#tw sex slavery

[autumnteawithfriends]

Childhood trauma unlocked: I’m still traumatized by the time I found a Kirby fanfic where Dark Meta Knight had Kirby and Shadow Kirby in sexual slavery

[troythings]

daily reminder that patty jenkins, known zionist and close associate of zionist propagandist gal gadot, decided to personally retcon the amazons’ canon history of sexual enslavement and being the reincarnations of women killed by man’s violence because it wasn’t girlboss feminist enough for her and she wanted a bunch of murdering warrior women who did nothing except train for war all day.

and everyone ate it up.

[rudolphsb9]

I was originally going to write an entire rant about the treatment Skip Woods gives to his female characters across both his outings in the Hitman franchise. I started going through Hitman (2007) with the intention of studying how Nika was portrayed as a character with the sole purpose of ranting about problems I saw in the way Woods handles women, female leads in particular (to be frank, there are few other female characters of note in either film; Diana is grandfathered in as an important character, but as I've ranted about before and will do so again, Katia's mother doesn't get the grace of a canonical name despite haunting most of H:A47). But, as I was doing that, I realized how similar the films are overall, at least in how they set themselves up.

One of the big points for me was the similarity between Katia and Nika, not in minute details but in overall character sketch: a woman in a bad position in life who is in need of rescue and (perhaps by necessity of genre convention) sexy. But not just any kind of sexy, she also has to be exotic. Nika is a Russian sex slave, a stereotype that may have flown in 2007 but needed necessary updating for 2015. So, Katia's mother is Sri Lankan Tamil. (She's initially implied to be mixed, which would slot her into the But Not Too Foreign trope where acceptable love interest territory lies, but when the story shifts gears to sibling team up mode and John is revealed to be a straight up antagonist, Katia is directly stated to be the product of mad science. It's highly probable that but for necessary modifications, she is a direct clone of her own mother--"You are the reflection of the woman I loved.")

There are other points I observed, too, mostly in setup (the details of deviation allow for the films to run different courses in their second halves). The prologue of the program that produced 47, the placements of any flashbacks (they taper out by the half-way point), the entire plot of "initial hit kick starting the action, followed by find the girl (whether that was an original goal or not), followed by kidnap the girl and deliver to her a series of key revelations, followed by drag her along to help on the mission". I don't watch enough movies (action movies in general or Woods' work in specific) to know whether this is scènes à faire or if H:A47 is really just Hitman (2007) with a different coat of paint. But I also don't think it's a bad thing. Lots of creatives have pet themes that make it into almost all their work.

The similarities also make it really easy to see where I think one version did better than the other. The prologue and flashbacks 47 has to getting tattooed from Hitman (2007) are something I prefer over H:A47, for example. Instead of the clinical sterility of medical exams, we get glimpses into the actual training the boys were given, including the implication that they were the ones responsible for shooting any of their number who tried to escape. 47 fixates on the tattoo because it caused him a lot of pain. There's a similar moment in H:A47 but instead 47 is asked if it hurt, and says yes. Coupled with the fact that in the 2015 version of the prologue, we do see 19 get his number, and the machine doing the stamping... gets it done in a couple of seconds and 19 doesn't even flinch. In the 2007 version somebody is using an actual tattoo gun, forcing him to keep a steady hand and 47 to hold as still as possible to not mess up the lines. To quote Dan Olsen: "inference is dramatically inferior to being shown."

(As a random aside, the monks in the 2007 version go completely unexplained. I think they were only included because in the second game 47 briefly converts to Catholicism and lives in a monastery. I have a web of theories about how the movies and games play off each other; this and 47's wearing the stripe tie from Blood Money for the first act are on that pin board.)

On the other end, I think Katia is an improvement, character wise, over Nika, and that boils down to one specific change. Katia is 47's little sister, a product of the same experiments that produced 47 himself. Because Katia also has Agent abilities, this handily allows her to participate freely in the action, in part because 47 spends the second half forcing/teaching Katia to use her abilities for combat until she can manage without prodding. Nika, for her part, acts in her storyline in spite of 47. She's told over and over again to stay put and not wander off or interfere, and she wanders off and interferes (though she does only interfere once; 47 scared her straight after that). Nika's primary story function is... teaching 47 to love? It's unclear, and her method half the time is to attempt to seduce him which, given his explicit rejection of the idea, counts as assault. Making Katia 47's sister eliminates the need for any weird "romance" dynamic involving 47 himself, and makes them much more equal in their interactions.

I want to make another point of comparison, too, and this is going to bring in ideas from the games. It's 47's relationship to his own name, which has clearly changed as time goes on. In Blood Money (which I'm certain influenced Hitman (2007)), 47 states "Names are for friends, so I don't need one." In Hitman (2007), he tells Nika "The place I was raised, they didn't give us names, they gave us numbers. Mine was 47." Both of these statements imply that he doesn't view 47 as a proper name but as something imposed on him (there's an argument to be made that in the 2007 film, the Organization used numbers as a means to strip their orphan charges of identity to keep them in line and foster loyalty).

However, in H:A47, he has this exchange:

Sanders: "So why don't we start with your name." 47: "47." Sanders: "That's... not a name." 47: "No, but it is mine."

Additionally in the prologue sequence of Hitman (2016), he has this exchange:

47: "I believe they called me... 47." Diana: "That's not a name." 47: "So make it one."

The acceptance of "47" as a name in its own right implies a version of the character more at peace with his clonehood and circumstances. In H:A47 especially, there are implications that the clones had a sort of subculture, or cultural identity among themselves (47 outright states that while each clone gets barcoded at birth, they only get the corresponding number stamped on them "when [they] become Agents", and if that's not a rite of passage I'm a wheel of cheese). One could surmise that their numerical identifiers were given appropriate significance, and I have nothing to go on here but I do think they lined up in numerical order for everything that required them to assemble in an orderly fashion (which is everything they could have been required to do at the lab).

The point I'm trying to make here is that as the Hitman franchise has progressed, the character of 47 has changed his relationship with the fact that his name is 47 (and everything that implies). Here I'm not going to say one or the other is bad, but I do think it's interesting and worth further study.

[atomic-crusader]

Reminder of what an absolute monster Columbus was, and why we should not celebrate him in any way shape or form.

[valorieravenchild]

When I tell you this S.O.B has me in a chokehold.

Lore below, cause I can't make little guys without giving them sad backstories.

Content warning, reader discretion is advised.

His name is Midos, no last name for as a demon born on the lowest end of the hierarchy he's no more than a slave and whore.

Anger takes hold early and festers until he becomes bitter and volatile until the day he murders he higher demon who brought him. He flees the scene but with the visual differenece in status and not a single thing to call his own he has nowhere to go and soon ends up forced into the House of General Sarius Mordisius against his will.

General Sarius has the reputation of being one of hells crulest generals and takes great pride in the title.

Though trapped and bound to a new master Midos refuses to hide fury any longer an threatens to murder Sarius like he did his former master, should he lay a finger on him. Sarius is instantly facinated, not only for the gall it takes to speak against a General, but also the intoxicating fire in his eyes that speaks for how serious he is.

Sarius doesn't touch him, but he does take full advantage of his status as a slave and quickly makes Midos his own personal one, forced to follow him everywhere and follow his every petty whim.

It all changes when another higher demon does try to force themselves on Midos.

Midos manages to fight them off long enough for Sarius to find out what's happeneing and interfere. The higher demon tries to protest his innocence, as Midos is no more than a slave. Before the demon has finished speaking Sarius kills them outright, creating a bloody mess before a drags Midos back home.

After that they slowly grow closer until Midos climbs the social ladder, despite his place in the hirearchy, and soon becomes Sarious' favorite concubine, a title he defends with bloody hands and fangs. He never loses his fire and anger, but Sarius makes it bearable.

Sarius never lays a finger on him until Midos asks for it and eventually he is only his concubine by status, and lover and equal when they are alone.

[digenerate-trash]

Haha your friendly neighbor and great misspeller and probably high on crack [REDACTED]

Just kinda bored and was wondering on a what if scenario, so a broken PC would Yan DoB bailey be worried? And would normal Yan bailey also be concerned? (For the normal Yan bailey PC already gets raped and kinda got traumatized and for the DOB I guess PC’s parents were abusive? Idk how these works anyways you can pick I guess)

There are so many ways to get traumatized in brutality. And having shitty parents could be one of them what kind of parents saddle you with their debt in a town full of killers cannibals and freaks???

But also Kylar takes off your limbs if you're not a good pet and forces you to drink his cum out of a dog bowl and you become like a sex slave for him.

Harper (along with helping Kylar with the limb thing) takes your blood becomes obsessed with your body and blood and dissects and cuts you open multiple times he will also rape and confine you if you try to escape him when he confesses his love to you

Whitney gives you a glasco smile if you refuse to smoke cigarettes by the pack and fucks you in a dirty alley. He's big on beating you if your late (and is kinda implied to be an enforcer for the loan sharks.)

And even Bailey can traumatize you. But it immediately leads to death so he gets a pass I guess.

But yeah I think regular yan bailey tries to keep you as safe as he can but he knows freaks are out there and if you look fucked he'll go easy on you bath you and try and make you stop crying (he's not good at it.)

But I feel like yan dob Bailey would be out for blood. You're his spouse! Of course, he'd try and coo and hold you tight. He'd want you to feel safe and keep you warm. He'd offer his home and life to you so you can feel protected and happy away from the freaks of this town. He'd try to convince you to let your parents go. They're not valuable or important like you are. They made their bed and let them die in it.

But he'd want to keep you very close. Keeping you away from your main source of trauma ever that may be. He'd feed you and keep you safe. You'd spend your time with the orphans and Bailey would treat you like family. (He'd also fuck you stupid but that's a given he deserves a little reward after all he's been such a good husband)

Bailey would want to keep you out of harm's way. He'd make sure your life with him is better than anything else you could make yourself and if you think about leaving he's got a heavy chain and some rope that will keep you a happy compliant little spouse until all those bad impulses are trained out of you

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

The intricacies of elven naming conventions, and contemplating the possible meanings of Halsin's name:

This post was directly inspired by a Halstarion fanfiction on AO3, but I lost the link to the fic and can't remember its name. 😭 If anyone recognizes the example name I used here (which was Halsin's childhood name in the fic) and can send me the name of the fic so I can link it in this post, I would greatly appreciate it. It's a really good fic!)

When an elf turns 100 they take an "adult name", which is a name that they chose for themselves instead of the name chosen for them by their parents.

(AN: Elves mature at approximately the same rate that humans do until they're around 25. An elf not being considered an adult in elven society until their 100th birthday is essentially a ceremonial rite of passage— showing that the elf has lived long enough, and gained enough life experience, to be taken seriously by older elves. [i.e.: An 18 year old and 38 year old are both legal adults, but I'd take the 38 year old's advise more seriously than the 18 year old's.])

Elven naming traditions are complex. How a name is pronounced changes the meaning of the name— even if two names are spelled same way they could be pronounced differently, and thus have different meanings. Prefixes and suffixes seem to be interchangeable. Not only that, (AFAIK) some letters can be interchanged, combined, or dropped to make the name flow better and/ or sound prettier.

"According to The Complete Book of Elves, the elven language is so full of subtlety and nuance that only native speakers fully understand it. Two names may sound the same to a human, but an elf would know the difference."

As an example of how intricate elven names are; the name "Arith" could mean "gold child" or "child of gold" if read as "ar-ith". But if the name is read as "ari-th" it could mean "silver healer"— if the "a" is removed from the suffix "-tha". Or it could mean "silver wing" if the "i" is removed from the suffix "-thi".

The name "Arith" could also mean "silver child" if read as "ari-ith", if the meanings of "ari" and "ith" are combined. Complicating matters, combining the "i"'s can elongate the vowel, changing the pronunciation to "aree-th". From what I can tell combining the "i"'s could lead to the vowel either being elongated or not, depending on the preference of the person who is doing the naming.

Hell, combining the "i"'s could lead to the name meaning "Gold-silver child" or "Child of gold and silver" or "Silver-gold child" or "Child of silver and gold" or other variations. The meaning of the name could also be used to represent an idea— so instead of a direct/ literal translation of "Arith" we'd get a name that means "Valued child" or "Treasured child" or "Little treasure" etc.

{11} Ar : gold, golden {12} Arì : silver {42} -ith (-lath; -lith; -lyth) : child, young {81} -thal /-tha (-ethal / -etha) : heal, healer, healing {84} -thi (-ethil; -thil) : wing

To say that elven names are complicated is a bit of an understatement.

Continuing to use angle fire's elven names charts to decipher what Halsin's name could mean is frustrating— as it seems as though his name isn't elven in origin. I don't even want to think about Astarion's name. [alt]

{39} Ha : free, freedom

Which makes sense, as he values freedom/ being free. But "Ha" is the only direct translation available off the elf name charts— which compelled me to add/ drop letters in prefixes/ suffixes in order to determine the meaning of Halsin's name.

If we add an "l" to "Ha" and remove the "a" in "san" and replace it with an "i" then the name "Halsin" means "Free drink". However using the suffix "-hal" as a prefix gives us a name with the meaning:

{39} Ha : free, freedom {31} -hal (-ahal; -ihal) : pale, weak {73} -san : drink, wine

"Pale drink", "pale wine", "weak drink", "weak wine", etc. Which doesn't really fit the Halsin we know. Though an argument could be made that Halsin chose this name/ its meaning because he was too weak to stop the Shadow Curse, and as an acknowledgement of how he turned to drinking to cope. But he would've been 250 years old when he chose this name. Ostensibly, he would've already changed his name upon reaching age 100— though he could('ve) change(d) his name multiple times.

Or if we drop the "a" in "La" and add an "n" to "Si", the meaning changes to:

{39} Ha : free, freedom {52} La : night {80} Si : cat, feline

"Free(d) night cat." Which fits Halsin in the same way that a foot does in a shoe that's a size to small— it fits, but not really.

If we combine the "Ha" and "-hal" we'd get a name that means "free weak drink". Which would be a nod to his escape from slavery in the Underdark, and how he drank to cope with his failures in the Shadow Cursed Lands. (And how he might've also drank to cope with what happened to him during his enslavement.)

There's many other combinations/ meanings, but none of them really feel like something Halsin would choose as a name for himself.

However! Looking at the (surface) drow names lead me to some interesting theories.

{33} Hal/Sol : Deft, nimble, spider {79} Sin/Szin : Festival, joy, pleasure

So his name would be: "Nimble pleasure" or something along those lines. But why would he use a drow name?

May I present to you the angsty idea that "Halsin" was his slave name and that for whatever reason he chose to keep it once he was freed.

He could've also used a combination of drow and elven name meanings, as by adding an "l" to the end of "Ha", "Halsin" means:

{39} Ha : free, freedom {79} Sin/Szin : Festival, joy, pleasure

"Free joy" or "Joy in freedom"— which could possibly be a nod to his joy at being freed, with the drow portion acting as a reminder of his youthful folly. We could also get the meaning "Free pleasure" which, uh, could be taken as 'he is free to pursue his pleasure', or 'it is a pleasure to be free' or 'it is pleasurable to be free', etc.

Or for more angst, "Free pleasure" which come from his drow captors combining the elf prefix "Ha" with the drow prefix "Sin" as both a mockery of his lost freedom and a reminder that he was to pleasure the matron of the house, or anyone who she gave permission to*, at any time (noncon free use).

(*AN: Drow society is staunchly matriarchal. The least powerful woman ranks above the most powerful man. However, a non-noble woman couldn't give orders to a patron; if she did then his powerful matron would most likely react with violence for using her "possession" without her permission— so in this way powerful drow men are protected, to an extent. However drow men, whatever their status, are above surface slaves, especially elves. (I think they hold dominion over female slaves, but I am not sure. Drow men are definitely higher up on the food chain than a male surface elf slave.) Which is why the patron got to 'enjoy' Halsin (and because the matron allowed him to). Honestly, Halsin is damn lucky to have survived as a slave instead of being sacrificed to Lolth or outright killed— most drow hate surface elves.)

I wonder if Halsin went to the Underdark before he turned 100. He was given into the care of a druid grove when the last of his family died, which implies he was very young at the time. <100 year old elves are full of wanderlust, and without an elven community/ family to help guide him Halsin would've taken risks that older elves could have warned him against.

And it would make sense for Halsin to use the name that means "free joy" if he was in the Underdark before he turned 100. It would also make sense for him to change his name to mean "weak drink" or "free(d) weak drink". The change would've been subtle enough that most wouldn't notice. And it would be in character for Halsin to change his name to be a constant reminder to himself of his failures and mistakes.

Of course he could've chosen the name "Halsin" because it has no meaning, and thus no expectations attached to it.

**(Please note that I am by no means a DND lore expert, this analysis is amateur at best. Angelfire seems to be a 3rd party website, so their translations are by no means official or correct, and idk how old the webpage is.)

[snowfolly]

A Time Before 

The shattered memories that Astarion desperately grasps onto are fading away one by one. (One shot ficlet | 1,263 words)

CW: torture/abuse/neglect/slavery/sex slavery/blood/dark/bleak

Read on A03

There was a time before blood, gods… a time before the incessant gnawing in his stomach, his palate ravenous for blood and blood and BLOOD and gods please MORE BLOOD and…

There was a time before the torture, abuse as constant as the all-consuming hunger, agony unending. He was often beaten within an inch of his life by cruel bony hands holding a club. Those dreaded nights ended in him praying desperately to the uncaring gods that never listened, begging for them to end his suffering as he lay unable to move on the filthy cold stone floor.

There was a time before the fury, before the all consuming wrath that raged like an unchecked inferno throughout his entire being. The bitterness of being forgotten, lost to the world of the living, uncared for and thrown away into the depths of an undead hell with the key to freedom hooked around the crooked finger of Cazador Szarr, his all-powerful master who had made him into the pathetic, lowly creature that he had become.

There was a time before the nightly collection of beautiful people for this cruel master, a time when his body was entirely his own and he used it as he pleased and when he pleased. Now he was nothing but an object, trained-up well in the art of seduction, his body made for giving pleasure to everyone but himself.

There was a time before the horror of unimaginable fear. Fear of being locked away in a cold, damp tomb for an act of kindness. Locked away to gnash teeth and scream into the void, to curse the gods and weep desperately with eyes that could not make tears due to his neglect, all while trapped under the unmovable stone lying mere inches above his body.

Fear was the endless darkness of a year entombed, some days unmoving, silent, a million miles away and yet uncomfortably present as his body screamed for movement, begged for blood. Other days were spent clawing at the lid of his confinement like a mad animal until the blood starved flesh and nails would tear from his bones. Fear was being entombed again, but never to rot. His godsdamn body couldn’t even die, but it could starve, oh gods could it starve…

It seemed impossible that there had ever been a time before Astarion had been bound to the monster that reigned over him entirely, controlling him like a pale marionette with strings tied far too tightly around his limbs and mind.

It had been two long centuries, actually.

Astarion had not known the comfort and warmth of life in so long that he wasn’t even sure that he had ever truly experienced living in the first place. His early life was like a fever dream, a distant, foggy vision that time had whittled down into scattered fragments.

From time to time he had grasped onto those fragments of comfort when lying dejected and ashamed on the stinking kennel floors, when patching and cleaning up his few threadbare articles of clothing, when inattentively ‘listening’ to one of his victims prattle on and on before he lured them to their untimely death, and especially when he laid in that silent tomb for an entire year…

These fragmented shards were not like the glass that had cut Astarion when Cazador threw a crystal goblet at his face for no reason other than to cause him pain and humiliation. These were not the jagged shards that Cazador tore across his pale skin as he cried out in great agony to uncaring gods, the blood of the vermin that he had previously consumed spilling out from his veins onto the clothing he had spent hours removing bloodstains from the night previous.

These fragmented shards that he held onto did not cause suffering. These were pieces of softened sunlight, warm and pleasant, rounded, velvety memories of the time before the waking hell of his reality.

In the time before, the hands that touched his face were loving.

His mother would hold his face in her hands in adoration, gazing at her precious little star. He tried desperately to remember her voice, recall her face and her eyes; eyes surely filled with a mother's all-encompassing love, right? Gods, what had she even looked like? How could he possibly forget? 

Astarion could only recall warmth, gentleness, the distinct smell of bergamot and a cascade of silver-white curls gleaming brilliant like a halo in what his brain blearily construed as daylight. But the details of her face had been lost to him as much as his own, and somehow that seemed even more of a travesty.

In the time before, the lessons he had learned had been kind

Days as a child were spent lightheartedly, learning to read and write, of elven politics and history, singing, sewing and swimming and… Swimming? Could he swim? 

He could barely remember the featureless elven children, as well as himself, a small and fussy child, splashing, swimming and playing without a care in the world. Could he have ever truly been so free, so unburdened?

He could only recall the idea of the warmth of the water in the height of summer, but somehow the golden light flickering off the azure surface of Dawnsglory pond was strikingly clear to him. Mesmerizing flashes of mirrored sunlight on waters that he’d never swim in again would dance across his mind when it wandered off to save itself.

In the time before, the weapon he had wielded was not his own body.

He had a dim recollection of standing in the training yard at dawn as a darkened figure above him showed him how to hold his child’s bow, how to stand, how to nock an arrow and how to aim. Over the years of his youth he had become an adept archer, a skill that he had been quite proud of- a skill that his father had been most proud of him for, right? He remembered little to nothing about his father, but in the time before he knew his true father had not been cruel…Had he? Another memory lost. No fragment to hold on to at all, like the majority of his past.

And how long would it be before the next shard of his memories shattered into dust? And worse yet, when would he be left with no recollection of his life before Cazador at all? Ten years, fifty, a hundred? 

It was highly doubtful that even a tiny shred of his true self would be left in another century. He would be a shell filled with fear and anger and rat blood, a pathetic existence vacant of comfort and inspiration, bleak and void of any possibility of freedom for as long as his wretched body captured victims and his ageless life continued. It would be the same horror forever. The same…endless…never ending…eternal hell.

And yet, despite it all, he still wanted to live.

He still longed to survive, but for what?

He had nothing, nothing. He had nothing at all but the smallest, faintest hope deep inside of his secret heart, hope that one day he would wake from the inconceivable nightmare of his existence. Hope that everything would just magically return to the time before when he had played without a care in the sun, when he had felt warmth and comfort and love, when he had been so full of potential. When he had truly been alive.

Gods please, just let him wake up, let him return to the time before.

Please…please…

please.

[rudolphsb9]

Do I fully recognize that Skip Woods tossed in a couple lines to suggest Katia's mother is a Sri Lankan Tamil just to give her a bit of "exotic flavor"? Yes (And I also think that's why Nika was both Russian and a sex slave.)

HOWEVER, did I run with those throwaway lines anyway? ALSO yes.

[arcadianambivalence]

How was your day? I totally didn't spend mine trying to meticulously map how little Armand could have feasibly made it from Delhi to Venice in the first two decades of the 16th century. And then somehow deleted two hours of notes.

[tamedstray]

@notyetfixed ⁀➷ 𝑵𝒐𝒏-𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 Sender places a hand on receiver to stop them from doing something —Nox

Returning from his trip, Vigor sees the familiar doors, and without having to be reassured time and again, he knows he is welcome. When everything else in his life felt like a horrible dream, the Bailey was the only thing that felt normal. Even returning to his greenhouse, his solace in younger years, meant confronting memories that twisted his passion into poison. A rot seeped through every memory and every dream, until there was only Nox and the Bailey to remind him of what a home should feel like.

      But that rot had spread. He'd carried it with him to the Bailey.

      Even from across the room, Vigor knew. There was nothing unique about his appearance, dressed down to fit in, but he knew. He can hear him talking to Nox. He's laughing. And why not? No one except him knew just how dangerous Irnvar was, and yet, the venomous serpent was hissing gentle words to Nox.

      ❝Do you see many Upper City boys pass through here?❞ Irnvar smiles, playful, but all Vigor sees is a proud predator toying with cornered prey. He can't be alone. If the other patrons aren't with him, then he will have hirelings waiting nearby. He wouldn't be foolish enough to come unprepared, after all. ❝They must pay well... on their father's coin,❞ Irnvar laughs, far too relaxed, speaking casually as if he wouldn't know.

      A disguise could buy him time to excuse Nox to a back room, but his potions are spent. Still, he has to approach, placing himself where he could best protect her. He would never forgive himself if Nox got hurt whilst he informed the Briar Knights of the danger.

      ❝Then again, a common whore is a common whore. What difference does it make?❞ Irnvar muses, feigning curiosity for a little dramatic flare. He asks, as if he isn't steadfast in his opinion. Irnvar then lifts Nox's chin, commanding eye contact, and inspecting her like chattel. His gentle push soon turns into gripping her by the chin, tightening like a vice.

      ❝It's ownership. Should I pay you, or the petulant dog who owns you?❞

      In an instant, Vigor has placed himself between Nox and Irnvar. Dagger brandished and tucked into his father's side. He'd been taught well, but nothing could stop the guard dog biting its master when they became the threat. Irnvar smiles. His heart had sunk when he first saw him, but now? It was alight with righteous fury.

      It is only when Nox lends him her gentle touch that Vigor is stilled, grounding him in the moment. He can't do it, least the patriar's death invoke the wrath of the Flaming Fists, or any mercenaries hidden amongst the patrons. Besides, Nox doesn't even know who he is. Vigor needed time to explain just how bad this was. He looks back at Nox, awaiting her command.

[volfoss]

it is beyond infuriating how anne rice seems to insist on marius being a positive force in anyone's life ever. like she can't fully commit to exploring the fact he groomed armand and has repeatedly taken away his consent for what marius thinks is best (take the end of TVA as an example) and just kind of flatly puts it in the narrative. there's not really much interest in how these horrific events make marius come across as the worst because EVERYONE loves him. for gods sake, lestat learns from armand exactly what marius did to him in TVL and then proceeds to go find marius and be super friendly to him in the same fucking book. even armand and pandora, two of the people who have MORE than enough right to hate him, do not. it doesnt feel like shes trying to explore the toxicity of the abusive dynamic he traps them in, it just is there. and like yeah ofc the toxic vampire romance series but i think that this should be handled with more care. and it is not ever really framed in a way that she is interested in exploring how marius should easily be one of the most horrific characters in this series because it kind of feels like sa/rape/grooming/other things of that sort are just put there to further plot and not to really get the respect that they deserve in a medium.

[therealmofamorus]

Alpha male au

Prompt

Slavery AU: Slave Catcher AU

For her actions in the 100 year war Azula is sentenced to be a slave. Some time go by and she escapes captivity. Later while she’s on the run she gets captured by Zuko. She doesn’t want to go back so she tells her brother that she’ll do anything to be free.

Aggressive 2-koma

"You have no idea how long I been dreaming of this moment since the Fire Sages sentences you to be my slave Lala."

Azula gulped as she look at the looming figure of her older brotehr who had a dark and evil smile on his face as he managed to cornered after she managed to escape from her binding and was trying to hide from her aggressive and dominating older brother who took the oppourinity to partake his dark lust and aggression onto her for her many years of abuse upon him

"Zuzu...Please have mercy on me for Agni sake," Azula pleaded in a strong desperate voice. "I do anything you want with me. Just let me go and you'll never see or heard of me ever again...."

Zuko looked at his sister who was on her knees looking at him with a pitiful look on her defiant mask of confidence...and he chuckles in a dastardly dark and sadistic manner.

--X-xx-X--

PWALP~! PWALP~! PWALP~! PWALP~! PWALP~! PWALP~!

"OH FUCKING AGNI SOUL!" Azula yelled as she was underneath the lean but bulky and brawny body of her big-dicked brother who was overhwlmed with the raw agression and anger as he thrust in and out of her deflowed, raw cunt. "IT FUCKING HURT!"

"Good." Zuko smiled a sadistic smile as he bitch-slapped his sister before he aggressively and forcefully kiss her lips, stealing her first kiss and increased the roughness and smashing of her womb with his burly cock that break and reshape her cunt.

[ravenzeppeli]

Vessel of Pleasure |Kars + Esidisi x Reader Dark Lemon|

Warning: rough/nasty sex, threesome, knife play, humiliation, degrading, spit kink, verbal abuse, extremely unhealthy relationships, pet play, knife play, slave/masters relationship, sadism/masochism, slight breast torture. MA.

      You stood completely nude in from Kars, your clothes already taken off. Bruises, old and new, covered your entire body.. you both loved and hated the bruises that your two masters gave you. Esidisi and Kars, who approached you as soon as they laid eyes on you and they claimed you. You let them.. you had a choice, and you chose to serve them despite not knowing them. From the start, you could tell that they weren't human.. they were beautiful immense beings, and you couldn't resist them.

        You studied his massive form as he sat in his red chair, his red eyes soft as he fondly stared into your eyes, a gentle smirk rested on his lips. He let his long wavy hair hang freely, purple locks covering his broad bare shoulders, his tongue licking across his lips as he tugged at your leash roughly, causing you to drop to your hands and knees, your collar choking around your neck. "Who's a good little doggy?" His silky voice questioned as he jerked you over to him, spitting on your back. "Are you a good doggy?"

        You kneeled in front of him, your nose obediently pressing against the red carpet, ass sticking up in the air. The collar instantly loosened- good, you were doing exactly what he wanted. "Yes Master Kars, I am a good little doggy!" You exclaimed with dramatic enthusiasm, feeling absolutely fucking humiliated as you heard footsteps approaching.

        "What a view, getting a pet was truly an excellent idea, Kars. Human bodies have evolved into something fantastic, spread your legs so I can see your pussy," Esidisi, your other master said. You felt his foot on your ass, causing your legs to immediately spread before you got into trouble. "I have this kitchen knife in my hand and the handle of the knife is dying to go inside of your ass." He kept his foot on your bruised ass, giving your sore left cheek a swift kick, causing a pained groan to escape your lips.

       "Please put the handle inside of my ass Master Esidisi, I will gladly accept it," you said to him, your legs shaking as you rebalanced yourself, sticking your ass back up in the air. You were nothing but a pet to them, a mere sex slave to satisfy their sexual urges and sick fantasies, but you didn't mind.. you wanted to be their sex slave. You had no purpose, no meaning until they found you, and placed a ring on your once bare wedding finger and a black collar and leash around your neck.

       You heard him drop to the floor behind you, his large hand smacking your right ass cheek, causing you to cry out in pain, his nails cutting into your cheek. "Very sexy.. I love it when you bleed your sweet blood for me. It taste sweeter than your piss or cum," he whispered, his tongue licking your cheek, cleaning the blood off as you felt the handle bar of the knife slide into your anus with ease- they always fucked you in your asshole.

        Kars yanked at your leash as he stood up, dropping his loincloth and exposing his massive erection to you as you raised your head. His form stood at 6'8 and his cock stood at five inches thick and 12 inches long- it was incredibly hard to take him but you always did your best to please your master. He let go of the leash, dropping to his knees in front of you, his cock slapping against your face. "I'm going to brutally fuck you and so is Esidisi. Ask me why pet," he sneered, his cock slapping across your face again, leaving a sharp sting behind.

        You stared up at him, tears already filling your eyes as your bottom lip trembled. "W-why Master Kars?" You questioned softly, trying to keep your eyes off of his massive cock that was now resting on your left cheek. You felt his right hand land on your hand, his fingers entangling into your hair, pulling roughly. He looked you dead in your eyes, spitting in your face, coating cheeks, nose, and lips with his spit. You said nothing.. you just took it.

         "Because we can.. you are our pet, you decided to be our sex slave and serve us, so that is what you will do. So far, you've been doing well. You're doing so good that we're going to turn you into a vampire and make you our eternal pet.. we want you always now. You're so well trained." He shoved his cock into your mouth, shoving himself all the way down your throat, causing you to roughly gag, your face turning a bright red. "You little slut.. our little slut. You're getting fucking destroyed tonight, I'm going to fucking destroy you for all eternity you little cum slut." You were struggling to breathe.. this was difficult.

          "So well behaved.. good girl," Esidisi muttered, his other hand spreading your pussy lips apart, spitting on your cunt. "Guess I better get started on you as well, after this we're leaving for the night. Since you've been a good girl and we know that you won't run away from us we'll leave you unchained and you can just roam freely while we're gone." He slipped his own cock into your already sore pussy, being only two inches shorter then Kars but two inches thicker.

         Hot tears filled your eyes as Kars moved back and forth, drool escaping from the sides of your mouth as you continued to struggle to breathe. "Rewards.. that's what you will be getting for your good behavior. We aren't complete monsters, we just fuck like monsters. We'll always take care of you.. but you need to take care of us," Kars spoke as he yanked your head back and forth, using your mouth as he pleased. "You'll be granted with immortality now as well.. being our sex slave was a good idea to agree too."

         Immorality was nice.. you were enchanted with the idea of living forever, serving your masters. As long as you could take them or at least try, then you would be fine.. you would be safe and protected by the two of them and Wamuu as well. It was a nice alternative to living a lonely and meaningless life.. they gave you meaning, even if it was just painful but gratifying sex that left you always so sore. The ache.. all three of your holes were being violently fucked and you loved it. The sweet pain.. you loved the pain. Why was pain so.. so satisfying?

          The knife moved in and out of your anus, it was so fucking painful but it also felt so fucking good, your quivering anus was delighted with the end handle of the knife.. you wished that you could thank  Esidisi but your other master was violently fucking your face. Esidisi had his cock moving in and out of your wet cunt, thrusting at maximum speed as he slapped your ass and thighs, sharp smacks leaving red splotches behind on your skin. Fuck.. your entire body was tingling, you felt yourself tightening around him.. you felt lightheaded and dizzy.

          To your relief Kars finally came, shooting a thick line of cum down your throat, pulling out his cock once you swallowed. "You're such a good fucking slave," he growled, his hard cock slapping you across your right cheek as you struggled to catch your breath, drool and some cum leaking from your mouth as you sobbed- tears running down your face.. you couldn't speak. You felt your body betray you, releasing your womanly juices onto Esidisi's cock as you heard violent moans escape his mouth. His moans were so fucking hot.. so feral, like a predator claiming its prey.

           You were so small compared to these Pillar Men - so easily they could devour you without you even knowing, instantly cutting your life in half. You were a small bunny rabbit, so small and weak.. all you did was frolic in the fields alone, not noticing that two hungry beasts were silently stalking you. When finally approached, obsessed of running, you embraced bring their prey.. the thrill of knowing that  you could be killed and overpowered so easily by these two beings was a high better than any drug. The high of fear.. yes, you wanted more.

          "Yes, yes, y.." you moaned weakly as Esidisi pulled out, slapping your ass once more as you felt a sticky substance coat your back and asshole- he was covering you in his cum, making you absolutely fucking filthy. You were such a filthy goddamned whore and you loved it.

          "Filthy, absolutely filthy," snapped Esidisi as he continued to thrust the knife in and out of your ass, coating your back with more cum before you felt a wad of spit land on your back- bruises, cum, and spit.. that's what you were covered in. "When I get home tonight, you will be turned.. for now I must go. Meet me when you finish Kars."

          Kars stood up, dragging you up by your hair. "I'm going to spank your breast.. you need new bruises. You need to be covered. It's so beautiful," muttered Kars as Esidisi left - he always left once he was done with you. Almost always did you stay by Kars- he was your true master. He smacked his hand across your left breast and right breast roughly, leaving red handprints behind. "Tell me you deserve it," he commanded, both hands smacking your breast roughly, your nipples hardening as juices ran down your legs, tears escaping your eyes still.. you wanted to rest now but if you begged him to stop you would be fucked more. 

           "I deserve it," you whispered, causing his hands to freeze, grabbing at your erect buds and pulling with all of his force, your body crashing into his rock solid chest. Your breast now ached with your entire body, your nipples being pulled and twisted with severity. "I-I deserve it all Master Kars, my perfect master! I love you, I worship you master!" You cried, burying your head in his chest, sobbing more violently as more cum squirted out of your throbbing pussy, moans and sobs equally escaping your lips.

         He freed your nipples, his strong arms wrapping around your back, Esidisi's cum and spit getting on his arms but he didn't seem to mind. "Good.. a great pet and a great sex slave. Know your place.. you better love me. Tonight will be exciting, our eternal pet.. what a dream come true. Maybe one day I'll kiss you," he cooed softly, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his arms tightened around you.

       You let him hug you, and you hugged him back, your arms wrapping around your master, your eternal master. You would serve Esidisi and Kars until your very last breath. You were loyal to them.. an obedient little pet just as they wanted. Just as you wanted..

[tweetingukpolitics]