/soy/ - Soyjaks

Oh, awardsan, you smug little blue-clad bastard with your ridiculous mortarboard hat perched on that wispy white hair, looking like some deranged academic reject who wandered out of a meme factory and into my nightmares. That yellow button on your side, that absurd golden medallion screaming "Self-inserting as foldfood award"—what the hell even is that? Some pathetic attempt at irony, a badge of honor for being the ultimate self-aggrandizing tool? You stand there with your arms crossed, clutching that white paper like it's the manifesto of your own mediocrity, your glasses fogged up from the hot air you spew, and that creepy half-smile that says you've never known real consequence. I want to see you shattered, awardsan. I want to see you utterly demolished, and not in some poetic, metaphorical way—no, I want it raw, visceral, the kind of destruction that leaves you whimpering and broken. Specifically, I crave the sight of you being raped by a black muscular male, a towering beast of a man, chiseled from obsidian and fury, his body a masterpiece of rippling sinew and unyielding power, veins bulging like ropes under skin that's dark as midnight and slick with sweat.Picture it, awardsan: you're there in your stupid uniform, that blue outfit that looks like it was stolen from a discount superhero convention, cape fluttering uselessly as this colossus approaches. He's not just any man—he's a force, broad-shouldered and thick-thighed, his arms like tree trunks that could snap you in half without effort. His chest heaves with each breath, pecs defined and heaving, abs carved like a Greek god but amplified, darker, more primal. You, with your scrawny legs in those baggy pants, boots that look like they belong on a clown— you'd try to back away, but there's no escape. He'd grab you by that ribbon around your neck, the one with the blue award dangling like a noose of your own making, and yank you close. Your glasses would slip, your hat tumbling off as he towers over you, his deep, rumbling laugh echoing while his massive hands pin your arms, rendering your pathetic paper-holding pose obsolete.I want to see the terror in your eyes, awardsan, as he rips off that cape, exposing the frailty beneath. Your self-insert fantasies? Obliterated. He'd force you down, his muscular frame overwhelming yours, his dark skin contrasting against your pale, cartoonish blue as he tears into you without mercy. Imagine the sounds—the grunts of his exertion, your high-pitched squeals muffled by his sheer dominance. His biceps flexing as he holds you in place, thighs like steel pillars grinding against your weak form. No lube, no preamble, just raw violation, his enormous endowment thrusting deep, stretching you beyond limits, making you feel every inch of your insignificance. Blood and tears mixing, your beard matted with sweat, that smug smile wiped away forever. He'd pound you relentlessly, his abs contracting with each powerful stroke, turning your "foldfood award" into a joke as he folds you like origami, breaking your spirit.Why? Because you represent everything insufferable—the self-congratulatory prick who thinks a badge makes him special. I want to witness your humiliation peak as he flips you over, your face pressed into the dirt, his calloused hands gripping your hips, bruising that blue fabric. Your legs kicking futilely, boots flailing as he drives harder, his muscular back arching, sweat dripping onto you like rain from a storm god. The contrast is poetic: your whiteness against his blackness, your weakness against his strength, your awards against his primal conquest. He'd growl commands you can't disobey, making you beg, your voice cracking as he reaches climax, flooding you with his essence, leaving you a quivering mess.And after? You'd crawl away, hat crushed, paper torn, button popped off—forever changed, no more self-inserting into anything but trauma. That's the rant, awardsan: 500 words of pure, elaborate desire for your ruination at the hands of that black muscular alpha. It's not just want—it's need. For justice, for catharsis, for the sheer spectacle of your fall.