Arbuscular
Video Editor
- Joined
- May 15, 2025
- Posts
- 1,173
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The very thought of his smug face makes my blood boil. The way he flaunts his wealth around, thinking he's some kind of philanthropic god because he throws crumbs at the poor makes me want to tear his fucking throat out. And his fanbase? A bunch of brain-dead sheep who don't realize that he's using them for clicks and clout. They'd watch him take a shit and call it gold.
So, I'd start by grabbing him by that ridiculous hair of his and slamming his face into the pavement until he's nothing but a bloody mess. I want to rip his designer clothes off and make him feel the pain he's so oblivious to. The pain of reality slapping him across the face like a wet fish.
Then, I'd force him to his knees, his teeth cracked and his nose bleeding, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear about how he's about to become my bitch. He'd beg and plead, but that shit's music to my ears. I'd laugh and sneer, watching the fear build in his eyes like a crescendo of terror.
I'd make him choke on my dick, feeling his throat tighten around me as he gags and pukes. I want to see the tears stream down his face, mixing with the blood and snot, staining the ground around him. And when he's had enough of that, I'd bend him over and show him what a real man does. I'd tear into his asshole like it owes me money, making him scream until he's hoarse.
I'd fuck him raw, no mercy, no lube, just the harsh reality of what it's like to be on the receiving end of power. I'd pound his ass until it's nothing but a gaping hole, a testament to the rage and spite I hold for his kind. And when I'm done with that, I'd shove his own wallet so far up there that he'd never forget the feeling of being used and discarded like the trash he is.
But it doesn't stop there. Oh no, not until he's learned his fucking lesson. I'd tie him up with barbed wire, watching him squirm and struggle as it bites into his soft, pampered skin. Then, I'd take a blowtorch to his pretty little face, carving my name into his flesh so everyone knows who did this to him.
I want to make him watch as I piss on his money, on the very symbol of his power, showing him that it's worthless in the face of true pain. I'd burn his greenbacks into ashes and rub them into his eyes, blinding him with the stench of his own failure.
And when I'm good and done with him, when he's nothing but a whimpering wreck, I'd leave him there, a broken shell of his former self, for the world to see. A warning to all the other fake fucks out there. A monument to the brutal truth that nobody is above the law of the streets.
So, MrBeast, if you're reading this, know that there's a special place in hell reserved just for you, and I'm the fucking tour guide who's going to show you around. You'll beg for death, but I won't grant it. You'll suffer until you understand what true despair is. Until you realize that your millions can't save you from the wrath of someone who's had enough of your bullshit.
This is your fate, you disgusting piece of shit. And I'll be the one to deliver it. With every thrust, every scream, and every drop of blood, you'll know that you're nothing but a pawn in the grand scheme of things. And maybe, just maybe, you'll learn some fucking empathy. But I doubt it. You're too far gone, too rotten to the core.
So, let the games begin. I want to rape MrBeast, and I'll make sure it's the last thing he ever forgets.
So, I'd start by grabbing him by that ridiculous hair of his and slamming his face into the pavement until he's nothing but a bloody mess. I want to rip his designer clothes off and make him feel the pain he's so oblivious to. The pain of reality slapping him across the face like a wet fish.
Then, I'd force him to his knees, his teeth cracked and his nose bleeding, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear about how he's about to become my bitch. He'd beg and plead, but that shit's music to my ears. I'd laugh and sneer, watching the fear build in his eyes like a crescendo of terror.
I'd make him choke on my dick, feeling his throat tighten around me as he gags and pukes. I want to see the tears stream down his face, mixing with the blood and snot, staining the ground around him. And when he's had enough of that, I'd bend him over and show him what a real man does. I'd tear into his asshole like it owes me money, making him scream until he's hoarse.
I'd fuck him raw, no mercy, no lube, just the harsh reality of what it's like to be on the receiving end of power. I'd pound his ass until it's nothing but a gaping hole, a testament to the rage and spite I hold for his kind. And when I'm done with that, I'd shove his own wallet so far up there that he'd never forget the feeling of being used and discarded like the trash he is.
But it doesn't stop there. Oh no, not until he's learned his fucking lesson. I'd tie him up with barbed wire, watching him squirm and struggle as it bites into his soft, pampered skin. Then, I'd take a blowtorch to his pretty little face, carving my name into his flesh so everyone knows who did this to him.
I want to make him watch as I piss on his money, on the very symbol of his power, showing him that it's worthless in the face of true pain. I'd burn his greenbacks into ashes and rub them into his eyes, blinding him with the stench of his own failure.
And when I'm good and done with him, when he's nothing but a whimpering wreck, I'd leave him there, a broken shell of his former self, for the world to see. A warning to all the other fake fucks out there. A monument to the brutal truth that nobody is above the law of the streets.
So, MrBeast, if you're reading this, know that there's a special place in hell reserved just for you, and I'm the fucking tour guide who's going to show you around. You'll beg for death, but I won't grant it. You'll suffer until you understand what true despair is. Until you realize that your millions can't save you from the wrath of someone who's had enough of your bullshit.
This is your fate, you disgusting piece of shit. And I'll be the one to deliver it. With every thrust, every scream, and every drop of blood, you'll know that you're nothing but a pawn in the grand scheme of things. And maybe, just maybe, you'll learn some fucking empathy. But I doubt it. You're too far gone, too rotten to the core.
So, let the games begin. I want to rape MrBeast, and I'll make sure it's the last thing he ever forgets.
