#darkroom+

[fascinationstreetmp3]

SAW (2004) dir. James Wan

[darkroom-fanzine]

[And the curtain opens...!]

[Image Description: a black and white banner gif showing Siffrin from In Stars And Time as he wanders through the third floor of the House. He is posed in the center of the image, faced to his left (viewer's right) as if moving in that direction. Behind him are four trailing repetitions of his image, each one losing opacity as they get further away, with a final fifth one having its values inverted, appearing instead as Mal Du Pays. Floating around them are six polaroid photographs, the first covering up the right half of Siffrin's face, showing instead a values inversion of it within its borders, their expression blank. Beyond that in order from closest to Siffrin to farthest away, the polaroids show Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie, and one that is indistinguishable, all members of the party with their faces distorted out, while the last one is distorted beyond a potential for recognition. On the other side of Siffrin, to his left, is a flash-like burst evocative of a camera flash or a star (much like Loop's head), partially hidden over by Siffrin's shadow. Around the brick walls in the background and partially growing over the bottom left of the foreground can be seen the King's hair, and in the bottom right is text reading: "Darkroom | an ISAT Fanzine". The entire thing has been animated to look as if the lines around Siffrin, their shadows, and all the distortions over the polaroids are boiling, while light shines off from around the flash/star. End ID.]

[Hello, stardust~! How can I help you on this wonderful new loop?]

Welcome, everyone! This is the blog for the upcoming project, "Darkroom: an ISAT Fanzine". We are excited to finally announce our beginnings, and hope you will stick around to see what it is we have to offer!

Firstly, let us introduce ourselves. The mod team for this fanzine comprises of myself (@actingwithportals), as well as @voidedtea, @publiccmenace, @astrangeavenue, @sundimus, and @plasticteabag. Between the six of us, we have experience as leads, co-leads, moderators, and contributors on four individual fanzine projects, and are all excited to begin work on something new!

Now, let's get to the fun part, shall we?

[Darkroom: Negative Space, Long Exposure, Afterimage.]

The theming for this fanzine centers around the idea of distortions, how they obscure what we see and perceive, and how they can bring to light an entirely new perspective hidden behind the more easily comprehensible. In Stars And Time shows us throughout Siffrin's loops how the order of a carefully curated script can bring about a chaotic mental state, and how the chaotic breaking down of these self-imposed walls can bring about the order of accepting vulnerability.

Change is often destruction, and in the midst of that destruction can be found something beautiful, something to live for. This is the idea we hope to present through this fanzine.

[Fanzine Content.]

The Darkroom Fanzine will be a multi-media culmination of fanworks created by fans, for fans, and available for free download on Itch.io. Creations can vary anywhere from art, to writing, to music, to essays, to crafts, to whatever you can think of that you would like to see included in this project!

The only restrictions we will be enforcing is content that lies outside of the existing rating for the game, meaning no 18+ subject material.

However new you are to your Craft—whether it be writing, art, edits, collages, or anything beyond—your skills are welcomed here. From beginners to professionals, all are encouraged to apply! Once we hit an internally agreed upper limit of participants, we will lock the sign-up form should that limit be reached before the end date of the sign-ups occurs.

[Interest Checks.]

To kick this off, we are opening an interest check form to gauge interest for this project. The form will remain open from January 23rd through February 22nd, upon which the following day (February 23rd) the sign-up form will go live.

[Curtain Call.]

Thank you all for taking the time to read this far, and if you have any further questions/inquiries/concerns about this project, our askbox is open! Relatedly, you can also shoot us an email at darkroom.fanzine@gmail.com.

INTEREST CHECK FORM HERE.

[See you under the Favor Tree soon, stardust~ ✨]

[porcelainseashore]

Darkroom

Pairing: RE4R! Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader

Summary: You're a Sunday regular at the darkroom of your local nightclub, finding liberation through sex with random strangers and spontaneous encounters. One night, you meet someone whose touch feels different, and you connect in ways you never expected.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, implied consent, anonymous sex, group sex, public sex (nightclub), voyeurism, anal, fingering, oral (m receiving), creampie, strangers to lovers, romance, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, drug references, swearing.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing gn! reader as I would like to be more inclusive in my work. I’ve also tried to educate myself on the discourse surrounding darkrooms and hope I’ve portrayed them respectfully, as safe spaces created by the gay community.

Special thanks to @alibellerosetta and @sofmoth for beta’ing this piece—you’re simply the best!

AO3 Link | Playlist

Fingertips trailing across the concrete walls of an old wartime bunker, its labyrinthine structure causing you to navigate by adventure and curiosity when you were new, but now, you had the entire layout committed to memory. You drifted through the haze of smoke and rooms—oh so many rooms—littered with nooks and crannies to engage in the kinds of deeds one would get up to in a nightclub like this. 

Brutal, fast-paced techno assaulted your ears, but you welcomed it as you did with the throngs of party-goers passing you by, like swimming through jellyfish and seaweed, in this maddeningly beautiful underwater world. All you could hear was a wall of sound and your own breathing, teeth chattering and chest throbbing as heavy bass reverberated through your body. If you stayed any longer, you would vaporize into thin air. And so, you plunged into the lower depths, down further passageways and corridors to your final destination.

People wouldn’t understand why you do what you do. Why you treated this club like a church—the only one you’d go to religiously every Sunday to get fucked within an inch of your life by complete strangers. Strangers you never saw, and would never meet again. 

You didn’t owe them an explanation, but truth be told, you felt far safer here than in most other places you’d been to. Too many close calls and red flags left you running away from that mess. Here, you were spoiled for choice. You could be whoever you wanted to be, without labels or judgment. Fucking was freedom and creativity. Fucking was an expression of yourself. Fucking was a big fuck you to society that tried to break you, moulding you into preconceived roles, telling you what you should or shouldn’t do.

Despite that, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Your PrEP shot was up to date and you tested frequently. Nothing was a hundred percent foolproof, but it was a risk you were willing to take. You were nearly there, following the invisible wisp of a white rabbit to its lair as the sweet, musky scent of lust and arousal grew stronger.

At the entrance of the darkroom, you paused, lifting your hand as a breeze sifted through your fingers. Funny how cold it could get down in the basement. You wondered if the ghosts of soldiers past could see you now—heart racing in your chest, adrenaline flooding your veins, and butterflies in your stomach—every single time without fail as you stood in front of the innocuous opening in the wall, like a gateway or barrier to another plane. What they would think as you stepped inside, agreeing to the unspoken code of conduct, where it was hunting season, and just like everyone else, you were game.

Inside, it was pitch black, so dark that you could not see, but you could make out the distinct sounds of sheets rustling, the shifting of bodies, light moans, and squelching wet kisses as you felt around the room, slowly putting one foot forward, and then the other, like the blind leading the blind. As your eyes adjusted to the surroundings, movements blurred at the corners, amorphous shapes materializing before you like a séance you had conducted. 

Sometimes you would catch a look, a nod, a gesture—silent, yet reminding you that what you were seeing was real. Hands passed along your body, and you imagined this must be what it feels like to traverse through clouds—touching, groping, feeling every part of you that you had bared to offer. Shedding clothes like this was so easy, like peeling away the layers of skin you had adorned to protect yourself. 

Someone else’s skin. 

Someone else’s face. 

A thousand masks you reaped and sowed.

Gone, all gone—until you were stripped to the core. 

The immense desire to be naked forever and never dressed again bubbled to the surface, burning a hole in your chest and getting caught in your throat.

A sudden smack against the cheek of your ass sent you reeling forward. The beds were damp as you sank upon them on your knees, gasping in sheer delight. The sting of it was buzzing, your ears filled with white noise as your hair was yanked backwards, mouths latching onto flesh, sensitive and bruising like ripened plum under teeth.

The room was warm and humid, sweltering even, but you couldn’t complain. Heat like that never looked bad on anyone. Sweat dripped from the pores of your skin, creating a thin layer of moonlit sheen. Tongues lapped at the moisture, prickly and salty, running over areas you never knew existed until the heady rushes you felt stated otherwise.

You grasped at the silhouette lying under you. It squirmed—wet, whining, and wanting. Breasts quivering, breathing in deep. Almost instantly, the grip on your hair loosened as you lunged forward, suctioning your lips over a peak, your fingers sliding through her folds, curling against her walls. 

Eventually, you were pushed on top of her, a heavy palm on the arch of your back, ribs crushing, tongues intertwining, and teeth clashing as other hands gripped her wrists firmly over her head. Your pelvises ground together as someone pounded into you from behind; her breasts bouncing violently against your chest with each thrust. The mattress sagged under your weight as it consumed you—suffocating, drowning—and you surrendered to it all in the darkness until you were nothing. A blank canvas, equal to the rest, finally seen as simply human.

You did the devil’s dance, flitting between partners, just as your parents did before you, and their parents—your grandparents—and their ancestors before them. Though instead of fucking raw, they had their own versions of the dance that they were too embarrassed to admit, leaving them forgotten behind closed doors and repressed memories.

Then, another pair of hands descended on your back, their knuckles caressing your shoulders with a bittersweet tenderness, taking you by surprise. Brushing your hair aside, you felt stubble scrape the nape of your neck, his kiss lingering a little longer than a second or two, as if afraid that by confronting you, you might dissolve between his fingers. 

Hot, shaky breath fanned across your ear, “May I?”

A baritone—rich, deep, and weary—with an edge to it like he had been through a never ending war. You wondered why.

In silence, you tilted your head, granting him easier access to your neck. You were his prey; he could bite in hard if he wanted to, but he only nipped—teasingly, playfully, savoring your taste, his large, coarse hands raking your body, gentle and unsure.

This wasn’t his first time; he was too composed for that. You searched for an answer as the tips of his fingers pressed dimples into your skin—temporary marks that spoke of his desire to make you his for the night. His touch ached so badly with longing, you could feel it seep into your bones. It hurt, everything hurt, as he buried his face into your neck, smothering the rest of his emotions along with it.

Someone once said, “The biggest lie we tell ourselves is that we should be ashamed of our feelings.”

But imagine if we weren’t? Your hand cupped over his. His breath hitched.

You knew shame like the back of your hand. A sickness and disease, taking root from within, its poisonous tendrils spreading out through every orifice until you couldn’t even scream.

Imagine if we weren’t. Your fingers laced through his. You squeezed. He squeezed back.

A secret morse code between the two of you as others started to gather around. Lying on your sides, he tugged you in closer, so that your back was flush against his chest. You stroked his arm, repeating the motion in cycles like a form of meditation.

He had you. You were his. He didn’t have to worry about that, even when you were being shared.

In return, he planted soft kisses along your spine as a ‘thank you’, causing you to shiver while he palmed your crotch. You felt his dick harden against the crevasse of your ass and you bucked your hips back into his. He let out a hiss, rubbing his erection in sync with your rocking, and you heard the sound of a lid cracking open.

At the same time, another person tweaked your nipples, licking, and sucking on them as you bit your lip and moaned. Lukewarm oil spilled onto your ass in a slow, deliberate stream, spreading like liquid silk. Even though you were ready—so ready—for this, with your hole wide and gaping from the butt plug you had worn in the day, and still leaking from previous use, he felt the need to prepare you. Circling your rim, he slipped one, then two fingers in, allowing the tight ring of muscle to clench around them as he stretched you out. When he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, you nearly sighed in relief, relaxing as he filled you up fully, slowly, and sensually, as if you were making love for the first time.

You melted like sweet, flowing honey in his arms, linked around your waist, hugging you tightly as his ragged breath grazed your cheek. Once you had settled in, it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace. Your hands gripped his the entire time as he pumped his cock harder into you, friction firing up the bundle of nerves, causing you to cry out in wanton pleasure. 

It was only a matter of time before you caught a glimpse of another shadow joining from behind him, and felt the head of someone else’s member smear precum along your lips. You opened, submitting completely to the moment, its shaft dipping in and out of your mouth, your tongue swirling over its slit and ridge. Saliva dribbled down your chin as fingers tangled in your hair, grabbing it roughly to shove his cock in further, letting it hit the back of your throat as you choked and gagged. Tears ran down your face, ruining the black liner and glitter you’d decorated it with.

The hands that had been wrapped around yours gave them a long, hard squeeze, as if to ask, “Are you okay?” His worry and concern was your very own personal S.O.S., if you needed it. You brushed your thumb against his knuckles reassuringly, and he did the same, giving you two light squeezes in response, trusting in your decision.

At this, his hips snapped against your ass harshly, balls slapping skin as his thrusts grew more desperate, matching the intensity with which you were being fucked in the mouth, like a wordless competition—one vying for your affection. He slammed into your sensitive spot repeatedly, the sensations overwhelming like never before as your eyes rolled back—demonic and possessed—and euphoric waves rippled through your body.

He continued railing you until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. You felt his eyes shut, his mouth twist into a frown as he muffled his groans into your neck. He tensed and staggered, emptying a thick, hot load into your spent hole, just as the person in front of you pulled out, finishing himself off onto your face.

You coughed, sputtering as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. His dick was still in you, twitching as he rode out his climax, stroking your thighs, your hips, your ribs, before settling back on the curve of your ass. He kneaded it gently as you felt him pull out; his hands coming to rest around your waist. Raising your arms behind you, you circled them around the back of his head, pushing his face into your hair as both of you lay there—still and quiet—panting heavily and covered in fluids, his cum trickling out of your heat. You felt the uneven, taut patches that littered his skin, along with the rise and fall of each other’s chests—an empty space in the cavity growing more deafening with each passing second in the sparse room.

The clock continued ticking until you finally decided to turn around, facing the man who had fucked you so hard you thought you might break. All at once, he drew closer, lips on lips, kissing you like he meant it. You kissed back sloppily, running your fingers through his sweat-drenched hair as he cupped your cheek—grasping, craving, needing more. 

You didn’t know what to make of this connection he and you felt. The way his heart beat with loneliness, and yours responding in kind, whispering in a similar rhythm, “I’m here. I see you.” It was far more intimate than any experience you’d ever had in a darkroom. And you panicked.

Breaking away, you spotted a tuft of his matted blonde tresses, his sharp, brilliant blues, and your eyes darted towards the way out. Before he could speak, you got up, his hand catching your wrist, tugging, pulling—please, I want you, don’t go, please—until you snatched it back, and he let you.

You touched his face, thumb brushing across his bottom lip—swollen and weeping, a final ‘thank you’ for something special the two of you had shared. One where you lied to yourself, treating it as a mere passing moment in your life, fearing that anything more would ruin the illusion held together by anonymity. Picking your clothes up from the floor, you slipped off into the light and safety of crowds, ignoring the pang in your chest as the distance between you and him grew.

━━━━━━━━━━━

What if things had gone differently? 

What if you had let him talk? 

Say the words he wanted to say. Rip his chest open. Pour his heart out into your awaiting cup.

What if it was meant to be more?

What if, what if, all the what ifs.

You sat on your chair, legs crossed and pulled into your chest, thinking back to that encounter over and over again. A cheap desk fan blew hot, desert wind in your direction, its plastic blades rotating sluggishly, hardly helping in the current heatwave. Clumps of hair stuck to your forehead and the sides of your face as you closed your eyes, reminiscing his ghostly touch along your body, sore and aching, fighting fire with fire.

Five nights had passed, and you couldn’t get him out of your mind. It was three in the morning, you had work in a few hours, but he was all you could think about. During the day, you walked around in a vacant daze, and now, you were stoned, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell happened.

You fucked yourself with your fingers, imagining it was him fucking you. 

And then, Sunday came.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You saw him everywhere that night—through the tide of music, in the mirrored reflections, blonde locks catching the light, only to be let down. You didn’t know what he looked like, the only memory being a static cloud of darkness before your eyes, but somehow, you knew that you would be able to tell if it was him.

Like a moth to a flame, you made your way towards the darkroom, all the while hopelessly wondering if he would be there where you had found him last, waiting patiently, like a dog to its owner for their return. When you entered, a swarm of hands skimmed along your private parts—foreign and alien as you swallowed your disappointment, losing yourself in others’ company, though you had never felt more alone.

One more.

Another.

The next—

You’d recognize that touch anywhere. His calloused hands across your jaw—tentative, tracing your skin like scorched earth, his yearning fulfilled when you took his fingers into your mouth, coating them with your taste.

“It’s you…” he murmured, his velvety voice, laden with emotion, slipping into your ear, causing you to shudder.

His fingers slid out over the dip of your tongue as he replaced them with his lips, devouring yours fervently as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Knowing him was like a crime, but you gave yourself the permission to want him this way.

A jarring flash of light blinded you, followed by a burst of giggles, rudely interrupting your chance meeting. You whipped your head in its direction, shielding your eyes as you squinted at white powder vibrating on illuminated phone screens.

“Take your fucking drugs somewhere else!” someone yelled.

By the time you turned back, the light went out again, plunging you into utter darkness. 

Did you lose your power of anonymity?

Had he seen you for who you were now?

Would he judge you like the rest?

You felt his hand in yours, light brushes against your inner palm in the secret language you shared. No, this wasn’t the right place for what you wanted, and you had to respect that—both of that.

Fuck feeling ashamed of your feelings. 

You threw out your inhibitions, dragging him through the opening as he followed you into the light. You saw him clearly now, just as he saw you. Scars of all shapes and sizes across his body, matching the bumps you had felt in the dark—now laid bare and vulnerable in full public view.

You didn’t care, and he didn’t seem to either, clasping your face between his hands as he pushed you back, mouth squarely on yours, teasing it open. He hoisted your legs, hooking them around his waist as he buried his cock into you. Fucking you relentlessly against the wall, rugged concrete chafing skin as you jerked upwards, meeting his thrusts. 

It was rushed, frantic, and hungry, like you would vanish before his very eyes at any minute. A new DJ set had started, drowning out your screams as you dug your nails into his shoulders, clawing angry, red marks into his skin. Trembling, feverish lips wet on your chest, sucking and leaving bites in flesh as others watched, or masturbated while they watched—voyeurs to your private scene.

You clung to each other, his grip bruising on the back of your thighs, not wanting to let go—not this time, not now, not ever. Funny how you found it comforting—the way he held your gaze, unflinching and calm, as you reached your high, like he was seeing right through you—melting flesh from bone, prying the cavern open to find a scared little rabbit, and the rage frothing at your teeth.

And you knew that he understood that feeling too.

He came in you soon after, muscles clenching as he pinned you to the wall, ropes of his release filling you deep. His breath escaped in loud rasps, stray strands of his bangs fluttering in the breeze.

“God… fuck…” he gasped, before his eyes found yours again, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile as he laughed.

You laughed back.

He set you down on the floor—your legs wobbly, gaze shy—exchanging soft caresses, oblivious to the rest of the world around you. You leaned in, kissing him spontaneously as you felt his smile against your lips.

“So, you got a name?”

“Mm-hmm.” He kissed you once more, exhaling it like a sigh—“Leon.”

And you didn’t feel like the magic was lost in any way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Endnotes

Fyi, I created a playlist for Darkroom in case you want to check it out. All songs are from The xx and their music contributed a lot to the mood of this piece!

I also saw Timimie Märak, a poet, feminist, and Sámi queer activist, at a literary festival recently, and I really liked what they said: “The biggest lie we tell ourselves is that we should be ashamed of our feelings,” which has appeared in my fic above.

[analogmartt]

Handmade silver gelatin print.

Artist Pedro Silva shot on medium format Delta 400 in Florianópolis.

Ilford Multigrade FB Classic

50,8x61cm

[quarriart]

The Darkroom. Part 1. (Part 2, Part 3)

[wyllora]

Did I Take This Photo? My spread for @flowerlanguagezine - A flower-language themed Basil zine. All profits going to the PCRF! Check it out!

[rustyelias]

NO BODY MOVE IM ABOUT TO LOSE IT

SHAKES MY LOUIS PHOTOGRAPHY POST AROUND OH MY GODDD

oh they are so brassaï like I’m jumping up and down rn

[onekindredspirit]

*The Tree is a Lighthouse for the Soul* Silver Print

[colonellickburger]

Inge Morath. A Llama in Times Square. 1957. Darkroom print marked with Pablo Inirio's notes for printing.

[simtrovart]

In the Darkroom, On the Line

Lost in conversation, they each find pieces of each other—some hidden, some unspoken, and some captured in ways only one of them knows.

previously

[mlorenzetti]

new from "New Year"...

2/17/25, split toned #8x10 gelatin silver contact print

Marco Lorenzetti

[way-of-love]

Oops - (ONESHOT) (Miguel O’Hara x FEMReader) (18+ ONLY) (R- RATED)(SPOILERS)

Well, guess Miguel must really like mouths and you just enjoy giving it to him!

WARNINGS: Forced Oral; bondage; hate x love; sadist; threat of using… ALL holes; biting; smut; spit; bubbly spit; juices (: ; GWAK GWAK 3000

This couldn’t go on for much longer could it? He had to get tired at some point right? No man should have such strength or even stamina to keep this up for so long. Yet you always forget he’s not like any man. You lost track of time in this room, wherever this room was.

Tired and overly-sensitive, you bit your lip hard stoping the whimper coming out when you felt the tip of a talon pressing against the very tip of your overly rubbed clit. Your legs quivered and your body jerked from the contact. Torture is what it was yet it felt euphoric.

You were bound to a chair with thick glowing red webs bitting into your sweaty flesh keeping your legs tied, spread and your arms bound behind the chair. It didn’t hurt but it was uncomfortable to stay like this for hours. You weren’t sure how much you could withstand before eventually passing out.

“Enough! Miguel please!” You finally groaned out desperately tossing your head back.

Miguel stood in the darkness of the room, a sole light illuminating you were you sat and he hid his face within the shadows where his bloody red eyes glowed. And those eyes took in your sorry state with a dark satisfaction. And that satisfaction of his left you vulnerable, naked and bare for his dark devices.

He made you into this mess of a woman because he realized this was the best way to shut you up.

Yelling, scolding, trying to go over his authority when he already gave you a direct order. Yet, you betray him with your…free will.

“Look at you, que porquería.” He speaks quietly, cold with mock sweetness.

Miguel may have been close enough to touch you but you still couldn’t see his face. Clearly he was angry no, furious.

“Miguel… I know you’re angry but you don’t have to go—“ Your eyes widen and a shriek left your bruised lips when you felt him pinch your poor rose bud between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it like a small little bead.

He growled in annoyance bracing a hand on the back of the flimsy chair you were tied to shaking it a bit as he leaned over your face. His brows here angled and furrowed, his eyes lacked that usual sarcastic dull shine. Now they were brimming with a fiery anger that seemed to light them up.

“You! Have pissed me off for the last fucking TIME Y/N.” He sneered down at you, seething in anger as he continued to roll your clit between your forced parted thighs. Your eyes squeezed shut as a breathy moan left you.

You’ve both been at this for hours, and he still hasn’t eased off of you. All because you befriended and defended that kid, Miles. Out of everyone who was there you called Miguel out on his hypocrisy. Putting all the blame from the collider incident on that poor teen all while calling him an anomaly. Yet, he never considered that the only anomaly was that Spot guy.

It turned into a whole argument, things being thrown at one another before he used his superhuman abilities against you forcing you into this room, stripped naked and tied. Of course you fought and bit but he was superior in strength. You were just human with a very big brain.

“I…I get it… but please,” You licked your lips,” Talk. Let’s talk please?” Your voice was hoarse, shaky and breathless.

You’ve begged him to stop countless of times before and each time he dismissed your pleas with the wave of your hand doing as he liked to punish you for your insubordination.

Yet, while you looked so pathetic naked and tied to the chair with with his webs bitting into your plush skin he realized he should have done this much, much sooner. Seeing you unable to move struggling to be freed from his webs stroked a fire within him.

Grabbing your cheeks with the hand he had behind your chair, he squeezes them until your lips are perked, and he looks down at them sneering,” Talk? I’m done talking to you.”

He then smirks and you see a small spark of emotion in his angry red eyes, a hint of lust. He gets closer and brushes his lips against your perked ones, “ Siempre estás hablando.(T:You’re always talking) You’re very lucky I don’t tear these lips of yours off with my teeth.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his threat feeling both excitement and arousal spiking slightly. If anyone else was on the receiving end of that threat they’d think he was being serious but you, God, you knew he was bluffing. Those fangs of his were solely for show.

He let your face go instantly making your head swing a bit to the side. Your cheeks hurt where he grabbed and squeezed you.

“Guess…a sorry is in order,” You mumbled with a hint of annoyance.

You look down glancing at your self. Sweaty quivering thighs forced apart and held apart by those glowing webs of his. And a pool of, no doubt, your juices he managed to get out of you dripping over the edge of the chair. This was embarrassing. Humiliating even. Only if you were caught you’d feel humiliated.

If Miles, Gwen or even Hobie saw how pathetic you looked in the hands of Miguel they’d no doubt take pity but you didn’t want that. You were enduring this for their sake.

Were you really? For their sake?

Even if it was for their sake… you still found yourself yearning for more of this…punishment he was bringing down on you.

“ ‘Sorry’ isn’t good enough Y/N. ‘Sorry’ is for when you step on someone’s foot.” He exclaimed coldly while he walked behind you. “This goes beyond sorry. Years beyond a simple apology.”

Raising your head you stared off into the darkness of the room of the room sensing his warmth behind you. His own cool scent of fresh mint, amrboxan amber and cedar wood. The intoxicating concoction of both his smell and sweat were driving you crazy stirring your insides like an aphrodisiac.

Your mind was going in the worst of directions the more you filled your lungs with that smell. All these ‘what if’s’ and scenarios of him and you with sweaty bodies meshed together in unison like a symphony.

Miguel always played you until you were at the peak of your performance. But you knew there could be more, there is more!

You sighed out a response,”Then I take it back, I’m not sorry.”

Defiance is considered open resistance or bold disobedience and it was something Miguel could never let slide. He hated when things didn’t go his way or when people never followed their written roles. And as of right now you weren’t following his regiment.

You could hear his deep sigh of disapproval, his breath falling over the top of your head. His bare hand sliding over your jaw cups your chin and forces your head back roughly. It makes you groan and wince from the force.

Miguel leans in lips brushing against your ear, “Tempting me is a dangerous game, you know that right?”

You roll your eyes as he let you go suddenly. Was he done? Was he satisfied with this punishment? Rolling your head a bit you felt his warmth disappear for a moment but he suddenly came back and your chair was tilted back making you squeal out in surprise.

The control freak tilted your chair back enough where your toes or the chairs front legs weren’t touching the ground. He tilted you back enough so you were crotch height and the top of your head had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting what he truly was hiding behind his blue suit.

“Oops,” He mumbled starring down at you with that unimpressed expression of his. You narrowed your eyes at him. Miguel felt no shame about what he planned on doing next or rather he wouldn’t be feeling bad about it. His thumb hooked around the frontal part of his suit waistband and began to tug it down. Now you began to resist some more when you realized just what he planned on doing.

“M-miguel… you can’t be serious—“ Sucking someone off was not new to you but sucking them off being held upside down like this would definitely be a first.

“Relax. I’m holding the chair,” And to confirm it for you he shook the chair where he held it making you jiggle a bit, “and besides, I think this is the best way to shut you up.”

You and Miguel have never had intercourse or even fooled around before these ‘punishments’ of his began. Was he really doing this to punish you or could he not hold in his own desire anymore? Whichever it was you watched him tug the rest of his suit down revealing himself.

It was long, thick and strong. God he was hard already as if he was waiting for this very moment; his balls heavy, swollen looking hung right above your forehead. You felt your wet cunt throb at the sight. Veins popped up on his pelvis just as thick veins decorated his cock, a very thick one was obviously noticeable on his underside and so was a thick one on his side.

While you gawked at his rod that shadowed over your face he smirked satisfied.

“You have such a big bold mouth. Let’s hope it’s big enough for this,” His voice came out thick and heavy with lust.

Looking up at him fully you licked your swollen lips, “ Then say please,” You looked back at his cock that hovered right above your face.

Miguel tilted his head as he reached for your face, the back of his gloved hand brushing against your cheek before he ran that thumb if his across your upside down swollen lips. By the looks of it, it was going to be a pretty tight fit.

“Say please,” He scoffs slowly sliding his thumb into your mouth. It slid around your bottom teeth feeling up each tooth, rubbing against your gums spreading and smearing your spit to your top teeth.

“Por favor? Déjame usar tu boca.”His voice came out in almost a whisper as he continued to play with your teeth and spit. (T: Please? Let me use your mouth.)

You had no idea what he was doing but hearing him say please in his mother tongue caused you to melt and nod your head without a second thought.

Slowly his thumb came and hooked itself onto your inner cheek pulling the corner of your mouth wider. He scooted forward and the very tip of his bare cock lightly pressing against your upper lip, it couldn’t enter properly because your mouth wasn’t completely wide open.

“Cmon, don’t play with me Y/N” He mumbled quietly in annoyance yet when you looked at him he looked nothing close to annoyed. The poor man looked restless, restrained even. His thumb finally slipped away and went back to caressing your bottom lip.

Oh, so he wanted this just as badly. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of him wanting you and you denying him. Unfortunately, tonight wasn’t the night to deny him flat out. Instead you giggled against his tip.

“Mmmm, what if I bit it?” You looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eye.

He closed his red eyes briefly as if taking a moment to register the many outcomes of you taking a bite out of his cock before opening them staring right at you with his cold glare, “I’ll keep fucking your throat until you choke on both my cock and blood. Then I’ll fuck your other two holes, actually,” The corner of his lip lifted slightly as he looked out toward the bottom half of your naked tied body.

Your smile fell when he glanced right back at you with a heated, toothy mean grin, “All three of your holes, I will fuck until you cry. And even then I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.”

You shouldn’t have believed him. Because it wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be possible… after all three holes? Your mouth which was about to be occupied; your pussy which would happily accept him; your ass which may need some getting used to but it was most than willing. Your third hole… was he referring to…that hole?

It should have disgusted you but for some reason, your body hummed at the thought of him exploiting every inch of you.

“You promise?” Breathless.

“Siempre.”

Your mouth opened and your tongue slid right out, he groaned out and made no hesitation to cradle the back of your neck while slipping his length right into the depths of your wet, hot mouth.

Salty.

Hot.

Hard.

Those were the words you’d describe the feeling of his cock finally sheathing itself into your mouth and his sack falling lightly over your forehead. If you weren’t still tied up you’d more than likely would grip the back of his thighs and force him more into your mouth. But he was in control.

Miguel gripped the chair tighter as he held it still and gingerly held the back of your neck at an angle to force more of his girth into your tight mouth. Right now your lips were already stretching and taking him in very well much to his surprise.

As soon as he felt that resistance he stopped pushing watching you carefully. You weren’t gagging, yet. That wasn’t a good sign. This was a punishment after all, it wouldn’t be fun if he was careful with you. Licking his lips he released a breath.

“You’re not gonna like what I’m about to do,” His thumb lightly ram over the base of your throat.

Your eyes opened and your brows furrowed in confusion. What did ge mean? Tied to a chair with his webs, tilted back and forced to give him a blow job wasn’t all he planned on doing?

Before you could mumble or indicate to him you wanted to speak he let go of the chair only to quickly use that hand to join the other in cupping the back of your neck. The chair tilted further back and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, and your mouth tightened a bit around his cock. You thought you were going to fall to the ground and hurt your arms that were tied behind the chair but much to your surprise you did.

Opening your eyes against you peeked or tried to, to see Miguel but instead of seeing his concentrating face you saw his head tilted back and his chest rising and falling a bit quickly.

Miguel groaned out while letting the sweet sensation of your throat suddenly close around what little was in there around him. And your teeth, you bit lightly into him but it felt so… good. Tilting his head back down at you, you saw just how aroused he was.

This man wasn’t even half way down your throat and he already was ready to burst, “You’re… bitting. Bueno. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,”

Oh, you felt a shiver run through you. His voice was dark, breathless and filled with arousal. You’d never heard nor seen him like this in the past.

Suddenly his thumbs cradled the sides of your delicate neck, they only gentleness he’ll show you. His stance changed with legs spread further apart and the distance between your head and his groin grew a bit. You fisted your hands and shut your eyes bracing for impact.

When it came you squealed around him, well tried to. It sounded like you were drowning. His hips came in and out like a piston, forcing the entirety of his long cock down to the back of your throat. You tried to move your head but with his hands holding your neck your movements were limited.

Your body squirmed and jerked as he used your mouth with no concern for your safety. Balls slapping against your nose with each thrust of his hips.

It was maddening. He was going wild.

Furthermore, he was enjoying himself. His expression you could not see but you could hear his groans and hisses through the squelching, ball slapping. It sounded like music to your ears. He was in pleasure after all these years torturing you he was also torturing himself which lead to him finally snapping at you.

All these years and he had to withhold all of these emotions, these trivial feelings that made him want to jump at you every time you opened your mouth and defied him. The first time it happened, he didn’t take pleasure in it. He tested the waters and each and every time you spoke out the ‘punishment’ was more sever each time.

Alas, today was the day of reckoning for him. As much as he gave you, he’ll take back. He’ll rid himself of this silly attraction, this obstacle and shut you up for good. That way you won’t mess with his emotions, his plans, his life.

Groaning he felt you gag around his cock finally. And it made him slow down just to hear you struggle to take him in. Yes, just like this he’ll shut you right up.

Miguel hissed lowly, “ That’s it,” He looked down at where his cock was connected to you seeing the bubbly saliva wrapping around his thick length and your mouth.

“Remember this Y/N. Every time you open your mouth to say anything against me, remember this feeling of you choking on my cock like a virgin,” He spat down you feeling elated.

And you, with bubbly spit falling down your cheeks felt a hunger you’ve never felt before. Your cunt weeped for touch, throbbed to squeeze something that could stretch it but instead all it received was the ghost of him.

You had his fingers knuckle deep driving you towards orgasm after orgasm, taunting you every time you came. He was wicked. Telling you this would only get worse each time she defied him. But for some reason your body moved on its own as if…as if it was calling to him.

With lack of air you tried to fight him, struggle to get at least an ounce of air but your struggle was futile. Eventually he gave you a break suddenly slowing down and coming to a complete stop.

He was breathing heavily above you as he remained still keeping himself balls deep inside your saliva coated mouth. Slowly, he pulled back dragging his sloppy cock out of your mouth.

Once he was out you took in a loud gasp of air coughing a bit as he took a hand back to grip the chair and kept it tilted.

“You…will never go…against my word again. Understand?” He was panting and his cock was visibly throbbing coated in your spit. Miguel was holding back and you weren’t sure why but you weren’t about to find out.

You opened your mouth wide and kept your tongue out as an open invitation for him to continue, to release all of his frustrations onto you or rather in you. His hold tightened on the chair and the back of your neck seeing you willingly wanting to pleasure him.

“Mierda.”(T: Fuck.)

———————————-

So I made an AI based off this fic so let me know what you think and please let me know if it’s buggy!

[darkroom-fanzine]

[ID: a simple drawing of Loop faceplanted on the ground with their arms splayed out by their sides and slightly above their head. There are several sheets of paper scattered on the ground around them, underneath them, gripped in one of their hands, and floating in the air above them as if still lazily making their way to the floor. End ID.]

Please enjoy this drawing of Loop made after the completion of our banner art to capture the feelings of sheer exhaustion shared between the members of the mod team. Sorry Loop, you can't rest just yet! The paperwork is only just getting started~! ✨

Link to the interest check form for the Darkroom Fanzine can be found here!

[analogmartt]

Working on a silver gelatin print of Diego shot on Ilford Delta 400 in Berlin, May 2022.

test prints vs tray process

Bergger Prestige variable CB 50,8x61cm

Instagram

[crabboytahomaru]

Lu Guang reminding Cheng Xiaoshi that he'll stay by his side no matter where he goes when they're preparing to dive into the photo... I would fall even deeper in love w Lu Guang not gonna lie because he's basically saying even when you are in the past and we are no longer in the same time space, even when you are not physically with me, I will always be with you. It doesn't matter how far away you are, there isn't a place you can go where I can't reach.

[snowangelsoul]

Self-Portrait

Photo by @snowangelsoul