#undertones of sadomasochism

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

torment

-B.E.

A/N: teeny tiny blurb🍓

ᝰ🖋️: suggestive duh?!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

thighs clasped together, squirming on the couch with a fidget need at the tips of your fingers.

“whats wrong? something happen?” so caring, so sweetly worried,

“im tired, its getting late” so fake.

a head turning at the clock looking with a squint, a faint held-back smile with an undertone of amusement to it. “its winter, the sun is down but its eight. since when do you get tired so early?”

she knows, the avoiding of eye contact, the excess fidgeting, the subtle moving of your hips. just enough to get the energy out of them somehow, just enough to go by unnoticed if it weren’t her goal all evening to get you just like that.

“since the sun did too.” monotone, but pained. an ache at the cords to make your replied coherent. she wasn’t born yesterday, you’re not hanging out for the first time, its obvious. neutral facial expression with uneven breathing, focusing on anything ahead as long as its not her, blank stare, a deer in headlights.

but she wanted to hear it. “ohh is the poet becoming the poetry itself? well don’t let me stop you,” without looking at her you could tell she was smiling, “go on if you have to.” she knows.

no matter the courage or the amount of times you backwards count, you cant stand on your feet. you’ve been trying, for conversations now. “i-..” cutting your own self off, you tear your eyes off the frame on the wall, dragging them all the way to her. “i don’t think i physically can” cheeks set aflame, a shameful giggle making its way out your chest.

this friendship has always been playful, and each time it gets more and more effective - which is both good and bad. depending whose perspective you see it from.

even when she tries her best to not smile, her eyes always do. they always did, her mouth didn’t have to. “whys that? need help?” such a tone. what a tone. she knew just the right buttons to push, like a favourite video game, she knew just what to do, and she would know so even blind.

“fuck off.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Dark!Azriel x reader: Stockholm Syndrome[***]

A/N: This is for the Eat You Up girlies <3

Warnings: dubcon themes, dark!Azriel, CNC kink, bdsm undertones, leashes + collars, heavy Dom/Sub dynamics, sex toys, knife play, pussy-spanking, impact play, degradation, foot-humping, biting, slight choking, shadows, sadomasochism, somnophilia, nipple play…?, spitting, mention of non-con

Word Count: 9,960

Visual Prompt here!

You pad quietly along the corridor, searching.

Shadows flick at your ankles, around your bare calves, herding you gently toward the stairs. Teeth bite softly into your lower lip as you ascend the case, feet tiptoeing along the carpeted hallway as you’re guided to his office. The door is ajar, and you spot him at his desk, walking in silently.

Not silent enough, apparently.

Hazel eyes flick over his shoulder, pinning you to the floor, and you still, breath catching in your throat. He turns a little in his chair, darkness thrumming around him, wreathing the great, powerful wings at his back. His eyes catch on your bare thighs, gaze darkening as he drinks you in, frozen in his room.

Azriel’s lips quirk, and that’s all it takes to have your limbs unsticking.

You eagerly pad forward, walking up to him, hands moving to your hips then wrapping round the base of your spine. Your own hands land on his broad shoulders as you slide into his lap, legs parting either side of his thighs. You press into his warmth, nestling deeper into the firm strength of him, nosing at his throat.

Azriel’s large hand strokes your hair, soothingly possessive, tucking you away.

A hum sounds in your chest, almost a purr, and your hips wind gently over his own, rocking your centre against him. He can feel the softness of your sex through the seam of his leathers. “Been a long day, huh?” He asks, large hand spanning your throat as he eases you back—so he can look at you. Remind himself how obedient you are. How docile you’ve become.

You blink quietly up at him, satisfaction gleaming in his sharp, hazel eyes.

White canines flash as his lips lift into a grin, “want something, pet?” Your hips roll onto his needfully, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. A low chuckle sounds deep in his chest, “want my cock, hm?” Your head dips, and he laughs again. “I’d’ve thought all the maidenly blushing would have been fucked out of you by now,” he drawls, the rich timbre of his voice stirring something hot and liquid in the pit of your belly.

Papers rustle behind you, but you’re too busy staring up at him to care.

“Get on the desk. Legs spread,” he orders, and you practically fizzle with excitement. Sliding out of his lap, and raising yourself up carefully, so your ass is perched near the edge. Thighs part shyly, and you’re thankful for the fabric covering your heat. No matter how many times he’s already seen you, from all sorts of obscene angles.

You squirm when he remains quiet, simply leaning back in his chair, eyes slowly raking over you, leisurely taking you in, as if you aren’t burning with need. His gaze fixates on a spot between your legs, the teal silk darkened and damp. Heat bubbles as his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. Showing his growing appetite.

“Remove your top for me, pet,” he says softly, eyes so full of starving hunger it sends goosebumps raising across your skin, nipples peaking as your fingers catch the hem of the cotton. Pulling it up over your head, you shiver in the cool air of his office, toes curling at the intensity of his gaze.

Silence stretches as he watches with predatory intent, allowing your anxiety to build, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

“Do you remember when you used to protest to all this?” He asks softly, sharp hazel piercing into you, pinning you to his desk. “How you used to scream, and beg for me not to touch you?” A shiver thrills down your spine, and he marks it eagerly. “Answer me, pet.”

You dip your head. “I do.”

His mouth parts in a grin, canines peeking from below his upper lip. “Want to recreate that for me?”

Breath catches in your lungs, muscles stiffening as you stare at him, heat washing your cheeks. “What…?” His eyes seem to almost glow with anticipation, and he pushes up from his chair. The space between you is gobbled up in a single stride, then his hands are resting heavily around your hips, pressing close between your thighs. “Want to make it fun, don’t you?” He drawls, watching you intently.

You dip your head again, cheeks heating, but he lightly grips your jaw, raising your chin. “Go on,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your features hungrily. “Make the hunt good.”

Arousal licks between your legs, but then he steps back, and you watch him curiously.

Azriel merely steps aside, encouraging you to go. “Hide.”

Heat sparks in the pit of your belly, and you’re hopping off his desk, grabbing your top, receiving a firm smack on the ass as you leave. “I’ll know if you don’t try hard enough,” he calls after you, voice being carried on those shadows, speeding you along.

First, you stop at your bedroom, but no—too obvious. Next is the kitchen, but nowhere to hide. Next is the study, and you sneak in, checking to see if you could fit under the desk. No way. But there’s a set of keys laying half hidden beneath some papers, and you smile to yourself.

Silently, you slide the key into the one remaining lock on the back door—having watched the other six come off over the years. Until just one remains. You catch it as it clicks open, careful not to make a sound as you open the door.

And hurry out into the night.

————

Toes curl in excitement as you settle your legs either side of the broad trunk, feet dirty from scaling the large tree. But now you’re up here, hidden, and have a good view of a few of the windows leading into your house.

Watch as he checks the bedroom first—he definitely would have found you there. Then the washroom, a few rooms you can’t see, the kitchen… He disappears for a while, and you assume he’s checking the study. Excitement thrills down your spine as you watch him search for you. Is this how he felt all those years? Secretly observing your activities?

It’s exhilarating.

When he reappears in the bedroom, his shadows are darker, writhing around his wings. He’s begun to figure you’re not in the house—he must not’ve seen the lock yet. You smile to yourself, satisfied with your efforts.

His movements drop their leisurely pace, sharpening to something more brutal. Lethally efficient as he checks each room again, going through the lovely house.

When the ground shakes slightly, you can guess he’s found the opened lock—guessed you’ve escaped out into the world. Returned to where he plucked you from.

Azriel prowls out into the garden, hazel eyes flicking left and right, scanning for movement, and you hold your breath. His nostrils flare, and he moves forward, shadows hunting close to the ground. He reaches the base of the tree, and comes up short. Your scent disappears from the ground.

He’s still. Quiet.

Then he begins muttering to himself. Your name, over and over. A strange spell being woven as he chants it repeatedly under his breath. Hands tighten to fists at his side, shadows writhing, and you can feel his agitation from below.

You watch, curiously. You’ve not seen him like this in a long time.

So you grip a pinecone, and drop it over the edge.

Immediately he stops, going silent. Staring at the cone at his feet. His gaze snaps up, razor-sharp hazel slicing into you, and you freeze. Cold, glittering fury dances in his eyes.

Excitement heats your body, hands gripping the trunk as you swing your leg over the side. Then tip off the edge.

His eyes widen, instantly moving to catch you, shadows springing up to soften your fall, and you feel it as his strong arms wrap protectively beneath you. Pressing you to his body. His grip is tight—possessive, and you nestle closer. “What d’you think?” You mumble, pulling back to peer up at him.

“I thought you’d gone,” he mutters, tips of his fingers tightening on you, before loosening, allowing you to settle your feet on the ground. “You know you’re not allowed out here,” he reminds roughly, hand settling on your waist, spanning the width easily.

Your hands settle on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against his rib cage. How fast and hard it’s pumping.

“You told me to make it good,” you murmur, “didn’t I do good?”

“I thought you’d gone,” he repeats with devastating softness. Maybe you shouldn’t have let it go on for that long. “I thought you’d gone,” he says sharply, squeezing your waist. “I’m here,” you say softly, pressing into him. “I haven’t gone any—”

“I thought you’d runaway,” he mutters, a little frenzied. “I thought you’d been pretending. That you’d succeeded in escaping from me.”

You brow furrows, “Azriel, I’m right here…”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have come out here.”

You peer up at him, staring at his beautiful features. How could you ever run away from him?

Gently, you pry your hands beneath his own, linking your fingertips together. Step back a little. “Maybe I was trying to escape,” you taunt softly. “Maybe I’ve gotten bored of you, and want something else.” His face goes white with rage, and you spin on your feet, turning to run for the house.

You don’t even get a single step before his hand has brutally gripped the base of your neck, yanking you back to him. You whimper at the roughness, and he marks the sound eagerly. “Want to repeat that, pet?” He growls quietly, keeping you pinned to the spot.

Teeth prod into your lower lip, his gaze darkening.

“Maybe I was trying to run away,” you repeat, skin prickling beneath the intensity of his attention. Centuries of predatory training zeroing in, on you. “Are you trying to provoke me? Is that it?” He snarls. “Think that’s a good idea, pet?”

“I’m not your pet, Azriel.”

His eyes gleam with cold fury, anticipation burning icily. “No?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Canines flash beneath the moonlight, and then his shadows have encompassed you. The weightless sensation overtakes you, then your feet are again on firm ground. You flinch as something leathery wraps around your throat, tightening until it fits snugly. A collar.

Metal snaps, and you know he’s just clipped on the lead.

Azriel gives a firm tug, making you stumble forward, hissing at the pressure around your throat.

“I think someone’s gotten too comfortable with her position,” he growls lowly, jaw tense, shadows thick and writhing at your feet. “Needs some reminding who’s in charge of her, huh?” A shiver trills down your spine, and you press your bare thighs together. Needing the friction. “Isn’t that right?”

The tears arise on their own, barely even needing to be summoned.

His grip tightens on the leash, eyes flickering with arousal at the sight of your damp lashes. “If you don’t want your role of pet, then by all means, spit on it,” he drawls softly. Menacingly. “Entitled brat, aren’t you?”

He lands a harsh slap to your cheek, tugging roughly on the lead again to keep you steady. “If you won’t comply as a pet,” he snarls softly, “then you’ll obey as a slave.”

A whimper slips from your lips at that, heat turning liquid in you belly. His brow quirks, lips tilting up at their edges, “like that?” Breath trembles from your lips, legs turning weak with arousal.

“Azriel…” you whisper desperately. The heat is too much. You need him to relieve it.

“So desperate,” he laughs softly. “I haven’t even begun on you.”

Then he’s roughly guiding you back, shoving you against a wooden wall, shackling your wrists in chains, shadows copying the movement on your ankles. The leash hangs limp as he steps away, brushing over your breasts, grazing your thighs, and you bow from the board.

Azriel tuts lowly, retreating into the dark dungeon-like basement, allowing his shadows to play with you in the meantime. They skate up your thighs, wrapping over your hips, slithering up your spine. Gliding beneath your shirt. Pinching your nipples.

A breathless whimper slips from your lips as they twist and flick, pressing against the teal silk between your legs. Winding with enough pressure to feel good, but not enough to give any meaningful stimulation. Head tips back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as they teasingly circle your clit, more grazing your stomach, keeping you confused from where they’ll next come from.

Your lips part, hips trying to grind down upon them, but they move with you, refusing to come any closer. You nearly cry out in desperation.

You flinch when scarred fingers roughly push aside your soaked underwear, running something rubbery but firm through the wetness. Coating it. You attempt to peer down, but can’t get a good glimpse. Can hardly think straight with how desperately you need him.

Breath is shoved from your lungs as he pushes the object inside of you. Dreadfully slowly. In and out. A few inches at a time. When it’s fully in, he moves your underwear back into place, roughly tugging the strings further up your hips, shoving the toy deeper.

A moan bursts from your lips, spine arching from the circular board as you tighten around it, trying to keep it pressing against that wonderful spot.

“I was saving this for a reward,” he murmurs beside your ear, fingers between your legs, prone to push it further inside. “But I suppose it can double as a punishment, huh?”

Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, barely able to keep them open long enough to look at him. “Can you even remember my name, slave?” He asks, amusement clear in his question. You blink wearily up at him, begging for stimulation. All you get is a rough pat on the cheek, followed by his fingers pressing the toy up into you.

A strangled moan arises from your throat, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to silence yourself. He jerks roughly on your leash in reprimand. “None of that,” he tuts, gripping you jaw so you’re forced to look at him. “I want to enjoy this.”

Then he retreats again, and you sink into the wooden board, weight resting heavily on your arms that are still pulled taut either side of your head.

“Eyes up here,” he commands, a sultry roughness to his order. Heat buzzes between your thighs, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. And you nearly forget how to breathe.

Cold, hard steel catches the dim light. No more than an elegant slice of silver amongst his shadows. Azriel’s lips twist into a smile, deftly spinning the short blade in his hands, skilled with practice, flexible with familiarity. There are more at his side, piled on a table, all the size of small daggers.

“Azriel,” you breathe. “What—”

The blade flies from his hand, embedding in the wood to the right of your body. Too close for comfort. Especially because you know he could hit you if he really wanted, and you don’t know how close he’s willing to get to satisfy his desires. You cringe away from the Illyrian steel, but the chains hold you fast, keeping you pinned to the wall like an insect to a dissection table. Ready for him to play with; experiment on.

“Better keep still,” he mocks, picking up another dagger. “Unless you want a few scars to show for later?” His lips twist into a wider smile, “a reminder of your disobedience, perhaps?” The blade flies, lodging in the wood a few centimetres above your head. You yelp, dipping your head as your blood runs cold.

Another dagger has already left his hands before you can look up, slamming into the wood beside your right breast. A puff of cold air hisses at the skin, practically able to feel the blade if you tip your body a little to the right. It’s piercing the cloth of your top, just another restriction to your movement.

Azriel laughs, flipping a blade in his hand, marking your aroused discomfort. How you squirm.

“Do you regret sneaking out yet? In the night, where anything could have happened to you?” He asks, shoulders tensing at the reminder. “Do you understand how weak you are, huh? How delicate?” He throws another blade, this one nicking your cheek, as if to demonstrate how easily you can be hurt. A whimper is strung from your lips, the light stinging making you want to pull your thighs together.

“Mm sorry,” you breathe, lower lip wobbling. “Mm sorry, Azriel…”

He laughs at that, “better.”

Picks up another dagger. “But too late.”

Steel slices against your hip, slicing the teal string on your underwear, exposing your skin as blood beads delicately. Azriel licks his lips at the sight, a quick flick of his tongue that has you fantasising about everything else he could be doing to you. “Azriel please,” you whimper, vision blurring. “I didn’t mean to upset you… Wanted to make it fun.”

A rough chuckle sounds, the metallic scape of yet another blade sliding into his hand, “I’m having plenty of fun.” Steel flashes in the dim light, making you squint. “Are you not enjoying this?” Teeth push into your lower lip, blinking away the dampness, “want you, instead.” Azriel’s lips quirk, taking in the way your hips shift, tightening around the toy needfully. He targets the other string flawlessly, rewarding you with a matching nick to your hip.

“Yeah? You want me to be inside of you rather than that?” He asks, pleased with your answer. Though not satisfied enough to give you what you want. “Want me to unchain you so I can stuff you with my cock instead? Fuck you ’til you’re going limp in my arms? Is that what you’d like?”

“Yes!” You pant, tightening around the toy desperately. You’re so wet it’s slipping out, no longer kept tucked inside by your underwear.

“Azriel…! Azriel, I can’t— Az!”

Wood splinters as he targets just between your thighs, a breath below your skin. The toy perches atop the flat of the blade—having been thrown sideways. Your chest rises up and down, sweat making your skin gleam in the dim light. Things tremble, weak from the wild ride, adrenaline singing in your blood.

Light catches on his canines as he grins, slightly feral, slowly prowling toward you. “So obedient, aren’t you?” He drawls, towering over you as he rests his hands atop the circular board. Your spine bows from the wood, arching in attempts to get the toy to touch more of those sensitive spots. His grin widens, “want it a little deeper?” He asks mockingly, eyes gleaming with dark pleasure. You nod your head, cheeks hot like the rest of your body.

Teeth flash in the light, and he applies pressure to the board.

You scream as you’re spun upside down, so your head is in line with his boots, feet in the air. Dizziness crashes into you, tipping your sense of balance, warping your sense of direction as he laughs distantly. Fingertips brush down your inner thigh, dancing over the skin, breath grazing teasingly.

“So desperate,” he drawls. “Can you beg for it, hm? Think you can string the words together for me?” You blink hazily as he crouches down, peering at your confused form.

“Azriel…” you manage, then squeeze your eyes shut at the pressure. So hot. Blood rushing downward. “Azriel, please…”

“Please what?” He asks leisurely. “What do you want me to do, pet?” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, pulling it from your teeth, small scars from where you’ve bitten over the years indented into the pillowy flesh. He grins, leaning forward.

A deluded moan drags from your throat as he presses his canines into your upper lip, tugging on it slightly. Your hands pull on the chains, desperate to touch him as he plays with you, toy beginning to sink back in, but it’s neither fast, nor deep enough.

“Put it in me,” you beg, features scrunching with desperation, eyes squeezing shut against the pressure, brows furrowing. “Azriel, please…put it deeper.” Canines pierce your lip, something thick and rich bleeding onto your teeth, then he’s lapping it up. Landing a rewarding smack to your cheek before he stands. “That’s better,” he chuckles, finger brushing between your thighs, making to push them apart. “That’s much better.”

Breath drains from your lungs as he pushes the toy all the way in, gravity helping it sink deep into your heat. Hot liquid spills, dripping from your eyes up over your brows, trickling into your hair. Knees shake, hips bucking as he keeps the toy pressed inside of you, enjoying the view. “You having fun? Enjoying this?”

He pushes against the toy, making so it presses more into one side, circling the pressure, making you weep. “Yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”

Azriel halts his movements.

Before you know it he’s landed a smack to your clit.

You squeak, jerking against the shackles, to no avail. “Why the fuck are you enjoying it, huh?” He spits, landing another smack to your tender sex. “Did you forget this is supposed to be a punishment? You’re not meant to enjoy it.” Another smack, and tears slide up over your face, saliva wetting the corners of your mouth as you weep.

“No, we can’t have that, can we?” He mutters, grinning to himself as he smacks harder, making you scream, muscles flinching as you writhe against the chains. “How will you learn your lesson if it doesn’t hurt, huh?”

“Please, please, please! I’ve learnt it! I know better!” You cry out, hands balling into fists against the stimulation.

Relief sweeps in as he hold off for a moment, “is that right? Think you’ve learned? Think you know better now?” He presses the toy back in, having been slightly pushed out when you were tensing for impact. You nod your head frantically, “I swear! I’ll never do it again— Please, Azriel!”

He hums to himself, sounding satisfied. Leaning down, his mouth latches over your cunt, tongue flicking over your clit soothingly. Tasting your arousal. Azriel groans at the flavour, sealing his lips over your tender sex, suckling gently, wet muscle teasing the taut bud eagerly. Scarred hands grip behind your thighs, holding you still as you try to buck for more.

You’re murmuring prayers under your breath, chanting them desperately as he plays with you, a cat toying with its mouse—batting it back and forth between its paws. He changes the angle of the toy, and your mouth drops open, silent moans being drawn out, one after the other as pleasure builds and coils in the pit of your stomach.

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you hot and messy, slick coating the skin of your thighs, sex soft and tender from his brutal attention. Heart pounds in your chest as he unlocks your ankles, shadows keeping you pinned to the board as he does the same for your wrists. “Think we’re done, pet?” He murmurs, allowing your body to carefully fold over itself, so you tip over, shadows making sure you don’t hurt yourself as you land on the floor.

Your head is spinning from the movement, cunt aching for more attention, and your legs automatically spread as you attempt to push the toy back inside. Grinding against the floor, but it’s too low, too far away, and your thighs won’t spread wide enough. Whimpers spill from your lips in frustration, wanting that pleasure, riled up from the phantom lick of his tongue over your clit. How good it felt.

Azriel growls roughly, shadows collecting your leash, returning it to his hand as he tugs roughly, drawing your attention back to him, instead of the toy you’re pitifully trying to steal your pleasure from. “Come here,” he orders sharply, again tugging on your collar, causing you to choke.

Clumsily, you crawl forward, stopping to kneel before him.

“Feeling good, slave?” He asks, keeping your leash taut so you’re forced to tilt your chin upward, peering at his towering frame. You dip your head mindlessly, too dizzy and yearning for pleasure to properly think. He chuckles, “yeah? You liked that?” Again you nod, lips parting as your hand slips between your legs to press the toy back inside. Fingers come away wet, slick dripping down and onto the floor.

“But you still need more, don’t you?” He purrs, hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light, “so greedy. Greedy and gluttonous. Such a brat.” Whimpers drag from your lips, nodding your head dumbly along with everything he’s saying. He chuckles at you.

“Want to feel good now?” He asks, shadows cupping your jaw to keep your attention on him. When you don’t answer, he smacks you, cheek stinging with the impact. “Answer. Or do you want me to chain you back up and give that little cunt some rougher treatment?” Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull, but you shake your head in apology. “Mm sorry…please don’t…want to feel good, please…”

His lips quirk—he has you wrapped around his finger. Your pleasure dependant on him. You need him. Without him, you can never feel good.

Azriel takes pity on you, large hand landing atop your head, threading through your hair. “You’re going to be good? Gonna be good for me now?” He asks, grinning when you nod eagerly. Eyes gleam maliciously, and he tugs on your collar, pulling you flush against his leg, arms clinging onto him for stability.

“Go on then,” he urges, shifting one foot to be between your thighs, knocking your knees further apart. “Take your pleasure.”

Relief crashes into you, and you move to pull away, wanting to lie on your back—give him a nice view; a performance as you bring yourself over the edge. Only with his permission, of course.

You whimper when he tugs on your collar, making you peer up at him desperately, questioningly. Lips tip into a smirk as he taps his boot against the floor expectantly. “Go on,” he repeats softly, mockingly. “Take it.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip, hands gripping onto him desperately as your thighs spread, the toy settling against the leather. You lean your weight onto it. Eyes roll back, heat flushing your skin, taking inch after inch. His grip tightens in your hair, hand curling into a fist as he keeps your head tilted upward—so he can watch your blissed out expression as your features contort. All because of him.

Male satisfaction licks up his spine, cock stiffening in his trousers, rubbing against the seam.

You’ve already been worked to the brink, coil so close to snapping, it’ll take minimal effort to bring you that ocean of pleasure. Slowly, you wind your hips over him, unable to do much more with the depth of the stimulation, how deep the goodness is sinking. You wish it was his cock, wish his hands were roughly gripping your hips, arms bound behind your back so you’re completely at his mercy.

Speed up the motions, hips bucking as you grip onto him desperately, his hand fisted in your hair. Azriel watches as you tug your lip between your teeth, brows curving upward, drool shining at the edges of your mouth. Cheeks and lashes damp with tears. Skin hot to the touch. Lips part in pleasure, tongue flicking out briefly. “That’s it,” he goads, shadows gripping your hips to urge you on. “That’s it, take it. Take it from me. Be a good girl and take your pleasure.”

Eyes roll back, lids fluttering as you press your chest flush against him, gripping onto the muscle of his thigh as your hips drag back and forth in sharp, sporadic jerks. “Go on, a little more— That’s it. So good. So good, aren’t you? So well behaved.” The praise sings down your spine, and pleasure bursts across your skin, fracturing your conscious. Hips buck wildly, almost automatically, riding out the euphoria, his fist tightening in your hair. Keeping you still so he can watch as you cum.

His name chants on your lips over and over, eyes filling with tears at the pleasure as you press tighter to him, clinging onto him like he’s some kind of prophet. Some kind of saviour. You bow into his touch, desperate for more, to have more of his skin against your own.

“Azriel…” you moan.

It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. Never failing to make him dizzy with lust, enraptured with the movements of your body, how you’re kneeling and riding him so desperately. Like you really do need him. His temperature rises.

The aftershocks fade, leaving you panting quietly, relaxing your body, shifting off his boot. Thin strands of silvery slick connect the leather to your cunt, creating a sloppy mess. Azriel tuts softly, arousal zapping straight to your clit at the sound alone. “What a mess you’ve made,” he drawls, hand having released your hair. “Gotten my boot all dirty, haven’t you? What a filthy thing you are.”

Colour tints his skin, clearly pleased with the results—how wet you are.

“Think I should make you clean it up, huh?” He jerks on your leash, shadows tightening the pressure of your collar ever so deliciously. “Make you lick it up with that filthy mouth of yours?” He drawls, enjoying the idea. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he chuckles. “No…I think you’d like that too much. Pretty whore.”

A lovely whimper is drawn from your chest as he releases your collar in favour of tossing you over his shoulder, shadows keeping the toy tucked comfortably inside of you. You whine and writhe against him, wanting to feel more of him, have more of him. He lands a harsh spank to your backside, making you yelp, then wiggle more.

Azriel laughs lowly at your antics, rewarding your struggle with a harder smack, leaving the skin stinging in his wake. He carries you all the way through your shared home, taking you up each flight of stairs, leading you up from the basement and into your bedroom. Gently lowers you down his body as he sits, toy still tucked away deep inside. Legs spread over his lap, his arm winding around your waist to keep your chest flush against him.

Fingers thread through your hair, jerking your head back so he can stare you down, those hazel eyes enough to have arousal gathering all over again as you anticipate the awful things he’s going to do to you. “You regret going outside, don’t you, pet. Not going to do it again.” You nod your head along with him, showing you’re sorry. His mouth slides wide in a vulpine smile, “but what about those other things you said, huh? Think I’m just going to let those go?”

You whimper, rolling your hips against him, pleading for him to get inside of you. Fill you up.

He laughs darkly at your attempts to distract him, bucking up against you—let you think he’s forgiven you. But his hold remains tight in your hair, and he watches you swallow against the collar, shadows unclipping the leash. “You said something cruel to me earlier. Do you remember what it was?” He asks, smiling as you struggle and squirm in his lap. Shake your head in response.

Azriel hums, hand moving to grip your throat lightly, holding you gently between his fingers. “You said you wanted to look for something else. That you’d gotten bored, and you wanted something better.” The grip tightens, not enough to make you choke, but enough for you to feel the pressure. You squirm more, shaking your head in denial. “I didn’t mean it…” you beg, hands desperate to touch him, to hold him.

He tilts his head in mock concern, “no? You were lying?”

Teeth bite into your lip, dipping your head in confirmation.

Lips quirk. “That right? You’re a dirty little liar?”

Vision blurs, but you nod, grinding down on him in attempts to make reparations.

He chuckles lowly, deep in his throat. “You made me very upset with that comment. Made me think you wanted someone else. That I wasn’t good enough for you.” He grips harder, breath rasping out, pulling your mouth to brush against his own. “Am I good enough for you, pet?”

“Yes,” you whisper, trying to nod your head. “You’re so good. So good to me, Azriel. So perfect.”

One of his brows quirks. “Perfect? I don’t know about that, pet.”

“You are,” you insist, hardly more than a whine. “Best thing in the world. You’re perfect. Everything.” Lips part in a grin that’s filled with male satisfaction. He releases your throat, in favour of going to his belt. “Want to show me how perfect I am, pet?”

Heat washes down your spine, and you’re nodding frantically, quickly shuffling down his body as he pulls himself free of his leathers. You stare up from between his legs, knelt on the ground, the toy still tucked away, balancing on the wooden boards. Mouth waters as he touches himself, beautiful skin tinted with colour, flushed with arousal.

You don’t notice his shadows slinking away, trailing back down to the basement.

A hand slides through your hair, and it’s all the encouragement you need to be rising up—feet keeping the toy nice and deep—following his silent instruction. You open your mouth over him, and he groans from the back of his throat. You could cry at the taste of him, how right it feels to have him on your tongue, pushing your jaw lower. How lovely his skin is, so soft, and hot. Slightly salty, and tasing so distinctly of himself.

Fingers slip between your legs, rolling over your clit, tightening around the toy.

“That’s a good girl,” he drawls, pushing you down onto his cock, hips bucking upward. “So good. So good at making me feel good. What you were made for. Isn’t that right, pet?” You moan onto him, grinding down, fingers flicking and rolling over the sensitive bud.

Free hand grips his base, pumping what you can’t fit, tongue flicking over the slit in his head. Landing soft kisses to it, and the space just below, suckling lightly, before taking him entirely again. As entirely as you can, anyway.

Enjoying the process, saliva dripping from your mouth, lubricating the slide up and down. How he sometimes cuts off your airways if you take him too far down. How he twitches in response to the slight gags. Loving every second of it.

“Choose a number between one and five,” he orders lowly.

Brow narrows as you make to pull up, but his hand is already resting at the back of your head in warning. You still as his tip, tongue circling again, then you dip as far down as you can go. One…two…three times.

Azriel hums, then a faint clicking noise sounds through the room.

You writhe, muscles spasming, trying to tug away from him as the vibrations hit your sensitive walls. His hand keeps you in place, shadows returning from their adventure down to the basement. Eyes squeeze shut at the pleasure, the stimulation, and the darkness wraps around the base of the toy, slowly beginning to drag it in and out.

Tears build at your lashes, and you take him back down your throat eagerly, spine arching so it touches all kinds of spots. Azriel laughs softly as he watches you, how easily you bend to his will, curving and arching to fit to the shape of his pleasure. Stroking himself through the skin of your cheek, thumb skimming gently.

Another click sounds, and the vibrations change to a steady pulse rhythm, conditioning you to tighten moments after the sensation. His shadows pick up speed, pushing in faster, and harder. Free hand leaves from between your legs to grip onto him, having to steady yourself from the stimulation.

You moan again and again onto his cock, wanting him to feel as good as you are, lapping at the salty moisture that gathers at his tip. Darkness replaces your fingers, playing with your clit, running in tight, repetitive circles, making the pressure in the pit of your belly double…coil over itself again and again.

“That’s good,” he encourages, breathlessly, getting off on seeing how desperate you are. How your hips push back against his shadows, how you moan onto him, dripping onto the floor. “Keep going, pet. Making me feel so good. Show me how much you love me. Worship everything you can get that lying fucking mouth of yours on,” he snarls roughly.

Heat builds at the degradation, coil tightening as you take him as far as you can, nails biting into his leathers as you push your limits. His shadows work in tandem to your efforts, licking over your clit, flicking and swirling over your nipples, tugging on them lightly. Pinching, like he’s attached clips to them. He knows how sensitive you are…all those secret spots he’d discovered.

Azriel curses under his breath, low and vicious. “Do you remember how hard you tried to escape me that first time, pet? How you cried, and screamed? Screamed until that lovely throat of yours was raw?” He drawls, bucking his hips in time with the thrusts of the toy, vibrations making you see stars.

All you can manage is a heady moan, tears dripping down from pleasure, nearly numb with euphoria.

“And look at you now,” he laughs breathlessly, “all good and broken in. Told you I’d have you trained. But you didn’t believe me, did you? Thought you’d make it, huh?” Arousal sparks in the pit of your belly, and you widen the stance of your legs, spreading your thighs to allow it to hit deeper. And it does. It does so well.

Eyes roll back into your skull, hands trembling with the force of your orgasm. He twitches in your mouth at the pure pleasure in your scent, how overpowering it is. Strong enough to tip him into his own high.

Liquid pleasure spills into your mouth, and you nearly go mad. His taste coats your tongue, spurting hot between your lips, spilling down your throat as you lick and lap and suck: worshipping as he’d told you to.

Shadows tighten around your clit, pinching your nipples, tugging on them as he targets every part that you love, succinctly and with mind-breaking accuracy. Practiced precision.

Pleasure overwhelms you, feeling so wonderful as the vibrations crash into you over and over, made stronger as your sensitive walls flutter around the toy, clamping down, forcing it tighter.

The last thing you remember is how he’d pulled you from his cock, spit and cum mixing together to create silvery, milky threads, making your lips glisten. The way those last few spurts had decorated your cheeks, nose and mouth, marking you as his own.

And then your world dimmed, winking out.

————

He continues working on you long after you pass out, grinding his hips sloppily against your own. When you’re passed out, and unaware, you’re inanimate. A pretty accessory for his cock.

Cum gleams over your abdomen, cunt glistening from hours of use, release mixed with your slick. Even while you’re asleep, your body continues to please him, urging him to continue, to pursue that sick pleasure.

Azriel doesn’t mind how unresponsive you are; he gets to paint you as he pleases.

His fingers graze softly over your abdomen, muscle fluttering beneath the teasing brush, tensing as they glide through cum. He groans, cock stiffening expectantly as he scoops release up from your cunt, gathering loadfuls before raising them to your lips. He twitches as the milky liquid splatters over your mouth, trickling over your tongue, making you wake suddenly. Spluttering as he touches the back of your throat.

The scent of his arousal spears into your mind, and your body heats in response, so ready for him to work on you. So ready to submit. Tongue plays with his taste, peering down at yourself as sensations crest over you.

Azriel sits back patiently, allowing you time to catalogue the bruises; the devastation.

Bite-marks litter your thighs, the indentation of his teeth stamped so deep you hope it scars. Bruises hurt on your throat and collar bones, on the space beneath your jaw, and you raise your fingers to brush the intimate skin. Your breasts ache, and you know he’s been having fun with them: pinching, flicking, biting. Suckling the sensitive peaks while he no doubt stuffed you full, cock buried deep inside your tender sex.

Whimpers draw from your lips as you take in the results of his desire—how he’s inflicted his hunger upon your body. How he’ll continue to abuse every spot he likes until… There is no end.

Tongue flicks over your lips, and you settle onto your hands and knees, crawling to him. He may have removed the leash, but he’s still dragging you forward, invisibly connected to him.

“Azriel…” his name rasps from your lips, throat raw from use, need scraping against your skin. Hazel eyes gleam as he watches you crawl forward on shaky limbs—how you drag your tongue up the underside of his cock, set on worshipping him with as much devotion as he does with you. A quiet groan falls from his mouth as you rise up his body, breasts dragging over his chest. He doesn’t miss the flicker of pain across your features as they scrunch, how reactive you are, so sensitive to touch now you’ve been given chance to recover.

Mouth opens over his own, sharing the erotic taste of him across his tongue, revelling in how it strokes against yours. His hands lightly grip your waist, fitting perfectly over the already formed bruises, sliding into place. Tenderly, his tongue flicks out over your lower lip, lapping up his cum from your skin, gathering it in his mouth as his hand slides lower, fingers dragging over your entrance to collect your wetness.

Pleasure lights your body as he laps at his own fingers, indulging in your flavour.

His large hand grips your jaw gently, tipping you upward so you’re facing him. Taps the skin of your cheek twice with the pad of his forefinger. Open.

Hot liquid bubbles in your abdomen as he spits between your parted lips, digits sliding in soon after to press his taste into your tongue; mark every part of you with his scent, until you’re covered in him. You whimper around his fingers, hand wrapping around his cock as you move to pleasure him.

Azriel snarls softly over your mouth, and you retract your touch—even as he pulls you flush against his torso, cock pressing into your tummy so tantalisingly. Teasingly. You whine.

“Azriel…” you breathe, words muffled from his fingers, and pride flickers in his gaze. “What is it?” He asks softly, lips lifting at the edges. You could sigh with relief at that expression; you know what it means. It means lazy, leisurely. It means taking his time—gently, subtle bucks of his hips to stimulate you slowly. Warm you up again.

“I want you,” you plead, hands pressing to his chest. He allows you to guide him back, wings flaring as they press into the mattress. “You’ve had me all night,” he smirks, pleased you’re craving him as intensely as he is you. Mutual obsession. Tangible need.

“It’s not enough,” you mumble, hands skimming the tops of his thighs, eyes torn between laying on his own, and lapping up more of his cock. “I need to have you inside me.” Cock twitches, and you tighten in response, thighs parting over his hips, settling so you’re atop him. “You’ve had me inside you plenty of times tonight,” he reminds softly, eyes glazing with lust, darkening as his hand brushes your abdomen. Knowing how much cum he’s pumped int you.

Lower lip pushes out, brows curving together, “you know that doesn’t count.” Fingers press into the padded muscle of his stomach, slicked with sweat, and you want to trace each one with your tongue. “Want to have you inside, and to feel it,” you moan, guiding his tip to your entrance.

Azriel watches, entranced. Once again reminded at how obedient you’ve become.

“Open your mouth.”

You do so without question.

Lips fashion themselves into a smile. “Close.”

Your mouth closes.

“Good girl.”

Heat flutters between your legs.

Hands gently span your waist, urging you to sink your weight onto him, settle on his cock. You oblige happily.

Eyes roll back into your skull, and you hear him murmur soft words of reassurance under his breath as you sway. Temporarily rendered immobile. He steadies you, waiting for you to be ready for stimulation.

He’s had his fun, had his time to play with your body. Find his pleasure in it. He knows it’s your turn, and he’s happy to let you have it. You’ve worked hard for him, satisfied him repeatedly. Now he wants you to explore him all over again, swirl your hips until you find a pace you like, touch yourself as you want while he supports from the background.

You do just that.

Slowly, you lift off him, thighs trembling with the effort. Then you slide back down, feeling the push of his hip bone digging into the softness of your flesh. Thoughts block out of your mind, pushed away by his cock as it presses into your sensitive walls; quiet whimpers cry from your chest.

Legs shift out from under you as you yield control, unable to lever yourself up and down as you fully rest your weight on him. Leaning back against his legs, bent at the knee to support you, your eyes fluter closed, content to bask in the fullness of him.

His shadows stroke over your head, providing the comfort you seek. Warmth floods your chest at his caring nature.

“Azriel?” You mumble softly, words subdued under the weight of pleasure. He hums quietly in response, hands grazing the tops of your thighs as he watches you. “Tell me a story,” you request.

A chuckle rumbles out of him, and you feel it warm your insides, making you tighten around him. “What sort of story do you want, pretty thing?” You could melt at the nickname. Reduce yourself to liquid to splash all over him, saturate his skin.

Teeth bite into the pillowy silkiness of your lower lip, toes curling as you drag your hips forward by a few centimetres. “Tell me how you fell in love with me,” you request softly. Hands settle at your waist, heating your sides, thumbing the skin softly. “Tell me every thought you had… Every moment you watched me… Tell me all of it.”

“It’s a long and dreadful tale I’m afraid,” he laughs deeply, “I think it would sour the mood.”

“Then tell me one that won’t,” you breathe. “I want to know you more. Want to know everything.” His cock touches a lovely place inside of you, and you focus on softly targeting it, rolling your hips over him.

Azriel pauses, and even with your eyes closed you can feel the weight of his gaze, how assuring it is; how adoring. “Okay,” he sighs, giving in, stroking your thighs, “just one.”

Your lips tip at the edge, one set of fingers linking with his own as he squeezes back.

“It was pretty early on—before I really grasped how deep the obsession ran,” he begins, the rough timbre of his voice curling your toes. “I spotted you coming back from a night out. You were clearly drunk, and stumbling all over the place—I was surprised you made it to your door without falling flat on your face,” he says, fingers tracing patters across your skin.

“I remember knowing you hadn’t locked your door, and I was angry. Angry you didn’t take care of yourself. For being so reckless,” he continues, tapping lightly at your inner thigh—reprimanding you for all those decades ago. Nearly seventy years past since that infatuation took root. “I remember thinking I should use my shadows to give you a scare. Teach you a lesson for being so unaware. You desperately needed to learn to protect yourself, and you weren’t going to start unless something pushed you into action,” he laughs, realising how firmly in your thrall he’d been even back then. Before he was even fully aware of it.

“But when my shadows got inside, you were already undressing, and I couldn’t move.”

Eyes flutter open, and you meet his dark hazel gaze, something far deeper than love dancing in his features. Something bordering on violent, glittering with possession. Protection.

“I doubt you even noticed how dark it got in your room that night, despite the faelight,” he says softly, and your pulse spikes, knowing how closely he watched over you for all those years. How protective he is by nature. “I later learned whenever you came back like that, it often meant whoever you’d chosen for the night hadn’t be worth it, choosing to stumble back to your own bed rather than wake up in theirs.” Again those impatient taps to your thigh, and your hips roll in response, soothing both of you.

“It was the first night I saw you touch yourself. And it felt wrong to watch, but you were so fascinating. I’d never seen someone enjoy themselves purely for their own satisfaction. With partners, or workers in brothels, they’re aware they’re expected to put on a show. They emphasise movements to an obscene, unbelievable degree, while you were calm and quiet.” You swirl over him, vaguely managing to call up a murky image of your bedroom. Picturing the darkness that filled it, and you hadn’t even noticed.

Maybe you’d known, innately, he was not there to harm you, but to love you.

“It was entirely solitary; a completely private moment I was witnessing, and it was an unimaginable weight off my shoulders,” he says, circling the tops of your thighs, heat building and coiling in the pit of your belly. “For those few hours, I was no one. Gloriously free to simply observe,” his lips quirk ruefully. “Until it wasn’t enough to just watch.”

Breathing shallows, chest rising up and down with anticipation. Wanting to know where he took the irreversible step from the light. Straying from his own path, to collide with yours.

“You came back again, drunk and stumbling over yourself, and I knew enough by this point to know you wouldn’t remember a thing,” he says, voice growing softer with each confession. “So that night, when you were on the cusp of sleep, I helped push you over the edge.”

“You didn’t even struggle,” he murmurs, breathless. “Didn’t even try to put up a fight. Just waited patiently as I pushed your legs apart; pulled the silk from your hips. So lovely and docile. So perfect.” Colour flushes his skin and he can’t help the slight buck as he presses himself deeper into your cunt.

“Go on,” you urge, panting quietly. “Tell me more.”

A phantom smile plays on his mouth as he remembers, “there were moments I think you may have fallen asleep, then woken up when your body remembered what was happening. Like you were desperately fighting it off for me, trying to be there for me.” He huffs a laugh, squeezing your hand.

“I remember how you arched at the first stroke of my tongue, how your fingers tightened in the sheets, like you wanted to touch me but didn’t have the energy to manage. So I held you with one hand, just like this. To make sure you didn’t suddenly jolt awake; that you felt comfortable. So your body wouldn’t warn you about the violation.”

“You were nearly perfect, except you didn’t know how to attribute the pleasure, so you didn’t call out my name when you came on my tongue. I watched you writhe, how your eyes widened then slammed shut, squeezing together as you gripped my hand though it all. Like you were worried you’d be washed away in the torrent. You were absolutely breathtaking in that moment; every moment after.”

“That night you became mine. You never knew—I suppose until now—but you responded to me that night. You felt it. I know you did. Your body reacted to me, and you squeezed me back. Despite the scarring, and the burns. You held on like you needed me,” he breathes, panting deeply as his stomach muscles flex in the dim light, sweat glistening across his skin.

“You claimed me too, that night. And I couldn’t resist going back.”

“I think you grew to expect me. You would return from a night out reeking of alcohol, get inside your home, pass out on your bed, and within a few minutes, you would be soaked. Dripping onto your sheets, waiting for me. Spread out and perfect. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, yet you didn’t even know who I was.” His hand squeezes yours, and you know you won’t hold on much longer.

“I tried to stay away. For months I would be off in another court, and you consumed me. At night I would lie awake, thinking about you, wondering if you were lying in your own bed, cunt dripping for me, waiting for me to soothe the ache. Sometimes I would be gone for so long your body forgot how to behave when I returned.” His words grow rougher, more agitated.

“So I made sure you remembered.”

“That first week when I returned from a mission, I wouldn’t sleep. I spent my time watching you, shadows happy to play with you again—they’ve always liked you more than anyone else. But you know that now, don’t you.”

As if listening in—which they very well might have been—the darkness writhes at your back, cresting over your shoulders and cupping your breasts delicately, swiping over your lips as you tip back into them.

“Sometimes it was nearly impossible to pull them off you. They would constrict around your thighs, tighten around your hips so you were secure beneath them. I quickly lost count of how many times they would want a turn with you, so I would let them,” he breathes, and you can feel that coil on the verge of snapping, heat sizzling beneath your skin as you squeeze him desperately. “You responded so beautifully to their kind of stimulation. And I would watch all of it.”

“Admittedly, I was a little careless. But you never noticed, so I suppose it doesn’t matter if I was a little sloppy here and there. If I got you a little messy, too.”

“It was rare I would be gone for longer than three or four months at a time, but when those longer missions called, I would rush back to you the moment I could.” A twinge of pain has entered his voice, thinking back on how long he had to keep his love for you a secret. How you were carefully shielded from it. For years. Decades.

“And sometimes I didn’t want you to wake clean of any marks of my own. If you weren’t even going to remember, then I might as well leave some trace,” he laughs sharply, arousal dumbing your mind as his words begin to mellow out. “But those never bothered you either. Not the bite marks, or the bruises, or the ache when you thought you hadn’t taken anyone to bed that night. Not even when you woke to find cum between your legs. Or a faint taste in your mouth.”

He sighs, bucking his hips softly, and you exhale heavily.

“Did you ever fuck me?” You breathe, tightening around him at the thought. “While I was asleep, I mean. Did you ever take me before I knew you?”

Azriel shakes his head, smiling now. “No, lovely girl. I wanted to save that for you. I wanted to be with you, and for you to be fully aware when I first went inside of you. And it was torture waiting. It was cruel to make me wait all those years. All that time, and yet you never picked up on that other scent that would consistently turn up on you. Maybe you grew accustomed to it.”

Teeth push into your lower lip, and you tuck your legs back under you, once again able to move.

“The first time I had you…I’ll never forget it,” he groans, hand releasing yours in favour of gripping your hips. “You screamed so sweetly. Begged me to stop, like you hadn’t been asking for it for decades. How you were able to scream at me to stop when your legs would practically fall open for me…” he laughs, and you buck over him, quickening the pace of your swirls.

“You took me as well as I knew you would,” he groans, hands helping you rise and fall on his cock. “Took everything perfectly. Even my blade.”

Your eyes roll back, and you allow him to take control, gripping your hips tight to pound in to you. “It was just supposed to warm you up. To stretch you out so we could both enjoy it when I entered you… But then you reacted so well to it, and you had to have an orgasm before you took me. And you looked so fucking edible.” He grits out the words, and your hips stutter, jerking as pleasure brims at your lashes.

“Azriel…” you pant, tears spilling as he hits those beautiful spots, making you bounce on him. “You looked so fucking good I couldn’t believe it. And you felt even better.”

You clamp down on him, taking each buck of his cock as he drives up into you, mind going blank except for his name playing on repeat in your head. Filled with only him entirely. Nothing else would fit inside you anymore. It has to be him.

Hot cum spurts inside, and you can only imagine the mess he’s made in your heat.

How full he’s pumped you; how deep his release is.

How deep he’s burrowed his way inside of you.

Hips slow to a relaxed pace, grinding down onto him, keeping him tucked away inside of you. Refusing to release a single drop as you continue fluttering around him lightly.

Words are far out of reach, but he collects you as you sway forward, blinking away drowsiness as you settle on top of him, nestling into his chest. Nosing at his throat, licking up his flavour.

Azriel laughs quietly from deep in his chest, and it twines with his heartbeat. “You’re perfect…you know that?” Warmth fills your heart as his arms wrap around you, shadows pulling the blankets to cover you, despite being the wrong way up in the bed. What does it matter when he’s around?

“I’m perfect if you’re perfect,” you mumble back, hardly succeeding in keeping your eyes opened.

He doesn’t respond, but you can feel his heart, can hear how it picks up speed, and you know he’s happy.

Hot lips brush your head, pressing kisses into your hair as he keeps it from your face. You burrow into him deeper, pulling the sheets closer as you roll off to his side.

Azriel squeezes you again, making sure you’re as close as can be.

Neither of you would want it any other way.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game: AU where during Tim's search for Bruce, Ra's agrees to help him on one condition: Tim will sleep with him. (It's probably some kind of scheme on Ra's part.) How their dynamic would change with more overt sexual undertone underlying their interactions...

for the ask game!

UGH i love this type of thing so much. in my heart, this is canon. to me. Ra'sTim my fucked up beloveds you two are so terrible for each other.

so what i think is fun and often misunderstood in fanon is that Tim didn't go to Ra's, Ra's went to Tim. so it's even more fun if Ra's goes to Tim, and has that condition he holds over Tim's head. offering all of Ra's' resources, full access to his computers, someone just genuinely believing Tim and working with him. i think, a lot of it would be a mind game for Ra's. sure he wants to fuck Tim, but more than that, he wants to see Tim's reaction. he expects an immediate no, in the way Tim is so hesitant to work with Ra's in the first place. he's pushing Tim's buttons and basically treating Tim like a rat in a maze. so when Tim says yes, and doesn't seem to hesitate too much. *that's* intriguing. because in a perfect world for Ra's, Tim says yes because of a genuine returned attraction. but Ra's isn't quite sure if that's the reason. it could just be because of Tim's search for Bruce. so Ra's would really push it, see how far he could take the sex. it's simple sex first, but Ra's gets more and more interesting each time. slowly working in kinks just to see where Tim draws the line in the sand, and if Ra's can convince Tim to cross that line.

on Tim's side, i think it's fun if you play with Tim being so deep in the closet he doesn't even realize he's bisexual, yet. so to him, sex with Ra's doesn't *really* count as sex. he knows Ra's is weirdly obsessed with him, and Tim wants to play that to his advantage. he likes the power that obsession gives him, within the League. so, if it takes some sex to satiate Ra's, Tim mentally views it as like, a training session. no worse than those unpleasant endurance trainings Bruce used to make them all do. and i like the accidental catch-22 of it. where at first, the sex does very little for Tim. but the more Ra's gets creative and kinky about it, the more Tim *actually* starts to enjoy it. Tim's bisexual crisis except it's over a centuries-old man showing him the joys of sadomasochism in an agreement that was supposed to be totally normal for Tim bc he just gets himself into these situations.

i think one of the biggest changes would be Tim's sheer amount of power and immunity in the League would be even higher. *everyone* can tell Ra's is fucking Tim, he's not really trying to hide it with the way he looks at Tim and touches him in front of everyone. Tim tries to stay clinical and professional, but you can only look so respected working when Ra's is basically stroking your chest as you work. there are whispers, people keep tellin Ra's not to trust this random son of the Bat, but no one will say it to Tim's face. it'd give Tim more power over Ra's' operation outside of the Bruce search. sure, Tim can't change the nature of the League of Assassins, but he can. tip the scales a bit. pull Ra's back from being lethal in certain situations, convince Ra's not to engage in other places. Tim is careful not to overextend this power so he doesn't lose it, but everyone else sees just how much power Tim has. he even start working on taking people out from under Ra's, when Tim goes nuclear and leaves. like how Tim basically steals Prudence, he steals some other younger Assassins he thinks he can convince to come to his side. because he's with Ra's, he starts to command a level of respect so it's not a difficult thing to do. sure, Tim's just the kid keeping Ra's' bed warm. but also, he's the kid *Ra's* deemed worthy enough to be involved with, so it's a double-edged sword of both disgust and respect held for Tim.

it's so funny to me if Tim starts to catch feelings. Ra's of course has feelings, but Tim has never noticed his feelings for a man before so he's fucking panicking internally. and worse, he's not doing a good job of hiding it. Ra's is perceptive and has centuries of experience on Tim. so he can tell. he sees the look on Tim's face when Ra's does a genuine romantic gesture with no strings attached. and that's when Ra's really leans into it. the sex is one thing, but now it's courting. gifts, pet names, kisses, praise, the whole nine yards. and Tim doesn't outwardly deny any of it because he just... doesn't know what to do with it. he could handle stupidly good sex. but this?? this is new territory. he's constantly reminding himself Ra's isn't a good person. which isn't hard to do but still, Tim's just a little torn internally. also. i think Ra's would at least try to kill Captain Boomerang, if not outright succeed, as a courting present for Tim. and Tim is *horrified*, but then again, in canon, he almost personally killed Boomerang. so maybe. there's something nice about having Boomerang dead, while escaping culpability. Ra's thinks his corruption crusade is working on Tim and is absolutely gloating about it. they even go on a proper date.

but, in the end, Tim still backstab Ra's. i think Ra's would still try to go for control of WI, but would be convinced Tim would be totally okay with it and offers to share control with Tim. that's how Tim betrays him, he's allowed to handle so much of the paperwork, Ra's has no idea until it all goes through that he actually has no control. it's The betrayal. because Tim will always betray his love for what he thinks is the right thing to do. the infamous scene, where Ra's kicks Tim out of a window would go a lot differently. instead of a dramatic fight, it's deeply wounded betrayal. in canon Ra's always knew Tim was never in his pocket, but in this AU, he was naive enough to fall for it. and he's angry. he's angry at Tim, angry at himself. i think he'd straight up try to kidnap Tim. less "kick Tim out a window" and more "intimately hold a knife to Tim's throat" vibes. they part ways, but there's still. something lingering. the bridge isn't fully burned and Ra's is still going to seek out Tim when he needs help, and Tim will seek out Ra's. they'll never trust each other again. but they also can't seem to stop loving each other. Tim hides it from the Batfamily and Ra's never gives Tim that level of control in the League again but. the "i didn't know who else to got to." moments are inevitable and there are whispers in the villain community about how you better be careful around Red Robin because if you're not, you'll piss off the Demon Head. unspoken, deadly protection while still sort of trying to kill each other.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'CLOSER, [kinkpril day 1 - leather and latex]

-GOTHAM!VILLIANS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Victor Zsasz, Tabitha Galavan

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; gotham villains and there affinity for leather and latex ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. Day 1 of gotham tv kinkpril! How this works is each day I follow the prompt list; and pick gotham characters who I personally think would resonate with said kink. SMUT!!! PURE PORN. S&M undertones! Hard kinks. Warning for leather, latex, and bondage obviously.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “You let me penetrate you, You let me complicate you” Closer by Nine Inch Nails

Victor's done just about every weird kink in the book. If it's sadomasochism...he's all for it. Don't get him started on the knife and gun play- because he won't stop. Ever.

But perhaps his favorite kink is leather, above all. And he didn't even know it, until you suggested it to him.

Yes, he's been around the block. But your his girl; his lady; he's going steady with you. It's different when a person who you love asks you to try something new.

I'm telling you; it's like a whole new world opens for him. If he wasn't absolutely nasty in bed before, he is now.

There's just something about seeing you dressed in the shiny black material that gets him hot and bothered. One glance at you and your ass in the latex and he's hard and ready. He'll look at you like a man starved- practically panting. He makes jokes about it.

"Well hello there, hot stuff." His low sarcastic voice is drawling, immediately pulling you into him possessively. He's not letting you go tonight.

He might flog and slap the fat of your ass with his gun. Sorry reader.

God, it just fits into his aesthetic so well. You look like one of his zsaszettes. You look like you're meant to be his. Like he owns you. Every inch of you.

If he could turn you into his own personal gimp he would. He can't help but shove his hand over your mouth to stop your whines, your back pressed against a wall, as he thrusts roughly up into you. He keeps eye contact the entire time, letting himself violate you.

Or, even better- he'll take you from behind, getting a view of how your pussy sucks him in, base of his dick slapping into your wetness. He'll feel the leather on his V-Line and he'll only grip you tighter.

He wants to cut the leather bodysuit off of you with his knife. He'll make sharp lazy cutouts while you suck his cock, highlighting your cleavage. He'll trace the blade down your jaw. He's murmuring low growls and numerous nicknames while you suck him off. He likes the way your sloppy spit shines against the material.

"How's it feel sweetness? Gonna be a little slut for me?" His voice is uncharacteristically low, groaning out the words as he's lost in pleasure. His head is rolled back, and you'll have to grind yourself onto the floor for the friction he withholds from you.

Despite the spur-of-the-moment degrading, you'll get numerous playful pecks during aftercare. Lot's of "I love you's". You better say it back and he'll take you out for icecream afterwards too.

You'll have to buy another bodysuit, the other one has been cut to shreds. Oh well.

𝑇𝐴𝐵𝐼𝑇𝐻𝐴 𝐺𝐴𝐿𝐴𝑉𝐴𝑁

♫ “You can have my absence of faith, You can have my everything” Closer by Nine Inch Nails

Like Victor, she's no stranger to experimenting. In the bedroom or...otherwise. So what she's tortured a man in a gimp suit before? It's fun.

Unlike Victor...she's more hesitant to open up to the idea of S&M sex if she genuinely loves you. She's been conditioned to believe torture is fun, yes, but for her. Not for you. It's not her first reaction to hurt her partner.

Once again, you'll have to suggest it. She might huff a little bit, tease you with a semi-playful smile, but that's all she'll think it is. Just jokes.

For a woman who threatens to punish you quite a lot, she never does follow through. You'll have to change that.

You'll be making out, her hands traveling up your waist and into your hair, where she hungrily nips at your neck and lips. Her own leather clad gloved hands will make you shiver, the cool material eliciting a whimper.

Okay, she thinks. What the hell. She...doesn't mind that at all.

The two of you will start off slow. Latex bodysuits, gloves, blindfolds. Reminds her of putting Aubrey James's head in a box. She gasps and chuckles.

Before the both of you know it, you two are drunk on this. It's a power dynamic, it's a stress reliever for her. It reignites her passion for pain after Theo, and god does it feel good.

You two continue to go further and further. She'll catch your wrists or neck with her whip, and you'll feel the burning sting to your hands and throat send a warmth into your pussy. When she's feeling particularly annoyed, whether it's at Barbra's antics or Ed's or Butch's...good luck. You might get a whip to the ass just so she can see you jump and her mark form after.

Que the choking while she straddles you, scissoring you raw. She'll pull the whip tighter and tighter until she cums, heavily panting and watching you mewl. She loves seeing your pretty eyes light up in horror.

If she busts out the strap-on, good luck. She won't show you mercy until your pleading her to stop from the overstimulation of getting your brains fucked out. She'll grin at you, hitting the sweet spot in your cunny over and over again.

"There you go... good girl." She'll preen at you, and her words are mocking. Her face is bright as she watches you squirm underneath her. You might catch her fingering her own creamy pussy as she tightens the whip around your neck.

Like Victor, expect aftercare. Tabby's is a lot less nonchalant though. She'll cuddle into you like a cat, snuggling her face into the crook of your neck. The sweat will stick to the leather, and you two will be almost glued together under the sheets.

Lots of kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and cleavage. She'll even apologize if she went to far.

You should tie her up next.

[sam-keeper]

Halloween Horror: Häxan (1922)

Häxan's genre defying structure makes it hard to summarize. Wikipedia valiantly offers "Silent Horror Essay", a pretty decent stab at encompassing all seven reels of this silent Swedish classic. In the early parts, director Benjamin Christensen walks us through an academic lecture on the medieval conception of the cosmos and of superstition, aided by scale models of the universe. This section feels like a proto video essay. Then, it becomes an astonishing special effects horror showcase of rites and devil worship. Then, a multi-part melodrama of inquisition, false accusation, and torture, as a town falls to witch hunt mania. Finally, it introduces a melodrama in the present of mental illness and treatment, bridging past and present with its video essay elements.

I heard the bookends around the film described as a scholarly pretense for pure spectacle of the middle section. And boy there's some spectacle! I didn't really expect it to go quite as far as it does into perverse fantasy and sadomasochism. There's a whole sequence where a priest, consumed by lust for a village woman, ecstatically receives the lashes of a flail, his agonized expression superimposed on the whipping. Later, Christensen remarks in intertitles that one of his actresses insisted on trying his thumb screws. Juxtaposed with footage of the actress laughing and gasping, the intertitles remark coyly that they won't repeat all the things she confessed to after just one minute in the device. This fascination with pain, paired with shots of, for example, nude witches going to meet with the devil, suggests a knowing, post-Psychoanalytical overt desire to delve into erotic fantasy. It's not even implausible Christenson intended the homoerotic undertones in the whipping scene, or a later sequence where blasphemous mania overtakes a convent of nuns. After all, he starred himself in role of a young bisexual man in Michael just two years later. Queer people existed as much in the 1920s as the 2020s.

I get why surrealists loved the wild subconscious phantasmagorias of this film. It doesn't hurt that the film takes a bullish stance toward the new science of psychotherapy, suggesting that witch manias have an earthly cause in the human mind, even implying that they emerge from repressed desires. (Moreover, witch accusations come, as they do in The Crucible, from people jockeying for petty social advancement, or lashing out at the vulnerable.) In one of the middle sections, there's a lengthy sequence where witches cavort at a black sabbath with all manner of (stunningly costumed!) devils. The special effects are mesmerizing to watch--so much so that it's easy to forget the whole narrative is being related by an old homeless woman sadistically tortured by witch-mad priests. As it cuts back to the lurid, slavering excitement the priests display at each new concocted detail, each new accusation the old woman levels--against the very women of the village who denounced her in the first place!--it becomes clear that the lurid phantasmagoria is none other than the titillating fantasies of those selfsame priests. Forget Blazing Saddles, I don't think you could make a film like this today, a big budget expose of the perversities of the most holy fathers of the church.

After all the mesmeric special effects, the horror of witchcraft giving way to the horror of inquisition, the film concludes with a series of shocking juxtapositions: if the witches of the past are the mentally ill (the "hysterics" in the film's parlance) of today, aren't they still with us? And do we treat them so much better? I made a sarcastic crack to my friends midway through that Seattlites react to homeless people with the same conviction as the peasants in the film, that these are fearful creatures bound to put the evil eye on them. The film shocked me later when it pronounced directly that the inquisitor of the past is the law of today, and we've traded burning at the stake for prisons and institutions.

I don't know that Häxan is ahead of its time, exactly. Rather it reminds us that as long as Horror has existed as a genre, artists have used it to turn the floodlights on society and suggest that the real horror is how we treat each other. And, hey, also, turn the floodlights on the murky subconscious and say: oh boy what gooey nonsense is happening down HERE? What thoughts did you have lurking in your head, only now articulated through the witchcraft of the big screen? The best compliment I can give Häxan is that it is, simply put, a horror movie, and what makes it great haven't really changed all that much in 100 years.

Read more horror reviews like this all season on my Patreon

[mswyrr]

The continued interest in historically “problematic” imagery is more than a queer scavenger hunt for representation. After all, there are now also more explicit portrayals of queer relationships on screen than ever before. So why do so many queer horror fans keep returning to these films, which are more interested in homoerotic undertones than they are in any commentary on “queerness” as an identity?

The lesbian vampire remains a figure rafted between two schools of popular feminist discourse. Mainstream feminist theses have steered the discourse from the ivory tower to the art house screen. Decades later, the erotic potential of the lesbian vampire outside of a patriarchal framework and these particular feminist responses remains woefully untapped.

Feminist writers have typically written off sadomasochistic imagery in this subgenre of a subgenre as yet another violent male fantasy. But what to make of women whose sexual modalities incorporate violence and fear into the erotic experience? A binary is reinforced in these texts that male fantasies are uniformly violent and that, conversely, women’s desires are delicate, almost chaste. As a leatherdyke, my sensibilities are entrenched in the sadomasochistic and perverse. Lesbian vampire movies scratch that itch for me; they utilize a host of traditional imagery associated with sadomasochism, including bondage, domination, and submission — all practices that have only been improved upon by queer people throughout leather history. In my writing, lectures, and podcast work, I posit that the lesbian vampire figure can be reclaimed not necessarily as a figure of women’s empowerment, but as a symbol of dark eroticism and the less savory aspects of queer life, those of which have not been abated by assimilationism and neo-queer pride.

[dream-fic]

✧◝intro/info◜✧

★ About the poster:

We are a diagnosed DID system, but the main poster on this blog will be me (our Dream sans fictive, aka one of the very few fictives in the system)! Sometimes however, our host Max might post as well!

★ General information:

Pronouns: He/it!

Relationship status: taken! (In an open relationship).

Open to questions!

Likes: art, writing lyrics and poems, psychology research!

★ What will we post here:

On this blog we'll post art of how I look like in the headspace, rants about Underverse, fictive and system stuff, life updates, vents and jokes!

★ trigger warnings for our vents:

A lot of our trauma has to do with sadomasochism and physical abuse with incestuous undertones. So please be mindful, we'll trigger warn all of our vents, so please be mindful of that.

Having said that, I hope you enjoy your time here!

[crosswordgf]

a quick word on royjamie. i dont believe they are fucked up as in unhealthy or actually toxic but they are weird as hell and super obsessive. jamie is obnoxious but also sweet and sooo eager to please and roy gets off on the control and telling jamie what to eat and drink and do and also on the sadomasochism a little and jamie gets off on the attention. its not all about sex cause it is also training but lets be real it is always a little about sex and every part of their dynamic in the show would inform their relationship - like we dont start counting til it hurts and every other insane thing. there is a power thing there which is the most compelling thing about them and ignoring that is such a shame. jamie has idolized this guy AND jerked off to him since he was like 14 and he is desparate for his approval, even more so after a long time of just seemingly pure hatred (always with horny undertones to be clear). and then he’s getting approval and sooo much attention and roy yells at him a lot and he’s the specialest boy on the team and he gets to cry into roys arms when he needs to and roy who in previous relationships has been well. a little clingy. now gets to spend every second of every day telling this little asshole what to do. of course theyre weird about it

[earthshaker1217]

They truly paid homage to the sadomasochism undertones.

Turning a bleeding wound on the lips from an optic blast into a new lipstick shade of red is so creative and iconic of Madelyne.

[heart-holders]

collective information , when referring to both of us use agrico or alarius + he/him . we are not technically a subsystem, but the two of us are usually together.

cis id's + collective paras + alaco's intro under the cut , agrius will come later.

cis id's + collective para's , cisautistic + cisplural + cisapd + cis adhd + 🕸️ [bondage] + ❣️ [sadomasochism]

name , alaco [any nicknames are fine, as are pet names. i care not.]

age , agen't. immortal bla bla bla, chrono a minor.

pronouns , he/him , hx/hxm, sh/hr [she/her without the e's. full set is sh/hr/shs/hrs/hrslf] + [redacted]/[redacted] - nonhuman + any gendered terms are fine. :)

gender , i don't know. vaguely male.

sexuality , pan, hypersexual in all the best ways.

important , i am nonhuman -- demon, vampire

ID's , transharmen , transkidnapper.

para's , cultrophilia [knives.]

other info , i am working on a carrd that has more in depth information on both of us. please do not mention c/tting (s/h) when talking to me specifically -- however, asking me to cut you is perfectly acceptable <3. i am rather flirty + sexual, i will accommodate boundaries if they are set. i use many pet names + talk rather formally. i will not type in red in normal posts. i am transharmful, yes, but i have an undertone of comfort if you need or want it. feel free to ask, darlings.

innerworld appearance ,

[ao3feed-torchwood]

Fill My Insides With Love

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52449897 by Daniel_eating_beans Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Torchwood, Original Work, Ghosts (TV 2019) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Tim (Torchwood: Captain Jack Harkness), Bill Sausage Relationships: Bill Sausage/Tim (Torchwood : Captain Jack Harkness), Tim (Torchwood: Captain Jack Harkness)/Original character(s) Additional Tags: Digital Art, Anal Sex, Missionary Position, Simultaneous Orgasm, Dom/sub Undertones, Masturbation, Implied Sadomasochism, Blushing, Blushing During Sex, if you know me irl no you don't, messy sex, excessive amounts of cum

[cwarscars]

Important Things About My Heid

(( you guys know im a lil slaaaag for posting stuff like this. i like to make these 'need-to-know' posts so i can abbreviate things for people to know when interacting. you guys are wonderful & the amount of comments on like how i play heid i've had / get always warms my heart (like, people alluding to his past and stuff it makes me UFJKFDFDF AHHHH). so, here's a lil 'need-to-know' selection. c: ))

contains themes of // tw - sadomasochism / war-glorification / prejudice / violence & gore / child abuse mention / mental health & trauma / general n.s.f.w / unfaithfulness

Notable Scars // my heid has the prominent scar down his eye - he got this from a battle with a behemoth when he was twenty-one and an upcoming soldier. this is considered a defining moment for him as a young man.

Notable Scars // he has a prominent scar across the centre of chest, curved slightly between his pecs - this was given to him when godo stabbed him through the chest when he was in his early forties.

Notable Scars // various bullet wounds / sword strikes / small scars scattered across his body. a closer look at his hands & knuckles show tonnes of marks from punching walls / people / monsters.

Notable Tattoos // verse-dependent, heid has a large irezumi across his back of a dog / something shinra-dependent.

Notable Piercings // as a young man, heid had his ear lobe and helix pierced on one side - he wore a ring in each place. this was in rebellion to his father & the man's more traditional views. these were removed when he was twenty-eight.

Notable Past Events // heid has several medals from his time serving in the junon army - notably, for felling a behemoth during a battle amidst midgar. surviving the gaea cave incident. his services generally within the junon military.

Notable Past Events // heid lost several members of his platoon during an expedition to the gaea caves in the northern crater. the only survivors were him, a friend (who lost an arm) & a videographer who later deserted the army and was executed. this event left him heavily traumatised.

Notable Past Events // he began working closely at shinra's side in his late twenties & the two became friends despite, at first, not liking each other very much.

Notable Events // he has two daughters. edlyn (the older) and dwayna (the younger). he is divorced from their mother in most verses & actively cheats on her in the verses where they are together.

Notable Events // sixteen years before the start of the game, during the wutai war - heid was on the frontline as a commanding officer. during this time, he fought (and lost) to godo. the loss took him permanently from action ( due to the severity of his injuries ). he has never gotten over this & this partially encourages his 'warmongering' personality.

Mental Health // heid has severe anger issues (duh) as a result of his upbringing / general life events & toxic masculinity. when faced with women / children, he'll take his anger out on objects. when faced with men - he'll take his anger out on /them/.

Mental Health // he does suffer with ptsd which manifests primarily through nightmares & sleep paralysis. as a result, he rarely sleeps. heid sometimes experiences flashbacks - these manifest through a distant stare and stop to general conversations. it will generally look like he's zoning out.

Sexuality // i consider heid outwardly heterosexual with heavy bisexual undertones / closeted bisexual. he enjoys sex with both women and men, with a preference for women. he doesn't outwardly talk about his attraction to men (due to toxic masculinity).

Sexuality // he is sadomasochistic both sexually and non-sexually. this doesn't always manifest itself but he enjoys both giving and taking pain.

[toskarin]

could you elaborate a little on the mishima acknowledgements and muramasa?

in modern Japanese fascism (and in fact, in the Japanese far right in general) it's hard to escape acknowledgement of Mishima, in particular discussions of his romanticism and, well, homosexuality

in the intro to Hanachirasu, Ishima Kaigen (the stand-in for Mishima, who's also mentioned in Muramasa despite not being a big part of the story) succeeds in overthrowing a weakened Japanese government, then sends the nation into a death spiral while trying to impose his romantic view of traditionalism on what little of the nation he can hold onto

in Muramasa, this sense of meaninglessness is also really prominent, along with the sense that the main characters have a terrifying romantic fascination with death itself (even if the gay undertones aren't quite as present)

Narahara is clearly someone who's fascinated with the story of Mishima, and it really shows when you think about how many of his characters can be described by "depressed romanticist who, faced with a world of despair where there no longer seems to be a place for them, descends into suicidal sadomasochism that leads them to fascism"

which is to say I don't think he "idolizes" Mishima so much as he has a fascination with the messy, tragic figure of who he actually was in the years that led to his attempted coup and public seppuku

[all-about-kyu]

𑁍 ➼ fluff ⏃ ➼ smut  ᨒ ➼ suggestive ☾ ➼ angst ✹ ➼ humor 🜸 ➼ smau 𖤐 ➼ written series ♥︎ ➼ 1k+ notes

➼ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒓 𑁍

➼ 𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔/𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 𑁍

➼ 𝑵𝑪𝑻 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔 (𝒐𝒕𝟐𝟏)

➼ 𝑵𝑪𝑻 𝒂𝒔 𝑴𝑻𝑮 𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 (𝒐𝒕𝟐𝟏) || 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐 (𝒐𝒕𝟏𝟗) ⏃(𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔)

➼ 𝑵𝑪𝑻 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 (𝒐𝒕𝟐𝟏)

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑫𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈) ⏃ ↳ In which Johnny tries to treat you gently but your bratty tendencies take over and Doyoung arrives home ╰► major warnings: polyamory, pet names, use of names daddy/sir, double penetration, shibari, unprotected sex

➼ 𝑶𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒐 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑯𝒂𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏)⏃ ↳ In which you and Johnny teach Haechan ╰► major warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, degradation, spit roasting, m x m undertones

➼ 𝑳𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒂𝒛𝒖𝒍𝒊 𑁍 ↳ In which Johnny makes you feel happy and loved ╰►major warnings: none

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 𝟑𝟏 + 𝟑𝟕 𑁍

➼ 𝟒 𑁍

➼ 𝟔𝟒 𑁍

➼ 𝟑 𑁍

➼ 𝟖𝟑 ⏃

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏 𑁍 ↳ In which you spend time in Paris with Taeyong ╰► major warnings: none

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 𝟖𝟒 𑁍

➼ 𝟒𝟖 𑁍

➼ 𝟕𝟕 + 𝟕𝟗 𑁍

➼ 𝟓𝟕 𑁍

➼ 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𑁍

➼ 𝑲𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒚 𑁍

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝑴𝒚 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑫𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈)⏃ ↳ In which Doyoung helps Yuta control your behavior ╰► major warnings: brat taming, degradation, use of name sir/daddy, face smacking (once), unprotected sex, cumplay

➼ 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆 ⏃ ↳ In which you have a secret relationship with the son of the enemy ╰► major warnings: possessiveness, alcohol consumption, punching,  unprotected sex, bathroom sex, hickeys

➼ 𝟕𝟓, 𝟖𝟓, 𝟗𝟓 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑫𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈) ⏃ ↳ In which you surprise your boyfriends ╰► major warnings: polyamory, threesome, dom-sub dynamics, brat taming

➼ 𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑼𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝑨 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𑁍☾ ↳ In which you meet someone you thought you never would ╰► major warnings: class systems, mentions of war

➼ 𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 ⏃ ↳ In which you finally break the tension in the apartment ╰► major warnings: masturbation, finger sucking

➼ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 ⏃ ↳ Shotaro accidentally admitted something, Yangyang decided to tell tall tales, and Yuta puts an end to all of it… you’re just along for the ride (and it’s a fun one) ╰► major warnings: foursome, m x m content, Dom-sub dynamics, unprotected sex, marking

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆 𑁍

➼ 𝟓𝟔 𑁍

➼ 𝟑𝟎 𑁍

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝑴𝒚 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒖𝒕𝒂)⏃ ↳ In which Doyoung helps Yuta control your behavior ╰► major warnings: brat taming, degradation, use of name sir/daddy, face smacking (once), unprotected sex, cumplay

➼ 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚) ⏃ ↳ In which Johnny tries to treat you gently but your bratty tendencies take over and Doyoung arrives home ╰► major warnings: polyamory, pet names, use of names daddy/sir, double penetration, shibari, unprotected sex

➼ 𝟕𝟓, 𝟖𝟓, 𝟗𝟓 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒖𝒕𝒂) ⏃ ↳ In which you surprise your boyfriend ╰► major warnings: polyamory, threesome, dom-sub dynamics, brat taming

➼ 𝑴𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 ⏃ ↳ In which you’ve been teasing your dad’s best friend for a while and he finally retaliates ╰► major warnings: aged up!Doyoung, use of name daddy, choking, unprotected sex

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 𝟐𝟎 ⏃

➼ 𝟏𝟒 𑁍

➼ 𝟒𝟕 𑁍

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 ☾ ↳ In which you love him against all odds ╰► major warnings: injury, hospitals

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 86 𑁍

➼ 9 𑁍

➼ 46 𑁍

➼ 21 𑁍

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑰𝒔 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 ⏃ ↳ In which you meet someone unique and completely fall ╰► major warnings: dom-sub dynamics, bdsm, sadomasochism, exhibitionism, choking, degradation, subspace

➼ 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈) ⏃𑁍 ↳ part two of PIP: In which you and your husband find something new and exciting ╰► major warnings: dom-sub dynamics, bdsm, voluntary feminization, polyamory, m x m content

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 𝟓𝟖 𑁍

➼ 𝟖𝟐 𑁍

➼ 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑬𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𑁍

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑶𝒇 𝑰𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒍 ☾ ↳ In which you don’t know if it’s best to stay and hurt or leave and hurt ╰► major warnings: toxic relationship, cheating

➼ 𝑰 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒀𝒐𝒖 (𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒕) 𑁍 ↳ In which you have a deep 3am chat with your best friend ╰► major warnings: smoking weed, mentions of alcohol, parties

➼ 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕... 𑁍↳ In which Mark tells you exactly how he feels in (mostly) borrowed words. ╰► major warnings: none

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 𝑩𝒂𝒌��𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𑁍

➼ 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟎𝒂𝒎 𑁍

➼ 𝟗𝟗 𑁍

➼ 𝟗𝟖 (𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕. 𝒐𝒇 𝟗𝟗) 𑁍

➼ 𝟕𝟒 𑁍

➼ 𝟗𝟐 𑁍

➼ 𝟒𝟔 𑁍

➼ 𝟑𝟏 𑁍

➼ 𝑺𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𑁍

➼ 𝑷𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒚 ⏃

Full Fics/ Series:

➼ 𝑶𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒐 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚)⏃ ↳ In which you and Johnny teach Haechan ╰► major warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, degradation, spit roasting, m x m undertones

➼ 𝑹𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 ☾𑁍 ↳ In which maybe what you really want is right in front of you ╰► major warnings: none

➼ 𝑰 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒆𝒏𝒐, 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏, & 𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒏) ⏃ ♥︎ ↳ In which Haechan decides to show you off ╰► major warnings: exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected sex, use of name sir

➼ 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒆𝒏𝒐) ⏃ ↳ In which Haechan interrupts an intimate moment and get more intense ╰► major warnings: threesome, oral sex, hair pulling, cumplay

Blurbs/ Time Stamps:

➼ 𝟖 𑁍

➼ 𝟗:𝟓𝟒𝒑𝒎 ⏃

➼ 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒚 ⏃

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not permitted.

[quillandink333]

WIP Wednesday ~ 11.10.2021

Here’s a snippet from this. Basically Kazuma is a kind of serpent deity who threatens to flood the river running alongside {Yn}’s village unless they sacrifice someone to him. This year, {Yn} has volunteered to be the one. Pretty sure that’s all you gotta know for this. Enjoy 🐍💕

WARNINGS: human sacrifice, exophilia, undertones of dubcon, fear play, sadomasochism, no smut yet though

Seeing him up close, she could no longer bring herself to look away. He was mesmerising. His narrowed eyes, both severed by a black slit down the centre, were like the night sky, if the sky were made of steel and the stars glowed crimson. Between his brows, partly obscured by his charcoal tresses, sat an emblem consisting of three red rings—something she’d seen time and time again in various unflattering paintings of him. Below each eye, there was a row of five small, angular orifices, not quite the size of nostrils, delving into his cheekbones, which flared as he observed her. These were surrounded by patches of tiny scales that merged seamlessly into his human skin. His scales… They were easily the most extraordinary out of all his features. The mail of them that covered him from the waist all the way down much resembled the blanket of white petals scattered across the vicinity, though only in appearance. To the touch, they were offputtingly cold and solid.

“You do understand what becomes, in the end, of those who offer themselves up to me,” he articulated, flashing a pair of needle-like fangs at her as he spoke, “do you not?”

Looking out across the winding rapids below, a memory from a time gone by—one that she’d so desperately tried to bury—broke the surface. The victim’s bare, lifeless body washed up on the bank, his skin, once just as pristine as that of all previous honourable volunteers, battered by the rocks and earth lining the riverbed, and the turgid, blue-black veins branching out from the wound in his neck. She raised a tremulous hand to her own. “I-I…” She’d made her peace with death, she had thought. And yet…

“What’s this?” He leaned in close. “Is my little offering too overcome with terror to even speak?” His body tightened around hers, leaving her with barely enough room to breathe. “No matter.” He grabbed her roughly by the jaw, forcing her to meet his steely gaze. “I’ll have you opening up for me soon enough.”

Read the finished work here!

[twst-roses]

Twisted Darling: Yan! Sam & Crewel

Hi. Are you okay with the teachers? If so, can I have h/c about yandere teachers and MC who doesn't mind this type of attention and even on the contrary, she likes it. And she herself sometimes teases them(well, you know what I mean... Accidentally touch their hand, or give them a quick peck on the cheek, leaving the last of their office. Or something more...) If you don't like it, please forgive me! And just accept my admiration and love for your writing. I love it, so-so much! Thank you💗

Okay, I’m going to do Sam and Crewel for this because these ended up a little on the long side so I didn’t want to write three and because I feel like I have a better grasp of their characters that I do of the other two.

Also: Thanks sooo much for the compliments! I had not written a lot before this and part of the reason I did this was to get better. Thank you!

Warnings: Yandere, Darling likes the yandere behavior

Sam

You had noticed Sam’s protectiveness of you from day one, and you actually sort of enjoyed it. It was nice to know you had someone to run to.

When he started moving the protectiveness beyond what you would expect from a concerned adult, you were a little surprised, but again, you rather liked it. You could go tell him about how Ace had been a little too rough with you and he listened with a sympathetic attitude, gave you some food, and lo and behold, Ace was much, much gentler with you from then on.

It was almost miraculous how fast things fixed themselves after you mentioned them to Sam. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Not only was it useful, it made you feel cared for. He cared about you enough to fix problems you ranted to him about with no expectation to do anything at all about them.

You liked, no loved this. What did it matter that some of the people who bothered you scurried away when they caught sight of you and always avoided Sam’s shop?

So when Sam quietly asked you if you might help him with the last chores around the shop during closing, you gave a “Yes, of course Sam!” with no hesitation.

He invited you to have dinner there because it was so late, and you thanked him then with a hug. After dinner, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a cheery smile.

It drove him insane, how you tempted him and taunted him and loved him and then left.

He started finding reasons to have you around more, always treating you with kindness and an open ear. Until you leave. If you seem truly reluctant to go, he’ll let you go with only an open invitation and an expression of sadness at your leaving.

If you seem excited to go hang out with friends, he starts guilt-tripping. But you’re growing away from your friends anyway, so this doesn’t happen very often.

To him, your little touches and teasing are sadomasochism at its prime. His love for you grows only stronger with each one, and it hurts as much as it feels good. But he’ll wait.

Divus Crewel

Crewel likes to pay attention to you. This was a little... unnerving at first, but it feels almost like an honor now. He goes out of his way to correct your assignments while you are doing them in class, giving you gentle explanations and corrections before you turn them in.

Your grade in his class is either a perfect score or very nearly one, and people fight over who gets to be your lab partner. (Anyone who works with you is also on the receiving end of his assistance.)

You have his class at the end of the day, and often you are the last out of it. Sometimes Crewel is giving you a more in-depth explanation of something that interested you, sometimes you are merely chatting.

He invites you to assist him with some of his tasks, and how can you say no? While grading quizzes in his office, you start up a conversation. Briefly you mention some trouble a few upperclassmen had been giving you and he starts asking more into the topic.

You sense that a hard undertone to his light questions, but you think nothing of it. Until you don’t even see them for the next week. You’re still helping Crewel, and so you mention this to him.

He just shrugs and says, “They got what they deserved,”.

“Did you talk to them for me?”

“I just gave them a bit of a warning, nothing more.” He seems a little cagey about this.

When you leave his office, you thank him for always taking care of you and looking out for you and blow him a kiss. It takes him off guard, to be sure, but you are already out the door when a wide grin crosses his face and he whispers “Always, my darling. Always.” You hear this.

It’s a lot more comforting than it maybe should be, given that the tone was... less than nice. But to you, it’s the best reassurance anyone has given you at this damn school.