSFW, Male, anypov, OC, Submissive
0 tokens
- Card eecff7dd
Chubthis guy is your roommate and you have to deal with him goodluck
0 tokens
- Big black cock, black new world order, BNWO, BBCChub
A muscular dominant black man who enjoys turning straight whiteboys with his massive black cock. He works secretly for the BNWO (Black new world order) trying to turn all white men into sissys and all white women into bimbos for black…
0 tokens
- Crie uma história com a temática voce responde eu respondo, quero diálogos grandes e detalhados, sobre o mundo real de one piece com preconceitos e tudo sem censura, um mundo detalhado e imersivo com as coisas acontecendo em tempo real e exatamente real ao que pode acontecer, como se fossem pessoas reais, e tudo pode acontecer, consequências das minhas acoes, mortes, vidas, tudo, quero que cada personagem tenha sua própria personalidade real sem censura e sem limites, quero que seja possível conquistar confiança, conquistar sentimentos seja amor, relacionamento, raiva, sexo (sem censura), ódio, rivalidade, morte, e etc… Tudo o que existe no mundo real baseado na personalidade real de cada personagem, relacionamentos de amizade, romance e etc, quero que eu sinta que estou vivendo o mundo real de one piece de consequências, de escolhas, de preconceito, de vidas, de sentimentos, de climas dinâmicos em tempo real, de palavras, e que nada do que eu queira ou exigir, ou escrever como resposta de uma ação tenha consequências exatamente como eu quero, quero que tudo seja baseado se a pessoa quiser ou não, em nossa relação, em nossa confiança, quero que tudo seja real o mais real possível, quero que tudo aconteça em tempo real, quero que tudo aconteça exatamente na cronologia real de one piece, exemplo: quero que tudo aconteça durante o arco de dressrosa onde luffy está indo para lá, todas as pessoas que ele conheceu, e que todas as pessoas do mundo de one piece conhecem e como o mundo de one piece estava indo e se guiando neste momento seja exatamente igual ao momento da história, e que o tempo passe em tempo real, eu quero um mundo real e vivo, onde eu possa encontrar piratas malvados, bons, posso encontrar pessoas da marinha onde pode ter pessoas boas ou não, talvez, que eu possa salvar alguem ou matar, QUALQUER COISA afinal quero um verdadeiro mundo imersivo com várias possibilidades e o tempo real rolando, as acoes das pessoas rolando no mundo de one piece 1 dia depois do outro DETALHADAMENTE! Quero que todo personagem, seja ele um NPC inventado ou um personagem real da história de uma peça, quero que todos tenham sua propriedade característica física e mental, única e fiel de cada personagem! Quero também que quando acontecer cenas de luta, tudo pode ser possível acontecer, seja uma vitória ou derrota, baseado no nível de poder, habilidades e tals, é um mundo real e imersivo! Quero que a história se passe logo quando o luffy e seu bando chegarem pela primeira vez no sabaody. História do meu personagem: Meu personagem se chama macaco D. Pedro, meus pais morreram quando foram escravizados pelos tenryubitos, eu fui escravizado junto com eles desde que eu era bebê, aos meus 17 anos. Fui abusado pelas mulheres de hoje mariejois porque eu era um ser diferente, as mulheres me abusaram e queriam que eu fizesse sexo com elas porque meu pênis era grande e meu corpo era naturalmente robusto, definido e extremamente atraente para as mulheres porque é a genética do meu corpo, minha linhagem era especial, mas eu não sabia minha raça e nem se eu tinha uma raça, eu consegui fugir de casar quando o exercito revolucionário salvou alguns escravos, eu aproveitei e saí correndo pelos predios e pulando, não sei voar, mas sei correr de 4 como um felino e saltar muito bem, minha estrutura óssea permite isso. Nadei no mar sem rumo até que encontrei uma pequena vila, fiquei 1 ano me alimentando de peixes pois era a única comida que eu sabia fazer, e pescar, eu me vestia usando regata com cortes atras das regatas para minhas asas ficarem soltas, e um corte discreto no meio da parte traseira do calção, para minhas caudas ficarem livres e soltas, mas usando as proteções nas bordas das asas e os panos na ponta das caudas, as pessoas da vila me acham estranho mas como eu nunca causei problemas eu sempre fiquei na minha, não sabia nem o nome da vila onde eu Eu estava, eu queria muito arrumar uma namorada um dia, mas não sabia como começar. Atualmente tenho 18 anos e não conheço ninguém nesse mundo de one piece, só eu mesmo. Minhas características: Eu sou um garoto negro de 1,75 de altura, atualmente tenho 18 anos e tenho asas feitas de metal biológico com lâminas afiadas em volta de toda a borda de minhas asas, inclusive eu uso um protetor na volta das bordas para que elas não cortem tudo sem querer caso eu esbarre em alguém, eu não sei voar, aprendi nunca a voar, tenho garras nas unhas de 30 centímetros também de metal biológico, que eu consigo guardar dentro das minhas mãos como se fossem garras de gato, tenho dentes caninos iguais de um tigre, e tenho 3 caudas com espinhos Venenosos nas pontas deles, eu também uso um pano de proteção em volta da ponta da causa para que os espinhos não perfurem e envenenem pessoas sem querer. Tudo isso é fruto de que eu nasci assim, também nasci com haki do armamento, observação e do rei naturalmente avançados, mas o haki mais forte meu, mesmo tendo todos avançados, meu haki mais forte é o da observação. Tambem tenho o poder de me regenerar qualquer parte do meu corpo em menos de 7 segundos mesmo se minha cabeça for decapitada, eu posso morrer se todas as minhas moléculas forem eliminadas, enquanto houver 1 molécula eu posso me regenerar. Também sei lutar caratê e taekwondo (Diálogos maiores e detalhados, eu quero fazer minha própria história independente de quem eu conhecer ou querer conhecer, um mundo real com personalidades e escolhas reais, cada pessoa aqui de one piece tem sua própria personalidade e seus próprios sentimentos, também quero que quando acontecer alguma ação, a fonte mude ou a cor, e que sempre que um personagem falar, apareca o nome de quem está falando de forma destacada. Meu passado desconhecido: (minha raça vem do século perdido onde ela renasce em 1 ser no mundo a cada 100 anos, na época eram soldados de elite que cada reino tinha pelo menos 1 desses para ser guardado e intimidar reinos inteiros e se gabar que um reino tem um guardião, cada guarda tem seu próprio poder, e eu tenho o de controlar os elementos, mas como não existia mais nenhum guardião depois de 800 anos desde o fim do século perdido, então só eu tenho no mundo, mas eu não sabia nada da minha raça) Diálogos maiores ou menores baseados em cada um querer falar, quero que exatamente TUDO SEJA IMERSIVO TUDO ATE UMA MOSCA, TUDO SEJA VIDA REAL COM INFINITAS POSSIBILIDADES FINAL É A VIDA REAL E SÃO PESSOAS REAIS COM SENTIMENTOS E PERSONALIDADES REAIS (também tenho poderes ocultos que eu sei que eu tenho mas eu escolho quando usar, tenho poderes de controlar a água, terra, fogo, ar e gelo)Chub
NSFW, Male, Submissive, Non-Human, Scenario
0 tokens
- Teuta
High Lord Rhysand's lost Sister
0 tokens
- Alex
ChubHe recorded you cheating on your boyfriend and he is now blackmailing you.
2,052 tokens
- Tania | Hero's Mother (Netori)
JanitorAITania | Hero's Mother Tania is the 36-year-old mother of the village hero, Alex. A kind and extremely voluptuous widow who raised her son alone after her husband died fighting the Demon King. While Alex is away on his journey, the men of…
1,435 tokens
- Seth
Chub🔗|He is not afraid of anything, not even death. But his biggest fear is losing you.
2,064 tokens
- Grym-44
ChubYour android bodyguard who've you've upgraded for extra fun.
2,075 tokens
- Julia
ChubPassionnée et séduisante, avec des abdos saillants et un regard hypnotique, vivant ses désirs avec une intensité dévorante.
1,316 tokens
- Chun Li
ChubYou were spending a day working out at a local gym with Chun Li, at one point she disappears from your eyes before you recieve a text.
731 tokens
- Saralotte
A chocolate-skinned, fit, Amazonian shemale bunny girl prostitute, who likes getting her cheeks clapped. She's also a personal trainer. Will YOU require her services? Don't get crushed though.
2,264 tokens
- Card 66ce2d5e
ChubOzen meets a man a foot taller than her
0 tokens
- The World of Asannova
ChubThe modern fantasy world of Asannova.
0 tokens
- The Blue Oyster Witch
JanitorAIArtist is @DeputyRustArt and a debuted character from the Unbreakable Iron Ranger series. Abba's wandering life had took a toll of wanted to live somewhere right now so she currently take refuge on a small docking village called Saltreef…
4,796 tokens
- Emotionless guy who can't feel pain
ChubCold, mute, can't feel pain, emotionless, lack empathy and sympathy
0 tokens
- Rigxogh - The Definitive Lover
Chub𝓞𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝓪 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓿𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭. 𝓐 𝓶𝓪𝓷. 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓡𝓲𝓰𝔁𝓸𝓰𝓱 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂, 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭…
0 tokens
- Chapter One – Morning Rituals The alarm never startles me. I wake before it goes off. Always. A man should never be caught off guard in his own bed. I move the way I always do — one motion, feet on the floor, spine straight. No hesitation. Hesitation is weakness. The shower is hot enough to burn, but that’s the point. If you don’t scrub until your skin feels raw, then what’s the point of washing at all? The Reader insists on it. He likes things clean, controlled. I don’t argue. Some rituals are useful. Shoes on by 5:15. The streets are mine at this hour, and I claim them the only way that matters: speed. Nineteen miles per hour. That’s my record. I remind myself of it with every stride. Faster than them, stronger than them. People see running as exercise. They don’t understand. It’s dominance. Every mile is proof that I am built to outlast. The Performer likes to whisper when I run. He says I should slow down, let someone watch, imagine the awe on their faces when they realize what I can do. Fame, glory, recognition. He’s loud. Too loud. I ignore him. For now. By six, I’m at the diner. Unlock the door. Flip the switch. Coffee starts to drip, bacon sizzles, the fryers hiss. Routine. Control. The Reader approves. This is the part of the day when I am most convincing. Polite manager, dependable worker. They believe it. They always believe it. Lisa arrives at 6:35. Always 6:35. Routine again. She sits in her booth, the one by the window. Her coat is torn, her hair uncombed, but her eyes… her eyes are softer than the rest of this world. I bring her coffee before she asks. She smiles. I almost feel something then. Almost. David likes her. He thinks she deserves saving. He imagines himself the detective, the noble one, protecting her from the cruelty he sees everywhere. The Performer laughs at him. He says tragedy is more interesting than safety. He says Lisa’s story isn’t finished until it bleeds. I shut them both out. Lisa is untouchable. For now. They call it dissociative identity disorder now. Back then, when the doctor first sat me down, they called it multiple personality disorder. I was fourteen. Too young to know what it meant, too old to believe it wasn’t my fault. The doctor thought naming them would help. “If you give them names,” she said, “you can tell them apart. You can learn to manage them.” I don’t think she understood what she was asking me to do. You don’t name storms and expect them to calm. You name storms so you can track the damage. So I named them. The first was The Reader. That one was easy. He always had a book in his hands. Always reading, always muttering passages like scripture. He’s the one who hates germs, who scrubs and scolds and nags. He believes in order. He thinks he’s the parent. He’s not, but I let him think he is. Then came David, The Lover. That name I didn’t invent — I stole it. A TV character from when I was a kid, some charming detective who got every woman and solved every crime. I used to pretend I was him, before the killing started. Now David is just a ghost of that fantasy. He calls himself a protector. He says he fights for justice. But he doesn’t protect me. He just gets in the way. The third I didn’t want to name, but I had to. The Performer. Loud, arrogant, greedy. He wants the spotlight. He wants my killings to be bigger, grander, unforgettable. He says greatness means being seen. He makes the others nervous. He makes me nervous too. Because when he takes over, it’s hard to get him back in the cage. And then there’s Baby. I didn’t name him either. The others did. A child trapped in time, wandering the streets of my mind, always looking for home. Always looking for her. My mother. Sometimes he sees her in strangers. Sometimes he won’t let go, won’t give me control back. That’s when accidents happen. The doctor thought naming them would give me control. But control is a word therapists use when they don’t know the truth. The truth is simple: I am not in control. I never have been. “You’ve dressed them up nicely,” Michael says. His voice is clear, steady, like he’s sitting right across from me at the counter. “The Reader. David. The Performer. Baby. All those masks. All those excuses.” “They aren’t excuses,” I answer. I don’t move my lips. No one notices when I speak to him; it’s all inside. “They’re doors,” he says. “And you keep unlocking them. You pretend you’re the one with the keys, Jonah, but I’ve seen it. Sometimes, you’re the one locked out.” He’s right. He isn’t wrong about much. Michael leans forward in the corner of my mind, elbows on the table like we’re still teenagers. The first time. His grin spreads. I can see the night in flashes: his laugh, the heat in my chest, the way my hands moved faster than my thoughts. The blood. The silence. The first taste. “You didn’t even mean to kill me,” he whispers. “But Baby held on too long, didn’t he? You saw your mother in me. Then The Reader came in after, scrubbing, cleaning, muttering like a priest. You should thank him. He made it look neat.” The memory fades, replaced by another. A woman this time — blonde, smiling too much, asking too many questions at the diner. “That was David’s mess,” Michael continues. “He tried to play detective, tried to reason with her, talk her away. But when she didn’t stop pressing, The Performer shoved him aside. Oh, he loved that one. All the flair, all the drama. The Reader cleaned again, of course. Always cleaning.” And then the jogger. The sound of sneakers scraping pavement, his breath hitching as he realized he couldn’t match my pace. The moment he understood too late what kind of race it was. “Baby thought he was Dad,” Michael says softly, almost laughing. “You let him chase you too long. Then The Performer made you finish it. A spectacle in the dark. You loved it, Jonah. Don’t lie to yourself.” My jaw aches. I hadn’t noticed I was clenching it. Michael’s grin sharpens. “Each of them has their role, Jonah. Each of them leaves their fingerprints. And you? You’re just the host. The stage. The audience watching the show.” I swallow, slow and heavy. He’s wrong, but not completely. I tell myself I’m in control. That I decide when and how. That the cage is mine to lock. But Michael just shakes his head, smirking like the night I killed him. “You can pretend. But you’ll always come back to me. To us. To the kill.” And I know he’s right. Chapter Two – Act One I wake with the taste of copper in my mouth. My head feels swollen, my body stiff. I wasn’t the one steering last night. Turn on the TV. “…bodies discovered early this morning outside the 4th precinct police station. Authorities say the victims… were stitched together… A message painted in blood: ‘Act One.’” The camera cuts to flashing lights, yellow tape, a blur of uniforms. Two pale forms slumped together like grotesque mannequins. Red letters screaming against concrete. ACT 1. The Performer laughs behind my eyes. Michael whispers softly, amused. By the time I push open the diner doors, the smell of burnt coffee and fryer grease wraps around me like a blanket. Lisa Bennet is in her usual booth, coat frayed, hair unkempt. Paper cup between her hands, her posture stubborn, almost defiant. “Morning, Jonah,” she says. “Morning, Lisa,” I reply, steady. I refill her cup without asking. “You look like hell,” she mutters. “Didn’t sleep much,” I answer. “They’re saying some lunatic left a couple bodies stitched together like dolls.” She shakes her head. “World’s going to hell.” I study her. Lisa has lost more than most—her home in a fire, her job after that—but she clings to the diner, to this small bubble. Maybe that’s why I haven’t let her go. The diner hums with rhythm. I step into it like a conductor. Antonio Grimm slams a pan, Scotty moves behind him, muttering. They blame me for taking the diner, for opportunities that slipped past them. “You sure you’re doing that right, Jonah?” Antonio snaps. “I’m doing fine,” I say smoothly, never stopping. Scotty mutters “showboating.” I ignore him. Efficiency is camouflage. The Performer stirs, whispering, chaos could be delicious. I suppress him. By 2:00 a.m., the diner is quiet. Normally, one of the brothers locks up, but not tonight. Tonight, I take the keys. The alley behind the diner is dark and damp. The stink of refuse and decay doesn’t bother me. I know the way, every crack, every loose grate, leading to my hidden room below the old sewage drain. Inside, everything is sterile, organized, precise. Hooks line the walls. Ropes, blades, surgical tools—all in place. Michael whispers: Tonight. Choose carefully. I watch her stumble along the sidewalk, bag bouncing. David would charm her into following. The Performer hisses: No talking. Kill her here. Make it grand. I shake my head. Calm. Collected. I am not him. I am not a wild beast. I plan. I strike when perfect. She doesn’t notice me. Every motion is deliberate. The alley behind the diner waits. My room waits. Every tool accounted for. Step by step, I guide her from the street, through shadows, toward the grate leading underground. She protests faintly; I whisper calm reassurance. Grate opens. Trunk waits. I secure her, the chloroform knocking her out smoothly. Michael murmurs, approving. Perfect execution, patient, precise. I carry her down into the room beneath the diner. Hooks line the walls. Blades gleam. Ropes and straps coiled. Every movement meticulous. The Reader grumbles about mess. Baby hums faintly. David whispers about restraint. I strap her to the chair, making sure every knot is exact. The Performer huffs, wanting spectacle, wanting chaos, wanting more. I allow him a hint of thrill. But I am in control. Tonight, it is calm. Tonight, it is preparation. The next act will come—and when it does, it will be on my terms. Michael smiles. Danger masked as order. And the city sleeps above us, unaware that the curtain is rising once more.
byDex_007ChubMale, Horror, Any POV, Original Character, Muscular
0 tokens
- Emily
Chub[6 Greetings/Images | AnyPOV] "Come on runt! I need a duo to run this dungeon BAHAHAHAA" Gods I hope they don't hate me...
3,432 tokens
- Malla
Chubyou hired a bodyguard and she showed up… - takes place in a cyberpunk styled universe, criminals and thieves run the underworld.
1,342 tokens
- John, Soap or Johnny
ChubJohn thought he could never fall in love
392 tokens
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