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just-a-silly-little-whumper · 25 days

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Shame

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

After so long, Elze'ith has learned how to take care of himself, though that doesn't make it easy.

For @whumpril Day 3: Shame

Contains: Aftermath of noncon, captivity/gilded cage, dissociation/depersonalization, isolation, briefly mentioned desire to self-harm

~~~

It always happened the same way. Lord Denholm would take him to bed. He would stay for a while. And then he would leave, and Elze’ith would try to bind the fragments of his soul back together.

It never seemed to work. It always felt like there was something missing, every single time. Something he could never get back, no matter how hard he tried. Pieces of him lost to the ether, and ultimately he wasn’t sure if anything resembling himself would remain.

Occasionally, Lord Denholm would take him to the bath himself. Even more rarely still, they would bathe together. Elze’ith found himself craving those moments, where he wouldn’t have to think, where he wouldn’t have to force his attention onto his wretched body. But more often than not, Lord Denholm departed straight from his bedroom, or his study, or wherever he had decided they would be coupling that day, and Elze’ith would have to painstakingly gather his strength and carry himself to the bath all on his own. It was never easy. But the idea of lingering in the sweat and blood and other remnants of Lord Denholm’s ministrations was far, far worse. And if he went early enough, the distance his mind tended to keep could carry through to his time in the water, and he could get himself washed without his thoughts dwelling on why.

Not that it was always easy. Just the mere act of being in the bath, no matter how scalding he made the water, could be enough to send chills down his spine. Even when he was alone he could sometimes feel Lord Denholm’s hands on him, sickeningly gentle, mapping out every inch of his skin. Those times were the hardest, when not even the quiet fog in his mind was enough to keep him safe, and he had to hurry to finish and get back to his room before the urge to claw into his own skin grew overwhelming.

Though there was a linen closet not far from his chambers, he started keeping a fresh set of bedding in the bottom drawer of his dresser. As much as he rarely wanted to go through the effort of actually changing his linens, of being faced with the aftermath of his encounters with Lord Denholm, he wanted even less for that evidence to remain. So he kept fresh sets close as hand, to accommodate for the frequency at which he couldn’t muster the willpower to venture back out into the castle halls to fetch something. Sometimes even that wasn’t enough; sometimes his sense of mortification and disgust and the fog that clouded his mind left him feeling immobilized for ages, and he would sleep in one of the chairs in his room rather than face what he and Lord Denholm had done together. But sometimes he could collapse onto a bed that felt cleaner than he ever would, and he knew to appreciate that.

As he appreciated the fact that he could set his laundry outside his door, and one of the servants would take care of it for him. At times like this, he didn’t even care that no one would talk to him, that he couldn’t speak to anyone even if he wanted to, that the halls were always achingly empty when he picked himself up from what he could not refuse. He didn’t want anyone else looking at him, talking to him, knowing him, out of some thorny mix of fear and shame and other emotions he dare not name. It didn’t matter how much part of him yearned for comfort, how much he didn’t want to deal with this alone, how the brambles in his heart felt like they were going to cut him open every time this happened. No, best that he be left alone. There was no helping him anyway.

It was all he could do to help himself. Go through the motions. Heal any outstanding wounds, the pain both grounding and disorienting but never pleasant. Put on clean clothes, so that he might feel more like a person and less like some monstrous, wretched thing. Brush his hair; it always seemed to get tangled. The routine of it was almost soothing in its own right, simple tasks he had completed thousands of times before and that he knew by heart. It was almost enough for him to forget what had just happened, to pretend that he was anywhere else. He never could, but maybe someday that blissful ignorance would come.

But now even what scraps of comfort he tried to stitch together were warped by how much of himself he had traded away. He drifted through a home that wasn’t his, dressed in clothes he would never choose and sleeping on a too-soft bed. There was no solace to be found in these frigid halls, no matter where he looked, and whatever he tried to cobble together was inevitably tainted. He felt like a ghost in his own body, haunting a life that was no longer his. He found himself glad that Lord Denholm had forbidden him access to a mirror. He didn’t think he could look at himself. Not anymore.

And yet he kept living. Day after day. He simply had no other choice. Such luxuries had been taken from him long, long ago.

#flicker in the dark #silly writes #whump #whump writing #elze'ith sylrel oc #nsfwhump #captivity #intimate whump #dissociation (whump)#isolation #self harm (whump)#whumpril2024 #whumprilday3 #shame

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whump-kin · 6 days

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Elze’ith Sylrel and Altair Buchannan, or Eurydice and Orpheus By Any Other Name (flicker in the dark by @just-a-silly-little-whumper)

eurydice (sarah ruhl) / assorted flicker in the dark writings (see above) / orpheus leading eurydice from the underworld (jean-baptiste-camille corot) / hadestown (anaïs mitchell) / orpheus and eurydice (titian veveillo)

#web weaving #flicker in the dark #ask to tag #other's ocs: elze'ith #other's ocs: altair #HI SORRY THIS IS MESSY I'M OUT OF PRACTICE BUT I WAS COMPELLED.

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vanishedwhisper · 9 months

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In shadows deep, where light hath fled,

A tale unfolds, of hearts misread.

In somber hues, where darkness weaves,

A story told of souls bereaved.

A whisper lingers, haunting the mind,

Of a soul that's lost, no solace to find.

Depression's grip, relentless, cold,

Its tendrils clutch, a story untold.

Within this void, self-worth decays,

A captive soul in an endless maze.

A mirror shattered, reflections distort,

Fractured fragments, self-esteem thwarted.

Eyes once bright, now dulled by tears,

Echoes of laughter, silenced for years.

The world, a canvas, devoid of hue,

A heartache's canvas, emotions askew.

Each step forward, met with self-doubt,

As worthlessness echoes, loud and stout.

A twisted dance, within the mind's abyss,

A masquerade of shadows, where hope dismiss.

Voices, cruel, and thoughts unkind,

Whispering secrets, weaving a bind.

"Why bother? Why try? You'll never prevail,"

The siren song of despair, a relentless gale.

A phantom weight upon the chest,

A constant ache, unending unrest.

The soul adrift in a sea of despair,

Searching for solace, gasping for air.

But hark! A glimmer amidst the gloom,

A flicker of light, dispelling the tomb.

A hand extended, gentle and warm,

A beacon of hope in this twisted storm.

A voice so soft, it pierces the night,

"You are worthy, with strength to fight.

Embrace your scars, for they define,

A warrior's spirit, forged in time."

With fragile steps, the journey starts,

Defying darkness, mending shattered parts.

From the depths of despair, a phoenix shall rise,

Reclaiming self-worth, amidst tear-stained skies.

So hear this tale, of the tormented heart,

And let it be a reminder, a vital restart.

In the darkest of nights, hope's flame can ignite,

Unraveling the shadows, restoring inner light.

#ai #ai art #ai art generator #ai artist #mental health #harkles #glimmer #gloom spawn #flicker in the dark #black tumblr #handmade #extended #gentle domination #tomb of the sea #warm aesthetic #aestethic #dark shadows #art challenge #amazed

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n-b-i-l · 11 months

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Let me shine a light on you

Tell me that you want me too

Show me that your love is true

Let me shine a light on you

#spotify #music #art #lyric quotes #lyrics #lyric posting #milky chance #milky chance flicker in the dark #flicker in the dark

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booksandstuff123 · 1 year

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Raced through this book in a day for a book club, and have been thinking on journaling on general media thoughts for a minute, so here’s my brain dump - full spoilers ahead!

- I felt early on that the father wasn’t the real killer and was being framed, but dismissed it as we got more of Chloe’s insistence to herself that she had seen him in the yard with the shovel, had been watching Lena at the fair, etc.

- In that mindset though, it seemed almost too obvious that Daniel was the present killer, maybe the son of the original killer who got away? He’s too perfect, but always emerging from the darkness - of the surprise party, in the bedroom, waiting in the dark house, Chloe likens his hands pulling her protectively into the dark of the woods. There’s too on-the-nose descriptions of him wiping tomato juice off of a kitchen knife, or the last bit of red wine off the bottle. Until the end, it made me feel like how Chloe must feel, knowing there’s this certain danger in the dark, always watching, but knowing it’s too close to her heart for her to discover it until it’s too late.

- With the twist of it being Cooper, and through him Tyler, it really punched through what male “protectiveness” is supposed to look like. Daniel was actually a good protector - he saved his sister, he knew Cooper was the danger, he added the protective cloak of the security system right away, he moved quickly to add a cloak of marriage - but he was so used to hiding his protection that it was fully undermined at every step. If he had gone to the police, or told Chloe the truth about his and her families, things might’ve turned out okay.

The male institutions that were supposed to protect her also failed - the police/detective specifically and the media, both in the articles previously written about her and literally as Tyler.

And her dad protected Cooper, and Cooper protected Tyler, and Daniel protected his sister, to varying effects. Bert couldn’t protect Lena, despite working in the protection/alarm business, and is a danger to Chloe despite Daniel’s best intentions.

The theme of female protectiveness is more positive as a whole I think? Chloe is finally able to break the system of women covering for the secrets of the men in their life when she shoots Tyler and drugs Cooper. Her mom hides her dad’s/Coopers secret at the cost of suicide attempt, Daniel’s mom tolerates her abuse but is very open about it to Chloe, the mothers of the missing girls are the strong voice (vs husbands breaking down) living only in the “what is helpful now” present. At the end, the sister is “protecting” Daniel. All of this, of course, is set against the vulnerability of the girls who have gone missing, with only Lena having any agency by knowing and playing with the danger.

- Still trying to figure out the relationships with alcohol and pills. Chloe drinks wine often, and sometimes with pills (usually accidentally?) but there’s also physically uncomfortable descriptions of taking the pills dry. Her and Cooper both drink wine, Daniel’s dad drinks too much whiskey and it’s a measure of how angry he’s going to be, and Chloe’s dad only nurses a beer on a hot day - not to mention the fairground scene of Cooper, Lena, and Chloe drinking vodka. Chloe describes the pills as a mental safety net - she tells the one patient the knowledge of it being there is the useful part - and the drawer in her office is the ultimate mental safe space for her. But then she sneaks the pills into Cooper’s wine, and it’s his downfall. Diazepam is mentioned in her drawer, and is also what is used to drug the girls in the present.

- Control is another central theme. Cooper having control over the women he killed and Tyler. Chloe struggling to control her narratives, not wanting to give up the box at the police station, trying to psychology her own thoughts, when she is able to choose using pills vs when they are used against her/mixed with alcohol without her intending to. Their mom trying to take control by committing suicide, but instead losing all of her agency (tapping as communication/agency vs Chloe’s tapping for nervousness?).

Overall a great read, 8/10

#tw #suicide #abuse #alcohol #pills #book club #flicker in the dark

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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night walks masterlist

Updated: 3/10/24 (art)

mood board by @milla-frenchy 🖤

This is an AU moreso than a series. Very little plot. Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed. Turns out he's a little obsessed with you. You find him irresistible, despite your initial efforts to stay away.

OVERALL WARNINGS: Non-outbreak AU, drug use, Dubcon, unsafe P in V, dirty talk, stalking

LATEST: Beach Walks

gif by @iamasaddie. see bottom of post for more art

reader curated spotify playlist

MAIN TIMELINE

NIGHT WALKS (2k) - ORIGINAL. Joel gets you in his basement and you fuck.

"Deleted Scene" - Joel reveals his breeding kink.

Night Walks 2 (1.9k) - When you don't come back for more, Joel takes matters into his own hands.

Night Walks 3 (1.4k) - Joel breaks in and has his way with you. (Darkest)

Liquor store run-in (350) - You run into Joel in public and he gropes you.

Night Walks 4: All dressed up (1.3k) - You run into Joel at a gas station and end up fucking him.

Restaurant drabble (400) - You run into Joel when you're out with your friends.

Night Walks 5: Harder (2.8k) - You get jealous. You hang out and can't get enough of him.

BLOW (2k) - You do a line of his dick then give him an amazing blow job and later he puts it in.

Night Walks 6: Morning After (900) - You wake up at Joel's and he's not ready for you to leave.

Night Walks 7: Soaked (3.5k) - You're still there and it's storming so you stay for a while.

Night Walks 8: Menace (4k) - You're set up on a date, but Joel reminds you why you want him.

Interludes: 4th of July (200?) - You go to the pool. POV: Neighbor (Ethyl).

Night Walks 9: Late Night Dip (2.3k) - You go to the pool and he dicks you down. Interlude: ✨Ethyl's house.

Beach walks - Prequel (3.8k) - Joel is acting shady and you hook up with someone else.

Beach Walks (7k) - Joel can't let you go. ✨surf shack lore

HCs, ALTERNATE READERS & TIMELINES ⤵️

Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet - Various HCs in a standard format.

Pregnancy - How would he react to pregnancy?

If someone refused him - What would Joel do if someone flat-out refused him and really didn't want it?

Alt. timelines (AUs of AU)

PREQUEL: Night Gawks: Before Night Walks (450) -. Joel notices you as soon as you move into the neighborhood and jacks off.

FUTURE: Sleeping beauty (750) - You and Joel have a consensual non-con agreement. He breaks in, chloroforms you, ties you up.

FUTURE: Day walks (150) - You and Joel are out hiking and he's being irresponsible.

night caulks (100) - Joel being a rascal

ALT: Leopard print (4.5k)- ft. Tommy

DIFFERENT READERS (AUs of AU)

(2003) Night Chalks (400) - Joel takes a liking to Sarah's engaged teacher and starts to seduce her.

Night Chalks 2 (380) - Joel gets her in the back seat of his car.

(2008) Night Talks (2.8k) - Joel gets Sarah's best friend high and takes her virginity.

(2018) Night Drives (1k) - You order a lyft after a girl's night out and end up in Joel's basement.

Misc: If you're desperate: Dr. Rock has NW roleplay (1st person)

NIGHT WALKS GHOSTFACE

Every inch

Every inch 2

Every inch 3

main joel miller masterlist

Art & Visuals

TRAILER (video) by @iamasaddie

POV Ring doorbell by @swedishscumfuck.

Joel on vacation w/ blurb.

Man cave/basement floor plan

Booty text by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog and @missannwinchester

meet me in the moonlight by @iamasaddie

mood board by @milla-frenchy

gif by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Pumpkin mood board

beach walks collages by @lunitawrites

nw collage by @selfproclaimed-moviecritic

beach walks by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

✨sleeping beauty by @milla-frenchy

#joel miller x reader #night walks!joel #joel miller smut #creepy!joel miller #dark!joel miller #neighbor!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#pedro pascal fic #joel miller masterlist #toxic masterlist #nightwalks☠️#tw flickering

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pearlcaddy · 11 months

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pearlcaddy's 2023 follower celebration ♡ favorite lockyle scene

lockwood & co. tyburn gallows scene ↳ for @sanssssastark

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helium-stims · 2 months

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candle

#stim #candle #fire #flame #orange #flicker #light #dark

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thedreadvampy · 4 months

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My life is full of people who are like "as an Autistic I despise the Big Light" and that's so fuckin valid but unfortunately as an Autistic who hates partial sensation (and has poor vision) I despise the Small Light. squinting gives me a headache and makes me notice flickering more. doesn't this make you guys tiiiiiired?

starting to feel like I'm the only autistic person who WANTS THE BIG LIGHT ON. MAXIMAL LIGHT. FEED ME DELICIOUS PHOTONS. RB IF U AGREE.

#red said #the worst thing is people who watch TV in a dark room lit by at most one lamp #like the FLICKERING. the CHANGES IN LIGHT LEVEL. does this not HURT YOU????#WE LIVE IN SCOTLAND IT'S DARK ENOUGH

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thecoldcoffeecup · 4 months

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they say "you're a little much for me, you're a liability"

#liability #lorde #melodrama lorde #liability lorde #melodrama #lorde lyrics #green light lorde #the louvre lorde #lorde supercut #homemade dynamite #hard feelings/loveless #writer in the dark #lorde edit #pure heroine lorde #ribs by lorde #buzzcut season #perfect places #yellow flicker beat #solar power lorde

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astraystayyh · 21 days

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this feels like ive been shot in the arm the fact that hyunjin wanted to cover the moonlight which usually has soft, comforting connotations, like even the gentle light was too much for him at the time and he wanted someone warm to be there with him please hold me

#im wounded im laying on my bed staring at the ceiling #i cant #my baby #like i dont think ive ever read about someone wanting to cover the moonlight #usually it’s wanting it to filter in like a flicker of hope in the darkest night #im not talking specifically about hyunjin here but this concept is so fascinating to me #like are the shadows too strong that the moon pales in comparison to them #or is it because u are too deep in ur despair that u dont want to see the light and be reminded of what u wish for yet cannot grasp #so instead he’s asking for a person to be there in the darkness with him #not telling him it’d be better just sitting there and existing with him #HYUNJIN’S MIND IS SO FASCINATING TO ME I NEED TO KNOW #i need a 5 hours long convo with this man about his songs alone 😭😭😭

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just-a-silly-little-whumper · 7 months

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Violation

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

For BTHB: Rape/Noncon.

Lord Denholm wants many things from Altair that Altair doesn't intend to give. Lord Denholm takes what he wants anyway.

Contains: Explicit noncon, vampire whumper/bloodbag whumpee, intimate whump, captivity, restraint, wing whump, begging, dissociation

~~~

Altair was so cold.

Shadows coiled around him, insubstantial yet still holding him in place. They seemed to sap the warmth from his very bones, leaving him shivering as he knelt on the floor of Elze’ith’s room. And he could swear he felt them moving, sliding along his skin and between the feathers of his new wings, making him more dizzy and breathless and nauseous by the moment.

But the restricting shadows mattered less than the fact that Elze’ith was gone. Lord Denholm had ripped them apart and dragged Elze’ith away, and though Altair had fought, Lord Denholm’s shadows easily pinned him down. Elze’ith’s screams still rang in Altair’s ears. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours. It was certainly long enough for Altair to feel Elze’ith’s absence, for worry and dread to weigh heavy in his mind. Their embrace when Altair’s wings had come out had been the first moment of peace Altair had felt in such a long time. Now it was gone, and so was Elze’ith, and Altair was alone again. And given Lord Denholm’s fury when he had taken Elze’ith away, Elze’ith would be paying the price for that fleeting serenity.

And he could feel… something. The faint presence in his mind swelled with something that felt like fear, before receding to the point that he could barely feel it. He didn’t know what that meant. Just that it couldn’t be good.

The door finally opened. Lord Denholm strode in, imperious as ever. The look on his face was unreadable, but his aura had calmed ever so slightly. There was still rage and power swirling in it, but not quite as much as when he had torn Elze’ith away. He came to stare down at Altair, not saying anything for a moment. Altair strained against the shadows holding him in place, but they held fast.

“What did you do to Elze’ith?”

“I needed to separate you two. He needs time alone to think, and you, little ruin, need some individual attention.” Lord Denholm’s voice was a low purr as he regarded Altair. “After all, despite your disobedience, you have made quite the breakthrough today.”

Before Altair had an opportunity to respond, the shadows engulfing him drew back, taking him with them. He cried out as he was pulled off the floor and deposited on his back on Elze’ith’s bed, wings splayed beneath him. His arms were pulled above his head and his legs were wrenched apart, making him wince at the force. Then the mass of shadows melted away, leaving only the tendrils holding his arms and legs in place.

His heartbeat picked up in his chest. He could see where this was going. He had feared this ever since Lord Denholm had captured him. Now it seemed Lord Denholm finally intended to fulfill one of his long-standing threats, and Altair wasn’t ready. Digging deep, he reached for his magic once again. Maybe now that something had changed within him, now that he had awoken to the divine power in his blood, his magic would finally answer him. But just the same as every time before, the cuffs around his wrists kept him from summoning flames to his fingertips or causing lightning to crackle in the air.

All Altair could do was struggle futilely against the shadows holding him down and watch as Lord Denholm moved about the room. Despite feeling like smoke against his skin, the shadows were utterly unyielding, barely offering any slack as Altair pulled on them. Lord Denholm seemed to pay his efforts little mind as he pulled a few things from the wardrobe. When he approached Altair, he carried a handful of the same silk strips that had been used to tie Altair to the canopy earlier that evening, as well as a small bottle that had Altair’s blood running cold.

“Bastard,” Altair snarled. “I’m going to kill you for this.”

“Hush,” Lord Denholm said softly. He placed the bottle on the table before taking one of the silks and wrapping it around Altair’s wrist. The shadow holding it retreated as Lord Denholm did so.

Altair furrowed his brow. Why was he restraining Altair using mundane means, when he clearly could do so magically? Was he worried about running out of magic?

Not that it mattered, when his arm was being fastened to the bedpost. Though he strained, he still couldn’t get himself free. Lord Denholm’s hands were almost gentle as he took Altair’s other wrist to repeat the process. Every brush of Lord Denholm’s frigid hands against his skin made him shiver in disgust.

“Don’t touch me!” It wouldn’t do much good. He knew that. But he couldn’t just do nothing while this was happening. Even if his protests were useless, they were all he had.

But Lord Denholm seemed to take that as an invitation. He ran a hand down Altair’s bare chest, smiling when Altair tried and failed to shrink away. “You need to understand, my little ruin. You are mine. Mine to touch, mine to use, mine to mold.”

Altair bit his lip as Lord Denholm’s hand trailed lower, tracing the outline of the scar on Altair’s hip before moving to the waistband of his pants. He lingered for a moment, almost tauntingly, before slipping his fingers around the fabric and slowly pulling down. Every inch seemed to take an eternity, and Altair grit his teeth as goosebumps broke out across his newly-exposed flesh.

“Beautiful,” Lord Denholm purred, setting Altair’s pants aside and running a finger down his leg. Altair tried desperately to kick out at him, but the shadows’ hold remained strong. The resistance merely earned a chuckle from Lord Denholm as he took more silks, securing them first to Altair’s ankles and then to the bedposts, leaving his legs spread open.

Altair’s breath was starting to come in shorter, harsher bursts. His mind raced, his eyes darting about the room, searching for a way out. But there was no way out. He was helpless. Lord Denholm was going to rape him, and there was nothing he could do.

“Easy, little ruin.” Lord Denholm shifted forward on the bed until he was looming over Altair, a shadow blotting out the room’s low light. Altair could see the way Lord Denholm’s pants had grown tight, and the sight made him taste bile. “Breathe. I can’t have you passing out yet.”

A part of Altair almost wanted to hyperventilate until he lost consciousness. At least then he wouldn’t have to feel what was coming. But he didn’t want to give Lord Denholm the satisfaction of seeing him so afraid. Instead, he just swallowed. “You-”

Before Altair could say anything else, Lord Denholm placed a hand on the top of Altair’s wing. The cold touch shocked Altair to his core; part of him wanted to melt into the gentle hand, while part of him could feel the ill-intent and wanted to get away. It was far more direct and intense than anything he had ever felt, and he gasped as the combination of sensation and emotion immediately threatened to overwhelm him. Lord Denholm only smiled and deliberately trailed his hand down the length of Altair’s wing. The motion drew a whine from Altair’s throat as the strange, conflicting feelings managed to grow even stronger.

“Exquisite. I knew you would be. You just needed the right push,” Lord Denholm mused. “How many people have tried and failed to unlock your true potential, my little ruin?”

Altair, shivering on the bed, didn’t intend to respond. But the words came tumbling out anyway. “I always thought they were wrong. All my life my family told me I was special, told me I had a unique spark of divinity. But their years of training amounted to nothing. Nothing changed after I left, though people kept chasing me, acting like they knew something I didn’t. I-”

He cut himself off with a long, shuddering inhale. Why had he said that? It wasn’t as if he wanted to talk about any of this, let alone with Lord Denholm. But it was as if he hadn’t had a choice. Lord Denholm asked, and he answered.

And in response Lord Denholm’s smile grew. He worked his fingers in between Altair’s feathers to more directly touch the sensitive skin underneath. For a moment Altair’s thoughts stalled, his breath catching in his throat.

“There was a time where you wouldn’t have even considered answering me. Have you finally realized your place, then?”

“I don’t want to answer you!” Once again it felt as though the words were being pulled from his throat. “I don’t know how you’re making me, but-” Realization rippled through him. “It’s my wings, isn’t it. Something about them is making me talk. It’s the only thing that’s changed. I- stop touching them!” He tried to twist away, but his bonds held him fast, leaving him with nowhere to go. There was just the bed beneath him, and Lord Denholm above him, with his cold, insistent hands and his widening grin.

“I already told you. You are mine. I will touch you however I please. All the better that it makes you so much more transparent. I rather like this side of you; I cannot wait to see more of it.” The ostensive gentleness of Lord Denholm’s touch abruptly vanished as he dug his nails into Altair’s wing and scraped slowly along towards the tip. The sudden pain was far more intense than it should have been, and Altair found himself arching his back with a strangled groan, eyes clenched shut as the sensation washed over him.

Then, finally, Lord Denholm drew his hand away. The sudden loss of contact left Altair gasping. He was left with an ache that took several long moments to begin to fade. He didn’t want Lord Denholm’s hand back, but part of him did. The feeling was bewildering in how utterly unfamiliar it was. It was enough to make him want to crawl out of his own skin, even if Lord Denholm wasn’t intending on assaulting him.

He heard shifting above him. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he opened his eyes. Lord Denholm had taken off his pants and set them, neatly folded, to the side. Now he loomed over Altair once again, his cock erect and ready.

Ice flooded Altair’s veins. “No,” he breathed, not even directed at Lord Denholm, just in disbelief and horror. “No, you can’t—”

“You beg so prettily, little ruin,” Lord Denholm murmured. “If only anyone would listen.”

Cold, slick fingers slipped between Altair’s legs, pressing lightly along his folds. Altair froze, his breath coming to a complete standstill, as though the lack of movement might help him hide from what was to come. Lord Denholm might have said something, but Altair couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart roaring in his ears. It seemed Lord Denholm wasn’t looking for a response, though, as after a moment of exploration, one finger slipped inside.

A high-pitched, terrified whimper resonated in Altair’s throat. He heard a sound that might have been Lord Denholm humming, or maybe laughing, as he slowly pushed his finger in, all the way up to the knuckle. It was too much, and his finger was so cold, and it didn’t necessarily hurt but it sure as hell didn’t feel good. Time seemed to stretch and warp as Lord Denholm moved his finger within Altair as though he were mapping out the space inside. The entire time, Altair stayed frozen, mind blank with panic.

And then Lord Denholm withdrew, just as agonizingly slowly as he had pushed his finger in. Altair let out a shuddery breath as soon as the intrusion was gone, his lungs seeming to work again as he gasped for air. The reprieve was brief, however, as Altair felt something much larger pressing against him.

Tears sprung to his eyes. If anything broke him, it would be this.

Lord Denholm smiled down at him. “Fret not, little ruin. The first time is always the hardest.”

And then Lord Denholm sank his cock into Altair.

Altair opened his mouth in a soft, wordless cry. Lord Denholm went slowly, taking his time, as though he were giving Altair a chance to adjust, as though he wanted to enjoy it. But there was no adjusting to being violated so utterly. Now it did hurt, sparks of sharp pain shooting through him, because what little preparation Lord Denholm had given him hadn’t been nearly enough. Altair instinctively clenched, trying to keep Lord Denholm out, but that only made Lord Denholm groan in pleasure as he continued to press in, inch by tortuous inch until he fully bottomed out.

“There,” Lord Denholm purred. “You feel so good, my ruinous little angel, stretched around my cock like this. Simply perfect.”

He began to lazily roll his hips. The movements were small, but they still sent jolts of sensation through Altair’s core. It might have been gentle in any other scenario, but the mockery of intimacy only made it all the more cruel.

“No,” Altair gasped. “No, stop, please-”

Lord Denholm brought up his hand, finger still covered in Altair’s fluid, up to stroke Altair’s wing once again. A full-body shudder of disgust rippled through Altair. “Your begging only makes you more enticing, my little ruin. By all means, please continue.”

“Please. Please, I can’t do this, just stop, you can hurt me as much as you want, just don’t do this.” The words tumbled freely from his mouth without his conscious permission. Honestly, he would have begged completely willingly if he thought it might have any chance of stopping this. But he knew all he was doing was giving Lord Denholm even more perverse satisfaction.

“Yes, that’s it, just like that,” Lord Denholm purred. He began to speed up his pace, rocking his hips into Altair more earnestly. As he did he threaded his fingers in between Altair’s feathers and tightened his grip, as if seeking purchase. And his smile, that dreadfully smug smile, never left as he stared down at Altair to take in his every reaction.

It was too much. The hand in his wing was a perpetual starburst of intense sensation and emotional turmoil, enough to leave him speechless and desperate for relief. Each movement of Lord Denholm within him was a new flare of pleasure-pain-disgust, bright and repulsive and inescapable. Combined it was utterly overwhelming, invasive in a way he never would have thought possible, like his entire being was being turned inside out just for Lord Denholm’s pleasure. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to rip Lord Denholm apart with his bare hands and burn his remains to cinders. He wanted to keep begging and begging until it finally stopped. But he couldn’t do any of that, could barely breathe anymore as Lord Denholm just kept going.

Time smeared and blurred and bent. Altair was trapped in that ceaseless moment, as his feathers crumpled under Lord Denholm’s fingers, as Lord Denholm’s smile taunted him, as he was forced to stretch to take every thrust of Lord Denholm’s cock. At some point, he thought he might have started crying, but he honestly wasn’t sure. The wetness on his face might have just been from Lord Denholm leaning down to kiss his cheeks. All he knew was that this was the worst torture he had ever been forced to endure, this purposeful violation of Altair’s body and soul.

“You are divine like this, little ruin,” Lord Denholm said, his face suddenly next to Altair’s ear. The movement of his hips had sped up again, to the point where it was almost frantic. Altair found himself trying and failing to bite back whimpers. “So open and yielding and submissive for me. Just as you should be. Now, let me see how you come undone.”

A few more thrusts and Altair shuddered as he felt Lord Denholm climax, liquid surging to fill him in a way that had him whining in distress. Lord Denholm groaned, gently grinding down into Altair as though he were trying to wring as much pleasure from the orgasm as possible. The desperate hope that this might finally be over had barely entered Altair’s head when Lord Denholm’s fingers came down to press against Altair’s clit. The touch was the last thing he wanted, and yet it built on top of the pressure that Lord Denholm had already been forcibly building inside of Altair’s core. He whimpered in protest, but Lord Denholm was insistent in his ministrations. It didn’t take long before orgasm washed over Altair too, unwanted and revolting and yet somehow still a relief.

Suddenly there were teeth in his neck, the pain sharp and bright. Altair gasped as Lord Denholm sank in his fangs and started to drink. Being fed from was never pleasant, but somehow this was worse, with all of the conflicting sensations and emotions still roiling within him. Lord Denholm’s hand was still in his wing. His cock was still in Altair’s pussy. Altair didn’t even have the strength to try to pull away or protest or react at all as he was slowly drained of blood, on top of everything else he had just lost.

He wasn’t sure how long Lord Denholm drank. It felt longer than usual; Altair felt faint when he finally pulled away, although there were many things that might have caused that. Lord Denholm almost looked drunk when he looked down at Altair, his pupils dilated, his mouth stained red.

“Magnificent,” he said, licking his lips. A weak shiver went through Altair at the sight. “I knew that this would be just what you needed, my little ruin.”

All Altair could do was shake his head. He hated this— this was wrong— but he just didn’t have the strength to reply. He was exhausted, wrung out, physically and emotionally.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Lord Denholm said. The hand in his wing released its grip and began smoothing over his feathers in almost a soothing motion. Lord Denholm’s other hand rose to cup his cheek. “You’ll get used to it in time. This is where you belong, after all.”

Altair couldn’t hold back the sob that burst out of him. He was strong, but he didn’t think he was strong enough to handle this. Not again. He just wanted to be with Elze’ith. He just wanted to be safe, to be free.

He was starting to think he could never have that.

Finally, with a luxurious groan, Lord Denholm pulled out of Altair. Another sob wracked Altair’s body as he felt the mix of their fluids gush out of him onto the sheets beneath him. It only compounded the bone-deep feeling of disgust that had long-since settled over him.

Lord Denholm gave one last pat to his wing before reaching for his pants, making him flinch. “I should return you to your cell,” he mused as he began to dress himself again. “You still have a lot to answer for, after all. But you have made progress, and you performed well for me. I think you’ve earned some rest here.”

Altair’s first instinct was that he didn’t want any reward that would come after something like that. A numbness had settled in next to the maelstrom of other emotions raging within him, but he still felt that loud and clear. And yet… this was his partner’s room. He turned his head weakly to the side to look at Lord Denholm as he asked, “Elze’ith…?”

Lord Denholm merely shook his head. “My light is being taken care of. Just as you are being taken care of, little ruin. If you behave well enough, I might let you see each other again. But not before.”

The flicker of hope Altair had managed to find sputtered and died. He would be sleeping in Elze’ith’s bed, but Elze’ith wouldn’t be coming. He would be all alone. All alone in the aftermath of his lowest moment.

“I hate you,” Altair muttered softly. He had to, because otherwise the despair would utterly overwhelm him.

“I know,” Lord Denholm said. His pants were back on, and he came to sit on the bed near Altair’s head. Fingers began carding through his feathers once again, and though Altair whined and pulled weakly on his bonds, there was still no escaping Lord Denholm’s touch. “I assure you, one day that’ll change.”

And that, perhaps, scared Altair more than anything.

#flicker in the dark #silly writes #whump #whump writing #altair buchannan oc #lord soren denholm oc #bad things happen bingo #bthb #nsfwhump #captivity #restraint #wing whump #begging #dissociation (whump)#vampires

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