#edgeplay.

[enby-concubus]

Stop teasing you? Let you cum?

Why would I want to? Desperation looks too good on you for me to do that, sweet thing. Going all red and whiny like that, gasping and panting on my fingers or my tongue. You sound so sweet when you're begging like that, too.

Why would I ever let you cum?

[morthyew]

sometimes i think about how garak is the kind of old gay to wear a black turtleneck and wire rimmed glasses to read a book at a bar and who tries so hard to seem mysterious because that’s the only way he can even tangentially flirt, but everyone can tell it’s a sad old man ploy except this one guy, who has the reputation for being the shiniest naïvest kid on the block but the two of them start dating and everyone’s like oh no garak’s taken advantage of this hot young thing and conned him into hooking up with him but then they find out the kid actually has a fucked up intense cold machiavellian streak and that garak is using the fake mysteriousness to cover up the fact that he did war crimes for the CIA and is emotionally destroyed by his dishonorable discharge and somehow their initial guesses were kind of also correct but it’s bashir who has garak in a chokehold actually??

and everyone goes jesus christ thank god you two found each other you should never involve anyone else in whats going on with you.

[castielafflicted]

i want his hands around my fucking throat oh my god

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: NSFW/18+ [minors DNI]; afab!reader, no pronouns used to refer to reader; slight medical kink; edgeplay [sharps/blades--includes breaking skin, marking/branding with blade, and blood mention]; masturbation (m) wc: 1.2k

Law knows you’d never ask him—he knows you would never dare to bring it up to him, never dream of speaking a word of it if you could avoid it. He knows you respect him too much, that you honor the boundaries between his roles as doctor and captain and lover, for you to ever breathe your most indecent desires into existence, no matter how agonizing they had become. But you aren’t subtle, at least not to Law’s observant gaze, and he sees the way you quietly gnaw your lip when he wears his lab coat and hears your shivering exhale when you hear the snap of a latex glove against his wrist.

Most of all, he sees the way your hands carefully graze the tray of scalpels when you’re helping to set up the surgical theater, the way your pupils bloom as you run your fingers over the collection of bladed instruments, how the light glints off them and illuminates your hidden yearning. He feels a flame kindling at the base of his spine when he realizes he can catch the scent of your arousal from the doorway while he watches you caress the blades with a fetishistic reverence, any sense of restraint that may have been left in you now utterly eclipsed by your aberrant cravings.

He can’t help but want to indulge your whims, no matter how shameful you think they are, no matter how hard you try to suppress them for his sake. Law’s adoration for you transcends the arbitrary boundaries that he established to protect his own sanity, and his own growing need to fulfill your every desire, even those that you find particularly sordid and try to keep locked away in some dark corner of your mind, becomes an affliction, a daily obsession that starts to engulf him. He sits in his office, the lights dim, his lean form illuminated by the rays of sun that manage to pierce the deep waters, his mind suddenly drifting in a haze of feverish obsession. His planning, his paperwork, his necessary reading—all of it pushed to the side as concentration becomes all but impossible, his every thought consumed by visions of you and your lurid fascination with the instruments of his surgical expertise.

He finally gives into his preoccupations and closes his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he pictures how you’d look tied to his bed, a blindfold covering your eyes as you slowly writhe in place, waiting for him to do something, anything to you. You’d look exquisite, he thinks, as he slowly slides one shaking hand down his abdomen and starts palming at the growing hardness in his jeans, so fucking perfect lying there, defenseless and stripped bare, your chest heaving as you tremble in anticipation. He wonders how you’d react when you hear the familiar clinking of steel as he selects the perfect scalpel with which to perform his depraved acts, how you’d desperately try to reach for him, how your sweet voice would tremble as you asked him what he planned to do to you, a question he’d let his actions answer for him.

Law hastily unzips his pants and frees his aching cock, his thumb drifting over the pulsing head, teasing himself as he succumbs to his visions of you—a blade in his hand, his looming form hovering just over you, so close you can almost feel him without touching. He can practically see the way you would tense as he lowers the tip of blade to your skin, barely grazing you, not even enough to leave a mark, and drags it down the length of your forearm. Light scratches across your delicate shoulders, down your sternum, his skillful movements leaving marks so faint he could almost convince you they weren’t dangerous instruments that traced your goosebump-covered flesh. He hisses through his teeth at how your nipples would harden as he adorns your breasts with feather-light scratches, and his cock throbs in his palm at how he’d chide you for arching your back, cooing at you to stay still lest you end up getting yourself hurt, as he maneuvers the sharp, glimmering steel down your abdomen, letting it come to rest on the curve of your hip.

He strokes his length with a heated urgency as he wonders how you would react—if you’d cry, if you’d gasp, if you’d moan with wanton abandon—if he pressed the tip of the blade down, down just enough to draw blood, enough to earn glistening beads of scarlet dotting your skin. Would it make you ache deep in your core to feel just how carefully he controls the way it pierces your skin, the way he exercises meticulousness to nick you just so? Would your pretty little cunt drip with your juices at the pain, your slit glistening with slick, tempting him to abandon this vulgarity and simply fuck you until you pulsed around his throbbing cock? Would you beg him to stop—or would you cry for more?

A harsh groan hitches in Law’s throat as his perversion overtakes him, and the fires of sadism that you seem to so desperately want to stoke within him finally consume him. He frantically thrusts into his hand and wonders just how pretty you’d look with his name carved in your skin, a mark made with a surgeon’s precision on the plush of your hip—a special work of art just for you. It would be meant remind you how much he loves you, that he worships you so passionately that he wants you to see how you belong to him every time you look in the mirror, to feel his love every time you run your fingers over it, to see the devoted depravity in his grin as he gazes at it every time he pushes you down on the mattress and bullies his cock into you. He convulses in a sudden spasm, coating his fist in his spend, and finds that even this release is not enough to satiate the longing that you’ve stirred within him.

It’s all too much for him to endure, his endless ruminations on how perfect you’d look, obedient and malleable, under his control, how splendid your skin would look marked by the steady ministrations of his blades. And so, he calls you to his quarters one evening, invites you to come spend the night with him, tempting you with whispered words of how much he wants you, how badly he needs you. 

He greets you with a lascivious grin spread across his face, a lurid gaze settled in his half-lidded eyes; he watches as your eyes dart from his unsettling smile down to the hand that’s holding a blindfold, then over to the table beside his bed where a tray of glimmering steel scalpels rests. He approaches you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, places his hands on either side of you, trapping you in place with your back against the door. He can almost feel the smoldering heat radiating from your core as he asks you in a low voice, one that weighs heavy with a profoundly ravenous hunger: “Do you trust me?”

[wolfofcelestia]

The biggest cockblock was MC not whipping him full force across the face there tbh

Why are you just tapping him girl what you doing here

[buttrock-enjoyer]

finally watching the strap match. cm punk's opponent took his shirt off before the match started

it's not unheard of for wrestlers to take each others' clothes off, but they don't usually do that

[rainbowcarousels]

Day 6: Edging

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” 

If glowering were a vocal phenomenon, you would have been able to hear Louis’s expression in New Jersey. It didn’t seem to deter Daniel, but the man was a professional when it came to poor impulse control and no self preservation so this was hardly a surprise. 

Lestat was unable to see what was happening for himself. He was sitting on his stomach with his back to Louis and his alchemy on Armand’s ridiculously opulent dresser. Even watching Louis’s actions through Daniel’s eyes, Lestat was struck by how different he could look as if one of those camera phone filters were placed upon him. Still his Louis, of course, but somehow lighter, without a weight. It could be his imagination, but it seemed the same when Armand granted him access to his mind too. Little differences in perception.

“I know this has become something of a joke now, but I’m very adept with candles.” The flickering flame came to life in his hand with a singular strike of a match. So like Louis it was to prefer the physicality of the match, the feeling of the stick in his hand, the motion of lighting it more visceral than to use one of Daniel’s modern contraptions that you rolled your thumb over to light. 

“No one is questioning how adept you are with fire,” Lestat called back to him. “Least of all those of us who have experienced it first hand.”

“Pretty sure that’s just you,” Daniel oh so helpfully pointed out complete with a passable head pat for his troubles.

“I’ve always known our relationship was special,” Lestat sniffed at him. “I wouldn’t rule you experiencing a little toastiness out, isn't that something of your blood lineage’s pattern? Everyone but you?”

Daniel made a humming noise from his throat, “Bianca hasn’t.”

“Bianca isn’t direct,” Lestat pointed out. “If you go directly back to the Mother herself-”

The sudden burning heat of the wax was so sudden and so deliciously unbearable that Lestat was stopped mid flow, his words forgotten as the heat slithered down his back at an angle. The strangest sensation of it, the way Louis was carefully and purposefully covering his back.

For a younger vampire, this could perhaps have proven fatal. Even for Daniel with Armand’s blood in his veins, it could potentially spell his doom if Lestat were to buck up in exactly the wrong way and splatter him. That would defeat the purpose of this exercise, but accidents could happen.

If your desire to become my canvas costs me my firstborn, you’ll have more to worry about than the aesthetic cost. Armand’s voice dropped into his mind without warning and Lestat smiled to himself at the familiar timbre.

I promise to get you a new child to play with if I do. Plenty of other pretty blonde creatives in the sea.

Lestat didn’t have to see him to know his face at the statement, he could imagine it well enough to giggle and get a sharp smack to his shoulder. Those were not Armand’s hands – he had come to know the different ways the skin could be impacted by his hands and in comparison to Louis’ and this was most definitely the laughter.

Slipping into Daniel’s mind, he could see Armand fussing with the sharpened, pearl handled blade that he intended to use. It would take some time for the wax to cool, an hour or two at least if not more, so if Lesat was going to have to remain still in that time then at least he ought to be allowed his mirth.

Especially given how excruciatingly slow and methodical Louis was being. Every time the beautiful burning subsided, he would feel it elsewhere on his skin – so much care, so much control and all for him. It wasn’t that he was squirming on purpose but given the way his daredevilry was put on hold to become the sacred core and he couldn't risk himself or condemn the youngest and weakest to pain or even death, pain was such a luxury that he couldn’t help himself but groan under it.

It was only when it had hardened enough to stay in place that Lestat sat up to give Armand his canvas. It would make a beautiful carving, but Armand had stipulated Lestat may not see till its ending and had banished Daniel to the other side of him in case he chose to be devious about it. As if Armand were not the most devious and skilled with a blade in the room. Lestat was determined to be his lover's masterpiece and willed himself still as Armand cut into the wax and skill, drawing the blood to the surface to fill in the cracks in the wax. What he was drawing, Lestat did not know and for now, didn’t care – it was the most intense stinging pain, but Armand’s hands were so gentle on him that Lestat had never felt quite so relaxed and worked up at the same time.

It felt as if he were drifting, the echo of pain and what it felt like in his system. The smell of the wax and tang of the blood evoking memories of earlier times, not better times perhaps but important times, beautiful ones of the last – no, two centuries before. With every broken skin, the exposure to the air cooled the heat bruised skin.  

It was hard not to at least try to look, so Lestat tried to ground himself on other things: Louis’ exceptional State Candle collection from a subscription someone gave him at Christmas – that explained why he could smell sweet and warmth but he had assumed that was Louis’ new signature scent. Reflected in Daniel’s mind’s eye, Armand looked almost boyish in his concentration, his little tongue slipping out as he worked so carefully. The feeling of Daniel’s rough jeans beneath his arms, clearly not something Armand had picked out and Lestat was sure there would be consequences of this.

However, Lestat kept to his word. It took hours but when he was done, Lestat immediately demanded mirrors so he could see the work. It was so easy to see why people had considered Armand’s gifts to be something to do with divinity. Across his back in wax carving and blood stains where the wounds had healed, there was a snake eating itself – ouroboros, if he remembered correctly. A symbol of rebirth, never ending. Within it a tree, spindling branches reaching out as if to show that even though it looked barren, itt was instead ready to come into its bloom. 

“Yggdrasil in it,” Armand murmured, running his tongue over Lestat’s back. Even if he lapped at the blood, surely he was getting a mouthful of the wax too. “That is all things through all worlds reborn and forever.”

Just like them. Always reinvented, always gravitating together and always a home to return to.

“I never want to take it off.” Even after he made sure Daniel took around a thousand photographs of his proof of devotion that was encompassing his back, Lestat despaired over the idea of losing something so. But hadn’t that been their pattern too, to always lose one another and find their way back? Was it not fitting that something so agonising, stunningly beautiful and rendered from his lover's hands would be temporary? A reminder to always come back for more? “But we will do this again, won’t we?”

“I have fifty one more candles,” Louis replied, pressing a kiss to Lestat’s hair. “We have nothing but time.”

[impkinks]

i need bruises on my neck from a choke chain so. bad.

[acidbathpuppy]

Sometimes I think BDSM is just a costume to some ppl on here

[standfucker]

btw fun fact when I look at your main on the app the paw is orange but on the computer it's black and this account is black on my computer too xD

.....

ALSO

I have a bone to pick with you bc I have never ever considered knifeplay and do you wanna know what the FUCK has been going on in my head

Just those two, taking turns, Marco healing you up after

Or even Izou delicately carving things into your skin. Not anything deep of course, but Marco doesn't heal those right away.

........

I am unwell over this Marco gives this such a low risk and now I want it

heeheehee, I'm delighted to have left this sort of mark in your brain, no pun intended

Izou would tie you up so pretty and perfect to do it, too. Sessions would start out with no rope at all, but as you get more comfortable with it he'd see if you're willing to combine shibari and knifeplay. Tugging on a rope that goes between your legs while making the slightest, shallowest cut elsewhere, just to get that perfect pain-pleasure cocktail. Then Marco's warm fingers brush over that spot, and the pain dissolves away while he kisses the back of your neck and tells you what a good job you're doing... 🫠🫠🫠

Once you have some experience and your pain tolerance is a little higher, Izou does multiple neat, connected cuts into a pretty, red symbol. Maybe the WBP symbol or a kanji that represents you, or a flower. They let that one stay on while they have their way with you, and don't heal it until the end of the session.

[anticipato]

@claochlu INQUIRED; is there a particular NSFW scenario you wanted to play, but couldn’t yet? ( in the context of any of the muses :3c) // SHIPPING QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN (always accepting!)

I didn't realize I had so many ideas till I started typing, so bear with me here. I also wasn't sure if you meant in the context of our muses or my muses in general, so I did both...

FOR BEAU (and Ulysses) Brought to light by the Beau headcanon ask. I would adore something tender and loving with Beau. He may end up crying, but they will be good tears.

FOR KIERAN (and Alec) I have a little cluster: Kieran and Alec putting out cigarettes out on each other (I'm working on remedying this though). Alec topping and/or being dominant with Kieran. Also, is it wrong to want Kieran or Alec to coax the other into sucking on their gun?

FOR LEON (and Haytham) Part of me wonders what Leon and Haytham get up to. It could be fun to explore that side of their relationship.

FOR MARRAKESH (and Gale) morning sex between these two.

(I realized after I'd finished this portion that it said a particular scenario, oops. General scenarios can come later.) To further answer the question, though: I want to write a scenario with Miles and another muse concerning boots. Whether he's bootblacking someone's boots or someone is making him lick/kiss their boot(s), etc. I just don't know if anyone else wants to write that so I just sit here hanging out

[ncafterdark]

Kinktober 2023

Day 25: Hiro/Dagger--Edgeplay

*****

Everyone had their limits, even the most patient. It was odd to describe Dagger as patient, as much as he liked to indulge, but he had the habit of giving you just enough rope to hang yourself with—backed into a corner with minimal effort on his part, all a part of the game he’d been playing all along. But sometimes antagonizing him is deliberate, enough to see the controlled facade crack, measured even in its madness. 

The moment the blindfold slipped over his eyes, it should have tipped him off, head trying to follow him, even in it’s futility, hand cupping his cheek, words soft and venomous.

“I hope you can sit still for me.” 

It’s enough to give him pause, breath frozen in his throat, made the more frigid as Dagger pulls away, resisting the urge to chase his touch. “What are you doing?” He hates how unsteady his voice sounds, everything that much louder, more intense without context. He’s not graced with an answer, the rasp of metal reaching his ears, surface digging in beneath his chin, just enough to threaten, feel his throat bob against the knife wedged firmly in place. 

“Don’t move.” 

Although he’d seldom consider himself obedient, the alternative doesn’t cross his mind. He doesn’t think Dagger wants him bleeding out in his floor, as much as he himself doesn’t want that, but it’s little reassurance, a glimmer of uncertainty that has him pliant. Even as he can’t hear him, he hears the smile in his words, something wicked, eyes glittering with a promise of pain. 

“I didn’t like how you were looking at that man today.” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Even as he says it, he knows it’s a lie, knows the other man does too. 

“M’loyal, not blind. You were looking too.”

“That’s okay, though.”

He pauses, words bitten off, argument dying on his tongue, even as he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. 

“Wasn’t going to do anything. Just…wanted attention. Yours.”

“That’s okay. You’ve got it now. It’s understandable, memory fails everyone, right? You should know who you belong to”

The knife trails down, softly at first until the tip catches, digging in just enough, until a thin line wells up—beading scarlet against his skin. His lips follow, hot against his skin—a soft moan bubbling in his throat.

“I’ll give you a way to remember.” 

—

(Ft. @wraithsoutlaws's Dagger 🖤🔪)

[wild-at-mind]

Just remembering when I was waiting for bf to get his tatt done and looking at the magazines, they had one of those extreme body mods magazines which was interesting. I have never understood why people get this kind of body mod, but I'm trying to work on being more open minded. And from this magazine I can see clearly that the ethos is 'my body is mine and I should be allowed to choose to do these things to it', which resonates. And as a trans person I would hope I wouldn't forget that transphobes call transition 'irrepairable damage' and self harm. (I can remember watching those early 2000s documentaries where surgery for transition was basically framed as an extreme body mod to be looked at for shock value.)

So I'm looking at this magazine, all open minded like, and then suddenly one of the models (who was being interviewed for something else, like he had his dick split in two or something) just casually is like oh yeah I have tonnes of different types of swastika tattooed on my arm. And sure enough, then there's a pic of like...20 swastikas done in different ways all on one area of his arm.

:[

[piddle-paws]

Knifeplay stuff from Mommy and I's anniversary weekend 🩵

[planet-dusk]

i'm not sure if you will like my dirty thoughts, and ik it may sound crazy but i'm so in love with chan putting a gun in your mouth while we're fucking 🫠 telling you how good i am doing

🏷️ gunplay

chan and edgeplay 🫠🫠

chan strapping you to a chair and teasing you by dragging the cold metal over your thighs until he's reached your dripping hole, pushing the barrel in. you're such a good girl for him... look how your greedy pussy is so eager to take anything he gives you 😵‍💫