munofmanyminds

[munofmanyminds]

The scrape of his teeth along her lip pulled a soft, desperate sound from deep in her throat, her fingers tightening where they rested against his skin. She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until he soothed the sting with his tongue, and that wicked grin curved at his lips like he already knew how close to unravelling she was. That pent up breath escaped with a shudder, dark lashes fluttering wildly, dragging long shadows across flushed cheeks. When he spoke, Emily blinked slowly, dazed and feverish with need, her pulse galloping wildly in her throat like it was trying to keep up.

Malcom's thumbs dug a little deeper into her hips, and her hips rolled against him instinctively, legs squeezing his hips tighter, as though any distance right now might bring about disaster. "A... game?" she repeated dimly, blinking a few more times, like the idea hadn't fully settled in her brain just yet. Emily's head rolled against the wooden surface behind her, tilting to accommodate his lips, and for a long beat, no words came - just the sound of her shallow, heated breathing as his mouth mapped her jaw, found her ear, ghosted over the shell in a way that left her trembling, cunt throbbing almost painfully.

"Now?" she all but squeaked as the intent - and it's consequences - hit, her tone rising a few octaves. Her hips rocked against him, instinctively chasing, desperate for more of that much needed friction. "You wanna play hide and seek... now?" A whine trickled forth, but it worked itself into a frustrated little laugh as she turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, lashes heavy and pupils blown wide. "Jesus," she breathed, her lips brushing his slowly, savouring the feeling, as though she might somehow forget his taste if she didn't. She arched her back a little, fingers curling slightly to dig the tips of her nails into his skin. "You've got the worst fucking timing, you know that?" She murmured playfully, affectionately, as she pulled back enough to look back up at him. "It's downright cruel, is what it is." But - notably - she wasn't saying no. It wasn't like Emily to turn down a game, much less a challenge, after all. Postpone it a little, though? Absolutely. They had all week to play his little games.

MALCOLM HAD BEEN SO PATIENT . days , weeks , months of pining and yearning . bouquets of flowers , meaningless dates , weekend getaways , nights in with movies that could only dream of holding his attentions . now , with a gold band around his finger and her devotion made final , complete , he didn't no how much longer he could hold back . the knife in his boot burned against this ankle , the various hunting weapons in the trunk he had brought calling to him , , , his kisses , affections , and touches intensifying as he thought about blood on metal , the whistle of a bolt through the forest air , the sound of her screaming sending flocks of crows up into the mountain air .

a purr sounding in his throat , malcolm dragged his bite along her lower lip , rolling the pillowy flesh between rows of grinning pearl . it took everything in him not to bite down and tear it from her face . she'd look prettier when she screamed if he left it . " we should play a game , " he exhaled , kneading his thumbs into her hip bones , deciding he couldn't wait . if he prolonged his fun any longer , the anticipation would kill him before he had a chance to kill her . he pressed his hips against hers , tongue soothing where his wickedly playful grin had just scraped her . " this is a big cabin , and what better way to explore it than a little game of hide and seek ?? " he left a paper trail of kisses along her cheek , down the hinge of her jaw until his mouth was ghosting the shell of her ear . " — make me work for it . "

[munofmanyminds]

A CLOSED starter for @ardentghcst ft. CASSIUS BOUCHERRE & SEMIRA DURMAZ

The  alley  behind  the  club  was  shrouded  in  shadow.  The  kind  of  thick  darkness  that  creatures  like  himself  usually  thrived  in.  The  kind  that  let  monsters  feed  undisturbed,  fangs  dug  deep  into  the  yielding  flesh  of  terrified  prey.  No  streetlights  reached  this  far  back  into  the  alley  -  and  for  the  most  part,  that  was  by  design.  No  cameras  had  ever  been  installed  back  here  either.  No  prying  eyes.  It  was  like  Cassius'  own little  corner  of  the  world,  a  place  carved  out  for  moments  when  hunger  grew  sharp  and  he  needed  a  place  to  eat  in  a  pinch.

Tonight,  however,  he  hadn’t  made  it  that  far.  The  scent  had  caught  his  sharp  senses  first;  blood,  rich  and  heavy  on  the  hair,  curling  towards  him  like  the  hot  steam  of  a  meal  being  prepared.  This  wasn’t  a  meal  though.  No,  this  scent  was  too  familiar,  carrying  a  signature  he  couldn’t  ignore.  So  he’d  ushered  his  would-be  meal  off  into  the  night,  muttering  an  excuse  he  didn’t  bother  coating  in  his  usual  charms.  The  ache  in  his  throat,  that  dull  burn  pressing  against  the  back  of  his  throat,  only  deepened  as  he  rounded  the  corner  and  drew  closer. 

There,  Cassius  had  laid  eyes  on  her.  Semira.  It  just  had  to  be  Semira.  Of  fucking  course  it  did.  Of  all  the  stupid  fucking  humans  to  end  up  gutted  and  gasping  in  his  alley,  it  just  had  to  be  Celeste’s  favourite  little  plaything.  Despite  his  first  instinct  to  walk  away,  leave  her  to  her  fate  and  get  back  to  his  own  plans  for  the  evening,  that  wasn’t  really  an  option  here.  Celeste  was  out  of  town,  which  meant he  was  the  only  thing  standing  between  Semira  and  the  end  of  her  fragile  little  life.  

That’s  exactly  how  he  found  himself  kneeling  on  the  damp  concrete,  the  dying  human  cradled  awkwardly  in  his  lap.  Her  head  lolled  against  the  crook  of  his  arm,  her  body  limp  as  a  doll’s,  while  his  other  wrist  pressed  firmly  to  pale  lips.  She’d  protested  at  first,  of  course.  Even  half  conscious,  she  knew  as  well  as  he  did  what  his  blood  would  do  to  her,  but  survival  had  its  own  way  of  silencing  pride.  Now,  barely  there,  she  drank,  each  faint  swallow  causing  her  throat  to  bob  weakly  under  torn  skin.  His  lower  lip  bore  its  own  smear  of  crimson,  slick  from  when  he’d  torn  himself  open  for  her.

He  let  her  drink  until  the  pull  of  her  mouth  faded  and  the  wounds  on  his  wrist  sealed  itself  shut,  dark  skin  once  more  smooth  and  flawless.  Then  he  drew  back,  eyes  lingering  on  her  face  as  her  breathing  steadied,  the  tremor  in  her  limbs  persisting  for  a  moment  longer.  His  head  tipped  slightly,  watching  the  way  her  pupils  dilated,  sluggish  and  glazed.  With  the  amount  she’d  consumed,  she  probably  wouldn’t  be  able  to  walk  straight  anytime  soon.  The  initial effects  of  his  blood  would  be  taking  hold  of  her  faculties  now,  leaving  her  warm  and  dizzy,  coating  her  thoughts  in  something  heady  and  powerful.

[munofmanyminds]

He  could  see  it,  the  way  apprehension  softened,  melting  into  something  eager  beneath  her  skin.  Colour  bloomed  high  on  her  cheeks,  and  that  flicker  of  anticipation  lit  her  eyes,  greedy  and  restless.  Her  throat  bobbed  as  she  swallowed,  a  nervous  reflex  she  couldn’t  quite  suppress,  and  the  corner  of  Ezra’s  mouth  twitched  -  not  enough  to  form  a  smile,  but  the  flicker  of  satisfaction  sparked  unmistakably  in  his  eyes.  A  low  sound,  stretched  somewhere  between  a  purr  and  a  growl,  rumbled  from  deep  in  his  chest  at  her  softspoken  reply.  The  pressure  of  his  thumb  against  the  soft,  pillowy  flesh  of  her  lip  grew  firmer,  causing  it  to  curve  slightly  around  its  possessive  presence.

Then  he  leaned  in  a  little  closer,  bringing  the  tip  of  his  nose  within  a  breath  from  the  apple  of  her  cheek,  his  lips  perched  above  the  corner  of  hers.  "Good  girl,"  he  whispered,  words  slipping  out  smoothly,  his  breath  washing  over  the  flushed  heat  of  her  skin.  And  then  -  without  pulling  back,  without  even  changing  the  proximity  of  his  mouth  to  hers,  he  finally  pushed  the  handle  down.  The  click  echoed  down  the  quiet  hallway.

Ezra’s  thumb  lifted,  gliding  from  her  lip  back  to  the  tip  of  her  chin,  only  for  its  absence  to  be  replaced  with  the  firm,  deliberate  press  of  his  mouth.  A  gentle  kiss,  decisive  yet  delivered  almost  lazily  to  the  supple  pout  practically  begging  for  his  touch.  The  tip  of  his  tongue  traced  the  seam  of  her  lips,  coaxing  them  apart,  drinking  in  her  taste  as  she  complied.  Ezra  released  a  low  groan,  teeth  pulling  lightly  on  the  soft  flesh  of  her  upper  lip  for  a  moment  before  he  broke  away,  withdrawing  just  a  few  inches.  Darkness  pooled  in  his  gaze,  deep  and  consuming,  as  it  met  the  bright  blue  of  hers.  And  then,  still  holding  her  by  the  chin,  by  the  tether  of  his  eyes,  he  backed  toward  the  open  door,  drawing  her  with  him  step  by  step.

Inside,  Ezra  flicked  on  the  lights  almost  absentmindedly,  guiding  her  the  rest  of  the  way  inside.  Then  he  finally  released  her  chin,  no  longer  grounding  her  in  his  touch,  and  swept  that  hand  back  to  nudge  the  door  closed.  It  slid  shut  with  a  muted  thud,  sealing  them  inside,  and  then  he  took  a  step  back.  Head  tilting  slightly,  his  gaze  roamed  over  her,  tracing  the  delicate  lines  of  her  slight  frame  once  more.  He  let  tension  coil  in  the  quiet,  calculated  distance  between  them  for  a  beat,  before  his  gaze  circled  back  to  hers,  cruel  intent  deepening  the  darkness  in  his  eyes.

"Strip  for  me,  kitten."

SHROUDED BY HIS SHADOW , raelyn took longer strides in order to keep up with him , adrenaline buzzing beneath her skin and festering like a scarlet fever . each nerve was on edge , humming with anticipation , and she was so focused on following ezra that she nearly collided into him when he stopped ; an object in motion meeting an immovable one . large eyes shift upwards , accounting for his stature as she peers through her lashes , a wrinkle between her brows as confusion flickers in her suddenly heated gaze ; flares of eagerness causing cerulean irises to practically glow .

raelyn's head tilts on instinct to fall into his palm , allowing his large hand to cradle the supple curve of her cheek . lower lip puckers at his thumbs affections , pupils pulsing , heart fluttering like the wings of a well-fed hummingbird . his words were soft , like satin , and a chill made her bristle as the syllables slid down her spine like droplets of ice water , stepping forward to stand flush to his side . " red , yellow , and green , " she murmured , the epitome of obedience in this moment , manicure folding into the fabric of her skirt and bunching it between them . the reminder of the words alone was enough for a jolt to be delivered to the apex of her thighs , throat bobbing as she swallowed . raelyn's eyes devote themselves to his , unwavering , blinks slow and controlled so that she won't miss a single ember that may flicker in his gaze . then , repeating his words from months ago back to him ;

" — like a traffic light . "

[munofmanyminds]

[munofmanyminds]

[munofmanyminds]

Her  eyes  narrowed  at  him,  a  tiny  little  squint,  as  though  she  was  studying  him  through  smoke,  trying  to  read  the  folds  in  his  silence  as  if  she  might  find  a  secret,  some  hidden  weakness,  tucked  inside.  As  though  if  she  only  stared  back  at  him  long  enough,  it  would  shift  something.  Maybe  it  even  felt  like  a  tiny  victory  when  he  broke  that  silence  first.  It  was  almost  charming  -  that  she  still  clung  to  the  idea  that  resistance  looked  like  confrontation;  still  believed  that  opposition  equalled  strength.  That  her  silence  could  be  a  shield  if  only  it  came  with  narrowed  eyes.

She  was  wrong,  of  course,  but  he  let  her  stare,  let  her  hold  on  to  that  scrap  of  theatre  as  if  she  were  the  one  setting  the  rules.  And  when  he  did  speak,  he  wasn't  surprised  to  see  confusion  flash  in  her  eyes.  She  hadn't  accomplished  anything  by  asking;  hadn't  gotten  what  she'd  asked  for.  And  she  wouldn't,  because  she  was  still  stuck  trying  to  categorise  him  using  an  old  framework;  captor,  tormentor,  psychopath,  maybe  even  man.  She  didn't  yet  understand  that  he  had  moved  past  all  of  that.  Sebastian  was  something  different  now.

Her  brow  furrowed,  mouth  pressing  into  a  line  that  might've  once  come  off  as  defiant  -  and  then  she  broke  eye  contact,  shifting  to  lie  back  down...  and  turned  her  back  to  him  with  the  kind  of  deliberate  motion  that  was  meant  to  feel  like  closing  a  door.  A  gesture  that  told  him  to  leave  her  alone  with  all  the  finesse  of  a  moody  teenager.  So  Sebastian  stood,  no  change  in  breath,  no  parting  remark.  She  wanted  silence?  So  be  it.  The  door  shut  with  the  same  clinical  precision  it  always  had,  and  the  lock  slid  home  like  punctuation.  The  rhythm  hadn't  changed,  but  its  meaning  had.

——

For  two  weeks,  Sebastian  said  nothing.  Not  through  the  door,  not  in  passing,  not  even  when  the  trays  were  slid  in,  or  when  he  stepped  into  the  cell  while  she  slept  to  remove  the  empty  ones,  glancing  at  the  way  her  her  body  curled  toward  the  wall,  limbs  coiled  like  something  trying  to  take  up  less  space.  She  ate  now  -  every  meal  fully  consumed.  No  hesitation.  Just  efficient,  quiet  consumption.  She  drank  the  water,  too.  Sometimes  all  of  it.  She  no  longer  made  a  point  of  refusing  nourishment  like  it  would  somehow  matter.  But  she  kept  her  silence,  wielding  it  like  a  shield  in  the  darkness.  Like  the  stillness  protected  something.  Like  she  thought  the  world  had  shrunk  to  the  size  of  her  cell,  and  as  long  as  she  stayed  quiet,  untouched,  folded  inward,  nothing  could  reach  her.

So  now  it  was  time  to  remind  her  that  stillness  wasn't  safety.  Silence  was  not  a  shield  for  her  to  wield.

——

Upstairs,  the  room  was  colder  than  the  others,  and  looked  nothing  like  the  relatively  safe  confined  of  Maya's  cell.  This  one  had  no  mattress  -  no  softness.  Only  steel  hooks,  overhead  pulleys,  and  a  drain  in  the  floor  that  had  seen  a  thousand  different  versions  of  red.  His  movements  were  slow,  deliberate,  purposeful  in  their  efficiency.  Every  instrument  he’d  selected  today  had  a  role  to  play.  Not  the  messiest  tools,  but  the  resonant  ones.  The  woman  was  bound  upright,  ankles  secured,  arms  suspended  just  high  enough  to  strain  but  not  dislocate.  Her  eyes  were  swollen  with  tears  already.  She’d  been  here  for  nearly  an  hour,  trembling,  praying,  babbling  incoherently  into  her  gag  until  he’d  finally  removed  it.

Now  sound  poured  out  of  her  like  all  her  fear  and  pain  had  been  waiting  for  release.  Her  scream  pierced  the  floorboards  -  sharp,  ragged,  human  in  the  worst  possible  way.  The  kind  of  sound  no  instinct  could  ignore.  It  clawed  at  the  walls  like  it  wanted  out,  like  it  was  made  of  glass  shattering  in  the  dark.

Sebastian  was  hardly  human  as  he  worked  -  utterly  composed.  Almost  clinical.  Like  this  wasn't  about  this  poor  creature  being  tortured  at  his  hand,  nor  even  about  his  own  satisfaction  in  doing  so.  She  was  a  tool,  a  means  to  an  end,  nothing  more  than  a  new  stimulus  carefully  inserted  into  an  experiment  already  taking  place.  The  only  hint  that  he  might  be  human  came  in  the  subtle  little  whispers  he  eventually  delivered  by  her  ear,  the  ones  that  made  her  screams  settle  and  the  quiet  whimpers  start  back  up.  Good.  She'd  been  loud  enough  to  wake  Maya  up  -  he  knew  that  much,  but  he  didn't  need  heedless  screaming.  He  needed  precisely  timed  wailing  at  the  strike  of  his  baton.  Sound  when  he  wanted  it,  and  how  he  wanted  it.

In  the  bit  of  silence  that  followed,  Sebastian  paused,  not  out  of  mercy,  but  to  listen,  holding  a  finger  up  to  the  set  of  his  lips,  a  reminder  for  his  sobbing  victim  to  keep  her  volume  down.  And  there  it  was,  a  thud  from  below.  Sebastian  turned  his  head,  one  ear  angled  in  the  direction  of  the  vent  designed  to  carry  her  sounds.  Maya's  voice  was  weak  now,  thin,  cracked  and  unfamiliar  in  its  own  disuse.  And  it  wasn't  just  fear  lingering  in  it,  not  just  panic,  but  uncertainty.  From  not  knowing  whether  he'd  answer  -  perhaps  from  needing  him  to.  Good.  Right  now,  Maya  was  listening  -  asking  him  to  speak.  And  beside  him,  his  little  lamb  released  a  shuddering  breath  of  relief  -  like  the  sound  of  another  being  was  somehow  her  salvation.

But  he  wasn't  answering.  Instead,  Sebastian  dropped  his  finger  form  his  lips  and  adjusted  the  pulley  that  held  his  lamb  just  slightly,  angling  her  forward,  spine  strained  at  an  unnatural  pitch.  The  scream  she  released  was  higher,  desperate  -  the  sound  of  someone  who'd  been  fed  a  sliver  of  hope.  Perfect.  

The  screaming  changed  now.  The  pitch  climbed  into  sharp,  fractured  sounds.  A  pleading  edge  broke  into  the  woman’s  voice  -  a  ragged,  breathless  begging  that  came  between  sobs,  unintelligible  but  unmistakably  human.  Nails  scraped  uselessly  at  her  restraints.  Chains  rattled  with  useless  writhing.  After  a  while,  the  rhythm  shifted;  Sebastian’s  work  grew  slower,  more  surgical.  No  more  sudden  strikes.  Just  quiet  sounds;  the  drag  of  leather,  the  hum  of  metal  drawn  from  a  drawer.  A  sharp,  wet  gasp.  A  groan  that  cracked  into  another  scream.

HE WAS SO MECHANICAL , moving as if he were not human but instead , something created to resemble one : no more than the shell of a man with extensive programing as opposed to instinct . he followed rules he had made for himself , showing an appreciation for routine and the waiting game . it were as if the bringing of food , the strategic abandonment of an open door , the assessment of her reactions to his words ( or lack thereof ) were all part of some kind of ritual . experiment . he had said it himself — she had been the most fun he'd ever had . perhaps this routine was one he had much practice in . one he had perfected .

maya's eyes narrow to a slight squint as her stare sews itself to his . the two then spend a moment , many moments , in a silent stand off . each of them operated with different motives : this man used the quiet as a means of asserting dominance , whereas maya used it as a means of self preservation . she didn't shift despite the fact the muscles in her back had began to cramp , that the warmth of the thermos against her cheek beginning to make her uncomfortable with how it permeated in one spot whilst the rest of her bandaged frame shivered .

he caved first , his voice a grating scrape against her ear drums , each utterance of her name feeling like a decisive strike — a means of mocking the very humanity she had tried to claim for herself by insisting on his use of it . something she deeply , deeply regretted now . as he continued , her confusion about his movies grew . not here for comfort , not here for companionship — just here .

maya's brows knotted , a flash of uncertainty in her sunken eyes before she presses her lips firm together . a means of communicating that she was done speaking . the return of the thermos , the return of the weight of her body on the mattress , the rolling over of her form so her bruised and projecting vertebrate faced him . the apple sat like stone in her stomach , and so she curled her legs up into herself to try and curb the nausea , then didn't so much as breathe . she was finished talking , listening , and wished to be alone .

——

little did either of them know that maya's vow of silence and disengagement would persist for two more weeks . a whole month now she had been in his possession , and she wondered if her name had been printed on the very missing posters she used to share on her blog . if anyone was looking for her the same way she looked for others . was anyone looking at all ??

she had grown used to the routine ; three meals a day , fed through the hatch that reminded her of the mail slot on her front door back home . only now , instead of death threats being passed through it was sustenance . means of survival . no longer did she let the trays accumulate mold by treating them like active petri dishes , , , she cleared them down to the crumbs . yet , she didn't feel any stronger . the headaches never subsided despite being fed , being hydrated . she had gotten used to the dark , almost convincing herself she could see in it if she looked hard enough . she had also gotten used to the silence . the never ending quiet she refused to break in an unspoken vow of self defense .

until , one day , she heard the screaming . it was dampened , given the earth being above her and thick walls keeping her enclosed , but it wasn't entirely muted . it was a horrific , harrowing , and sharp sound that pierced the sound barrier as if its goal were to shatter it . maya's head flew up from where it was rested on her bent knees , blinking dazedly through the all too familiar shadows of her unlit cell . then , like the primal animal she were being whittled into , she opted to crawl across the floor ( to reserve strength ) until she was knelt on the other side of her door . maya leaned forward , pressing cartilage to the chilled metal , breaths shuddered as the sound of bellowing — a woman's wails — struck her ear drums .

had he , , , found someone else ??

fuck . was he bored of her ??

panic swelled , blinking away the frightened gloss that had turned her eyes glacial . maya's throat burned as she tired to push words from it , but the act of speaking was so beyond her now it ached . stung .

" h-hello ?? " it was weak , cracked and raw , but she tried . her palms hit the door to compliment it , more so speak on her behalf , her heart beating like it had in the woods that day . maya swallowed , trying to raise her voice again , pressing trembling fingers to the door ; " what's — what's happening up there ?? who's — who's screaming like that ?? is someone there ?? "

[munofmanyminds]

[munofmanyminds]

Hot  breath  gathering  as  moisture  on  his  palm,  on  her  lips,  but  Lana  didn't  look  away  from  him.  Not  when  he  shifted  either,  his  torso  dropping  closer  -  and  certainly  not  when  black  swallowed  his  eyes  whole.  No,  Lana  almost  stared  harder  then,  barely  blinking  at  the  lack  of  light,  the  soulless  void  that  reflected  her  face  back  at  her  as  though  trying  to  taunt  her.  Lana's  jaw  clenched,  teeth  snapping  shut  with  a  force  that  felt  jarring  to  her  skull,  defiantly  silent  even  as  her  body  betrayed  her  in  flushes  and  twitches,  every  nerve  crackling  like  wire  under  current.  His  grin  stretched  wide,  teeth  flashing  bright  in  stark  contrast  to  the  death  in  his  gaze,  and  her  damned  pulse  quickened,  thrumming  violently  in  her  throat.

The  mattress  dipped  under  his  weight,  his  scent  thickening  in  her  lungs  like  a  physical  presence,  making  it  harder  to  breathe.  Her  jaw  loosened  in  response,  lips  parting  once  more  to  let  air  enter  her  lungs  through  her  mouth  -  not  that  it  helped.  She  could  all  but  taste  him  on  her  tongue,  and  it  made  everything  just  a  little  hazier.  He  purred,  a  sound  so  delectably  sinful  she  felt  the  tips  of  her  nails  pressing  into  her  palms  through  the  sheets  they  clenched  like  they  were  the  key  to  her  self  control.  Her  breath  caught  in  her  throat  the  moment  his  teeth  first  caught  the  skin  of  her  throat,  a  jolt  that  had  her  cunt  clenching  and  her  pulse  jumping  happily  against  each  nip  as  if  to  welcome  him  there.  She  pushed  a  heavy,  furious  breath  out  through  her  nose,  her  hips  twitching  as  his  knee  shifted  to  give  way  to  his  palm.  Firm,  possessive,  pressing  down  hard  against  the  soaked  lace  of  her  thong,  it  sent  a  surge  of  electricity  through  her  system  that  made  her  thighs  tense  and  her  hips  shudder,  a  low  groan  finding  purchase  in  the  back  of  her  throat.

Her  body  wasn't  fighting  him  anymore;  it  had  chosen  not  to,  and  the  realisation  wasn't  a  welcome  one  -  but  it  was  irrefutable  as  soon  as  Hayes  sucked  crimson  speckled  skin  between  his  lips  and  growled  into  her  throat.  He  was  peeling  her  open  layer  by  layer,  and  Lana  no  longer  wanted  to  play  a  losing  game.  There  was  no  control  in  that  -  not  when  her  body  was  whispering  its  own  confessions.  It  wasn't  fully  conscious  though,  the  choice  she  made  in  that  moment;  far  more  instinctual  than  she  probably  wanted  to  admit,  but  she  let  go.

Releasing  a  trembling  moan,  Lana  leaned  into  the  pressure  of  his  palm,  spine  arching  just  enough  to  grind  her  aching  cunt  against  his  hand.  It  wasn't  desperation  like  it  had  been  last  time.  This  time,  Lana  took  ownership  of  her  pleasure,  hips  rolling  into  his  touch  with  precision,  neck  stretching  to  give  his  teeth  ample  room.  One  hand  shifted  above  her  own  head,  fingers  dipping  into  soaked  fabric  before  dragging  those  same  scarlet  digits  up  the  side  of  his  neck  to  his  jaw,  painting  him  in  the  evidence  of  her  compliance.  Fingers  lingering  on  his  skin,  her  head  turned  towards  him,  hazel  hues  blazing.  "My  mess  looks  good  on  you,"  she  whispered,  low  and  deliberate,  lips  curling  into  an  almost  feral  little  smile.

HE GREW BORED OF THE ENGLISH TONGUE , of speaking in words in which she understood but was opting to dance around the weight of . it was clear that no speech or threat that graced the pink muscle in his human bodied mouth would provoke the reaction he wanted . so , he spoke with his touch instead , his invasive stare , the way he was sizing her up as if he were no more than a predator deciding where to take the first bite of his prey . his irritation with her unrelenting pride was one that could be ignored , at least for now , favoring instead the way her body seemed to delightedly appreciate his affections as his ground the head of his knee against her cunt . lips remained pressed together , stretched into a thin line , before their corners twitched downwards into a momentary curl of frustrated concentration . then , he dropped his torso , a hand coming beside her head , the other wandering up the top of her thigh , inching beneath the rising material of her skirt's hem . the one in which she had been toying with only moments prior .

the reaper's eyes shifted , like black ink seeping through the woven fibers of white fabric , spreading from the vats of his pupils until his human gaze was void of any sign of life ; no more than a pair of dark , reflective pools of oil that shone her face back at her . hayes's lips then split , a wickedly large grin far too large for his handsome face flashing pearly teeth at her , folding his fingers into the blood soddened sheets besides her head and leaning close . so close he could taste her essence on the air between them , the life he had so kindly forced back into her dampening it . he inhaled , despite not needing air , just to taste the sweetness of it as a low , pleased purr sounded in his throat .

he wanted to ask how it felt , but he didn't need a smug and above-thou answer from her . he could feel how wet she was against his knee , how her heart beat fluctuated , the way her nerves flickered with adrenaline . hayes leaned down , dipping his cheshire grin into the crook of her neck , nipping at the swan like curve of her throat . his knee shifted to make room for his invasive hand as it cupped her sex , the heel of his palm ground into her clit through her underwear , ring and middle probing her entrance through cotton . his mouth latched onto the milk cream of her skin , drawing the patch up between his lips , a grated growl in his throat sounding as he tasted the salt and copper on her flesh .

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"Didn't think it was," he interjected somewhat rudely when she hurried to tell him the powder in question wasn't hers. Dark eyes narrowed slightly, breath leaving evenly through his nostrils as his gaze abandoned her to trail their surroundings once more; reading the room the same way he always did. Coloured lights bounced off glassware and the glistening skin of people crowding the dance floor. Not his scene, not really, but one he was fairly used to being in - even if he usually preferred a distanced presence rather than being in the midst of it.

A girl moved past them, and Roman, barely sparing her a glance, held the door open just long enough for her to slip into the bathroom before he released the door and let it slide shut behind Sade. "Don't really give a fuck whose idea it was, y'know," he finally told her, directing the weight of his gaze back onto her when her fingers brushed against him. "But if those bitches left you here like this, they're not people you should give the fucking time of day."

He gave a subtle shake of his head, jaw shifting visibly. And then, because he had no intention of losing her in the crowd, and didn't want to risk it, Roman reached down and wrapped his fingers around one of her hands, calloused skin warm and rough against her softness. And when he spoke this time, leaning in to allow her to hear him even at a lower volume, there was something a little softer curling beneath the anger, "Stay close, alright?" And with that, Roman began moving them through the crowd, walking ahead of her to clear a path for her to walk in. Most people, reasonably enough, shifted out of the way when they saw him coming, but when a shoulder brushed his own along the way, Roman tightened his grip on Sade's hand and pulled her a little closer to him.

He's angry. She isn't sure she's ever seen him angry with her, and it disquiets her-- her drunken brain can't think past the barely concealed displeasure on his features, and her eyes sting with unshed tears. She hates this-- the way the alcohol pulls all her feelings to the surface, turns her into a weepy, embarrassing mess. As if this isn't bad enough. "Oh--" She bites her bottom lip, his words feel like they soothe something, despite the edge of his tone. For a second she doesn't know what to say, and then--finally-- "Thank you." Though it doesn't feel like it's enough. She follows his lead, brushes past him on mostly steady legs. She glances at the powder and then at his face, mortified. "It's not mine--I promise-- I-- I drank--did my best girls gone wild impression but it's--no nose candy for me." she brushes her skirt, in case she'd gotten any powder on her, and tugs the hem of it down a little. he has a way of making her feel... self-conscious.

"It's wasn't even really my idea. I was with a bunch of girls-- they were coming here it just sort of happened." she waves her hands emphatically, her movements still a little sloppy, and she brushes against his chest. firm-- her brain notes. And her mind veers off into the memory she had of him in the pool three summers ago--she blinks it away, and yanks her hand back, into safer-- easier territories. "This is not my scene--" She hiccups softly. "Stupid idea-- really. I just--want to go home." She confesses, quietly.

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Landon's grin widened at the sound of her laugh, soft and reluctant. He leaned in a fraction closer - just enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Exactly," he drawled then, voice dripping with mock sincerity. His elbow rested casually on the bar behind her, boxing her in without really trying. Blue eyes glinted like he's just won a hand she didn't know they were playing. "You know me; always looking out for your delicate little heart." His smirk sharpened as he tipped his head, eyes raking her like she was the most interesting thing in the room. "It's a dangerous world out there, Carm. Full of guys who wouldn't know how to handle you properly." Blue dropped to her lips for a breath before finding her eyes again. "Can't have you wasting your time when I'm right here."

Carmen made a light gagging sound at the petname he gave her. "I'm definitely not your sweetheart," she argued, shaking her head. At least not right then and there. He was rather annoying, really. The way he was smirking, like he was proud of his work. Still, she didn't move away from him, not even when he leaned closer. His warmth surrounded her completely. As Landon continued to speak, dragging the male he'd just chased off back into their conversation, she couldn't help but laugh softly. Fuck. "And I guess you were just looking after me, right? Making sure little me didn't get hurt? Didn't get her heart broken?" As if.

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She knew where he was going, knew the path he took almost in instinct. Just as he knew she'd follow him there. It didn't matter how fear curled tight in her chest; how much apprehension beat through her veins with every jittery flutter of her heart - his girl would follow. Not because he forced her to, not because there wasn't another choice. Rae would follow because it was her choice to do exactly that. Her choice to be his. Her choice to trust him. Even if she feared him right now, feared what he'd do to her in that room upstairs, she trusted him implicitly.

That was exactly why Ezra didn't rush her when she took just a little too long to obey, why he didn't pause to let her catch up when he didn't hear the pitter-patter of ballet flats behind him. Ezra kept an even, deliberate pace; no more hurried than a man headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. The soft click of a lock from the entryway broke the hush, and still he didn’t slow. She knew better than to dawdle too long. More than that, she wanted to follow. So the least surprising sound of all was the hurried patter of ballet flats as she caught up - and yet, Ezra’s lips curved faintly in quiet satisfaction.

Rae reached him just in time for him to turn down the hall towards the playroom, but Ezra didn't acknowledge her presence - didn't so much as glance her way - until they stood before door. Sliding the key from his pocket, he unlocked the room, fingers curling around the handle but not yet pressing down. He turned halfway to look down at her. Dark hues swept over her, heated with intent, grazing her collarbone, trailed the pulse quivering at the side of her throat, and finally landed on the wide blue of her eyes. His other hand found the softness of her skin, the smooth line of her jaw, and drew her a little closer, until her chest met his side - until he had to tilt his chin almost to his shoulder to account for the height between them.

His eyes never left hers as the tip of his thumb ghosted over the curve of her lower lip. "Tell me your safe words, sweetheart." A gentle reminder to her - and to himself - that this was hers to stop. That she was safe, even now, at the threshold of whatever waited for her beyond that door. It was consent, both offered and asked for, assurances before he allowed himself to dive deep into the part of his psyche that itched to hurt her.

RAELYN'S HEART FELL — SANK — down from her chest to the pit of her belly . then , it plummeted even deeper — beneath her naval , landing between quivering thighs . ezra looked so handsome , at ease , not a tense muscle to be seen in his bulked frame or wickedly charming face . then again , ezra always seemed to be relaxed , , , it was his eyes that gave him away . she wasn't blind to the harrowing gleam that twinkled within the deep stone of his stare , didn't miss the usual inspection he made of her appearance or the tell-tale tilt that slanted his mouth . she swallowed hard at his words , then nodded bashfully . " very fortunate , " raelyn concurred , voice a featherweight whisper as if all her strength had been concentrated on remaining conscious as opposed to fueling her speech .

she hadn't even had a moment to absorb his presence before he was turning , walking inside , instructing — commanding — her to follow . it was disobedience that had lead to these circumstances , an incapability to follow directions , , , the last intention she had now was to dig her grave any deeper . though the temptation was spurred . ever the loyal submissive , after a few breaths to ignite her bravery , raelyn did as she was told . however , the woman noticed where he was going , his steadfast path to the stairway , and she froze . blinking , hands buzzing by her sides , raelyn turned to the door she hastily closed behind her . twitching fingers trembled as they worked to manage the lock , clumsily turning it , already rattled with anticipation . excitement .

once the latch had found its place , she gave the handle a light tug to ensure it was sealed , before turning on the toe of her ballet flat to make quick work of the stairs , trailing behind his monolithic stature like a shadow sewn to his heels .

[munofmanyminds]

An OPEN starter ft. CASSIUS BOUCHERRE | open to f | based loosely on THIS plot (will likely have a more obsessive/possessive than romantic twist) TW: Slavery, dub-con (or non-con, depending), blood play, torture, degradation DO NOT LIKE MY STARTER

He had never liked the smell of the place. It reeked of humanity; sweat, waste and desperation. How the guards endured entire shifts steeped in it, he couldn’t fathom. Cassius would readily admit he’d never felt any particular urge to inspect the basement where the slaves were housed before purchase, but he assumed the stench originated there. The auction hall, at least, remained pristine; the auction master knew his elite clientele demanded no less. It was there that Cassius now stood, beside his seated sister, one hand on the back of her chair - waiting for the merchandise to be paraded out. He was there for her sake alone, and if he had his way, he’d be anywhere else. Celeste liked her indulgences served to her - gilded, gift-wrapped, and grovelling. Cassius, on the other hand, preferred the hunt.

The next hour or so passed in tedious procession. Slaves were led out, appraised, and auctioned off, each transaction a neatly sealed exchange of flesh and fortune. Celeste selected two new playthings for herself, both lovely and docile. Cassius, true to form, was on the verge of yawning... but then the final offering of the night was dragged into the spotlight. A rebel.

Chains clinked around her wrists and ankles as she was shoved into the spotlight. She stood tall despite her restraints, defiant fire blazing in her eyes. Cassius knew it instantly; if given even a sliver of opportunity, she’d drive a stake through every vampire in the room without hesitation. The crowd stirred as the auction master began detailing her capture and recent enslavement, but Cassius barely heard a word. His focus was fixed, unwavering - on her. A slow, amused smile crept across his lips. And then, for the first time in his life, Cassius raised his hand, throwing himself headfirst into the frenzy. The offers climbed fast, and for a while it seemed endless - but eventually, the first contender bowed out. Then the second and third. After a brief glance from Celeste, the last followed suit. Cassius said nothing, but his smirk deepened as he watched his new $735,000 acquisition be dragged from the stage.

Only then did Celeste rise from her seat. "I hope you know what you’re doing with that one," she said quietly, casting her cool, analytical gaze over the dispersing crowd. Cassius chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah? So do I." She shook her head at him before, with a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she took his arm.

* * *

The slave arrived the following evening - clean, bathed, dressed in a dress of thin, sheer fabric that hinted more than it hid. Her wrists and ankles were still chained. She stood flanked by two guards at the front door, opened by a female vampire just as Cassius descended the grand staircase, his steps unhurried, gaze already fixed on the rebel. "I'll take it from here," he told the guards, his voice lazy, his signature smirk tugging at his lips. The guards exchanged a glance, possibly wondering why they weren't asked to deposit her in a cell somewhere, but they didn't ask. One of them passed the key to the female vampire who'd let them in, before they both slipped out without a word. As the door closed, Cassius stepped forward, entering her space with quiet intent.

"Do you have a name?" he asked, tone almost casual. "Or should I just stick with calling you slave?"

[munofmanyminds]

FRANK GRILLO Werewolves (2024)

[munofmanyminds]

An OPEN starter ft. LUKE BRAYDEN | open to f | TW: Kidnapping, dub-con (or non-con, depending), blood play, knife play, heavy degradation

The job was simple: kill the woman, get paid. Clean, straightforward work. He didn’t know what she’d done to end up with a price on her head, and he didn’t care either. Maybe she’d poked around where she shouldn’t have, maybe she’d fucked the wrong guy. Maybe someone just didn’t like her face. None of it mattered. What did matter was the way she looked that night - barely decent in a thin nightgown, tangled in her sheets, the duvet tucked tight between her thighs like some kind of modesty shield. It was enough to rouse something in him. Not mercy. Something worse. Something hungrier. So instead of slitting her throat, he slipped a needle into her arm, quiet, clean, methodical. And then he took her.

She came to inside a cage. Roomy enough to pace, tall enough to stand, just cramped enough to remind her it wasn’t freedom. A thin cot pressed against the back wall, the same slip from the night before clinging to her skin. A single naked bulb buzzed overhead, casting harsh light through the shadows. And just beyond the bars, there Luke was - lounging like it was a Sunday morning. One boot braced against the cage, the tip of a knife idly twisting back and forth against the armrest beside him, his gaze locked on her like a wolf sizing up a wounded doe.

Luke’s lips curled into a sinister smile. "Good morning, sunshine."

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[munofmanyminds]

LILY COLLINS via instagram