#collars and shackles and kinks oh my

[tadpolesonalgae]

Degraded[*]

Nesta x reader

a/n: I haven’t written anything unhinged in a while

warnings: degradation, manipulation on Nesta’s part, slight dubcon because of that, reader having a vague cnc kink, also a bit of a fear kink, dumbification,  heavy d/s dynamics, collar + leash, intense humiliation, squirting, slight overstim, orgasm denial, Nesta’s definitely a mean domme in this so have fun I guess?

word count: 6,323

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You relish the cool bite of the night air as it nips at the exposed skin of your neck, content to take your time on the late walk. 

The sidra is always lovely at this time of night, with the colours amplified by the darkness of the sky, and the smell of food in the air, vendors selling treats and snacks to other like-minded fae as you, who enjoy taking strolls before bed. 

Alcohol permeates just below the slight smokiness of the night air, but you can manage to ignore it—you’re long past that point in your life of drinking until the sun’s rising, scrambling for clothes that were recklessly strewn off the night before. Yes, that’s all far behind you now. And you’re glad of it. 

Your heels click faintly atop the cobbles, streetlights twinkling high above as you pass through various alleyways, taking your sweet time as you meander through the familiar parts of the city. Maybe it would be worth paying a visit to Rita’s…catch up with some familiar faces. It’s been a while since you last swung by, and you find yourself missing the pleasant comfort that’s always available there. The distinct coziness and security provided by the establishment. 

A hand snatches at your wrist, and you nearly stumble as you’re jerked into a narrow alleyway, the abrasive texture of brick grazing your back harshly. 

Your mouth opens in a yelp, but another hand has slapped over your mouth, nails tenderly biting into your cheeks as eyes the colour of mercury burn into you. Instantly you recognise the female, tension dissipating as you relax into the relief, before your brows are furrowing in question—what’s going on? Her palm recedes from your mouth but her hand remains firmly shackling your wrist, and you look at her in confusion. 

“Nesta…” you greet, nervously. “How’ve you been?” 

“Perfect,” she replies, her voice whispering down the vertebrae of your spine, small hairs rising at the nape of your neck instinctively at that quicksilver sound. “You?” 

“Good…” you hedge, glancing about skittishly. “I’m— I’ve been good.” You swallow, trying to regain your composure. Her lips curve faintly. Oh dear… 

“I haven’t seen you recently,” she drawls, stepping closer so her foot is between your own. “Have you been hiding from me?” 

“Hiding from you?” You question, forcing a laugh into your voice. “Why would I be hiding from you?” Her smile sharpens faintly, a hungry glint in her eyes that has your pulse spiking. Heart stuttering further when she again raises her hand to your cheek, gently scraping a nail below your jaw to tilt your head upwards for her. Pushing a strand of hair away, tucking it behind an arched ear. 

You swallow. 

“So…what are you doing, out this late?” You manage to ask, head wanting to dip so you might be spared from the intensity of her gaze. The ire that seems to be continuously ablaze in the depths of her silver stare. “Evening entertainment,” she muses lightly, fingers grazing a spot she knows you find sensitive just shy of your ear, a spot below the hinge of your jaw. You inhale softly. 

“And you?” 

Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips, momentarily fumbling when she follows the motion. “I wanted an evening walk,” you answer, eyes averted and you glance to the relative light from the street. “Then I’ll be getting to bed,” you smile, forcing another laugh, “I like my early nights now.” 

“Hmm? Has all the fun been drained out of you, lamb?” She drawls, a mirthless laugh slicing from her own lips. “Did Amren suck you dry?” 

“No! No, no. I haven’t seen Amren actually since…” you fumble trying to think back, her pesky nail repeatedly scratching at that spot that has your breath trembling. Her grin widens. “Probably in a few months, at least…” 

“And now I’m to understand you’ve taken to staying in, on nights like these?” 

You swallow thickly, all too aware of her proximity, that wretched nail scratching away at the tender soft spot below your ear. Nod your head. “I enjoy it,” you stammer out softly. “It’s pleasant, to…be alone for some nights…” You wonder if she catches your meaning. 

“Only some?” 

Fuck.

“I suppose…company is nice…sometimes too…” you hedge, nervous to displease her. Anxious to slip out from her dominating presence. Her lips curve into a vicious smile, one that you’re sure would feel like steel across your mouth. “Sometimes…” she muses, eyes glinting with ravenous hunger, “tonight?” 

“Uh, I don’t know about tonight…I’m quite worn out…and I’ve been falling asleep earlier, as of late, so…” 

Her smile vanishes, dropping faster than a millstone through water. Apprehension strangles your throat at that look, heart pounding wildly. Her nails close around your neck tenderly, scraping as she steps closer, able to feel her breath on your lips. “Repeat that?” 

You fumble, lungs trembling as your pulse spikes, and you could swear a bead of sweat gathers on your temple. You look away. “Nesta…maybe you should stay in for the night too. By yourself.” 

Her nails scratch at the soft flesh of your cheeks as she grips you harder, forcing your face up. “I thought you liked being my little bitch,” she whispers sharply against your mouth, marking the involuntary shiver of pleasure that tremors up your spine. The small noise that gets caught in your throat. “Has something changed?” 

“No…! Nesta, let me go…” You mumble beneath her grip, hands beginning to raise to pry her fingers away, but one sharp glare has them recoiling to your chest. “My sexuality is as it’s always been, but that doesn’t entitle you to it…” you whimper softly, fingers trembling beneath that barely restrained ferocity. 

Her temper seems temporarily soothed in the blink of an eye. A bat of her eyelashes and it’s gone. Then the hand on your wrist is releasing you in favour of pulling your dress out of the way, her palm sliding effortlessly between your thighs as she cups you through your underwear. Your eyes go wide, inhaling sharply as your lips part at the violation. The entitlement. Her fingers shift, and your hands ball tight over your chest as she presses at your clit. 

You’re unable to look away, her silver eyes burning into your with a starving, simmering heat that’s bound you tight in her spidersilk, breath beginning to pant from your parted lips as she leans closer, mouth skimming your own. “You like this,” she murmurs, so tenderly, fingers swiping softly between your trembling thighs. “Remember how it felt? How much you enjoyed it?” She asks, removing her hand only in favour of gripping your wrist again, but you don’t think to fight against her as she brings your palm to touch her. 

“Remember this?” Nesta whispers, mouth almost atop your own, hips grinding softly over your hand, riding her scent into your skin. “You loved getting the chance to put your pretty face between my thighs, getting to taste me…” she goads, “and you were so good at it too. Better than any of those males by a long shot. So good with my clit.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, heat flushing your cheeks with an overwhelming ferocity, hunger paired with fear. “Is that what this is about?” You force a whisper, lips trembling as her mouth returns to its sharp curve. “You’re bored?”

“I’m bored of not finding my satisfaction,” Nesta drawls atop your mouth. You inhale raggedly as she slips your palm into her underwear, inviting your fingers to dance through the sopping wetness of her heat. “And you will definitely satisfy me,” she murmurs, grinding down on your fingers before guiding them away. “As you always do.” 

With an almost tender touch, she plies your lips apart, guiding your glistening fingers to slide into your mouth, pushing her taste across your tongue. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” She muses, pressing her leg between your thighs, watching how your pupils dilate at her flavour, the memories coming back to you. 

She can feel she almost has you. 

You swallow thickly, eyes dropping away from her own, glancing downward toward the light of the street. You’re supposed to be getting back from your walk soon…supposed to be settling into bed…supposed to be going to sleep soon… 

Nesta pulls your fingers from your mouth, cupping your cheeks in both hands before carefully laying her lips atop your own. There’s the faintest taste of alcohol, but you’re surprised how sober she is…probably hadn’t had time to visit a tavern before she found you… Your breathing stutters, able to feel the faint caress of her lashes against your cheek, her tongue nimbly swiping out to taste you…and you crumble. 

“Just…just tonight…?” You ask, head slightly dipped when she pulls away. A hair-raising laugh spills from her lips as she gazes down at you, hands still cupping your cheeks. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself, be my guest.” You flush, looking up at her from beneath your lashes, brows furrowed faintly. “Do you want this or not?” You mumble, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably. 

“You’ve crawled on your hands and knees for a taste of my cunt before,” she drawls, pressing her thigh closer between your own, causing your breath to hitch, “you’ll crawl again, before the night is up.” 

“I don’t have to come with you, you know,” you try to argue, but there’s already a distinct heat pooling in your lower belly, and she looks like she’s considering dragging you away herself if you won’t follow of your own accord. “You won’t be coming at all, if you keep up with this attitude,” she hisses, a shiver sprinting up your spine. 

You look away. “You never made me come anyway…you always made me do it by myself…” 

“Give me a reason for you to deserve one.” 

“You…you like my mouth better than a male’s…” you mumble softly. 

“You could put in half effort and still be better than a male’s. Maybe if I think you’re actually trying to make me come I’d be inclined to return the favour.” 

“I always did,” you insist, flushing. “I always made sure you came. You never did anything for me…you just wanted pleasure…”

“Oh please,” Nesta hisses, shoving firmly at your shoulders, making the brick of the wall dig into your back. “Like you didn’t get off on it. I know you loved how objectified I made you feel, how much you loved getting to shut up and follow my orders. That’s why you kept coming back, because you love my kind of degradation. And that’s exactly why you’re going to drop everything for me tonight and fumble your dumb, ditzy way back to my place, just so you might get the tiniest bit of approval from me.”

You stare at her, speechless, arousal thick and heavy in the air as you flush. 

“Now, I’ll ask you again,” she murmurs, and you can feel her breath as it fans across your mouth. “Do you, or do you not, want to be my good, little, bitch.” 

————

Honestly, you’re surprised how clean her apartment is. Sure there’s still some clothing strewn about, but as far as you can tell the sheets are washed and crisp, the duvet recently changed, and only the faintest scent of liquor in the air. You’ll admit a part of you had been antsy at having to go over to her place, where you’d be so isolated, but… well, it looks okay, at least…

“Strip,” Nesta orders, and you turn to look at her. “Do I need to repeat myself for those dim ears of yours?” She murmurs, worryingly softly. Like the calm before the storm. You flush. Look away. “No…”

“No, what?” She probes.

You bite the inside of your lip. “No, ma’am.” 

Silver eyes narrow on you, then she’s turning away, and you glance down at yourself, feeling how swiftly your body has prepared itself for her. The sensitivity in your breasts, the tingling heat between your thighs…you lick your lips, sliding the straps down over your shoulders before lifting the dress up over your head, leaving you bare save for your underwear. 

“Come here,” she commands, your skin prickling at the stern tone. 

Bare feet pad across the wooden floors, and she turns to face you. “You know, I thought you might be a little hesitant to return to me,” she drawls, her hands faintly skimming your bare hips, nails scraping over the thin string of underwear. “So I got you something I think you’ll like.” She applies a pressure to your hips. “Kneel.” 

You settle on the floor, hands in your lap as you look up at her shyly. 

Nesta’s lips curve, them her fingers are deftly releasing the strings holding the bodice of her dress together, allowing the material to go slack over her lovely form, before pulling it away entirely. Leaving her in little clothing. “Do you like the view from down there,” she muses, one palm lightly cupping her breast, the other trailing tauntingly lower, fingers slipping between her parted legs. You swallow. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Silver eyes twinkle, then she’s pulling something from the drawer at her back. When you realise it’s a collar, you hurry to look away to hide the ferocious heat that’s undoubtedly ravishing your body. A single, disciplinary tut has you righting your posture, spine straightening as you incline your chin so she can attach it to you. “I knew you’d like this little thing,” she murmurs, tightening the straps so it fits well, still able to slip two fingers between the collar and your skin, before she attaches the leash. 

“I told you you’d be crawling for me before the night was over,” she taunts, feet parting a little wider as she gives a short tug on the leash, beckoning you up onto your knees. She wraps the lead around her knuckles, keeping it tight when she tangles her hand in your hair. “Keep still. Don’t move until I tell you to,” she commands, giving a punishing tug. 

You release an involuntary whimper as she steps forward while holding you still, a mere scrap of fabric between you and her cunt as she stands over you, close enough your mouth is pressed flush to her clit. It’s a struggle to not part your lips, with her heat and her scent right there. How her arousal is filling your every breath. 

“Now, you’re going to listen carefully because I’m only going to tell you this once,” she mutters, grip tightening on you. “I think you have been avoiding me lately, and I don’t appreciate it. There are a lot of males in this city I could go to for pleasure, but very few of them would actually give it to me. Fewer still well enough to make me want to return to them, especially when it comes to knowing how to work their mouths well.” 

You try to concentrate, but your mouth is watering from how dizzyingly close you are to her cunt, practically able to feel the dampness seeping through onto your lips. 

Another punishing tug on your hair, pressing her hips closer, so Nesta can really only see your nose and eyes, though she’s working on making more of you disappear from her vision. 

“Knowing all that, don’t you think it was cruel to vanish like you did? To deprive me of that pleasure? That only another female could give me?” She drawls, tone sharpening to something icy and bladed. “I went so long without it, you know. Missing the feel of your lovely, pretty mouth between my legs, the way you actually know what to do with your tongue. Even those dumb noises you made when I was particularly punishing to you.” She takes another small step, forcing you to crane your neck back as she settles over the lower portion of your face, nose now pressing to her clit, mouth poised to…you can’t finish the thought…

“So if you think for a second I’ll be warm and welcoming to you, grateful that you’re dumb enough to fumble your way back to me, you’re mistaken.” Her hips buck, rubbing her scent into your skin, giving in to that need to mark you as her own, so nobody else can claim your pleasure. “You won’t be getting so much as an ounce of pleasure from me,” she whispers, thumb stroking with faux-care over your scalp, “until you’ve repaid every night I’ve missed. Every orgasm I’ve had to settle for since you decided to take your mouth away from me, every half-decent lay, and the ones less that that, you’re going to make up for every, single, one of them.”

Gods, your limbs already feel weak. You need more of her. 

“And you’re going to degrade yourself wholeheartedly, because your only goal tonight is to please me. Understand?” 

You whimper in response, wanting to touch her, to wrap your hands around her thighs, but you know you’d only get in more trouble for that. Her lips curve, apparently satisfied with whatever she finds in your eyes, but steps away before you can get a chance to use your mouth on her. 

“Now crawl,” she murmurs, making to walk over to the bed, forcing you to descend onto your hands and knees to follow after her, the leash still clutched taut in her hand. Humiliation pleasantly simmers beneath your skin as you cross the floor, a small portion of you happy to be engaging in this behaviour with her again. After so long without it. 

Nesta prowls onto the edge of her bed, keeping you behind her as she settles on her knees, bringing a pillow forward for her to lie on, looping your lead between her legs. Then she settles down, tugging faintly on the leash to drag you closer. “I’ll take my underwear off when I think you’ve earned it,” she tells you, getting comfy on her bed, and you can make out the rustling of pages. 

She did this a lot when you were with her before—hiding you away beneath her skirts, or tucking you under a thin sheet then turning to a book to conjure up a fantasy. Maybe not the healthiest dynamic you’ve been in, but gods did it turn you on how she demeaned and exploited you. Pretended you weren’t there for the sake of her own pleasure. 

“Are you waiting for something?” She mutters, jerking hard enough on the leash you’re pulled to her cunt, parted lips settling over her centre, and she bucks her hips lightly, thighs spreading wider to get you closer. 

You hastily raise into a sitting position, hungry to start working on her, to please her enough she’ll let you have a taste… She makes no noise of contentment when you lay your hands on her, but her figure relaxes significantly, muscle melting into her bed as she resigns herself over to you, and a kernel of pride blooms in your chest that you could get this terror of a woman to give herself over to you. 

You swallow thickly, one palm resting on her ass while the other thumbs down her centre, getting to work on slowly building up that heat. She prevents abrupt and intense stimulation, but with the added layer of difficulty of her underwear in the way, capping the amount of sensitivity you can exploit from her, you’ll have to take a more slow, deliberate approach. You allow your breath to ghost across the inside of her thigh, nosing lightly at the intimate skin, letting her anticipation build as your fingers trail teasingly across her hind, almost reverently. 

As lightly as you can manage, you press your lips over the top of her underwear, slowly, slowly making your way down, following the thin, grey silk band to where it darkens, arousal having soaked the lovely material. You can feel her tighten beneath your mouth. Nesta shifts on the bed, and a page turns. 

Swallowing thickly, you press your lips to the apex of her thighs, and she snatches at the opportunity you’ve presented to grind back against the tip of your nose, tightening the pull on the leash so you’re flush with her cunt. Smoothly, you graze your palm across the exposed skin of her hind, redirecting sensitivity while you open your mouth. Gently, you lay the flat of your tongue against her clit, giving time for the saliva to soak through, so the material will be less abrasive. 

Nesta shivers as you apply a slight pressure, grip slackening on the leash enough for you to run your thumb down her centre, switching positions to lick at the dip between her thighs, softening the already wet material, sucking on it lightly to better taste her arousal. Her spine curves faintly as you push the pad of your thumb to her clit, oscillating slowly as you focus on working her up, tongue flicking at her entrance. 

When she begins to get impatient, tightening her hold on your leash, you switch back. Your thumb rests over her entrance, circling thrice before slipping beneath the dove-grey silk, pressing flush to her heat. Nesta rolls her hips down, and you kiss up her centre, pressing your middle and further finger against her, soaking them in her slick and it takes all of your discipline to keep from licking at them right then and there. Only in favour of sinking them inside of her, feeling how she grips at your digits, already knowing how much pleasure they can bring. 

“Hurry up,” she mumbles, but you can hear the slightly breathless note in her voice, the way her hips are winding, and anticipation builds in the pit of your belly. 

Focusing on pumping and curling your fingers, you continue applying that pressure to her clit—more than anything that’s been the kind of stimulation she’s been missing, so it’s the kind you will target. Relentlessly. When you have better access to her, that is. For now, you’re searching. It’s been a while since you’ve been with her, and you need to re-familiarise yourself with her— there. 

Her toes curl, body moving atop the pillow as she squeezes at your fingers, clenching around them when you brush up against a spot she likes. Your lids flutter with pleasure, sealing your lips over her heat, pushing your fingers further inside to better rub their pads against that spot, kissing at her cunt while beckoning her closer…and closer… Nesta’s body goes taut, her toes curling as the orgasm releases through her, her fingers gripping the sheets as you push against that spot, not once slowing or shifting your rhythm as she flutters around your digits. 

A quiet curse slips from her lips as you carry her through the aftershocks, pulling back to rub your thumb atop her clit, sending fresh pulses of pleasure through her. 

Nesta raises from the pillow lethargically, like an ancient creature at last waking from its slumber, and she pulls on the leash again, dragging you to her wet cunt as she spreads her thighs, grinding over your face, the lead rubbing against her clit. You inhale deeply, hands tenderly wrapping around her thigh and calf, keeping yourself close. 

A low, mocking laugh drags from her lips, forcing you to remain plastered to her cunt as arousal seeps through onto your skin, holding you there as she rides out her pleasure. “You’ve missed this, haven’t you slut?” 

You whimper at the name, and she laughs again, using you like a pillow to rub and grind against until she’s satisfied. 

“Now,” she instructs, settling higher onto her hands and knees, “I want you to remove my underwear. Don’t use your hands, and don’t lick anything. Get to work.” 

You swallow a moan, rising higher to latch your teeth over the band at the base of her spine, forcing yourself to drag the material away and keeping your mouth to yourself. It’s a harder task than it sounds, watching the slick fabric peel away, strings of silvery arousal webbing between her thighs, the heavy traces of her orgasm difficult to ignore, but you manage to complete your task. Enough so that Nesta shifts on her own, removing her underwear when you’ve tugged it down to her thighs, exposing her to the cool air of the bedroom. 

“Come up here,” she instructs, shifting along the bed to make room for you, and you follow swiftly, crawling up onto the plush mattress. Her lips curve when you pause a healthy distance from her. “Closer,” she drawls, reaching for your lead but you scurry forward before she can tug on it. But still, “closer.” 

You pause when your knees might as well be brushing her own, hands set in your lap as you look up at her nervously. 

“There were a few things that surprised me, when I first decided to try you on,” Nesta muses, letting her fingers roam across the top of your thigh, moving in faintly circular patterns. “One of them was how shameless you were,” she continues, “I couldn’t fathom ever submitting myself in the way you do. But I suppose that’s why I’m the one who does the degrading, not the other way around.” 

Her fingers persist on their travels, skimming to the inner part of your thigh, and when she taps her nail twice, you shyly part them a little. Nesta hums slightly, and her palm slides between your legs, fingers running over the damp material clinging to your hips, dragging them over your sex teasingly, noticing possibly for the first time just how you react to her touch—hands tightening into fists just shy of your knees, the increase of temperature in your skin, that wonderfully bashful look that’s kept in the set of your brows. 

“But I think what I found the most surprising was how, despite your pretty exterior, how you put yourself together, your composure and polite demeanour,” she smiles, and no good can come of that smile. You feel yourself getting wetter, aching for her, but as if sensing that acute need, she pulls away, instead dragging her underwear closer. “All of that was put together to hide that nasty little fixation of yours, hm? Isn’t that right?” 

She circles the tip of her finger atop the mattress, in one of the holes for her legs, and you swallow thickly, catching the way a section of the material glistens with a thick coating of slick. Hers. Her orgasm. 

You’re too busy off in your own world that you don’t notice her hand until it’s gripping your jaw, nails lightly piercing your skin as she holds you still. “You’re so dirty beneath all of that,” she mutters, fingers curling around the band that would settle at her hip, “and yet you have the guile to try and act so innocently to the world. Pretend you’re so sweet, and quiet, and charming. But I know better.” 

She grips her underwear in her hand, fingers squeezing firmly at the hinge of your jaw and you have no time to think as she shoves the erotic flavoured part of clothing into your mouth, holding you still so you’re utterly under her control. 

“So dumb beneath all that, aren’t you? Silly, stupid, foolish girl,” she hums, pressing down on your tongue to draw more whimpers from your throat, mind fogging at her rough touch. “There’s nothing going on behind those eyes of yours, is there? Not a single thought, other than trying to memorise what I taste like, trying to conjure up a dirty little fantasy to help get yourself off. Not even trying to please me anymore, are you?” 

Nesta’s silver eyes glint like mercury as she rubs her fingers over your tongue, infusing her flavour with your saliva, making sure you get all of it in your mouth. 

“How hot and bothered would you get if I tied you up and left you tucked away beneath my bed for a few hours, with my underwear gagging your dumb little mouth to stop it from making any more of those stupid noises?” She croons, moving closer, rising up onto her knees so you have to look up at her. “Would you like that?” She whispers, a power-hungry gleam in her eyes. “What else can I make you do, hm? How far will you go for me, if I tell you to? Wear that collar in public for me? Let me permanently mark those thighs of yours? Spend full days on your hands and knees for me? I bet you’d love that last one, such a pathetic little slut, aren’t you?” 

Nesta laughs, gripping you tighter as a wetness shines on your lashes, able to smell as your arousal spikes, humiliation flushing your skin. 

“Go on,” she mutters atop your mouth, smiling cruelly. “Tell me how you’re my perfect little slut.” 

Your eyes widen, looking away, tongue swiping across your lips when she pulls her underwear from your mouth expectantly. “Nesta…that’s a bit far…” 

“Hm? A bit far?” She parodies, making to lay back on her mattress, that smug, domineering smile staying on her perfectly curved lips. “You don’t get to say I’m going a bit far when you’ve waited hours on your knees beneath my vanity for me to give you the okay to stick your ditzy face between my thighs.” 

Your lips part on a shocked inhale, vicious flame engulfing your body whole, like you’ve been dunked in a slightly too-hot bath and need to be getting out. 

Nesta smirks, laying back into the plush cushioning of her pillows, legs bending at the knees to spread herself open, and you flush further when she beckons you over, a single elegant finger directing you toward her exposed, dripping cunt. “Come over here,” she murmurs, still looking smug. 

Shyly meeting her gaze, you crawl forward, settling lower to the bed as you open your mouth, anxious to finally lay your tongue over her, to bury your face into the sopping wetness of her pussy. But Nesta hasn’t let her original plan go, and you squeal when her nails rake across your scalp, holding you in place, less than an inch from her lovely cunt. So close you could probably lick her, if you tried. 

“I told you to say it,” she whispers in a tone that sounds like it’s trying to mimic care. A little whiney, a little taunting. Wholly mocking.

“Go on,” she encourages, lips curving into that smarmy little smile again, “say you’re a pathetic little slut. Or I’ll be more than happy to toss you back to the streets.” You can guess that’s a lie after how she sought you out, but her pride is fierce enough, and she’s stubborn enough to possibly follow through…

Silver eyes pierce into you. “…I’m…your…” 

“Where are you looking?” She drawls, tugging on your hair once, redirecting you to her cunt. “I know what you are. Tell her.” She pulls you closer, so her arousal glistens on your lips, and it would be so easy to flick your tongue out…

Your toes curl with embarrassment, an arousing twinge of shame unspooling in your abdomen as you lower your gaze to her pussy. “…I’m…I’m your pathetic little slut.” 

Nesta laughs, spreading her legs wider as she pushes you against herself, hips winding against you as her thighs squeeze either side of your head in pleasure. “I knew you’d say it,” she taunts, “too desperate to go without it. Dumb, ditzy, desperate slut.” 

You could moan from how good it feels to be so intimately placed in relation to her bare heat, feeling how she’s lightly riding your face, swiping her hips up and down to glide across your slick-soaked features, liking how your mouth feels pressed flush to her entrance, nose pressing at her clit. “Get started,” she muses, a little breathless, thighs squeezing you with need. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.” 

Your lips part, and her flavour rushes in, pulled further into your mouth with every fervent swipe of your tongue through her centre, parting her until the tip reaches her clit, circling and trailing around it in the way she’s been yearning for. Nesta’s hips buck with pleasure, and you close your lips around her, suckling eagerly while your palms wrap beneath her legs, skimming the tops of her thighs as you drink her taste down, so much more concentrated that what you got from her underwear. 

Gods, she’s heavenly. 

Nesta curses on a low, rushed exhale, grappling for her book again, and you flush as she balances it across her sternum, effectively blocking you out once more. You feel at least a small part of you should be indignant about her obsession at refusing to acknowledge you, but it allows you to focus on her. 

Carefully removing your hand from her thigh, you trail down to her entrance, pushing your tongue against her, lapping and flicking against her as you begin pushing small circles into her clit. She inhales sharply, and you know the sound. It’s always different when it’s someone who understands what’s going on between your legs, who can choose to target sweet spots and use them to their advantage. Your tongue flattens against her, pushing inside, and the circles become tighter; meaner. Rapidly dragging her closer, making use of the sensitivity you’ve created from that first orgasm. 

The curses become more frequent, though they’re all barely muttered under her breath. You switch around, lips wrapping around her clit to suck while your hand slides lower, slipping in your middle and forth finger with arousing ease. 

She’s so wet. 

You know it’s helped on by the first orgasm, but even then, she’s practically drooling slick onto the sheets, even after you’ve spent so long licking it up. 

“More,” Nesta murmurs, voice breathy and undone; you follow obediently. 

You know exactly where to touch, where to rub up against again, curling your fingers and keeping in rhythm with the suctioning pulses you’re creating with your mouth and tongue, pulling her clit between your lips and circling the tip of your tongue against that sensitive part. You can feel how it’s hardened from the stimulation, growing taut beneath your ministrations. 

Nesta’s spine arches, and you keep pushing against that spot, knowing exactly the kind of reaction it’ll reward you with. 

She makes a strained noise in her throat, deep and breathy, book falling aside as she tries to cover her mouth as the second orgasm gushes through her…and from her. You moan as she splashes onto you, a little taken aback, having forgotten what it was like to have her soaking you. 

Heated, silver eyes glance downwards, a beautiful pink flush heavily colouring her cheeks, and you have to press your thighs together when she reaches down and spreads herself apart, making an upside-down V with her fingers, intentionally squirting across your face, taking her pleasure in marking you so territorially. You get the vague impression it’s turning her on more that it is you. 

Nesta doesn’t once look away, practically coming again from the humiliation of it all, her lips curving in a feline grin, dripping feminine satisfaction, sinking into the luscious plushness of her pillows. As if she’s finally back where she belongs, after being denied her rightful position. 

Her fingers shakily roll over her clit, delivering slow, almost lazy circles that cause her thighs to flinch with each pass, and you obediently return to lapping at her heat, gently licking up the orgasm from her dripping pussy, careful not to waste a single drop.

With a steadied grip, Nesta pulls on your leash, and you rise desperately from her heat, your own cunt aching for some kind of relief. 

“Nesta…it’s your turn,” you insist softly, a deep flush on your cheeks from how needy you sound. She arches an eyebrow, and your brows curve with desperate frustration. “Nesta, you said you wouldn’t do this,” you whine, following her pull on the lead until you’re hovering above her, poised  to lower yourself to her breasts should she order you to. “Please, I need to cum so badly…” 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t touch yourself,” she muses, two finger looping directly beneath your collar to pull you closer to her mouth. “I can sit on your face, while you use those talented little fingers on yourself,” she croons, lips brushing against your own, making you release a noise of disappointed frustration. 

“No, you said…” you fumble, recalling that she didn’t exactly say anything. “I’m not… I’m leaving if you don’t. It can’t just always be for your pleasure, you know. I’m serious this time. I’ll leave…” Nesta’s lip curls, silver flame blazing bright in those tormentingly beautiful eyes of hers, inciting both your fear and your arousal. “You aren’t stepping foot outside this bedroom, much less getting to come on your own until you make me do that at least two other times,” Nesta hisses against your mouth, a snarl coming through from beneath. 

“And don’t even think about trying to sneak yourself some relief now,” she mutters, a punishing ire gleaming hot in her silver stare. “Pathetic little sluts don’t get to cum. Now stop whining. I told you exactly what you were in for before we started, so don’t try and act all shy now,” she tells you, her legs moving to guide you into the next position she wants, dragging you back down her body to continue servicing her aching pussy. 

Her mouth shifts with knowing, a distinctly self-satisfied expression passing over her cruelly honed features, voice softened to a mocking drawl. 

“This is exactly what you want.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

[laubritter2]

what kinks do you think gortash has?

We literally know nothing about his preferences in game, so, my headcanon is that he's into being dominated and/or used… this can take on so many forms. (If that wasn't showing already LOL)... Also a relevant post to this fantasy, yea yea. It's like an outlet for him.

I switch between the fantasy that he's already kind of a slut and has some "trustworthy" Banites he orders around when he feels like it (and they humiliate and fuck him)... so like, gang bang and objectification. This is often just for drawing out some porn.

OR a very strong other idea and that is that he does not seek out sex that much on his own (actually more align with his canon character to me), and those activities come from Durge taking on the active role. But Gortash still very much enjoys it when it happens (I can dream)... Like an opportunity presented to him. Aw it's a bit silly but I love the idea of Gortash not wanting to "ask" Durge for those sessions (like he's above those desires, and he has "no time for such things" lol), and sometimes Durge likes to tease him and it makes Gortash sulky and aggravated. But then he focuses on his grand plans anyway. It's a bit of a corruption fantasy, like the self controlled, strong willed Archduke being put into such submissive positions, and also liking it.

In this dynamic, I think Gortash enjoys, hehe, any kind of restraint. So Bondage, or more artistic Shibari, shackles, mouth gags,... being vulnerable and at Durge's mercy. Also the humiliation aspect if he's put into shameful positions hehe, or when he drools all over himself... Wearing a collar, being led around on all his fours... being stepped on.

Gortash made to "serve" Durge, completely naked, he has to bring him wine, or little snacks, and Durge feeds him from his hand.

Getting SPIT on. Cum on his body. I'm also thinking about watersports, like Durge giving him a shower, yea I see that with him. More advanced, he's then ordered to swallow it. Oh it's so degrading for him.

A little bit of whipping and slapping, SPANKING. But I don't see him liking straight up physical pain or that he's a real masochist (like cutting or such things, or burning). Maybe that would actually trigger some bad memories from the past. I mean he got straight up beaten and the scars are very likely from this time. I think he doesn't like anything that leaves scars.

With one exception, after some time, Durge gave him nipple piercings. Whenever Gortash brushes against something or feels them, he has to think about Durge... and of course, he also likes that... and they look so hot on him. But he could take them out anytime.

Sometimes Durge makes him wear Shibari rope, or leather gear, underneath his normal clothing hehe and he feels it when he moves and no one can find out.. he's so pathetic and horny and he has to wait for Durge to release him. Sometimes also a butt plug.

I can picture Gortash also liking metal. Like the material and the feeling of it (cold and hard). When he wears shackles with a heavy chain, or Durge could make him kiss or lick a sword/weapon :).

Durge wearing armor and he strokes Gortash's naked body with his gauntlets (outer parts) and pressing against him, holding him in place... Durge using his cane. His collar is also made of metal.

Alright that's about it for now....

[hardcoreyiffmaster]

Heya :3

Just gonna introduce myself I guess, might update this when I feel like it I'm a switch/mostly sub from Germany, I have a dick and I like women (although men are also really hot), demisexual, possibly polyamorous and a GaYmEr. Currently I'm doing a bondage kink solo challenge run, but am looking for a partner or partners to help me finish (hehe) my bdsm% speedrun because tying yourself up gets boring after a while. Not really interested in open relationships tho

So ummm I guess hmu if you're into that lol

I am into: bdsm, handcuffs (love the ✨aesthetic✨), metal shackles, ropes, ropemarks, leather, leather straps (fashion, restraints and strap-ons), belts, boots, corsets, goth fashion, collars, leashes, gags, blindfolds, assertive women, femdom, multiple doms/subs, brats (both being one and having a bratty dom), tied up cuddling (also leave me tied over night💤), tickling, spanking, edging, teasing

I'd like to try: hardcore bondage, bondage games (like with dice or something but also gaming and stuff yada yada🎲🎮), shibari, suspension bondage, long-term bondage (tie me up and leave me for hours🖤), cages, petplay, primal play, light roleplay, pegging, ball-busting(?), chastity (?), whipping, hardcore tickle torture (restrained with gag and all☠), sensory deprivation, overstimulation, being owned (locked collar, shackled to the bed, gagged when I talk too much🔒), shock collars, electrostimulation, nipple torture, different kinds of (kinky) torture in general

I'm NOT into: ageplay, permanent damage, body modification, bodily fluids of all kinds (sweat and saliva are aight I guess), scat, humiliation, degradation, voyeurism, exhibitionism (though I'm not opposed to outdoor bondage), cnc, pregnancy

So yeah that's me I may occasionally post gaming stuff or artwork I made (if I get back into drawing that is) but this will mostly be my horny blog because I'd like to keep that separate from my main Oh yeah and to reiterate: NO minors; this blog is strictly 18+ if you try to interact with me anyway then I swear, in the name of the Goddesses of the sun and moon, of collars, leashes and handcuffs, I will smite you and block you swiftly and without mercy.

Have a nice day <3

[yeah-they-call-me-d]

a**** created a not about me in her phone for all the things i like, dislike, do that are strange, and weird things i say. i’m really falling in love with this girl, and i did not know it is possible.

there was this weird part of me that was convinced i was asexual. i have now learned because of her, that i am a hardcore top and also like some really kinky shit. i mean i guess i always knew i had kinks but i have been shackled to vanilla sex for my entire sex life. it has been a crazy ride because we have only been sleeping together for a month but i have done more things to her body than i ever thought i would do in a lifetime.

it’s crazy how i will have gone from writing about hating my life and wanting to die, to describing my escapades in my kink/dom journey.

anyways, currently we have done orgasm control, plugs, vibrator that connects to my phone, public teasing (i hope we can get to orgasms, but i don’t think she can do it nonchalantly enough). now we move into the ball gag/restraint chapter. next i presume will be something even better, so i am very excited. more likely than not wax play i assume.

oh she also learned that she likes to bleed. i gave her a hickey on her collar bone, but it turned into a very tight bite that ended up bleeding and i sucked blood out of her. it was quite literally the hottest experience in my life having someone elses blood in my mouth. we are thriving.

[storibambino]

The Gift

A/N: This is for @havpojke Baby Boy wanted Tony filth so I give you Tony filth. This is 554/30,000 for my challenge All porn limited plot

Summary: Tony gives you a gift, then another, and another.

Tony treated you so well. He could give you anything you want and most of the time he did. But more than that he made sure to give you everything you needed. Everything.

"Baby boy get in here." You entered the lab nonchalantly still looking at your phone in your hand.  When you looked up you didn't see Tony. But you felt him. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and picked you up. "There's my baby boy. I have a surprise for you."

He put you down on a workbench then told you to close your eyes and hold out your hands. Being a very good boy you obeyed. Something cool was dropped in your hands, you didn't dare look until you were given permission. When it was finally given you excitedly looked at your new gift. It was a circle pendant no bigger than a quarter with a small ring punched through the top. You were confused.

"Turn it over silly boy." You did what you were told and were greeted by an elegant engraving of My Baby Boy written in neat script. "Made it myself." Tony beamed at you.

"I love it but what is it for?"

He flashed another brilliant smile. He dropped a box in front of you. You tore off the top and found 7 unique collars, ranging from small like a necklace to a thick one of black leather.

"It's a layered surprise. There's more," He cooed.

Before you could properly voice your thanks something cold wrapped around your ankles, Tony's nanobots had formed shackles there. He lifted the box and pendant from your hands. He picked out the thick leather collar and attached the pendant. You reached out for him and cuffs quickly formed around your wrists. You whined with anticipation. Tony shushed you stepping behind you, lifting your chin. He placed the collar around your neck and secured the collar around it. He stepped from behind you to admire his work. "We are gonna have some fun baby boy."

Tony was usually a kind and patient lover but if the way he cut your clothes off was any indication of what was to come there would be no lovemaking. He stood you up and bent you over his workstation. Your arousal was already waiting for him. He forced your face into the counter and pushed himself inside you completely. Only he could turn you into a mewling mess so quickly. The shackles kept you deliciously spread and the cuffs clacked across the tabletop as you gripped the opposite side. He set a quick pace slowing to drive in fully every third or fourth stroke. He worked his fingers under the collar pulling enough to choke you and make you feel spacey. The other hand came down hard on your ass, causing you to yelp. He alternated between spanking you and yanking your head back. You were in heaven and your orgasm was building quickly. You tried to signal but you couldn't form coherent thoughts. Tony ever observant knew what was coming. He pulled you close and whispered those sweet words you needed "Come for me baby boy." You came undone completely, shaking and crying. When you came down from you high Tony was looking down at you.

"Ready for round 2?"

[relax-and-read-on]

Since there was The Shameless Anon who asked about Sang/Horus kinks in bed, and you apparently like the Magnus/Perturabo ship and Perturabo/Forrix, may I ask for same kinky hcs but for them?

Walking nearby in an Iron Warrior style you know🌚

We do not shame the horny anons in this house!!! Yall can come in and yell about the sex life of anyone in 40k!!!! (Including Cain. Especially cain actually. Pls. Yell at me about my fav normy human)

Meanwhile, back to kinky kink!!!

Magnus/Perturabo

Size. Kink. You would get one too if you could shapeshift. Sometime, Magnus get so small and delicate, it's a struggle for Pert to fuck him. Other time, he gets so big, Pert feel surrounded and cared for.

You have never meet a pair of bitches becoming so horny just from praise, and it goes both way. It's kinda funny how nice they are to each others in bed.

Ohhh the hair pulling!!! Magnus hair is just ASKING to be grabbed.

Daddy kink? Daddy kink. I don't even know wich of those two bitch got it first, but it sure is there.

Perturabo love seeing Magnus in bondages. He prefer ropes with him tho, it fit his aesthetic.

Sometime, Magnus give himself a sex change, because wrap magic. It always greatly interest Pert, who is very bi, compare to our Gay King Magnus.

Floating sex!

Perturabo/Forrix

Oh boy. Perturabo very much has the control of the dynamic.... Most of the time. If he lets his wall down and let Forrix dom him, he is extra ashamed the next day.

Forrix like being allowed to gently Dom pert. Things like praise, soft touch, control.... It get him going.

Sometime, Perturabo is angry, and in those moment, Forrix is very much a chew toys. It's a miracle he hasen't had a broken pelvis yet.

You can add Perty on the "List of primarch who like getting cockwarmed while doing paperwork"

Humiliation. A very, very solid helping of humiliation kink. Ill let you decide who get shamed.

Forrix like massaging Pert. It's actually a very relaxing moment for the both of them, and qyickly become very sensual.

Heavy restrain. And by that I mean shackles and Iron collar.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 140

And here we have the last chapter of the Food Festival!  This is one part I was pretty excited to write - The Closing Costume Party.  I wouldn’t have been able to get this one squared away without @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog... Both of you caught a few things I didn’t that kept it from making sense from a reader perspective. So thank you both, very much.

I growled softly to myself as I twisted my arms behind my back to pull on my costume. Normally, I was more than flexible enough, but the amount of leverage I needed right now just wasn’t happening unless I was willing to seriously dislocate something. Dropping my hands, I frowned as I jiggled my arms a little to work feeling back into my elbows.

“You really should have fitted this sooner than now,” Conor laughed against the back of my head as he pulled the laces tight on the blood-red corset.  Getting one made while laying low and avoiding Hannah had been a nightmare, but it was going to be worth it. I just knew it.

“You just wanted to see me try this entire costume on sooner,” I joked as I felt everything fit snugly - but not too tightly - into place.

Maverick flicked a lock of my hair over my shoulder and positioned it just-so. “It’s not his fault that you couldn’t fit this over your scrubs and have it work for tonight.”

“Who wants to see a corset over scrubs?” I scrunched my nose at the thought while smoothing my sleeves and adjusting my collar. “So far so good?” I asked, slightly louder.

As a credit to their maturity regarding the matter, both men looked me over earnestly before glancing at each other. Conor finally broke the silence. “Aren’t the slits in the skirt a bit… high?”  Maverick whispered in his ear, and an expression of utter comprehension glowed on his face. “Oh! That’s… Love, that’s clever.”

I grinned hard enough to cramp my jaw. “Thank you.”  Despite how daring the outfit looked, there was exactly zero chance of any wardrobe malfunctions more serious than a hole in my stockings  - a near-indestructible nude bodysuit under everything made sure of that.

“Your turn, now,” Maverick insisted, eliciting a groan from Conor, who he had turned toward while brandishing eyeliner.

“Isn’t it bad enough I let the two of you do this?” He gestured at his hair, which was styled within an inch of his life and would sustain an EF4 tornado with minimal loss of glitter.

“Nope,” I popped, still smiling as I sat down to put on my boots.  Parvati and Hannah had envisioned tonight to be a sort of return-to-our-roots in a very feral, primitive way, complete with costumes. “We’ve been imagining since before we could cook,” Hannah had pointed out.  Between that and the multiple hints that I wasn’t capable of costuming myself, I had gone a bit more over the top than I had originally planned. Hence the corset, the boots, Conor’s hair… although the leather pants the guys were wearing had been decidedly Maverick’s idea and I resisted the need to fall at his feet in gratitude.

Once we were finally costumed, we managed to arrive just-fashionably late to the last hurrah of the Festival. I don’t know who gaped harder - us at the party, or the people who managed to recognize me when they saw me leading the men in. Parvati’s incredible, winding mural was noticeably weathered and patchy, giving the overall atmosphere a post-apocalyptic feel.  The only noticeable lighting came from the braziers, and deep, almost subsonic music thumped in my chest, driving my adrenaline just high enough to overwhelm my anxiety.

My nose led us over to the first stall of the night, the smell of charring meat fitting the tone. Per a previous discussion around our costumes, I did not reach for anything but instead Conor took my portion and fed it to me - his idea, this time, though Maverick had readily agreed. It was just enough to set off a few murmurs before I heard a familiar laugh cut through the air.

“Councillor Reid!” Jokul’s voice crowed, turning our heads his direction. Warmly, he clasped my hands when offered, trembling with the laughter he was trying to suppress. “This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.”

I took a moment to take in his fur trousers and tunic, with rough metal covering vital areas. “The dirt is a nice touch,” I offered, squeezing his hands in greeting. “And Ivan! Well done, sir!”

Ivan rubbed the freshly-buzzed back of his head and grinned. “He actually already had the furs, I just made the armored parts.”

“I meant all of it,” I admonished softly, waving at his work throughout the event.

“Antique, yeah?” Conor asked, gesturing to the furs both of them were wearing.

To his credit, Jokul scoffed. “Absolutely not. Quality synthetic.”

“Don’t let Hannah find out.”

A silver brow arched high enough to impress even Tyche. “Who do you think I commissioned?”

“Clever boy.” I winked at Ivan, eliciting a grin.

In response, Ivan did a runway-twirl, his fur kilt flaring just slightly. “What do you think, Councillor? Can I pull it off?”

With the cheekiest grin my soul could ever manifest, I stared him down. “I think I am the wrong person to ask that.”  Even in the dim light, I could see Jokul’s face turn bright red.

“I smell goat,” Maverick interrupted, entirely off topic and completely unabashed.

Ivan’s nose twitched. “Oh, you’re right!” Sniff, sniff. “And it’s on a spit! Let’s find it before it’s gone!”

With that, he snagged Jokul’s wrist and dragged him less like he was an easily two-hundred pound man and more like he was a kite.  When I snickered, my former enemy leaned over and murmured “I like the chains, very nice touch.”

I shook the wrist that connected to Conor’s belt and whispered conspiratorially. “Your idea, really.  You were so convinced I was leading the entire Ark like this…”

He had the decency to snort. “Seeing it in reality, I was a complete idiot. But it’s quite poetic, and I like it.”

“Poetic?” I asked as I tried to keep pace in the six-inch heels I had elected to wear.

“Are they chaining you down, or are you leading them by their gonads? Or, perhaps, are they saving you from yourself?” He gave a very pointed look at the delicate chains going from the shackles on my wrists to the links attached just above Maverick’s and Conor’s hips.

“Saving me, definitely.” My confession was unashamed and completely sober, the result of the primal music and smells surrounding me.

“Gods agree, someone needs to.”

I didn’t have time to argue before we arrived at the source of the enticing smell - a Jamaican barbecue vendor, who had oxtails, saltfish, and…

“Grilled goat!” Ivan crowed triumphantly. As he started handing out portions from the dancing, grinning vendor, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the portion he tried to hand to me was intercepted by Maverick first, and then fed to me rather than feeding myself.

“Not my idea,” I managed around an insanely delicious bite. “Swear.”

“Kink tomato,” he insisted, holding up his hands.

Conor almost choked laughing. “Not our kink either, mate. Just set dressing for the Queen over here.” Taking another bite, he winked at me.

“Ah, Conor’s idea then,” Jokul nodded sagely before erupting in the closest thing to a girlish squeal I could imagine coming from him. “Miss Harper, we’ve been looking for you!”

Shit, I thought to myself. I hadn’t thought of what Charly would say when I discussed this idea with Conor and Maverick, and I was just realizing it was a monumental oversight.  Plastering a smile on my face, I turned in the direction Jokul had shouted - 

Only to be confronted with what looked like a fox with antlers, a rakish Anansi, the Queen of the Dead, a blind healer, and… a walking shrine? I wasn’t sure what exactly Arthur was dressed as, but I could clearly identify a shabby tweed suit, his sword, a tome that I hoped was faux-moldy, breastplate, shin guards, along with various tchotchkes that looked like they came from high-schoolers and were a bit too beat up to be faked.

“Arthur, what are you?” I asked. Where anyone else would find it rude, I knew my bluntness would be either appreciated or ignored entirely.

“The Ghost of Classes Past.” He swept into a near-Shakespearen bow, gesturing at the bits and bobs that adorned him. “Humans protect, and we mourn those we could not to ensure they live on in memory.” The thump of the music did not change, but his costume gave it a sepulchral tone, like a dying heartbeat.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, the antlered fox bounced familiarly before looking at the Queen of the Dead. “You did a fantastic job on their costumes! They look amazing!” Her antlers were, of course, somehow illuminated from below, but damn me if I could figure out how.

Despite the fact that I knew damned well that Tyche wanted to erupt into laughter at the suggestion, she managed to, quite impressively, tamp it down to a savage smile of silver fangs and blood-red lips. Flapping a hand at myself, Conor, and Maverick, she gave her bell-like fake-laugh, fully in character. “Oh, I had nothing to do with this. Darling Sophia and her merry toys conceived it all on their own.  This is the first time I’ve even seen it, darling.” She turned to me, tipping her chin down in respect. “Well done, dearest sister.” Tyche was on peak display, with kohl lining her glowing grey eyes, a black bodysuit covering her from  collar to feet, fitted vest and cardigan vest, all partnered with a skirt that could be ten inches thick or ten miles of ribbon - who knew with all the darting and layers? Not me, but I was surely impressed with what looked like ten miles of black feathers flowing from her waist to her hips.

“Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” I swept my leg back in a daring curtsy, forcing Conor and Maverick to smother their laughter at Jokul and Ivan’s faces.

“Ma’am! Ma’am ma’am ma’am!” Charly demanded as she pulled me upright. “You blushed at the concept of kink night, and here I find you leading your men around by their hips!”

I tossed my hair and winked at Jokul. “They aren’t being led, they are saving me from myself.” To Charly’s credit, I did look one deep breath from embarrassment - a black dress with red trim, sliced from floor to ribs and collar to navel, over what appeared to be just fishnet stockings and cavalier boots. The only thing, visibly, retaining any sort of deceny was the corset sealing me in the dress. To go with it, I sported chunky, silver cuffs chained to both Maverick and Conor. Ducking in, I whispered, “I probably will have to be cut out of this bodysuit, no worries on me flashing anyone.”

“Ooooo… well played, madam, well played,” she cheered, twirling me around, forcing both men to pivot with me, laughing, before  giving me a very concerned look. “How fucking tall are those?” This was clearly directed at my heels, which she was staring at like a shark presented with a steak.

“Six,” I admitted. “But I did pointe ballet for a little while, so… This isn’t that bad.”

Maverick ducked into the center of the circle we formed. “They’re a full size too big to allow for swelling and she has the toe boxes lined with impact foam.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to wear these things?” I asked with a glare that had him standing ramrod straight and barely restraining a laugh.

Tyche, to her credit, patted my shoulder. “While sitting.  Or, if you have to stand, with a platform in the toe.”

“No shit,” I hissed, setting the mummified healer doubling over in laughter. “But I’ve done enough damage to my feet, thank you, so… there may be foot braces involved.” One of which was currently digging in just in front of my heel, which I made a mental note to pass on to the development team.

A thick, French accent set me shaking my head when it came from the very-not-French looking mummy. “Well played, Sophia.  The sling and calf brace design I saw recently get approved by medical?”

I groaned as I realized that of course this was Antoine. Life and Death, forever partnered. “Yesssss,” I hissed. “Grey created the design.” I unzipped one boot down far enough to roll it below my knee, exposing braces above and below the kneecap before running further down. “The weight is distributed throughout the leg, before terminating across the front and back of the arch of the foot, to even out the pressure.”

I could almost see numbers whirling beneath the six-foot-plus candy-pink bowler hat. “That… sounds like it might actually be comfortable,” Coffey intoned. I couldn’t help but grin at the tilt of his hat and the feather arching behind him.

“More comfy than actual heels, yes,” I admitted before deflecting attention as far from me as possible. Which, considering how much weight was normally put on the ball of the foot in heels like this, wasn’t a lie…. “But we aren’t here for this! We’re here for food!”

Cheers erupted, and we set off dragging each other to what bits we had discovered.  The theme of the night was firmly set around protein, grilled if possible, with wicks of smoke dancing through the flickering light along with the thump of the music.  Some were spicy, others unexpectedly sweet. As I laughed, and ate, and sweated, and danced, I could freely admit that there was exactly zero percent chance that I would have imagined this in my wildest dreams. And even better? I could enjoy every second, every smell, every beat of the music. I made a point to wink at each camera I could spot, to the point that, first Tyche, and then everyone else felt the need to comically push down my thumbs-up and cover my face.

Clearly, Parvati and Hannah, who I hadn’t seen all night, were monitoring what they would later discover to be a flying pass on their final exam. 

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[danseurehonte]

Alien!Jongin x Reader || xenophilia and oviposition || given to me by a lovely anon to chose my own kinktober || trigger warnings: sex slave kinda rescued by jongin, if you don’t know what oviposition is then you’re in for a really badly explained crash course because i have never written this particular kink and this drabble ended up long but i had fun so oh well.

Space was much different than what you were originally told when you first went. You had met so many different walks of life on Earth but nothing prepared you for what you faced when you left the safety of your home planet. You were sold to the highest bidder and taken off stage to be bundled up and placed onto his ship.

“You’re fresh, aren’t you, human?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine and you sat in your chair, shackles around your ankles to keep you from running away. “This is your first space visit?”

You nodded, not meeting his gaze. “I thought I would be able to enjoy it much more than what I did.” You mumbled.

He clicked his tongue, the sound reminding you of a bird that lived near your house. “You’ll live a good life, I’ve got plans for you.” The smile in his voice didn’t comfort you at all, it made you wonder what he meant, what he had up his sleeve now that he had you at his command.

You were his entertainment.

That’s what he wanted from you. You were bought to please him and his friends with sexual favours. He had laid out the rules when you first arrived at the house; three days a week, normally in a row, you were ‘free’ and could wear whatever you wanted, do whatever you wanted and he wouldn’t touch you. The other four, you did as you were told, dressed in nothing but the gold collar and bracelets he had bought for you and you did what you were told.

Luckily for you, the favours never included penetration.

This went on for a few months and even though you were sickened by the thought of enjoying the life you had, it wasn’t all that bad when you looked at it overall. Yes, you had to suck alien dick or sit on laps and be a little human whore but you never got touched unless you wanted them to, you were well fed and on your days off - you were allowed to explore the city. You lived a pretty decent life - all things considered.

You never really cared about your needs that were often left neglected because you didn’t want to ask one of these aliens to pleasure you - that was until your owner’s son arrived home from one of his missions. You already knew all about him, Kim Jongin, the prodigal son, the explorer. He looked nothing like his father, beautiful golden skin, tall and muscular with soft silver hair and gold eyes - he looked like a God more than he did an alien.

It wasn’t until one of you days off that you realised that your needs needed to be met. Jongin was walking around shirtless, his defined muscles still damp from the wash he had and you licked your lips as his bicep bulged when he towel dried his hair. “He’s quite the specimen, isn’t he?” A voice behind you made you jump and you found your owner grinning at his son. “His mother was human.” You made a sound, figuring out why Jongin didn’t share certain physical attributes to his father. The gold eyes, silver hair and muscular body seemed to come from him but the humanoid physique and golden skin tone came from Jongin’s mother. “She was a breeder, if you’re going to ask where she is.”

Your cheeks flushed red. A breeder was a human that willingly bore children for aliens; it was discovered that humans were the perfect incubators for alien offspring and a lot of the times, the offspring bore no human features - some, like Jongin, did.

“I bought you for a reason.” He whispered in your ear when Jongin looked in your direction and smiled. “My son has reached his prime, it is time that he produces offspring and settles down. What better way than with a pretty human woman that’ll bear him many children?”

It should have disgusted you but when you thought about the men that were back on Earth, it really didn’t. Jongin was beautiful - inside and out. He courted you, treated you like his girlfriend and when it came to your first night with him, he made sure you were satisfied. You never wanted for anything with him, sexually or even emotionally, because Jongin provided you with everything you needed.

“I love you,” he whispered one night, kissing along your body while you played with his damp silver hair. “I know it’s only been a few months but I really do.”

You giggled, kissing his lips when he hovered over you. “I love you too, my love.” You felt his fingers touch your entrance and sighed at how slowly he went - despite the fact that you came not so long ago. “I think it’s time.”

He looked at you, slowly pushing his fingers in and his mouth mimicked the way yours parted. “Are you sure?” He double checked with you, pumping his fingers in and out and you moaned at the feel. “I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He promised as he kissed your lips and pulled away from your body to line himself up.

Sex with Jongin was always something, he felt human and it was always perfect because he knew exactly how to make you see stars but there was always something that reminded you that he was, in fact, an alien - his orgasms. He never came, not in the sense that you were used to, there was no semen to deal with but he did sound like he came.

It didn’t take long for you to topple over the edge, back arching as your world turned white and Jongin whined as you clenched around him. “I’m going to come.” He gritted out through his teeth, feeling his own end tingling in his testicles. With a low grunt, he buried himself inside you and that’s when you felt it - how Jongin comes. You gasped at first, his cock growing inside you before the first egg pushed its way into you before another - and another.

It was a strange feeling, not uncomfortable but something that wasn’t forgettable either. When Jongin pulled out, he blushed, his flaccid cock shrinking back to its normal size and he pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “Three little eggs.” He murmured, sounding content. “Only one will turn into a baby. Our baby.”

You have so many questions, so many confused questions about how this will work but all that you know now is that you are perfectly content with your new life with your alien boyfriend. It may not have started out so great - but what a journey its been.

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 26

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping  - Manipulation - Consent Violation 

2 Years Ago

“Morning Z.” A woman’s voice pulled me from my sleep. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes and saw Briar standing in the doorway holding a plate. “Oh dear. Were you actually sleeping last night? I’m really sorry I woke you up, you need all of it you can get.”

Briar was one of the few people I’d met that I could actually stand. She joined the Society about a month before I did and had been one of the few people who seemed genuine. For better or worse she had taken an interest in me after Eos had recommended I work here. She was nice and helpful, but it also meant enduring her quirks.

"Hello Miss Briar, how are you today?"

She sighed. "For the last time Z we're equals here. Briar is fine. It feels strange for you of all people to be calling me by a title."

"The Society has been pretty strict on titles, I'd prefer to keep to them while we're in one of their buildings."

"Z, between the two of us you're the one with an epithet. You should be a higher rank than you are. You're very good at what you do."

"The epithet is just a joke at my expense. If I was capable of doing things your way I would."

“I see. Epithets are a pretty big honor to have. Only like what, 7 percent of members have one? Why do you feel like it’s a joke?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Psychoanalyze me. Leave that for whoever's in your file for today.” Briar was nice, but she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. It seemed like she was digging for something when I talked to her. She was a psychologist before she joined the Society. From my own experience with psychologists they made it a habit to stick their noses where you didn’t want them too.

Briar went silent for a moment before changing the subject. “So who is it today?”

“Some rando who decided to look for the Society.”

“Reporter?”

“No.” I couldn’t manage to suppress a sigh. “A kinkster that doesn’t really get what this place is about. Unfortunately for her it’s a bit too late to back out. Could I have a minute so I can get dressed?”

“Sure, I’ll be waiting outside.”

I looked at the clock, it was already two in the afternoon. I didn’t think it was that late already, apparently I did fall asleep at some point. It’s not like I’d gone outside much recently, I mostly kept to myself and daylight didn’t easily reach a place this deep.

I put on a pair of my favorite jeans and a black t-shirt and I was ready. A lot of the other breakers liked to dress up, find a theme to their work. One girl here dressed as a latex nurse. One guy loved his heavy goth look. Briar loved leather. I mostly kept it casual. I didn’t see why I should need some gimmick for my job.

I opened the door and motioned to her to come with. “Alright, lets go.”

“Nuh-uh. Wait.” She put out an arm to bar my exit and motioned for me to back up. “Here, have something to eat before you gather your equipment.” She placed the plate she was handing onto my desk. Just some toast and jam.

“I could have gotten something to eat myself.”

“I’m sure you could have, but were you going too?”

“Maybe? I kind of have a lot to take care of.”

“Uh-huh. Did you eat anything yesterday?” I hated when she did this, I could feel her looking me over like she could pick out something I did to prove that I was lying to her. I’m not sure why she cared.

“Fine!’ I was getting exasperated. I took a bite of the toast. “I’m eating it. Happy now?”

“Happier. You need to take care of yourself.” I was bracing myself for another lecture, but she went quiet. “You really leaving at the end of the week, Z?”

“Mhm. Today’s lucky capture will be the last one I’ll have to do. Got a house lined up and stuff. We’ll see how it goes. Plus... she’ll be done today.”

“Oh, right. If you want some help with that later on let me know. It’ll be easier with two people. If you ever want to talk about it you know where I’ll be.”

“I don’t have anything I need to talk about. Have a good day Briar.” I heard a bit of a sad sigh when I walked away from her. I had other things on my mind, I didn’t really have time to think about her five hundredth attempt to get me to talk to her about something. I flipped open the file

Name: Kim Raum

Height: 5’ 5

Eyes: Grey

Hair: Blonde (Bleached and Dyed)

Former Job: Tech Firm Manager

Reason for Capture: She stuck her nose where it didn’t belong and learned too much. She has been designated a liability.

Additional Information: We’ve searched through her computers and phone and evidence she is already a submissive who fantasizes about being owned by another person. She has a particular interest in being a petgirl and has fantasies of being a fox girl. She has masochist tendencies. We believe it is these tendencies that got her onto a trail of rumors about the Society. Others involved have already been captured and brought to the auction house.

We did not bring her here for her own pleasure. She is here to be punished for her transgressions. We recommend either Miss Briar or Z for this task due to the particular needs required. A complete break is requested.

Known Fears or Phobias: N/A

Chosen Breaker: Z

Chosen Fate for the New Capture: Sold at Auction.

Breaker Percentage: 3%

Breaker Notes: I sent out an invitation to the target via a Society Member working in a kink dungeon she frequents to visit the Auction House. The member is known to her and she agreed to the “full experience” which included a “fake” kidnapping where she will be secured on an evening walk by a capture team lead by Jude. I have orders for her to be placed in my usual room where she will be under the belief that this is just a sex club of some sort. In order to expedite the process she was given something to fill out so she knows what kinds of activities she may experience here.

It was going to be a long day. We occasionally caught some reporters or friends of those we captured snooping about. If the Society felt it was safe to move against them we’d capture them. I’m not sure we ever came across someone who was looking to join willingly. They really had no idea what we were about.

I went to the preparation area and picked out the things I wanted. It was always the same list. I found my method effective enough I didn’t see a reason to change it. I filled out an order for it to be set out for 7 P.M., when I’d be meeting the person I’d be spending time with for a few days.

I got a message informing me last minute this session would be recorded as it was my last one. It was for record keeping as I had yet to have a recorded session. I sighed and returned to my room. I spent the remainder of my time trying to act in front of my mirror. I felt I was a pretty bad actor, but I only needed to be so convincing. My alarm went off at 6:45 and I made my way to the breaking chambers.

I opened the door and saw the occupant go from looking around the room to pretending to be asleep. I rolled my eyes and entered the room. They were shackled in my favorite device. It was similar to a chair you might see in a gynecologist office, but the stirrups could lock and the arms could be locked up near their head. It gave me full access to their body.

“Good evening Miss Raum, I know you’re awake.”

“What gave it away?”

“I saw you looking around.”

“That was more of a rhetorical… anyway. Are you Z? Where you the one who sent me that message?”

“I am. One of the perks of working here is getting a one night voucher you can give to someone. It’s a pretty special gift. I didn’t have anyone I wanted to give mine too so I asked Aiden if he knew anyone who would appreciate it. He dropped your name.”

“Guess I’m just lucky. This place is exciting. Have you seen the place up front? There's an entire stage, what’s it for?”

“This is the Auction House Miss Raum, the stage is the most important place in the entire building.”

I saw her eyes go wide. “Like you guys actually auction off people here? How does it work? Is it just like for some activities tonight or something?”

I smiled at her. “You’ll learn in due time. If you’re good for me you might get to see it yourself.”

“Aww… I have to be good?” She flashed some puppy dog eyes at me.

“Good is a relative term. Believe me, you’ll know if you’re being bad. But we have to go through the formalities before we really begin. We try to keep the Auction House pretty immersive, but we have to check in first. What is your name?

“Kim Raum.”

“Miss Raum-”

“Please just call me Kim.”

“Alright. Kim. Kim, do you remember the safeword you were given before?”

“Traffic light system, I got it.”

“And you know my particular area I work with?” I circled around behind her. I reached into the refrigerated portion and pulled out a knife and a pair of scissors and placed them in my pockets.

“Aiden said you like ‘sensory stuff’ and said it would be better to talk to you about it than him spoiling the surprise.”

“Pretty much. I hope it’ll be something you remember. Are you wearing the clothes I requested?” I stood behind her as we talked. Every movement mattered since this was being recorded.

“I might have worn something nicer had I realized what kind of upscale place this was, but I wore what you asked. Clothes I didn’t mind losing. Jude already showed me where to go to pick up new clothes after this. I have to admit, the immersive experience has been pretty great so far. Kidnapping team is quite fantastic.”

I gave her a smile. It’s interesting hearing someone so happy about a trap they willingly walked into. “You know what to do if it gets too much. I’m sure you know what to do if you want more as well. Just say your name and that you consent and we can begin. You can always revoke it at any time.”

“My name is Kim Raum and I consent to this.” I slipped a blindfold over her eyes. This always worked best when they couldn’t see.

I wrapped my arms around her from the back. I pressed the button on the switchblade and it shot out, grazing her cheek with it’s icy tip. I felt her tense up a bit. A great start.

“Oooooh nooooo. Are you going to hurt me? That’s terrible.” I could hear a bit of a laugh. I’m glad she was enjoying herself for now.

I walked around to the front of her, dragging the tip of the knife down from the side of her wrist to her waist as I walked by. Light enough not to draw blood. Hard enough to feel the cold sharp blade. “We’ll see. Your clothes are in my way.”

I pulled the pair of scissors out of my pocket. I felt her shiver as the metal touched her stomach. I held onto her shirt as I slid the scissors up her stomach, the scissors slid through the cloth like it was a hot knife through butter. I managed to bisect her shirt and bra with one motion. A lucky move to be honest, I usually had to make a second cut for that. With a few more swipes I cut down the sleeves to the center before I pulled the tatters off of her and threw them to the side.

I moved down to her pants and did the same thing. A single gliding cut up each pant leg and I could pull them off. I didn’t catch her panties with them unfortunately. The scissors had warmed up at this point so I placed them off to the side. I flicked open the knife and traced it over her as I studied them.

I decided to take the risk. I held the knife close like I was going to cut them off. Then with one motion I instead grabbed them and pulled, tearing the fabric and pulling them off. 

“Whoa.” “Yeah, I’m kind of impressed in myself to be honest. Wasn’t sure if it would work and it would have been embarrassing if it didn’t.” I walked back over to the cart and placed the knife and scissors back in the refrigerated compartments. “How about we switch it up a bit?”

“Got more settings than cold?” She did enjoy poking at me. I wasn’t sure if that really made me feel better or worse about what I was building up to.

I gave her a little chuckle. “A couple more at least.”

I placed a few things on a tray and brought it over to her. A wand vibrator, two lotions, some swabs, and some latex gloves.The vibrator came with an attachment so I could hook it to the chair. I put it on it’s lowest setting and placed it snug against her. “I like to introduce a bit of pleasure to go with the pain.”

“Oh? Were the scissors and the knife not supposed to be the pleasure portion?”

“I can see you were the right person to give that voucher to Kim. I’m sure you’ll appreciate what else we’ll be doing.” 

I slid on the gloves and applied a dab of the bottles to each nipple. I began rubbing it in and listened to her moan. Soon enough their effects began to work and she squirmed a bit. “Something wrong?”

“Probably not, just a little surprised. A tiny bit chilly on one side but the other side is a bit hot.” It was a neat little concoction. One side was a special mixture of a pepper the Society cultivated. The other side was a mint extract of some type. It wasn’t too bad without the full mixture.

“How’s it feeling?” I whispered into her ear.

“It’s an interesting feeling. Surely you can do a bit more though?”

Just the opening I was waiting for. I turned the wand up to a higher setting and walked back to the cart and picked up the items I needed for the main performance. Another lotion bottle, a spray bottle, a syringe, a vial, an enema bag, a jug of ice water, a special rubber gag and a hood. Everything she needed to be comfortable for a few hours. I removed her blindfold so she could see the tray.

“Is that a syringe?” I could hear the caution in her voice.

“Indeed it is. The Society creates a lot of their own drugs among other things. This is a particularly fun one I think you’ll enjoy.” I held up the syringe and filled it with the contents of the vial.

“Red. No.” She paused for a second to moan as the vibrator continued to do its work. “Red. No needles. No drugs.” She sat there, expecting something to happen. I was just searching for the best place to inject it. “What the fuck are you doing?! Stop!”

“What was that Kim?”

“Are you deaf I said re-” When she opened her mouth again I lifted the spray bottle and sprayed the contents into her mouth. “What the hell was-” she was interrupted again when she suddenly screamed and began to thrash in the chair. I felt a smile touch my lips but I quickly wiped it away.

I grabbed the rubber gag and shoved it into her mouth. It was an oval gag meant to keep the wearer’s mouth pried open but wouldn’t let them bite down all the way. It helped protect the tongue.

I grabbed her by the hair to pull her head to the headrest. “Look at me.” Her eyes darted towards me, wide. I could see she was afraid now. She knew the play was done. “Kim, that's a special spray made with a pepper that’s cultivated by our group. It’s called a Hellfire Kiss. I’ve obviously never tried it myself. I’m not really into spicy things. But I’m told it's over as hot as a Carolina Reaper but I’m afraid I don’t really have a reference for how hot that is. Be good and I’ll share something I have that’ll neutralize it. Be bad and I’m sure I can find other places you really don’t want this to touch. You’re shackled to a chair right now, you have nowhere you can escape to. Nod your head up and down if you want to be a good girl.”

She was still trying to break out of the chair, but she vigorously nodded her head up and down. “It’s so easy to be a good girl Kim, I’m glad you’ve decided to work with me.” I jabbed her with the needle and injected the substance. It was quite the lovely mixture. A special stimulant that helped the user take more of a beating before they would lose consciousness. It also intensified sensations, making everything she was feeling even more intense.

I pulled on another pair of latex gloves and squirted the lotion into my hands. I ignored her crying and applied the lotion to her nipples. She gasped as the full effect of the lotions started. The other two on their own were nice for sore muscles. If either was mixed with this one it intensified their effects. I was told that it was fairly safe but the sensation would keep intensifying for a while. As the seconds ticked by her thrashing renewed and unintelligent babble left her mouth.

It was easier not to acknowledge it. She would have to get used to not being acknowledged in any meaningful way.

I inserted the enema plug into her none too gently. I had things to do today and didn’t want to spend much more time here. She made a small noise of discontent at the feeling but started begging again when I started to fill the bag. I just kept ignoring her. It didn’t really matter what she wanted or what her thoughts on anything were anymore. It was time she learned that. I watched as it started to run into her. The water was just barely above freezing. It would be pretty painful. Beyond just being filled to the brim with water that cold it would cause pretty horrific cramping.

“Almost done. Then you can sit on your own for a few hours and think about how you willingly came here.” I placed the earbuds in her. They just played loud static. I wanted her to focus on the sensation. It was best to make sure every sense was being used.

I took one last look into her eyes before I pulled the hood over her head. It covered her eyes but left a place open for her nose and mouth. I opened the spray bottle and dipped some swabs in the mixture. I held the bottle up to her mouth and gave her another spray, resulting in a new round of screams. I went over to the table and picked out a plug for the gag and inserted it, forcing her to breathe through her nose. I heard her whimper as the first round of cramps spread through her. I took the swabs and swirled them around her nose. I watched her fingers curl as she tried to reach for her face. This method kept it around longer. She’d be breathing it in for awhile.

With that I was done. In a few hours she’d pass out and someone else would clean her up. I’d be repeating this activity several times a day for the rest of the week and hope she broke before the end of the week.

I looked back at my last victim. Anyone else would have drawn out what they were doing. Slowly breaking them over time until they acknowledge their new lot in life. But not me. I did my best to overwhelm them with sensations until it was too much for them. She was a sobbing mess now but soon she would break and be fine. I broke them as quick as I could to protect them from anymore suffering.

I was a figure of mercy.

I cared for them.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Devil’s No 1(8)

Chapter 8: Euphoria

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: None… is a kink a warning? Like...voice kink?

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: Cold sucks. Itchy throat sucks. Runny nose sucks. Cough sucks. Dusty weather sucks. The inability of my brain to move on sucks. The ability of my brain to create a fucking universe around the person it has a crush on once in like two years SUPER DUPER SUCKS!

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

Pic credits: @russian-hiddlestoner​

The non-periodic clatter of cutlery was nowhere near to bringing peace to your otherwise burning heart but the seemingly soulful R&B piece that was faint yet somehow reverberating through this dark place was one tiny corner of solace in the back of your mind.

The darkness...this darkness was supposed to be whole; to help you heighten your senses to the things going on in your immediate surroundings. But you wanted to be a bit farther from them.

“You are quite distant.”

The ice-laden voice rubbing all over your ears made you shudder where you sat. Holy mother of-

“Hm?” You tried to break out of the imagery of those thin corrupt lips running a tangent on the outside of your ears, hoping the Devil still could not read your thoughts.

“I said you are quite distant,” Loki repeated in the dark, forcing you to draw a gulp, “this table is too big. We can barely have a conversation.”

...right. That’s our biggest problem.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, your hand carefully moving over the table to look for the glass of your cocktail before tackling it out of nowhere- thankfully not spilling it over, “it’s dark and we can barely see anything.”

Taking a sip of limoncello, you heard Loki give out a disgruntled moan.

“Why are we here again?”

Sigh.

So I don’t have to see your face till I decide what to do with you. Or me.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged and rolled your eyes, “this place is said to have the best food and-” you raised your brows at yourself for saying-“ambience.”

“And yet you haven’t eaten anything,” came the quick reply, pausing your fingers wrapped around the glass holding your drink to take the glass further towards your lips.

“I’m not hungry,” you inhaled the words, realising a little late something about Loki’s astute observation. “Wait,” you nearly sat up in your seat, looking straight into the void, hoping you were looking right at him, “you can…see?” The last word was less of a statement but more of a concern filled conclusion to self.

There was a sudden alteration in your senses- a tectonic shift in your being for you felt your head swirl a bit in the space devoid of any light, your dominant hand leaving the drink while the other going over to claw into the edge of the seat you were now apparently dissolving into. It was an uncalled buzz, a feeling of your body free of the shackles of gravity, moving where the wave wanted to take it, and your mind just going with it, seeing a streak of green moving with your eyes like the moon following you wherever you went. The pain running inside your body too was confused by this deviation, trying to find a ground for breeding, only to cocoon itself into a ball in the very centre till it could find something to attach itself to.

And just as you felt your head hit something soft and comfortable in the floating abyss, the green streak stopped short to transform into a pair of eyes in front of you a few feet away.

“I can see, love,” the eyes seemed to purr directly at you as they drew closer, bringing with them a questionably pleasant chill. “I can see, everything.”

The eyes rose up, making you go further into whatever it is you were already lying in. Something soft and cold with an ounce of pure sinistral intentions moved up your bare leg, reverberating your insides with that snake-like movement, making the hairs rise and glow at the roots like the flora and fauna of the night on the beach; or simply put- something straight out of a galactic fantasy.

“I can hear,” the whisper was near as were the eyes that were stripping away layers after layers of your being to stare right into your soul, almost in contact with the last sheet covering the bare minimum. “I can smell,” the whisper resonated as you closed your eyes, your lips parting on hearing that siren voice right next to your eyes before there was a tingle right near the collar, an intake of breath- intake of your ardour. You were exposed even without being naked.

“Loki,” you heard your breath beg before anything could make sense in the mush that was your brain.

Your eyes opened to the same green eyes, but this time, small elliptical pupils lit up in the same hue next to those eyes. One, two, three, four...you lost count till they were popping out everywhere, unwillingly lighting you up your existence where you stood in this endless void.

“I can sense everything.”

Silence.

Wait…

I...I...know this?

In that incoherent silence broken only by the light through those pupils surrounding those dominating pair of pupils, you felt a tinge of familiarity. You had seen something like this before. The same eyes. Similar demeanour. Just a different hue and a lot of different intentions.

Nearly everything was the same except the ones you’d seen before had been purple instead of green.

You moved closer to them, to the pair that controlled them all, bringing your arm forward like a reflex that had been forgotten and had just been taken out from some dusty corner of your brain. Your hand went over to touch the green in that biggest pupil, that was bigger than your physical being right now, feeling a swirling force engulf before everything went dark.

.

Oh, it was such a tease to play with you for Loki. His smallest quip would raise your tiniest of nerves, giving Loki a different kind of high.

Y/N.

He was inhaling your name like the devil’s personal brand of ecstasy. Well, why wouldn’t he? This human was turning out to be quite the drug.

She’s putty in my hands, Loki thought, as he saw you grab your chair when he took your consciousness out to play, your body feeling the euphoria through and through. His high hit another level when he saw your aura being ripped off that muddy layer just as he touched you, visibly lighting up your nerves for him to devour your illuminated beauty through his eyes.

Loki.

His name echoed through your consciousness like a roar of thunder and Loki really had to grasp himself to feel the metaphorical ground after that one exhilarating elation of victory. You were clay in his presence.

And all that was left, was one last shot of fear that he could drink off you before going back to pretending to be your friend for a while. So, he did the tried and tested.

He opened his eyes. All of them. Opening his vision to the dimensions, a mere effort on his part for the lifetime of thrill he was about to get from the screams and torture your soul was going to feel right now.

At least that was what he thought would happen till he saw you look at him- all of him- with unadulterated curiosity before stepping forward to touch him- to be precise, his eyes- making him jolt both of you back into your reality, breaking away every other vine of the devil’s enchantment he had on you, finding both himself and you back at that restaurant.

What in the- 

He took in one long inhale to let his human form come to terms with what just happened. He could see you clutching your forehead while taking the support of the table, trying to bring your still swirling brain back to the three dimensions.

No one in his known existence had ever dared to even walk towards the flaming eyes of the devil, let alone try to touch them.

And you? You had managed to do both.

You had taken the Devil by surprise tonight.

A snap led to the entire hall to be flooded with light- specifically the soft LEDs that graced the walls, hence illuminating the space like on giant cuboid- everyone gasping while the waiters went around shielding their eyes as the night vision aids in front of their eyes suddenly glared up.

You looked around, finding comfort in the light, feeling your feet on the ground- though it was just the tip of your toes that were touching the floor through the sneakers- before your eyes rested on Loki, who had a very strange look in his eyes; the eyes that were dead set on you.

You blinked and looked away before coming back to those green pupils that were still stuck on you.

You looked down at the table, your fingers moving the one ring in your dominant hand round and round in the loop of anxiety before you finally let impulse take over.

“You...um...didn’t touch your food either,” you mentioned, your gaze taking in the platter of lobster served as if it was being presented to royalty.

You could see those green pupils narrow just the littlest before the napkin on his lap was dropped on the table and he got up to straighten his jacket. “We’re done here,” he announced before walking out, leaving you to not-so-meticulously drag out your chair, wobble up on your legs, pick your napkin from the ground and rush out to catch him.

She’s putty in my hands, his own words now mocked him as he tried to make sense of his reality.

You, clearly, were no ordinary human. 

At least not tonight.

[ivebeenmade]

Aftercare (Malcolm Bright x Elliot Alderson)

“Malcolm?” It seems like Gil may have been standing there for a while. He’s sipping slowly out of his coffee cup. The obnoxious one with the department’s insignia on it.

Malcolm, formerly Agent Bright, shuts the book he’s been reading like he’s slamming the door in the face of an intruder. This is dangerous territory, so it’s not too unreasonable to have the same feeling as one would if they’d been chased half the block and barely made it back inside the locked door of their home safely.

In this case, though, Malcolm is reading a weathered copy of a Terry Pratchett novel, full of brightly colored post-its sticking out at odd angles. If one were to open to a marked page, they’d find the post-it has tiny notations. The handwriting, if analyzed, might suggest the note taker is a threat to the general public. In reality, the note taker is just trying to teach his lover a few things.

The cover is false- rather it’s been carefully taken from a beaten up copy of one of Mr. Bright’s favorite books and placed over a study guide. Of sorts.

“Need me?” Malcolm clears his throat, tugging on his collar. He can feel his skin slightly flushed. He’s like that when a new case falls in his lap, so maybe Gil won’t notice. Maybe he hadn’t been reading over his shoulder. He’s an older guy, and if one were trying very hard to lie to himself he’d assume, hope, that Gil had poor eyesight. He didn’t. His eyes were as sharp as the rest of his investigative skills.

Fortunately, one other wonderful thing about his new superior, was that he knew what was important. He knew when to press and when to leave things alone. This he was definitely not touching with a ten foot pole. Because it was none of his business. Though, if later, when he and Malcolm bonded a bit more (they’d worked together when the later was young, before the illustrious career in the FBI that ended so unfairly) he might tease him about this. If studying at his desk became a regular thing.

*

Elliot sighed, shook his shackled wrist. “Untie me now? It’s aftercare time.”

“Huh?” Malcolm replied, in post orgasmic bliss himself, lying on his back. He realizes he’s still gently holding one of Elliot’s hands. The latter’s wrists are still tied to the bed.

It took a lot of convincing, and in part Malcolm thought it would be triggering, but it had been good for both of them. He’d been learning as he went about terminology and Elliot’s personal limits. He’d been absolutely shocked and adamant that they’d never engage in any of his boyfriend’s kinky interests when the subject first came up.

Binding, impact play, a few more things on the ‘fuck yeah’ list the “former” hacker had given him. There was a “hell no” list too, that made Malcolm laugh genuinely at first, and then uncomfortably when he had to wonder if anybody had really ever tried peeing on his boyfriend in the past. 

Malcolm takes the key sitting on his dresser and unlocks the handcuffs, still quizzically staring down at Elliot. His boyfriend was already carefully instructing him, and this as-we-go thing was beginning to make both of them a bit nervous. Elliot had been trying to get his, for sure, but he also felt like this would be therapeutic to Mal in a way. He’d insisted they use the same binds that the profiler used on himself when he felt a night terror coming on.

“Ok. See here, there’s a scuff on my wrist. Where the leather dug in. Don’t worry, they’re new, a few adjustments is all. I’ll leave that up to you.” Malcolm rolls his eyes, mutters ‘oh thanks’. “What it’s your fucking job.

“Abrasion.” Malcolm corrects, already inspecting it. Control freak he was, he couldn’t help himself. Elliot knows this and laughs.

“Yeah. Ok. So get the first aid.” Elliot instructs, not moving yet from his position. Malcolm watches with nervous interest as Elliot’s eyelids flutter- not so much from pleasure but a sudden and total relaxation. “This is only half of it,” he continues as some ointment is applied to the ‘abrasion’ and a band-aid is put over an actual break in his skin. 

He remembered Malcolm had been freaked out at first by his struggling, until he realized Elliot was becoming more and more aroused as he strained against the binds. He’d gotten into it, following instructions for once- he was usually quite ‘bossy’ in bed, something that Elliot thought was equally sexy and hilarious.  

“Ok. Are you alright now?” Malcolm’s eyes are wide with interest and concern, with that spark of passion usually reserved for uncovering a clue in a deeply disturbed criminal mind. Right now, he just wanted to know how this kink thing worked specifically for Elliot. If he was in, he was in all the way. That’s how he operated always.

“Hold me,” Elliot asks sleepily. He goes limp as Malcolm pulls him close, head on the detective’s chest. “I put something in your lunch box for tomorrow, babe. Some reading material. Don’t worry, nobody will know what you’re actually studying. The important parts are marked.” 

Malcolm hadn’t been back on the force with the PD long, but he’d been dating Elliot when the FBI let him go (bullshit). When Gil had called him in to advise on a case, Elliot had made him a little care package to take with him to work. He hadn’t stopped. Lunches, his medication, little love notes- sometimes a bit naughty, sparking something in the back of Malcolm’s mind that helped him through the day. 

He looks in his lunchbox, finds an old beloved book. Flipping the pages he sees an unfamiliar table of contents. “All in,” he tells himself. “For Elliot.” And not to mention he was getting to like this. He thumbed to the first marked entry, which explained in detail what the ‘sub’ went through moments after the ‘scene’ was over. How tenderness and communication was just as important as physically caring for any slight marks or pain from whatever kind of ‘play’ you’d engaged in.

Malcolm felt like this was a dare, the book left in with the things he’d bring in to the office. Well, he accepted. 

[thegreatlibraryfangirl]

October plans

Look at me, making plans I definitely won’t carry out. 

I’m not massively expecting S&P to affect my kink plans, but I AM expecting it to massively influence my whump, so consider all of the  whump topics highly, highly provisional. 

Heeere’s my ideas for combined Whumptober and Kinktober.

Day 1: Whump, Shaky Hands. At the moment this is going to either be Rosalind-influenced Wolfe or Dario, but we’ll see.

Day 2. Whump/Kink DRAW Either an Explosion and fallout from that, or Voyeurism with Khalila watching Dario get molested in the Hive.

Day 3: Whump, delirium. This could be anyone.

Day 4. Kink. Gags / Cunnilingus / Daddy / Fisting. Yes, all of them. Possibly excluding Cunnilingus because then it’s a very easy Santi/Dario, but we’ll see what I think of. Khalila/Anit/Dario always an option. 

More left-wing options here include Glain/Dario and Eskander/Annis ...

Day 5. Nothing massively appeals here.

Day 6. Kink. Blow Jobs / Suspension / Masks / Flogging. Kinky party-time for Khalila, Dario and Anit?

Day 7. Kink. Leather / Scent. I feel like this might feature Khalila’s High Garda outfit.

Day 8. Whump. Stab wound. In this setting I don’t need to plaaaaaaan a stab wound. There’s always a good reason for SOMEONE to get stabbed. 

Day 9. Whump/Kink DRAW, is it Shackled or another attempt at Pet Play? Who knows? 

Day 10. Meh, nothing appeals. Maybe Jess/Dario hate-fucking? Maybe?

Day 11.  Whump/Kink DRAW. Stitches or formal wear. Oh shit or I combine them. Hmmm. Hold that thought, folks. Wolfe/Santi could be good here.

Day 12.  Whump/Kink DRAW. “Don’t move,” (this would be the comforting kind, not the aggressive kind) or Lingerie / Cross-Dressing / Biting. Probably with Dario, let’s not kid myself, but I mean I have suddenly developing a craving for blushing Thomas so we’ll see. 

Day 13. Kink. Pegging / Nipple Play / Dirty Talk. I mean, this is just K/D’s sex life ...

Day 14. Kink. Praise Kink, Khalila/Thomas (is this kink and bone verse? Who knows?)

Day 15. Whump/Kink DRAW. AND A REALLY AWFUL ONE. Scars. GIVE ME MORE SCARS SWORD AND PEN. vs Hair Pulling. Ohhhh boy. 

Day 16. Well. The two prompts here include Pinned Down (technically whump) and Uniforms for kink. Guess this is a uniform scene. Dario, obviously. Any other takers? Anit, you got a Medica fetish yet? 

A thought to expand upon later, Scholar/Obscurist, like specifically into the fact that they are those positions, weird leftover taboo, kind of uniform kink??

Day 17. Kink. Boot worship. While the whump prompt does look nice, I’ve been wanting to do Dario and boot worship for a while.

Day 18. GONNA DO BOTH. Muffled Screaming is the whump prompt but fuck it that’s also a kink prompt, as a kink prompt I guess it can go to free day??

Day 19. Kink. Double Penetration. I mean, one side of this is obvious. The question is just who is fucking Dario.

Day 20.  Whump/Kink DRAW. HELP ME I CAN’T PICK. Trembling (I fucking love trembling as a sign of pain or fear) and this one for kink: Sex Work / Masturbation / Role Play. Yay, time for another Anit roleplay!! She gets ‘hired’ by K/D.

Day 21.  Whump/Kink DRAW. This is happening a lot, I know, I am weak. Laced Drink or Edging. Probably edging because god knows I’ve got enough K/D edging in my head, but on the other hand Laced Drink sounds good. 

Day 22. Whump. Hallucination. Nice bit of Wolfe/Santi, probably, unless I get the kids involved. I do love the idea of the kids helping Wolfe.

Day 23. Kink. I’m saving K/D Collaring for concentration time, I think. So, Threesome. Something unusual? Undecided.

Day 24. Kink. Alpha/Beta/Omega. I HAVE TOO MANY IDEAS. I lived in this trope in the MCU for like 4 years ok. 

Day 25. Kink. Shower sex. Thomas/Jess.

Day 26. Kink. Breath Play / Orgasm Denial. Oh hi, Santi/Dario. Also possibly Annis/Eskander. 

Day 27. Whump. Ransom. @rosalind-of-arden

Day 28. Kink. Spit-Roasting / Overstimulation / Incest. Ramon/Alvaro/Dario threesome, probably masterminded by Khalila. 

Day 29. Meh? Oral fixation is an easy Dario shout. Idk. 

Day 30. Whump. Recovery. Who knows what S&P will give me here, fuck. 

Day 31. ?????

[popatochisssp]

Working Out the Kinks (Kinktober 2018) 17/31

Day 17: Masturbation | Seduction | Collaring | Orgasm Denial

Pairing: SF!Sans/Reader

Additional Kinks: None

AO3 Link

A little long (sorry to clog your dash!) but entirely sfw, so no cut again!

You got the idea when you’d asked Papyrus about his.

You’d seen them around a lot since monsters surfaced, plenty of monsters wore them, but you’d just sort of assumed it was a fashion trend and never really wondered about it beyond that.

At least, you didn’t, until you’d been taken as a monster’s lover.

So you’d asked Papyrus.

“yeah, yeah, it’s a… it’s a culture thing, i guess,” he answered you carelessly, not even looking up from his tablet. “makes a statement.”

You’d looked at the simple black leather collar around his neck and the shiny gold bone-shaped tag that dangled from it.

“So…what statement is yours making?”

“m’under my brother’s protection.” He tapped at his tag, making it twist a little. It was blank. “Sans is tough, everybody knows who he is so he didn’t even have to put his name.”

“But names are normal? For anybody else?”

“uh-huh. but y’know, only two skeleton monsters Underground, bone-tag’s gotta mean ‘Captain Sans Serif of the Royal Guard,’ and ‘this guy works for Sans, you fuck with him, you’re fuckin’ with Sans, proceed with caution.’”

“Huh. So people didn’t mess with you as much?”

“sure they did,” Papyrus had shrugged. “just didn’t usually live a lot longer after. was a little more of a deterrent that way.”

You had weighed your words, trying to figure out how to ask what you wanted to know without sounding insensitive or oversexed…

…but then you remembered you were talking to Papyrus.

“So it’s not a kink thing?”

Papyrus snorted. “shit, no.” But then he added, “can be sometimes, with couples and stuff. depends on the kind of collar.”

You had him lay it all out for you.

Apparently plain leather with no frills was for working relationships—your boss might give you a collar, or if you had a tough friend who was willing to protect you, you might finagle one out of them.

More…involuntary…relationships used metal collars, literal shackles with a visible padlock to show that this person wasn’t acting of their own free will. They were in servitude to somebody stronger and meaner than them and the only way to get them out of it was to get that person out of the way.

And then there were lovers’ collars.

They tended to be more ornate, more delicate—sometimes fine chains, sometimes ribbon or lace, but always worn by choice and always with a soul-shape on it somewhere, the color of their partner’s magic.

Mostly, it was the submissive partner who wore them, but it was something of an open secret that the dominant collar-mate would wear one that complemented it, just out of sight so it wasn’t obvious.

Armed with your new knowledge you planned your ambush with as much cunning and finesse as the skeleton you meant to catch, acting quickly, of course.

You wanted to have it ready in time for Sans’ birthday.

You were excited as a kid in a candy store when he finally got home after a long day at work on the day of, giving you a tired, shark-toothed grin as you greeted him.

“Happy birthday,” you said warmly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I have a surprise for you.”

Sans just huffed out a laugh. “UNLIKELY, BUT IT’S VERY CUTE OF YOU TO TRY.”

You put on an only slightly exaggerated pout. “You still don’t think I can surprise you?”

“NO ONE SURPRISES ME,” he told you, leaning against the furniture with his arms folded, trying to affect maximum-cool-badass-ness. “IT WAS A GOOD EFFORT, YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF YOURSELF FOR THE ATTEMPT, BUT I KNOW ALL ABOUT YOUR GIFT ALREADY.”

“Oh, do you?”

“OF COURSE! THE ORDER CONFIRMATION EMAIL WAS SENT TO OUR JOINT ACCOUNT,” he pointed out. “YOU DELETED IT QUITE QUICKLY, BUT NOT QUICKLY ENOUGH, I’M AFRAID!”

You frowned. “Aww, you saw it?”

Sans patted you on the hand, a little condescendingly but you knew it was kindly meant, so you let it go.

(That, and you were already thinking about how great it was going to be to see the look on his face…)

“I DON’T NEED TO BE SURPRISED TO BE ABLE TO APPRECIATE A WHOLE CASE OF IMPORTED REDS,” he told you, reassuringly. “IT’S A VERY THOUGHTFUL GIFT AND WE’RE GOING TO HAVE SEVERAL LOVELY EVENINGS ENJOYING IT. PLEASE DON’T BEAT YOURSELF UP TOO MUCH JUST BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T ABLE TO CATCH ME UNAWARE! NO ONE GETS THE DROP ON THE MALEVOLENT SA—”

With perfect timing, you set the jewelry box on the table with a gentle ‘tmp’ sound.

Sans’ jaw audibly clicked shut.

Yours was aching with the strain of your grin.

You watched him stare daggers at the little box, eye-sockets narrowed. You could practically see the mathematical equations floating around his skull as he retroactively put together what the hell had just happened and you wanted to laugh…

But you managed to keep quiet.

“……A DECOY,” he realized. “YOU WANTED ME TO SEE THAT EMAIL.”

You shrugged. “The wine is your other gift,” you told him. “This one, I paid for in cash.”

“YOU SLY FOX, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY PULLED THIS OFF…”

You nudged the box a little closer to him, trying to break him out of his stunned stupor. “I didn’t pull it off just for you to not open it, go on.”

Sans took the box in his claws and opened it, sockets going wide at what was inside.

The custom black velvet choker you’d commissioned, just the right size to snugly fit around cervical vertebrae, with a charm in the middle in the shape of a heart and crossbones. It was the color of your soul, as Sans had shown it to you, with your name embroidered along the inside in the same shade.

“Do you like it?” you wondered hopefully. “I have one for me, too, but I thought…I thought you should put that one on me. And yours should fit under your scarf without being obvious, I tried to make sure.”

Sans was quiet for a long, long moment…

And then the exact opposite.

“OH MY GOD,” he exclaimed, “I AM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW?! YOU COMPLETELY BESTED ME! I DIDN’T SEE THIS COMING FOR A SECOND, YOU SURPRISED ME AND YOU GOT ME A COLLAR FIRST?! UNTHINKABLE! I CANNOT BELIEVE…!”

You reached out for the box, to…maybe take it back?

But Sans immediately pulled it closer to his chest, defensively. “NO, IT’S MINE, I’M GOING TO WEAR IT FOREVER, I’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE WITH YOU! STARS ABOVE, GET OVER HERE SO I CAN KISS YOU!”

You laughed, but…well…your collar-mate was calling you.

You went straight into his waiting arms.

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

Definitely 18+ content in either direction of this, read responsibly please!!!

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

Brant glares at the noble from his position. Vitomir’s taken to having him close at hand lately, and for him that entails having his hands shackled behind his back and his chin resting on the despot’s knee, with his collar pulled tight so he can’t even move away. Vitomir’s hand runs through his hair while he’s talking, like he’s petting a favorite dog--he supposes that’s what he is to him. Just a dog.

Maybe he can show him his bite soon.

“Interesting little pet you’ve got there, by the way,” the noble says, peering down at Brant. The fighter sneers, showing just a bit of tooth.

“Oh, he’s just so lovely to have around,” Vitomir drawls, pulling the chain on his collar to make him bare his throat some more. “I’ve got his hair care routine perfected, it’s very nice to the touch.”

“May I?”

“Of course you may, my friend.”

The noble reaches down to run his fingers through Brant’s hair as well, trailing down his ever-lengthening ponytail. “Just like silk. You have to tell me your secret.”

Vitomir laughs. “Oh, I can’t have everyone running about with hair softer than my Pepper’s,” he says. Brant cringes just at the sound of the name.

The noble crouches a bit, running a finger along his jawline. “Oh, his skin is so soft as well. I suppose that’s also a trade secret?”

Vitomir leans forward to make some other joke, and the chain slackens just enough. Brant lunges forward, closing his teeth around the noble’s ring and pinky fingers, and bites with all the force he can muster. He tastes blood and feels something give. The noble screams and yanks his hand away.

Yanks most of his hand away.

Brant spits the severed digits out of his mouth and grins savagely up at the two slimy nobles, hoping his bloody teeth leave a good impression. Vitomir pulls his collar tight, so tight it’s almost choking, but it was definitely worth it to see this high-class bag of worms screaming.

“That’s a bad little pet,” Vitomir snarls, putting his face right up to Brant’s, emerald eyes glittering dangerously. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re next,” Brant chokes out, spitting a wad of bloody saliva in the despot’s face.

Vitomir throws him to the floor and stalks over to the noble, offering up meaningless promises of recompense and official apology. “I want that thing hanged!” the noble wails between sobs.

“I think I can do something better,” Vitomir promises, patting the noble on the back. “Take a little bite out of him in return.” He glowers back at Brant, and Brant gives him a bloody smile.

The guards haul him off to the dungeon and put him in his usual cell. At least in here his wrists are free, and he takes an opportunity to stretch as much as he can, pacing the tiny space and working kinks out of his back. Idly he wonders if he can find it in him to pluck out all his hair. That’d sure piss his captor off.

Vitomir pays a visit shortly, and he’s re-shackled to a chair. The king’s putting on his best, meanest smile as a guard places a pitcher of water and a cup between them.

“Must be a little bit nasty, all that blood in your mouth,” Vitomir croons, pouring some water. “Why don’t you have a drink and rinse the taste out, Pepper?”

“I’m gonna pass,” Brant says, lifting his chin haughtily. He knows what’s gonna happen anyway, but he might as well put up a fight regardless. “I’ll take wine if you have it though.”

Vitomir snaps his fingers, and one guard grabs his jaw to force it open and tilt his head back. Vitomir stands and approaches his side of the table, picking up the cup. “You never want to do things the easy way, my spicy little Pepper. I think this might change that, even a little.” He pours the water into Brant’s mouth and the guard shuts his mouth. Vitomir moves to plug his nose, force him to drink like with various other poisons and serums he’s given him, but Brant just swallows it. It tastes unusually sweet.

Vitomir smiles and sits back down, steepling his fingers. “So, what’d you dose me with this time?” Brant asks, paying close attention to how his body’s behaving. “Not truth serum, right? Probably not a sleeping drug either.”

“I think you’ll see in a few minutes,” Vitomir says. “We’ll make a sweet Pepper out of you yet.”

Minutes tick by, and Brant feels increasingly discomforted by the king’s relentless gaze. The discomfort starts to become physical. His body aches. Has he just been stuck in one position for too long? Pain races down his spine and he gasps, trying to double over in his restraints.

“Ahh, there it is,” Vitomir says. “This is something I’ve had my alchemists working on for a while. I asked for it to be tailor made just for you.”

“What--ghhk!” Brant’s cut off as another streak of pain cuts down his front. “What is--” Pain, no, agony breaks him off again, jolting through his whole body. White-hot fire prickles up his arms and he snaps his teeth together to hold back a scream.

“I think he should go back to his cell for now,” Vitomir says, standing and moving to Brant’s side again. The guard uncuffs him, and Vitomir pulls his ponytail close, sniffing it. “Perhaps if you’re a good boy for me, we can add something nice-smelling to your shampoo.”

Brant wants to retort, but his neck seizes up as the burning starts creeping up to his head. The guard pushes him into the tiny cell, and he stumbles and falls--even the impact hurts more than it should. He cries out in fear and pain, curling around himself and willing the pain to end.

It persists for hours, and the guards force him to drink two more doses before he’s given a reprieve.

---

Vitomir strides down into the dungeons a few days later, a bit of a bounce in his step. “And how’s my dear Pepper doing today?” he asks of the guard.

The guard salutes, though her eyes are averted. “He’s quiet. I think he’s... ready to behave for you.”

Vitomir makes a pleased hum, and the guard escorts him to his pet’s cell. Pepper is lying motionless against a corner, turned away from the door. The guard lets him in, and he kneels by his prone form, placing a tender hand on his shoulder.

Pepper flinches, but doesn’t get up. “Come now, Pepper, show me those pretty brown eyes,” Vitomir croons. Pepper doesn’t move for a moment, but he slowly turns over, looking up at him. “Are you going to be a good boy for me now, Pepper?” Pepper nods. “No more biting, right, Pepper?” Pepper nods again.

Vitomir smiles and pets his hair gently. Pepper closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ve added some cinnamon scent to your shampoo. I think it’s going to make my sweet boy smell even sweeter.”

[epochryphal]

kink tarot ideas: the four suits are knots, switches, shackles, and silks

oh my god

i feel like silks should be latex……… only half kidding

knots is such a great suit though. that’s definitely the “mind” suit and i think fits the eg three of swords really well. the double-edge of restraining and fastening, of tangling and of anchoring. the suit of introspection and brain issues and wallowed lamenting and also of keen wit and analysis and precise choice. bondage and (self-)discipline and liberation.

and switches certainly goes well with wands - spirit and fire and channeling that into blows, tempered (or not), the passion in impact play. the universality of playfighting with sticks. implements for self-expression and actualization, and their effects on the world and others around us. sadism and switching and masochism and pain and life and *energy.*

shackles i’m not so sure about - i feel knots already covers bondage so so well and symbolically nicely, and we need something for cups, water, emoting, dominance/submission the flow of power, water currents and tides and density buoyancy and cycling and the rise and fall of hopes, trust, desires, forms of intimacy, the changing of needs, the give and take in relationship. collars, maybe, in how they can tighten and loosen, evolve with the dynamic.

and mm, silks or latex but something worn close to the skin for pentacles, earth, comfort and sensory and temperature and pressure and sliding against material, leisurely (or not), that which is branded Hedonism and reveled in, signs we adorn ourselves with, things that enhance the pleasure of simply moving breathing existing. kink and bdsm as simple and fundamental.

yes, i could absolutely get behind that tarot.

[funkzpiel]

And The Tag Read Simply: ‘Pretty’ - Ch5

Words of comfort and affirmation bubbled to his tongue – He’s caught, we have him. Don’t worry. He’s at MACUSA, he’ll never hurt you again. But one look, and Newt realized that the context of Graves’ question was not ‘please say he’s not here.’ It was ‘please say he’s coming home soon.’

“He’s… away,” Newt said lamely, eyes flickering to glance at Graves now that the man felt confident enough to speak with him. Graves was leaning far enough forward now that his shoulders were visible, pale and naked. Newt felt his cheeks begin to burn at the implication, and even more so when he caught sight of the thick leather collar that hung snuggly around Graves’ throat – Grindelwald’s symbol hanging delicately next to a small gold tag that read simply: ‘Pretty’.

FANTASTIC BEASTS KINK MEME FILL Grindelwald is captured, they track down Graves, but instead of finding a locked up and tortured Graves they find Graves naked and in a collar, napping on a soft bed without a hint of recognition in his eyes. Turns out Grindelwald messed with Graves’ mind, removed all his memories and made him believe that he’s Grindelwald’s pet.

Includes: Gellert Grindelwald x Graves, Newt x Graves, Non-Con, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, Pet Play, Forced Pet Play, Collars, Non-Con Body Modification, Animal Ears, Animal Behaviors/Qualities, Mind!Fuck, Memory Loss/Alteration, Master/Pet, Dubious Consent, Angst, Literally Graves Believes He’s A Dog, I AM TRASH

CHAPTER 5

Newt watched Graves sleep from his work table, eyes distant as he took in the image of the frail man so still and peaceful – long lashes stark against pale cheeks. Newt had heard stories of the man Percival Graves had been, but Newt only knew two sides of the man first hand: the imposter and the victim. Not for the first time, he wondered what Graves had lost. What Grindelwald had stolen. Tina obviously held a great deal of respect for the man. Madam Picquery, too.

Newt imagined him, body healthy and pristine as Grindelwald portrayed him – broad and strong and imposing – with warm eyes and able hands. Just in his actions, clever is his work, and gentle with his people. But a part of him also knew the unfortunate truth. A man with friends is not a man easily replaced. A good boss, yes. A respected man, of course. But a friendly man… no. He must have been a distant man. A firm line set in the ground between home and work. A man dedicated to the letter of the law, to the very last detail of his job, to the welfare of his employees and their success, to the safety of the public – and nothing more. He had no family to miss him. No loved ones. His life was no doubt a lonely life, only made easier by the sheer weight of his work to distract him.

And this was how fate repaid his dedication.

He had to convince Graves that, no, your bed isn’t missing – you’re allowed to sleep on the actual bed, not some uncomfortable cushion on the floor. He had to ease his worries with soft words that, no, Grindelwald would not be mad at him, and yes, I’ll be to bed soon, and no, I promise I’m not leaving.

It was only then that Graves settled. The man, once so confident and powerful now sleeping in the baggy clothes of a scrawny man’s wardrobe, hair tousled and cheek still smudged with dirt because Newt hadn’t the energy to bathe him – too afraid the man would misread the situation and try to thank him again.

“Oh Tina,” Newt whispered, eyes falling to the report he had been writing. There was a dark blotch of ink at the end of an unfinished sentence; dark from hesitation. “I don’t know how much help I am in this…”

The letter read: I fear that Grindelwald has…

Newt bit his lip and clenched his quill a little harder, willing himself to finish what he started. But even now, he did not know the right way to phrase it.

I fear that Grindelwald has inflicted far more damage than we originally perceived, he finally wrote and proceeded to detail the events of the day, down to the moment of Graves’ possession.

And then he cast his gaze back unto the man in question, heart squeezing when he realized the man was snoring very lightly. In the dim light of the little shed, Grindelwald’s tags twinkled innocently against Graves’ pale flesh. Newt wished he could just remove them.

“Please come back,” Newt whispered.

It was then, as he was watching the man, that a small hand suddenly appeared on the other side of Graves’ body. Newt stiffened, worried for a moment that he was seeing things, when finally it clicked – the Niffler. Newt stood as quickly and quietly as he could, eyes narrowed as he watched a chubby little body suddenly follow that tiny hand, the beady eyes of the Niffler staring him down even as it slowly reached for the tags at Graves’ throat.

“No,” Newt said, and quickly cast a spell to call the little beast to him. Newt watched as the Niffler scrabbled its tiny little hands in Graves’ direction before it finally gave up and allowed the spell to continue to draw it through the air and into Newt’s awaiting grasp.

The Magizoologist scruffed him promptly and held him up so they were nose to nose.

“You can’t touch those,” Newt said, and the Niffler just crossed it’s flabby little arms and looked away. “No, please, please understand – you could really hurt him. He… He needs those tags. Please, just this once, don’t fight me.”

Newt wasn’t sure if it was the sheer pleading of his whispered voice or if the little creature was merely in a giving mood, but the Niffler slowly turned to look him in the eye before actually looking somewhat mollified. It sagged a little in his grasp before nodding.

Newt almost wanted to double check, but he was too blown away by the creature’s sudden change in nature to feel his normal sense of doubt in the little thing. So instead, he cautiously set it down, ready to cast the spell again, and watched. The moment the Niffler’s feet met the work table, it sat down in a heavy ball and merely watched Graves sleep. It cast its gaze from Newt to Graves and back again before suddenly scurrying down the work table’s leg and onto the floor. For a brief moment, Newt worried he had made a mistake, but the Niffler merely peered at Graves one last time before hurrying out of the shed as if on important business.

Newt blinked.

“That was odd,” he whispered, then returned his gaze back to his report – lost for words on how to tactfully tell Picquery that he had very good reason to believe Graves had been raped repeatedly. He sighed and rested his forehead on the paper, unheeding of the ink, and closed his eyes for just a moment.

Merlin, he was tired.

They repurposed the execution chamber to serve as one giant Pensieve. In its swirling depths, every memory that their Legilimens managed to lay bare played within it in striking detail – larger than life, louder than reality, and more overwhelming than Tina had been ready for. It was like this that she watched Grindelwald recall how he had cornered Graves after his walk home from a long stakeout turned case bust and Mercy Lewis, Tina could remember that night. She had been the last person from their department to say goodbye to him that night. Was her face the last he saw before... Before Grindelwald...

Just like that, the time with which Graves had been gone was dated. Months. Six months. Six months. Tina felt her breath seize in her chest. She could remember how tired he had looked when she found him in his office that night to let him know she was heading home. She had thought to ask if he was okay. She had thought to insist that he, too, should go home. But he had his paperwork to finish, and she knew him to be a man that wouldn’t go home until every last page was done. It didn’t matter how tired he was, if she pointed it out, he would just say that was what coffee was for.

So she didn’t point it out. Tired as she was, she let him be.

The last words her Graves had said to her played aloud in her head like a painful echo.

“Goldstein,” he had said, drawing her back to his office door.

“Yes, sir?” She asked, afraid he might ask he to fill out some form herself before she left.

Instead, his lips curled into the barest of smiles – something that was practically an all out grin in the books of those who knew him – and said, “Good work tonight, Tina. We’re lucky to have you.”

Her heart ached coldly in her chest, ever tightening as she watched the memory of Graves – tall and proud, and yet limping ever so slightly – walking just ahead of Grindelwald on the street; unaware of his stalker. She wanted to call out to him. To warn him. But all she could do was watch as the dark wizard purposefully apparated himself from behind Graves to the end of a dark alley on his left. The noise drew Graves in, his mouth set into a firm, displeased line at having caught someone displaying magic so openly. And when Grindelwald lit the end of his wand with a brilliant light, it was obvious that Graves had resigned himself to having to take the man back to the office despite his exhaustion.

“Someone will see you,” Graves said firmly from the end of the alley, squinting, trying to peer past the bright light of Grindelwald’s penetrating lumos but unable to see his face because of it.

“Let them,” Grindelwald purred.

Graves stiffened and drew his own wand. With a quick look left and right, he took several steps deeper into the dark of the alley to try and mask their altercation as best as he could. Late as it was, he had little to worry for. Maybe if someone had been there, Tina thought. Maybe if…

“If you don’t desist, I’ll be forced to relieve you of your wand and take you in for the night,” he said grimly, and Tina could suddenly see how Graves was trying his hardest to mask his limp, his exhaustion. Grindelwald smiled behind the glare of his spell.

“I’m afraid not, my dear director,” Grindelwald said. “In fact, tonight is the last night you will use your gifts to shackle your fellow witch or wizard.”

Graves stilled, his body suddenly stiff with dawning recognition. Tina thought he was going to call the man out as a Grindelwald follower, but instead Graves attacked without preamble. With a quick flick and a dodge to the right, Graves launched a harsh kinetic wall of energy at Grindelwald while simultaneously stepping out of the way of Grindelwald’s own spell. The concrete where Graves had been standing exploded, and in the building next to them, a light turned on. Graves looked at it and cursed before shoving off the wall he had stepped to and launching another attack.

Brick burst behind Grindelwald, but the man wasn’t fazed. Instead, he merely continued to advance on Graves, driving the director toward the street, making him panic – knowing how the Auror worried over prying eyes. Somewhere above, blinds rustled. Graves grit his teeth and finally held his ground, unwilling to let the dark wizard take their fight to the open.

“Your fear of our exposure will be your downfall, director,” Grindelwald said through a grin, and it was then that Graves could finally see his face, the concealing glare of Grindelwald’s lumos long since gone. Graves’ hand tightened on his wand.

“Grindelwald,” he said, voice gentled by shock.

“Director Graves,” Grindelwald greeted in return, his smile that of a cat’s.

Tina could see a hundred thoughts filtered through Graves’ eyes. Headlines from the papers, reports from the Ministry, operations from the support team MACUSA had offered. Graves frowned and set his feet, obviously no longer concerned with the world around them.

Grindelwald hummed his approval.

“Finally,” he said, his own wand raised and ready. “Yes. Show me what you can do without the shackles of our society holding you down. I want to see it for myself.”

Tina had seen Graves duel before. In practice and in the field. He was a clean, efficient spellcaster. He didn’t gloat, he didn’t underestimate, and he didn’t take chances. He cast his spells with the intention of ending any altercation immediately. The less time the enemy had the ability to cast a spell, the less likely one of his people got hurt. So his spells were fast, brutal things. Heavy hitters that slammed through tissue and concussed – and that was on a normal day.

But this… Tina had never seen Graves attack like this. Sharp, fast spells cast so pointedly, so intently, they practically cut the air like knives. She could hear the way they whistled through the air, and every strike that missed tore up pavement and brick alike. One shot in particular that Grindelwald only just managed to divert ended up turning the nearby fire escape into a hodgepodge of contorted, screaming metal. But Graves never waited to see if his work connected. One spell followed another followed another, and all the while, Graves advanced.

He was like a different man, his eyes alight with a dreadful determination that turned Tina’s veins to ice. This was the man who had fought in the war, the man they told stories about. She had thought she knew him. She had thought she knew his drive and his skill and his rigor. She was wrong.

Grindelwald was thrilled. In his manic eyes, she saw nothing but pleasure and excitement as he diverted one spell after another, guiding them away from his body with quick jabs but not having much more time than that to do anything else.

“You’re wasted at MACUSA, my dear,” Grindelwald howled over the cries of Graves’ spells.

“I’m precisely where I need to be,” Graves said, following one particularly harsh blow with a swipe of his free hand, using Grindelwald’s distraction of deflecting his spell to hit him with a dumpster and pin him to the wall.

Even caught as he was, Grindelwald laughed as though they were two friends having a merry old time rather than enemies aiming for the throat. Graves clenched his jaw, wand trained on Grindelwald as his other hand kept up the pressure on the dumpster – metal slowly warping to curl around Grindelwald’s frame.

“And where is that, pray tell?” Grindelwald asked, smiling so widely his gums showed.

“Here. Between you and the rest of society,” Graves said resolutely, but as their fight ebbed, so did his energy. Tina could see it in the softening of his shoulders and the tremble of his wand. So could Grindelwald.

“Long night, my dear?” Grindelwald asked.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Graves began, encouraging the metal to curl around Grindelwald that much quicker.

“I’m quite tired of silence, I’m afraid,” he said, something dark glimmering in his eyes.

Behind Graves, a shadow appeared. Then another and another. Men – Grindelwald’s followers.

“Crucio.”

The spell hit Graves in the back, pointblank between his shoulders, and felled him with a cry torn from the bottom of his chest. Tina watched as he shuddered on the ground, body seizing as Grindelwald easily detangled himself from Graves’ bindings.

“He’s as good with wandless enchantments as they say,” Grindelwald said, clearly excited as he swept the dirt from his coat and straightened himself out. Once put back together, his eyes fell on Graves and he grinned. “Let the good fellow go, won’t you?”

The spell dropped, but the men behind Graves advanced, forming a wall behind the man – blocking him from the road. Somewhere, Graves could hear the telltale beginning of sirens. He groaned and rolled from his side to his knees and tried to rise, ignoring the way his clothing dripped from the puddle he had landed in.

When he tried to get to his feet, one of the three wizards behind him raised a leg to kick him down, only to find a trash can lid suddenly flying through the air to greet him. It connected with his face with a wet crash that sent him tumbling backward, immediately unconscious and nose clearly broken. The wizard nearest Graves took two steps back. The other snarled and raised a wand, only to be disarmed.

Graves’ eyes shot up, shocked, when the wand flew to Grindelwald’s hand – the flunky’s magic stayed by the hand of a madman.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Grindelwald said, fiddling with the wand before tucking it away in his own coat. “I didn’t say to attack him, now did I, Peter?”

“But sir, he—!”

When Grindelwald raised his gaze from Graves, its humor was gone – replaced by something that made Tina shiver. “I have no use of the deaf or stupid.”

Peter shut up and took a step back. Grindelwald smiled, his farce mask returned.

“Good boy,” he said, then moved to address Graves. “As I was saying—“

Graves swept his hand just as he rose to his feet to sprint past the two goons, and instead of launching another trashcan lid at Grindelwald, he launched both of his flunkies at him instead. Tina watched, heart thundering, hoping – hoping – as Graves made a break for it. With a loud crash and an angry batch of yelling, the two men collided into Grindelwald, sending the dark wizard to the ground. And for a moment, Tina thought he was going to make it.

Graves stumbled into the road, obviously about to apparate, when a spell came arcing out of the alleyway and nailed him in the shoulder. It knocked him off balance, spinning him to once again face the alley he had come from, disorienting him. He clutched at his shoulder and panted, preparing himself to apparate – gathering energy – eyes all the while on the three men clambering to their feet.

“C’mon, Percival,” he whispered, blood oozing from his nose from exhaustion, and reached for the last dregs of his magic when a loud noise disrupted his attention. A horn.

That was when the car struck him, slamming him harshly into the hood before bouncing him into the road. Tina gasped and beside her, she heard one of the other staff members watching the memory vomit.

There was screaming. A woman in the passenger’s seat was crying, wailing. The man who was driving cut the car in reverse and drove away frantically, and suddenly, Tina hated them. She wanted to reverse the memory and look at them, find them, make them pay for not staying. If they had only stayed, then maybe…

They would have died, she realized, her anger flooding out of her in an exhaustive sheet. Grindelwald would have killed them. There was no saving Mr. Graves from this. There was no changing the past.

Instead, she watched as Graves slowly opened his eyes and moaned wetly. His wand had been knocked from his hand, but even now, Graves reached for it. Even now, Graves fought. Tina’s eyes burned, and slowly the image before her became blurry through her tears as her boss tried to pull himself across the short stretch of pavement between his crumpled body and his wand. When it was obvious that his legs – Merlin’s balls, his right leg wasn’t supposed to look that way – wouldn’t get him there, he extended a hand to call it to himself. The wand wiggled fiercely for a moment, then fell still. Graves’ eyes fluttered. More blood oozed from his nose.

He tried again to pull his body forward when his gaze caught sight of Grindelwald approaching. The Auror didn’t make it far. He merely wheezed as Grindelwald knelt down in the road and retrieved the wand, holding it up in the light to admire it. He turned it this way and that, as though familiarizing himself with some great weapon, all the while ignoring Graves on the ground.

“Truly a wand of some distinction,” Grindelwald said approvingly, weighing it in his hand before pocketing it as well. “Steadfast and powerful. And in such a pretty package, too. Quite like you.”

Graves tried to keep his gaze on Grindelwald, but his head lolled dangerously until finally, he could do not much else but glare at the man’s shoes. He watched as the dark wizard knelt before him, and moaned raggedly when a long finger grabbed him under the chin and lifted his gaze.

“Poor Mr. Graves, hit and left to die like some mangy old dog. Your underlings didn’t see the hit you took at that raid earlier, did they? Or is it that they just didn’t care to make sure you got home, hmm?” Grindelwald asked, eyes searching. “Nobody cares for you, not truly. If they did, they’d know that you need more care than what they give you. They think you so strong. They’d let you work yourself to death, my dear. They wouldn’t even notice if you were gone. Why do you fight for them?”

“Somebody has to protect them from men like you,” Graves said, his words garbled and faint, but there all the same.

Grindelwald’s hand moved from his chin to cup his jaw, and Graves shuddered when he realized the man was watching him with fascination and no small amount of pity. As though he were some poor creature caught in a net, ripe for saving - or slaughter.

“But my dear Mr. Graves,” he said, swiping a thumb along a quickly purpling bruise. “Who is going to protect you?”

Graves eyes fluttered as Grindelwald grabbed the Auror by the shoulder and disapparated the both of them away – just as sirens blared around the corner. Lights flashed, illuminating nothing but a barren road and the blood Graves left behind.

The memory softened, softened, then faded altogether and Tina shuddered. When she raised her gaze, the team of Legilimens they had brought in to fuel the execution chamber turned Pensieve were kneeling on each of their respective floating platforms above the black mass, exhausted, and at their center sat Grindelwald – bound to his chair, grinning from ear to ear.

She desperately wanted to say something, anything, to tear that smug look from his face. She couldn’t find the words.

“Your right hand man was quite something, Seraphina,” Grindelwald said, not even winded from the forced pulling of his memories from multiple witches and wizards. In the dim lights of the execution chamber, one eye glowed unnaturally – like a pearl in the dark. It made Tina’s stomach twist with dread. “I can see why you chose him to head up your security. He would have made it, if not for that car. Funny how fate works out. In another world, he’d be beside you. In this one, he’s mine.”

“Do not flatter yourself, Gellert,” she said, using his first name in kind with a wry brow that said, ‘fucking try me’. “Mr. Graves is beginning to heal quite excellently under the watchful eye of our expert. He’ll be beside me once more in no time.”

That only made Grindelwald’s grin widen.

“Lying now, are we?” He asked. “Oh, things must be so much worse than they appear. How wonderful.”

With a sharp movement that had Tina stumbling for her own wand, Picquery drew hers from her coat.

“Madam President?” Tina asked, eyes wide, heart thundering, but all Picquery did was conjure a chair with a precise flick of her wand. With the grace of a great cat, she lowered herself into it and said, “Again.”

A set of shocked and weary eyes fell upon her from the platforms, the team of Legilimens exhausted. But one by one, they stood – wands extended – and began the process once more. But Grindelwald did not care. He only had eyes for Picquery.

“Will we die, just a little?” He asked, repeating his words from the train station before the light of the Legilimens spells fell upon him, rolling his eyes into his head, making him seize in his bindings. Below, the next memory began to appear.

“Madam Picquery,” an Auror said, coming to stand beside her for a moment. “I can report to you, if you have something else—“

“He attacked one of our own, Smithfield,” she said, not even bothering to look at the man. “I will watch this. Every moment. Every second. I will know his pain, and when this is done, so will Grindelwald.”

“Madam President,” Smithfield said softly, obviously recognizing the dismissal, and backed away to his former spot.

“We’re ready, Madam President,” one of the Legilimens said, voice strained.

“Show me.”

Tina brushed away the cool, wet tracks on her cheek with a thumb and prepared for the next memory.

Newt hadn’t even realized he had been dozing at his work station until his leg began to fall sleep, alighting his calf and toes with pins and needles. He mumbled sleepily, confused when his leg was far heavier than it had any right to be, and looked down to see a dark mop of hair on his thigh. It was Graves. He was seated on the floor beside his chair, his cheek pressed to Newt’s thigh.

Newt blinked, then everything that had happened over the past two days came flooding back to him.

“Mr. Graves?” He mumbled and gently drew his fingers through the man’s hair to wake him. “What’re you doing on the floor?”

With a soft groan and a long yawn, Graves looked up to him and said, “You didn’t come to bed.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes crawling to the report Newt had been writing for President Picquery outlining Graves'… progress. He frowned ever so slightly, the expression only soothing out at the sound of Graves’ soft whine of recognition. With a wave of his wand, he transformed the report into a mouse and sent it off – eyes heavy as he watched it scurry up the ladder of his suitcase. “I’m coming.”

Newt rose from the chair, and when it became obvious that Graves would not settle on the bed without him, he made fast work of his nightly routine before finally laying down. But when Graves did nothing more but stand at the edge of his bed and whimper, obviously wanting something but conflicted, Newt reached out for him and grabbed his hand. Too exhausted to explain, Newt simply guided Graves down onto the bed, pulling only gently, giving Graves the option to pull away. He didn’t.

Instead, he pressed the long, lithe line of his body into Newt’s side. He was shorter than Newt, and that worked well with the size of Newt’s bed. He fit quite comfortably into the dip of Newt’s side, and they were down for no more than a handful of moments before Graves simply tucked his nose into Newt’s collarbone and fell asleep.

The warm weight of Graves’ body lured Newt into sleep easily. The icy, unnatural feel of his tags however – unable to warm, even pressed between them – woke him often through the night.

a/n - got a suggestion on what you want to see? Send me a note. I can’t guarantee I’ll include it, but I love suggestions.