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tavyliasin · 4 months

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The Abdirak Essay - Fandom, Pain, and Loviatar's Love

Another day, another Lia Essay - and if you're really really deliciously sinful my very dear darlings, I shall give you yet more when the sun rises again upon the morrow. So, today in Niche Fandom Adoration Hours, I give you:

For The Love of Loviatar: Why Discomfort Can Be Delightful, How Agony Alleviates Anguish, and All The Ways Abdirak Fans Are Also TavyliaSin's Very Favourite People (Who Also Probably Need A Hug) ((Do We Love The Long Titles?)) (((If No, Consider This Essay Title Part Of Your Penitance)))

The themes of this essay will discuss: BDSM, Kink, Chronic Pain, wounds/injury, Acute Pain, Mental Health, mentions of harmful behaviours, a discussion of psychological elements from someone with absolutely no formal training or experience, vague mentions of trauma, and the magic of friendship. So please make sure you are in a comfortable place within yourself if you feel any of the above might be difficult to read for any reason. It is ok to skip sections as each has a topic header, or you can leave at any time. Nobody is judging you for that at all. Additionally, NSFW discussion further through, so minors DNI as usual. Very little of my blog will ever be suitable for under 18s, for your safety and for mine. Editing in to add a link to the Abdirak fandom gift to chronic pain pals A Cameo from Declan (Abdirak's Performer) (Fully SFW)

All that said, the main theme of this piece is actually:

To truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause.

So, let's understand what "Suffering" is first, shall we, Dear Ones?

The Difference between Pain and Suffering

Lia hasn't completely lost the plot darlings, the two words may seem almost interchangeable but they are not. At the very least, this is the interpretation I have and the discussion that follows will stick with it too~ Pain is the sensation itself, whether physical or mental, it is the hurt, the bruise pressed upon, the moment a heart breaks. That is pain. Suffering on the other hand, is the effect that the pain has. It is the anguish, the torment, the overwhelm and the exhaustion. So, whilst two people might have the same pain, let's say a stubbed toe for a simple example, their suffering might be very different. One might feel able to walk it off, maybe swear a little and move on. Another might need to sit immediately, feel tears in their eyes, or even become utterly overcome by misery from the intense sensation. This might sound like a difference in tolerance, but it can also be seen as taking the bigger picture into account. One brick might not feel so heavy to someone with empty hands, but added to a pile of bricks already carried it may feel as if it weighs a dozen times as much.

What about Abdirak? How does he relate to Pain and Suffering?

When I first heard Abdirak speak, I knew he understood this concept to its very core. His goddess wants pain, but in himself he does not seem to want actual suffering. He does draw a different line, with pain being physical and suffering being the mental aspect, however the principles are very close to my own. Some people might see Abdirak and judge him as cruel, as a torturer delighting in anguish, but that could not be further from the truth. When he speaks of delivering pain with a loving hand, that really is meant. When he was speaking to the player character, for a moment I felt so intensely seen when he speaks of seeing a greater suffering.

"Forgive me, but that look in your eyes - something terrible has happened to you. ...I see those same eyes when I look in the mirror, dear one."

This, to me, was such a moment. He recognises trauma easily, and we also have this chance here to either interpret this as "oh, right, the tadpole stuff, the things in the game" or we can allow our own feelings about a player character's backstory as the interpretation of what he has seen. Either way, he immediately offers to alleviate that suffering with pain, something he is familiar with, something he knows to help from personal experience. There's the important point. His motivation is not to cause hurt, but to relieve it.

How does pain make anything better?

Deep breaths loves we're getting to the heart of a few things here and it may get heavy. At the most basic broken down level, right at the bottom of everything, it's about distraction. Pain is instant, sharp, a sensation that draws our nerves tight and fires off that electricity directly into our brains. It takes our attention and focus away from whatever else is on our minds. Usually? This would be detrimental, to be unable to concentrate on something because pain is intruding. However, think back here, "delivered with a loving and measured hand." This is precise pain, sensation that is welcomed and applied with expert care in order to reach that point right between where pain is suffering and where it cuts out the thoughts. BDSM darlings will know this as similar to "subspace" which I will discuss later~ Whilst there is some short term benefit to using strong sensation to distract the mind and alleviate intense distress, if taken into real life scenarios there are a lot of things to consider, and it is far better to speak with a therapist. Though the most commonly suggested low-harm methods can be things like gripping an ice cube for a minute or two, or even something like exercise that can push the mind to focus on the body instead of the source of the distress. The element of penance is also there. Abdirak brings to the fore those thoughts of struggle and guilt, so those are the thoughts that are stripped back by the physical pain. It's intentional, careful, and taps at the other core of using pain to alleviate suffering.

Why we love Abdirak, and the importance of recognising the weight of unwarranted guilt.

Remember my little villain essay? Back then I spoke of how a love for villains can also come from the way we are prone to judge ourselves unfairly, to heap undeserved guilt at our own feet, and to believe every slight mistake to be a heinous sin. Sorry, darlings, the only heinous "sin" you are allowed to believe in is me. Name puns aside... Part of the draw is indeed right there, believing ourselves deserving of punishment it's appealing to want to submit to that and find absolution from everything we judge ourselves for. And yet, it isn't a horrific thing, it's coloured by love and affection. The Love of Loviatar from Abdirak does not ignore that first part. But I do encourage you, if you are feeling particularly called out right now, to stop seeking punishment for things that are objectively not your fault, and instead treat yourself with kindness and forgiveness. By all means continue to indulge in our beloved priest of Pain and the joy he brings, but do so without any negative self-assessment, alright? Good, I'm glad we agre- THAT MEANS ALL OF YOU. No exceptions.

And what of the Fandom?

Ahh Abdirak fandom. Small, loving, welcoming, and utterly devoted~ Similarly to villain fandom (Abdirak is obviously not a villain, but is arguably villain-coded), his fandom also draws a lot of kindness and understanding. Despite how we might see ourselves, we are remarkably free from judgement in how we treat each other. There's endless encouragement, genuine warmth, and alongside spicy takes that might make lava look like a suitable spot for ice fishing there's a profound amount of respect and consent. By which I mean, there's no shame. There's no allowance for "I hate that character you like", or "that kink is bad because I don't like it". Tags and CWs are applied to posts and works with care and nobody is treated poorly for enjoying what (or who) they enjoy in the fictional space. To go back to the quote at the start of this essay, "to truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause." I feel the vast majority of us have that depth of insight and recognition for suffering and have the empathy required to wish to avoid it. And that is why I would perhaps feel safest in the company of Abdirak fans (and likewise Raphael fans), there's another level of connection in those tadpoles~ Which leads me neatly forwards to...

Endurance: Abdirak and Chronic Pain Sufferers

Here, loves, we're going to get a bit more personal. Those of us with chronic pain conditions may find an even deeper connection. So I'll go over a little for those who are fortunate enough to not have personal experience here: Chronic Pain - This applies to pain which is constant or frequently recurring, that lasts (and/or is expected to last) for more than 3 months. It's not like a broken bone that heals and has an end, it's not like a few headaches that come and go with little consequence, it is either always present or always on the edge of flaring up at any time. It's different to acute pain, because most conditions have no cure, many barely have any treatment so all one can do is try to endure the worst of it. The other side-symptoms can be reduction in physical ability, exhaustion, mental health difficulties (because for some odd reason constant pain is not a path to happiness), low self esteem, and of course carrying the guilt of feeling like a burden if you need help from others (you are not a burden, and anyone who says so can receive the blessing of forever feeling like there is a stone in their shoe that they cannot find). As an aside, this can apply to chronic mental health struggles too - it is still pain, only a different kind. Though I will be looking primarily at physical pain here, as that's where Abdirak's focus is. Now, where are we going with this? The difference here is in how pain is treated. Abdirak speaks of pain as a wonderful thing, as something that is sought after, that is a way of worshipping Loviatar. This is something that might feel strange to someone who is plagued by pain, but there's another quote I'd like us to remember.

"Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn't you agree?"

Chronic pain has no purpose. It's there whether by illness or injury, or some other unseen cause. It was not a choice, it doesn't bring any relief, and often it drags us right down with it.

"Please let me alleviate this pain."

And there's another line, one we wish we could hear, one we wish so very deeply in the core of our being that we could believe. That there could be someone who could bring an end to the pain even if only for a brief time, a fleeting hope of relief.

How fanworks can be a means of coping with chronic pain.

So here's the next point... What in all the hells do I mean, how can fanworks help a single thing? Well, have some personal moments. I had a deeply unpleasant flare up the other night, so I put out a brief ask to writing groups for some comforting fiction shorts. In the past, I've written a few myself - like these: Abdirak - Migraine Comfort Yurgir - Migraine Comfort Tav - General Comfort, with Audio Multi-Character Comfort Drabbles (Including Abdirak) Full AO3 fic of Abdirak x Chronic Pain Reader (Spicy, NSFW)

These are the two I received from some writers very dear to my heart who have more talent and skill than I could ever hope to aspire to in their works. Elfvamp (who does not have tumblr) (image description is attached to the image)

and this one from @morb-untamed

Darlings, when I tell you there were tears in my eyes at these, I mean it. THIS is just an example of the understanding and compassion possible in the community, the care and consideration, and the emotion that words can carry through them that make things genuinely feel more bearable in the moment of distress. Both captured something that it took me too long to realise. Perhaps what follows might sound entirely unreasonable or unhinged, but for someone like myself who has not known a single second of what "0%" feels like in over 10 years, it's beginning to seem far more sane by the moment. What if, within the confines of my mind, I try to rewrite the understanding of pain as something different. Just tell myself each new pain is an offering to some vile deity who has decided my mortal vessel is worthy of enduring, rather than one that is being punished with suffering. Breathe through it and listen to those character voices, find my own purpose to the pain. Let it become inspiration, note it down, get that visceral and intimate knowledge to the page instead. Naturally, this probably isn't a healthy coping mechanism, nor one that is infallible, but there have been moments recently where thinking that has made the moderate levels less distressing, easier to tolerate for a time. Perhaps it could do the same for you, but perhaps not, either way - it is there. Please do read through the comfort pieces too, and if you would like to see more - even ones with more specific aims and pains, please do just ask and I will make them happen. Either through my ask box, or in comments/reblogs, or any other way you wish to contact me honestly.

Alright, Tavylia, we've covered personal pain, but you promised NSFW discussion!

Oh my very dear darlings I had not forgotten this part~ You may here people talk about "good pain" and "bad pain", and wonder how/why pain can ever be good. It's not just about a physical hurt sensation or using that as a distraction. Pain can cause a rush of adrenaline, and even endorphins - similar to how people enjoy extreme sports, horror films, or theme parks, it's a pleasant feeling from something that would usually be scary, because it's safe and controlled. Falling from a high place? That's terrifying, dangerous. Parachuting safely from that same high place? It's controlled, there's no real danger, but the feeling of danger brings that adrenaline rush. There's the key. In real life BDSM there is control in the safe signal, in knowing it can and will stop when needed, that although there is someone causing pain they will stop at a moment's notice. (Anyone who does not respect a safe word/signal is not someone you should be in that situation with, if you are engaging in or want to try BDSM with real partners please PLEASE do your research on safety, that's too long a lecture to add here) In the context of fiction, we can go a lot further. Could a real person easily withstand Abdirak hitting them with an axe in their back? Obviously not, that's far too much. But this is a world with magical healing, and our fantasy and fiction is quite safe to extend where we find is interesting. So when reading - and especially writing - with pain and pain play, I encourage you to remember these links to adrenaline, endorphins, and that it isn't about harm, it's far deeper, and finding an understanding of that (even if you never wish to experience it) might be of some benefit to understanding those around you who have this intimate relationship with pain.

A title for the End

I think I've covered a lot here, but I do just want to round us off now. If you have any questions about this topic (or any of my other essay posts), please do feel free to ask - that's why my box is there, for all kinds of discussions to open up. Not just for smut and creative writing, but for all the ways we connect with fiction and characters. There is so much more than a single story being told, each of us experiences it through the lens of our own experience, we all find our connections in different ways, and I will have more character essays on this later. There's so much more to see, to learn, from all the interpretations throughout the fandom. I'm very grateful to be here to witness it, and for you being here to share in these thoughts and explore them more with me. Pain can teach us many things, about ourselves and others. Empathy, kindness, compassion - when we know how much we need them ourselves, we begin to see how much others may need it too. Much like how Abdirak sees the pain behind the player character's eyes, and feels that strong desire to help in the ways he knows how.

A Final Note for the Pain Pals

To my Chronic Pain Pals, darlings you do not always have to be strong. It's alright. It will not break you entirely to let go of that incessant need to try and quietly endure. Find those places it is safe to let it out, look for those tricks you can use on your brain to make Loviatar's Favour just a little more bearable. You are worthy of kindness, support, and compassion. The same you are likely giving of yourself to everyone else. You are not a burden, these are pains you do not choose, and you deserve something more gentle without any guilt attached to it. You are also not alone, find community, find those who understand.

Pain without purpose...but have we given it one now?

So I hope this time the pain has had a purpose in teaching, in helping us connect in new ways, to find compassion and understanding. Until next time, Dear Ones, look after yourselves.

Oh hey look I know who made that gif that came up in the search~ What an absolutely wonderful coincidence ;) (And a final final footnote, hello Abdirak fan community, you are perfect and I wish you nothing but the best in all things)

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #abdirak #chronic pain #fandom essay #pain #pain and pleasure #comfort in fanfiction #comfort in fiction #coping with pain #the best fandom corners can be in the most unexpected places #the lessons pain can teach #to understand suffering is to avoid being its cause

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rhonze79 · 24 days

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It’s not hands that summon us….. it’s desire…

#horror movies #cenobites #pain and pleasure #demons #hellraiser #pinhead #gothic aesthetic #dark gothic #desire

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junospooky · 1 year

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Hellbound: Hellraiser II 1988 dir. Tony Randel

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miss-celestia13 · 11 months

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Kiss With a Fist

Dark Richy x Dark OFMC Smut

Words: 4.2k

I didn't expect to write more for this pair. But Aylin wouldn't leave my head, and I wanted to test the boundaries of a really dark character and romance. You don’t even have to know the fandom to read this one 😂

On the run. Fighting and fucking. A lot. A hotel bed. Scamming the rich folks. Torturing Richy until he loses control. All of it is child’s play to Aylin.

TW: Vague Mention of Drugs. Robbing people. Consensual Violent Sex. Hair Pulling. Pain and Pleasure. Bondage. Utterly Shameless, Unhinged, Unprotected Smut and strange, sadistic ways of flirting😅 Dark/Black Comedy. Link to the first one shot is below. You don’t have to read it to read this one. There is no real plot. Just pure, filthy p*rn.

Run Towards the Monster

People Aylin wants to kill or seriously harm

1 - Sandra - Hotel receptionist. Gossiping old hag. Always has mascara goop in the corner of her eye. Asks too many questions. Apparently, asking for two room keys is an outrage she couldn’t accept.

2 - David - Gas station attendant. Greasy long hair and dirt caked under his nails as he handed her a hotdog. He tried to flirt and reeked of cat piss, and she couldn’t eat the hotdog after that.

3 - The new money dickhead flashing his Rolex and black Amex yet seemed impervious to buying her a simple martini. Ordered her a salad for dinner… that she had to pay for.

4 - Richy - Changes every day. That day, he was complaining about having to stay hidden. Not her fault the idiot's face is still being shown on the news. Told him to grow a beard, and now that was the source of his complaints, as it was going too slow. May slit his throat if he doesn’t shut the fuck up soon.

Aylin

The black silk dress that had hung despondently on the svelte mannequin in the overpriced store she bought it from was now the only thing keeping her skin from feeling flayed by the suffocating heat of the evening. She was perched at the hotel bar. A swanky, snobbish place she had chosen when Richy attempted to convince her a Motel 6 would suffice. Fuck that. She was a creature of luxury and comfort. Nothing else mattered but her beauty sleep, and well-being. Richy had shut up when she’d shoved him against the elevator wall, hit the emergency stop, and made him cum down her throat in under 90 seconds. She could still feel an ache in her jaw whenever she yawned. He hadn’t complained since though she knew he would be furious with her tonight.

Demurely, she sipped her martini, dry with three olives, and surveyed her target of the night as he ordered yet another whiskey. In order to maintain this lifestyle and ensure she and Richy remained free, she had gone back to her old pastime of scamming those with too much money and not enough sense. It didn’t take much. A revealing outfit, a flash of the expensive burgundy lace covering her freshly waxed cunt, and a salacious smile were typically enough to hook someone in. Usually, she would bed them and wait until they’d slipped into a very male doze before she rifled through their things and made off with a small fortune. Now though, Richy’s possessive side had forbidden her to try it. She chafed at the order, the ownership. But she enjoyed it deeply and grew increasingly heated as she pondered how he was faring in their room.

She had left him in bed. Not typically a cause for alarm or anger. But she doubted he'd ever been left strapped down so tightly he couldn't do more than curl his hands into tight fists. Oh, she was going to hurt later, but it was his turn first. She had left him with a bloody lip, and the coppery tang still lingered in her mouth despite the liquor she was sinking while waiting for this fool to give her the chance to slip something inside his vile drink. After listening to his bragging and pandering to his crippling need for validation, she wanted to skin him alive. People with money never deserved it, and neither did she, but she at least would have more fun with it.

When he finally deigned to return to the stool beside hers, she tossed a sultry smile his way, running the tip of her finger around the wide rim of her glass, and licked her scarlet-painted bottom lip, internally preening when he fell for it. Her long raven hair was loose and lightly waved, scented with rich coconut and sea salt. Her mark breathed deeply whenever she flipped it over her shoulder. That was the problem with people like her. Everything about them was designed to draw fools like this one in, beauty so sharp it could open a vein, no remorse to stop her from using it to gain what she wanted. How unlucky for him. As he leaned in, damp whiskey-stained lips pressing against the shell of her ear, she managed to lean into it and not shudder, using the opportunity to slip the drug into his glass.

Holding his attention captive until it fully dissolved, she mimicked his attempt at seduction and whispered, “Why don't we finish these, and you can show me your suite?”

Like a moth to a flame, he smirked like a cat and nodded, “I thought you'd never ask.”

Giving a girlish giggle that made her want to kill herself, she picked up her glass and threw back its contents, shivering as it burned her throat and warmed her from the inside out. The slickness between her thighs quickly became irritating, and she needed this farce finished to sate it. As her victim downed his drink, she hopped down from her stool and pretended to totter drunkenly on her too-high heels. Her “lover” was quick to take advantage, and this couldn't have been any easier than if he'd simply handed her his wallet. He wrapped an arm around her. His pungent cologne irritated her nose, and she grinned wickedly at the thought of Richy smelling it on her as she was led away from the bar and into the elevator.

He tried to crowd her against the mirrored wall, hands crawling over her like he had the right, and it took everything she had not to knee him in the crotch. Instead, she faked a saucy laugh, laying a hand against his expensive suit and tipped her head toward the cameras. A heavy sigh was his only reply as he relented his mauling and impatiently tapped his foot as they ascended to the penthouse suite. New money. She could smell it on him. Insecurity and shame that he didn't deserve his success hung in the air around him. How pathetically weak. What was the point in having money if he was too ashamed to use it? She would remedy that as soon as she had him safely inside that suite.

The elevator opened into a generous sitting room. Everything gleamed and glittered. There was even a goddamn chandelier. Fine furnishings and fabrics that dripped with wealth draped the walls and floor. He gave her a sheepish grin as he stumbled in before her, and his eyes widened at his sudden lack of grace. She fluttered her eyes at him and urged him to show her the bedroom before he could think too hard and give himself an aneurysm. He needed no further convincing. Following his staggering steps, she eyed the room with an analytical mind. A huge plush bed took up the majority of the ample space, and her dirty mind wandered back to Richy and how he was doing. This had taken longer than she’d anticipated, and he would be foaming at the mouth by now. The safe door was wide open, stacks of cash were visible, and she quickly looked away as he turned to her and flung out a heavy hand, swaying on his feet a little as she took it. Letting him drag her close, she feigned shyness as his roaming hands quickly found her ass and palmed her over the silk.

A slow, weighted blink and a surprised noise was the only warning she got as he slumped to his knees. The dose she had given him was enough for three men, and he barely made one. She crouched in front of him, gripping his chin tightly and forcing his dazed eyes to look at her. A brief moment of lucidity as he spat her name in an accusation she didn't deny. Nodding, a saccharine smile lit her face as she watched the horror bloom on his face before the lights went out, and he crashed to the floor in a heap of useless overgrown man-child. She moved decisively then. Grabbing one of the shopping bags he'd left lying on the floor, stuffed it with the cash and soon relieved him of his new Rolex.

There were some diamond cufflinks and a platinum tie clip on the nightstand that she had also stolen before she went into his wallet and purloined the cash there too. She thought about taking the credit card but didn't want a trail of purchases to lead the cops to her if they figured out she was helping Richy. Checking on her snoring victim, his phone had fallen from his pocket, and she took great joy in smashing it before she flung it down the toilet. He had nothing else worth taking. His carelessness and newness to the rich life had made it too easy. She locked him in the bedroom, taking his key card before she let herself out the main door and locked that too. He would have to wait for the hotel staff to let him out before they could begin hunting for her. And she would be long gone before then.

Cursing him and Richy as she trudged down what felt like a million stairs in six-inch stilettos, she knew she would have to cut and dye her hair. It had taken years to grow this long, and yet again, a fucking man had to ruin it. If she hadn't tempted her luck too far already, she would have killed the prick in the penthouse for the distress. The humiliation would have to do until the grim reaper came calling for him. Her mind was a labyrinth of half-formed plans and promises of retribution on her unending journey back to her room.

***

Aylin quietly let herself inside her room. The electronic beep as the door unlocked made her cringe as she spied Richy passed out on the bed. The sheets under him were rumpled. His wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, and she smiled slowly at the mental image of him struggling to get free before exhausting himself and falling asleep. She toed off her heels, tip-toeing over to the bed as a low simmer began in her core. How to wake him? She could simply yell at him. Or, she could do what she had wanted to do for days since he’d started bitching about being cooped up while she got to socialize.

What he didn’t understand was that she hated to be social. Completely despised having to pretend she cared about the things everyone else seemed to take great pride in. But she also knew she had to be seen doing so. People labeled her a loner, a weirdo, when she was alone for what they deemed an inappropriate amount of time. And it wasn’t long before they started paying close attention to what she was doing or saying. Rumors would start. Vicious, nasty rumors with the power to end her reign of terror long before she was ready. No, she had to act the part. Richy had done so for years, not realizing he was doing it, and now he was alone except for her, and he preferred it that way. Two weirdos were worse than one, so they had to make sure they were seen mingling.

Choosing option two, Aylin marched around the side of the king bed and leaned over him, watching him breathe for a moment before she lifted her hand and slapped him. Hard. Right across his face. Richy jolted awake immediately. Dark eyes blurred by sleep and confusion as she smiled sweetly at him. He bared his teeth, eyes narrowing on her as she winked and plopped down on the bed.

“What the fuck was that for?” He demanded, and she did not like his tone. She had come back. He should be grateful, not mad.

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t like it.” She shrugged carelessly.

“Where the hell have you been? Did you fuck him?”

She gave an unladylike snort, fingers toying with her hair as her nipples hardened and peaked against her thin dress, and Richy’s eyes stuck to them like glue.

“And if I did?”

“I’ll kill you.” He swore, and now she laughed loudly.

He was practically snarling at her now, and she decided to push him further.

“Hmm. And how will you do that when I hold the key to your freedom?” She looked pointedly at the leather and steel cuffs strapping him down, and she saw the defeat in him, but he didn’t back down.

“I can be patient.” He promised, and she rose to her feet, smirking down at him.

He was beautiful when riled, in a way that would turn most off and frighten them. It only made her skin pebble as she shivered.

“I have a better idea,” she said darkly, sliding the straps of her dress down her arms before reaching behind her to pull down the zipper. Richy watched her hungrily as she let it slither down her body and pool at her feet, baring herself to him and delighting as his cock stirred to life.

She had forgone a bra, but the skimpy underwear felt good against her smooth sensitive flesh. He was quiet as she removed that, too, a predator caged as his captor gave him a taste of how Hannah had felt. Though she doubted Hannah had been so turned on, he could barely speak as Aylin swung her leg over his waist and straddled him. This type of power was a potent drug to her, an addiction that addled her mind and drove her to new heights of insanity. Like junk food and indolence, it was bad for her health, yet she didn’t care. Would keep indulging until it killed her or him.

As she leaned forward, the sway of her breasts caught his eye, and she raked her manicured nails down his chest, adding to the myriad of marks already tattooed there. She was marked into his skin, bruised and red. If she left him tomorrow, it would be an age before he could forget her. His blackened soul was the strongest aphrodisiac she had encountered as she felt his cock jump against her ass. The darkness residing in him came out to play as she lowered her mouth and dragged her teeth across his chest, wishing she could taste the wild beating heart underneath. Between her legs, she was soaked, and she knew he felt it as she shifted back on her haunches to stare him down.

“Do you still want to kill me?” She taunted, fingers pinching and pulling on his nipple to see how he’d react. A hiss of pain and a deep chuckle told her he didn’t mind it.

“Undecided.” He bit out.

Humming, she trailed a hand up his torso, wrapping it around his neck and pushing down until his air cut off. He groaned when she let up and bent down, nipping at his lips and darting her tongue inside to play with his as she squeezed his throat again. They were like lit TNT whenever they gave into their primal instinct to tear, bite, and taste. No thought other than the pleasure they could steal from each other. Letting him breathe, a cramping ache in her core too hot to ignore any longer, she reached behind her and grabbed hold of his rigid cock. No foreplay to ease her into it as she lifted to settle him at her entrance, intentionally clenching her inner muscles as he breached her cunt, and she left gravity do the rest.

Head thrown back, and teeth clenched, she reveled in the rough drag of his cock against her taut inner walls. Every hard inch of him stretching her too quickly it hurt them both. Richy's hands were fisted so tightly his knuckles had bleached white, his jaw jutting as he panted, and she bottomed out with a rough gasp. She fell forward as if given a blow to the head, hands scrabbling on his chest as she breathed through the invasion. He was so hard, knocked so deeply she could feel him in her stomach, a torrent of wetness dripping from her as she made small movements to ease herself. Taunting him with the slightest hint of friction until the veins in his neck popped.

Arousal flooded her veins, replacing her blood with flame as she flattened her palms on his chest, locked eyes with him, and slowly, painfully slowly pushed off him. It was pleasure with a serrated edge. Her insatiable obsession to be split apart and used harshly fast took over, and she moved over him until the sting and burn of being rent so abruptly turned to black ecstasy. A warbling moan fell from her as she slammed down, sweat already trickling down her neck as her chest heaved. Her nails cut half-moons into his skin. He didn't complain and urged her to move when she remained still to catch her breath.

Finding a rhythm that soon sent her spiraling, she swirled her hips with each sinuous slide down and felt him twitch inside her. He was too close. Too wound up and pissed off, he’d explode before she could have her fun. That wouldn't do. Ignoring her own need, she lifted him off and laughed as he snarled her name in warning. Crawling up his body, she straddled his head, gripping the headboard before lowering herself onto his waiting mouth and giving him a command he would not ignore.

“Put that mouth to work and make me come, or you won't get to.”

A grunt was his only reply before his tongue dipped into her drenched folds, her thighs clamped around his ears as she whimpered and rolled her hips. She didn't care if he couldn't breathe, not as he flattened his tongue against her clit and lapped at her essence. A carnal growl rumbled through him that she felt between her thighs. He worked her hard. Every flick and dart inside and around her caused her legs to tremble and threaten to give out. It started slow, a ripple of heat from her center, gentle waves of pleasure that made her cry out and plead for more. Then she ignited like wildfire as he devoured her like a man starved. It burned out of control inside her as her cunt clenched around nothing. Release was a song in her molten blood as he chuckled and grazed his teeth over her clit to make her wail like a demon possessed.

Backing away, her body quivered as she glared at his smug smirk, glistening with her wetness, his chin was saturated, and she couldn't resist kissing him. Salt and sweet, heavy on his tongue, and she wanted him to always taste like her, a fierce sense of ownership washing over her as she leaned back and took him inside her again. It was effortless now, so wet and pliant she had no trouble seating him to the hilt and bouncing over him until his face twisted in anguish and desperation. Each time she felt him nearing the edge, she stopped and toyed with his body, clawing at his skin and biting his neck, sucking mouthfuls of his flesh to mark him more. He was a work of art by the time he used the only words she would heed.

“You win. I can't fucking take this. You win, Aylin.” His voice was pained, destroyed under the weight of the tension straining his body. Victory rang like a bell in her head as she rose up, and he slid free of her with a lewd sound that made her smile.

Reaching into the nightstand drawer, she took out the small metal key atop the hotel bible and hurriedly unfastened his hands. She had just unlocked his ankles, her back to him, when her hair was gathered in a fist, and he yanked hard, dragging her across the bed. Whining, utterly delighted at the pain licking over her scalp, she didn't fight back as he let go of her hair and shoved her face down on the mattress. Pressing her sticky thighs together to counter the hollowness eating at the frayed strands of her sense of reality, he was muttering under his breath that she was a nightmare come to life. It was the loveliest compliment he had given her. She knew what he wanted but waited for him to tell her, a show of submission that would piss him off and make him treat her with unmerciful brutality.

“On your knees, ass in the air, and don't fucking argue.” He ordered and gripped her thighs in a bruising hold as she lazily did as told.

Forcing her legs apart, his hand pushing on her lower back to make her arch deeper, she sensed him behind her a second before he entered her in a reckless movement that made her bury her face in the sheet. Keening, she grabbed at the pillows for something to hold onto as he fucked her savagely. The punch of his hips as he gave no thought to her pleasure made her toss her head wildly, a burning ache in her core that made her even more unhinged, and his groans were music to her ears as she fluttered around his thick cock. It was a torment. A delectable agony she would submit to every night so long as he didn't become a risk to her freedom. His lack of care toward her excited her even more. He didn't give a fuck if she liked it or not, he did, and that selfishness spoke in a complex tongue to the poison seeping from her iced-out heart.

Blunt nails scraped over her hips, sweat making his grip slide as he overwhelmed her body. She had turned feral under the onslaught. Lifting her head from the bed to howl like a beast when his hand smacked her ass so hard her teeth rattled, and her cunt clamped around him like a vice. Pleased with her reaction, he did it again, harder and harder, her skin prickling and inflamed as he fucked her to the edge of another orgasm. Madness, her dearest friend, had full control as he reached under her, and between thumb and forefinger, he took hold of her clit and pinched.

He drove into her once, twice, another pinch on that swollen bundle of nerves, and she erupted so forcefully he cried out in shock. Her name ripped from his throat as he slammed into her one last time, and the thrill of his come painting her inside prolonged the torturous waves she was riding. Electricity ran like a current under her skin, every nerve fired, and her skin felt too small for her bones as it stole her wits and breath. It was too much to withstand. Her body spasmed in time with the pulse inside her. Her mind winked out as he slumped over her and flattened her into the bed.

The last thing she remembered when she blinked her bleary eyes open a while later was his claim that he would repay the favor at some point. The bed was a mess of damp sheets tangled around them as he snored beside her. He hadn't bothered to move her from the center of the bed, and he was curled up near the edge, holding onto the sheet for dear life as she sat up and assessed her body. The lingering ache between her legs was heavy and thick, the sinful feeling making her grin as she stood on shaky legs and padded to the bathroom to shower.

She noted a dozen new bruises and bite marks in the bathroom's foggy mirror. A red raised handprint was clear on her ass, and she wore them all like jewelry as she returned to the bedroom and got dressed in dark clothing before she woke him. He wasn't pleased and snapped at her, but they didn't have much time left. The man she had drugged would raise the alarm when the drug wore off, and they had to be far away when he did. Richy moved swiftly once she explained, and she packed her meager possessions along with the money, watch, and other items she had pilfered.

When they were both ready, she grasped hold of his shirt, dragging him down to her level to give him a biting kiss. Wondering where they would go next and what dark, dangerous things they would do to each other once they got there. They left the hotel under a cloak of darkness. The night shift receptionist was snoozing behind his desk as they crept past and snuck out the back entrance. The car they'd rented was nondescript, already fuelled up, and they were soon on the road. They would have to find another soon so as not to test their luck. But as the sky burned red and the sun began its daily salutation, neither cared what the future held. They were good with right now and were determined to make the most of it in their cruel, selfish, and maleficent way. She saw only one ending for their sinister dalliance, but until then, she didn't give a fuck.

This is either the best or worst smut I've ever written, and I don't know how to feel about that, lol. There will be no in between. Like marmite. You’ll either love or hate it. Let me know if you like it!

Part 3: Flesh & Blood

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chaos-frog · 22 days

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HI YOU WALNUT GUY YOU WALNUT DUDE

im actually allergic to walnuts but you're the only one ill consume and then shit uncontrollably after

Me with cheese fr

#cheese #lactose intolerance #pain and suffering #pain and pleasure #mmmmmm #walnut

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expectingrose · 1 month

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- If you choose other comment and let me know what sound you are thinking of. (or you can tell me in an anon ask, if you're shy)

#pregnant #birth #monster fucker #birth kink #pregnancy #pain and pleasure #pain and agony #beautiful agony #question of the week #pole #more then a little kinky #kinky friends #what's your kink

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originalmoonkid · 5 days

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It's hard, you know? It's hard to let go of the you I painted in my mind, the you who could do no wrong, the you who was my solace in a world of chaos.

#desiblr #love #spilled ink #aesthetic #spilled writing #pain and pleasure #chaotic academia #txt post #txt #writers on tumblr #writers #new poets society

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randik-86 · 24 days

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Is it not enough that I love you,

That everything I do is give you the ultimate pleasure,

When all you do is give me the pain,

I will make you suffer the same as I do!

And you will beg for more...

©️randik86

#spilled ink #©️randik86 #desire #lust #original poem #wrtblr #writers on tumblr #spilled thoughts #pain and pleasure #all of you #erotizm #dark desires

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goodnight-fraublucher · 8 months

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"We have such sights to show you" - Hellraiser

Illustration for a horror collaboration coming this Autumn 🎃

#draco malfoy #hp art #pain and pleasure #abdominals #illustration #traditional art #traditional drawing #colored pencil

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rhonze79 · 24 days

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I’m waiting…

#horror movies #hellraiser #uncle frank #pain and pleasure #pain #i’m waiting

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craycraybluejay · 3 months

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I miss that morbid curiosity and inexplicable urge when little me saw a street fight for the first time. The Fascination before the fetish; the transfixed stare and trance-like state.

The first time I burned myself over several seconds and couldn't get away from the hurt and felt that odd excitement bubble up. An ehilaration more surprising than the pain itself.

When I first felt the rush of fighting back, fighting hard, fighting MEAN. The reckless ecstasy of going 'fuck this, you want a fight? Let's fight.'

That first moment of the acute awareness that I could do anything to this person without much resistance; either because they're asleep or weaker than me or have too docile a personality to fight against a threat. The surge, the rush of the moment, the bloodshed before blood is shed in my head.

This initial inkling of fixation, a slimy morphing thing which grows and grows, which groans and groans seeking relief, seeking release. Churning, snapping, wriggling, gurgling madness. Hypnotic and rhythmic, falling in step with my every movement; imitating, initiating. The shadow. Every time it is born, every time it metamorphoses-- I want to feel it again and again.

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miss-celestia13 · 11 months

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Run Towards the Monster

Dark Richy x Dark OFMC

@hacked-by-jake requested I write a dark smut one shot with Richy in the mine. This is the result! It’s something completely new to me. I’ve never written anyone but Jake with my MCs and this is my first foray into dark romance. Two villainous people find one another and the world will never be the same.

Words: 4.4k

Aylin knows one thing for certain, in this town, it’s kill or be killed. Her whole life has been one shitshow after another until she learned to steal the power from those unworthy of it. Once she was involved in the search for Hannah, she knew she did not want this group of self obsessed people to have a happy ending. No, she wanted to help him burn Duskwood to the ground. A carnal hunger was awoken the moment she figured him out and she is determined to satisfy it.

TW: Dark romance. Rough, twisted sex. Blood. Pain and pleasure. It’s consensual smut, just not my typical type. Wanted to warn you before you read it. They’re insane. I don’t think it’s too triggering though, just not what I’m used to writing. Probably the most gratuitous smut I’ve ever written 😂 p*rn for the sake of it!

Aylin

Jessy: You can’t go! He’ll kill you.

Aylin: I’m the only one that can stop him. You know that

Thomas: If it saves Hannah, I say we let her go

Dan: Could you think of someone other than yourself for once, Thomas?

Jessy: Exactly! Hannah isn’t the only one we care about.

Cleo: Let Aylin decide. It’s her decision, not ours. She has to live with whatever she decides.

Lilly: Don’t go. We’ll find another way.

Aylin: I need time to think. I’ll let you know my decision soon.

The truth was, she’d made her choice days ago. She had quickly figured out who was behind this whole situation, and she had been delightfully surprised to discover the man who seemed to wear sunshine-like armor was rotten to the core, just like her. His “kidnapping” had sealed the deal. She knew he was the mastermind of this farce when Thomas found only his bloodstained hat surrounded by raven feathers. It was far too convenient, and she had been itching to go to Richy ever since. She had liked him before, had sensed a darkness in him that called to the dark in her. Their messages had become more flirty as time wore on, he seemed to both trust and distrust her. It amused her greatly and she wanted to test her theory that he was just as beastly as she. The hacker had gone quiet. She had asked him for space and he’d granted it. He had felt guilty she’d been pulled into all of this, not knowing she had inserted herself and had no plans of retreating.

While her new “friends” had panicked and lived in fear, she had enjoyed every moment of Richy’s twisted game. He had made many mistakes; if he’d asked for her help, she would have perfected his grand scheme. There was still time to do so, and now she was on her way to do exactly that. She had come to Duskwood the day after everyone had messaged her for the first time. Never one to miss out on the macabre, she had hopped on the first flight there. Richy had messaged her from an unknown number, and she hadn’t told him she knew it was him yet; she wanted to do it in person. She hadn’t found him the least bit attractive until it became clear something insidious was hiding under his deceptively jovial surface. Now she was positively elated at the idea of having him for herself. And Aylin always got what she wanted.

All her life, she’d known she was different. Whatever part of the brain made people care or love was missing in hers. She could love, but in a selfish, manipulative way, and no one had been able to withstand her for more than a few weeks. Richy would be different. She felt it in her bones and blood. She was profoundly selfish and thrived on chaos and death. Her own family had long since disowned her, and she’d taken great joy in destroying their lives, piece by scrumptious piece. Now most of them were afraid to even breathe in her direction. It was her proudest achievement until now. They’d broken her first; she had simply returned the favor.

She wasn’t wholly evil. No, she only went after those that deserved it. Rapists, abusers, and the like. The justice system in her country was terrible, and sometimes the world needed someone like her to carry out karmic punishment when the law failed them. The fact she enjoyed it was just a perk to her. Legend said her heart died in her chest long ago. It had putrefied, and now a heavy slime as thick as tar coated her insides and insulated her against hurt or emotion. She had grown scales, fangs, and claws over the years; she kept them honed and knew when to use them.

They weren’t just for meting out suffering and retribution. She particularly enjoyed unleashing them on anyone unhinged enough to get into bed with her. Pain and pleasure. The two addictions of her life. And she felt the familiar heat of desire kindle and smolder low in her stomach as she approached the waterfall. She had told him she would be here, yet she saw no sign of the object of her current craving. Her sharp eyes scanned the forest and waterfall, the rushing roar of the water masking any footsteps that may or may not be approaching her. She scented him before she felt him wrap his arms around her and press a wickedly sharp blade to her throat. Pine and smoke, blood, and the salt of dried tears after Dan shot him. Oh, she already loved where this was going.

“Don’t move,” he warned, low and vicious in her ear, making her shiver, “do as I say, and I’ll let you live.”

She chuckled, leaned into his warmth, and purred, “Oh, I don’t know. I want to see what you’ll do if I don’t listen… Richy.”

A sharp inhale as he heard her words, “How - why… when did you figure it out?”

“The day you staged your own kidnap. Your acting is piss poor,” she smirked as he pressed the knife harder, knowing her blood had already welled over the edge of it.

“Why are you here then? Why didn’t you tell the others?” He demanded.

“Let’s go inside the mine, and then we can talk. I don’t want an audience. Anyone could come around here.” She replied, feeling him tense at her denial.

There was a tremor in his hand, nerves making him feel weak. She sighed. The first vigilante adventure was always the hardest. It took time to shake off the laws and morals that were drummed into everyone from the moment they could understand the concept of crime and punishment. If she wanted him, she had to work fast before he freaked out and killed her in a panic.

“I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to help you. We need to plan our next move, Richy.” She said firmly, and Richy gave a bitter laugh.

“Why would you want to help me when you’ve gotten in my way all this time?”

“I had a part to play. I’m done now. I want to help. Come on; I’ve done this before. I know how to end it.” She insisted, and Richy fought with himself for a long moment.

Then the knife was gone, his hand grasped her upper arm, and she allowed him to drag her over to the entrance to the mine. His manhandling only heightened her excitement. He didn’t let go of her as he heaved open the iron door to the mineshaft, ushering her down first and following once the darkness swallowed her. The clang and clank of metal chains and the weighty door slamming accentuated her slow descent into the mine. Richy ensured the entrance was sealed tight before she heard him begin to climb down the rickety ladder. Putting all her trust into that fragile railing, Aylin smirked into the darkness as her blood heated and anticipation began to sink its sweet teeth into her.

Though she was unable to see, the walls felt too close, too suffocating as her knuckles grazed the rough, uneven walls as she went straight down the shaft. Loose stones broke free as the ladder shook with their combined weight, and she couldn’t yet hear the echo of them hitting the ground. A slow drip of water was audible the nearer to the bottom she got, a phantom breeze ruffling her inky hair as the skittering of tiny paws reached her ears over the roar of her blood. The air was cold and stale. Standing water, musty air and dry rot intermingled to create an offensive perfume that made her hold her breath, her revulsion was strong but she was set on seeing her insane idea through.

Dust and sweat coated her fingers despite the chill. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck when she missed a rung and, for a brief moment, thought she was falling. It didn’t frighten her, she laughed, and Richy made a disgruntled noise that she ignored. The railing was so riddled with rust and rot it trembled as she clung to it, her foot trying to find another step and feeling only dead air. She realized she’d reached the bottom and took a deep breath before she let go and jumped. Landing in a low crouch with a muted thud of her rubber-soled boots, she backed away from the ladder so Richy could follow.

Playing the part of submissive captive, she waited patiently as he jumped, and the dull smack of his feet as he strode toward her, matched the beat of her poisoned heart. Again, he grabbed her upper arm and tugged her through a narrow passage. It resembled a yawning black hole, a gaping maw of some long extinct beast as they moved through it. Her brain was filled with bats and ghosts, knives in the dark, and ruby-red blood spilling across the uneven treacherous ground. Gooseflesh flared over her skin as Richy pulled her into a small alcove that opened into a manmade cave.

Flickering candles illuminated the stingy space, haphazardly placed on jutting rocky ledges and the dust and rubble-strewn ground. He released her, backing up a step as he crossed his arms, arched a brow, and said, “Let’s hear it then. Make it quick. I don’t have long left.”

She smiled like a snake, “We have plenty of time. The others don’t know I’m here. They are waiting for me to decide.”

Richy snorted, “Why would they listen to you? All they care about is finding Hannah and fuck everything else.” He spat bitterly, making her bite back a grin.

“That’s precisely why they listened. My life means nothing to them, and so they mean nothing to me. I think that makes us allies, don’t you?”

“Allies?” Richy barked a laugh, head shaking, and she was utterly entranced by the intensity of the hate in his dark eyes as he said, “You’ll only stab me in the back.”

They were circling each other. Drawing close, then springing apart, invisible elastic bands pulled to their limit as they metaphorically sniffed the other out. Tension was building thickly, a thrum in the air turning her into a creature of base instincts. Richy’s eyes were locked on her, pupils dilating as she licked at her lips and curled her hands into fists. Fight or fuck? Both. Definitely both.

“That would be cowardly. If I ever stab you, you’ll see it coming and thank me.” She crooned, madness taking over as she dropped the mask she wore to be more palatable to normal humans in polite society.

“Why did you come here? Clearly, you don’t care about Hannah.” Richy asked, his voice filled with smoke and dark, dark lust.

“Because you and I are the same, Richy.” She teased as he drew closer.

“You don’t know me. No one does.”

She smiled, “I do. Better than you think... You and I masquerade as humans every day. I wear the skin of a woman to hide the monster underneath it. I see much of myself in you and want to see what you look like without that mask.”

Richy stopped their restless prowling, crowding her against the cave wall as he bent down to mutter, “Monsters in human skins? Poetic. Is that why I couldn’t stay away even though I knew you were dangerous for me?”

She nodded, eyes heavy-lidded as he leaned ever closer and breathed in her scent, “I sensed the shadows in you. They speak to my own. It would be foolish to keep them apart, don’t you think?”

Spellbound, she watched in hypnotic wonder as his facade finally slipped, and she saw the predator lurking inside him. There were many monsters in this shit world. She had learned from nature that some predators needed predators of their own. And he was hers. Their demons would dance together, tangled and bloodthirsty. They would wreak havoc upon any who stood in their way. She couldn’t wait for it. Her blood sang as he brushed his lips over hers, a ghost of a touch that set her nerves alight. Gentleness wouldn’t do. She needed to feel it; she needed it to burn, ache and bleed. The next time he did it, she surprised him, catching his bottom lip between her sharp teeth and sucking it into her mouth.

Richy groaned, the sound so filthy and luscious that her head spun. Suddenly, his hand was around her throat, and he shoved her against the wall hard enough that she hissed in pain and smiled against his mouth.

“This is wrong...” He tried, not moving away, and she knew he was only saying what he thought he should.

“It would only be wrong if you stopped.” She taunted with a challenge in her eyes.

Her breath quickened, heat crept up her chest and neck as his head lowered so slowly she thought it would have turned her insane if she weren’t already there. Adrenaline flooded her body at the animalistic and venomous lust she felt radiating from him, and she knew this would be a fight. A battle of wills and power. Who would submit first? She was about to find out as determination flashed across his face. He finally crushed his mouth to hers, quickly forcing his way inside her mouth. The first brush of his tongue made her cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin over his hoodie. It was too late for her. The clumsy kiss soon turned into complete ownership of her mouth, so deep and violent she felt it from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

She was pushed harder into the dry rock, the hand around her neck burying in her hair and pulling hard, the pain licked over her scalp deliciously, and she again bit into his lip, drawing blood. The taste was akin to melted butter on her tongue, salty yet slightly sweet, with a slight iron tang that made her moan, and he tugged on her hair again. The blood in her own veins had been replaced by fire, so hot she was surprised she didn’t scald him as he blindly fumbled with the zip on her jacket. She chuckled when he sighed, earning herself a nip on her lip and a thigh pushed between hers. Liquid flame shot down her center to pool between her legs as she was crushed so tight the air was expelled from her lungs in a gasp. She was grateful, doubted she would’ve been able to stand without his weight holding her up.

Grabbing, greedy hands and fingers tore at their clothing. Breaking apart only so they could pull each other’s shirts off. Her chest heaved, covered in maroon lace that both annoyed and pleased him. A look of full possession appeared on his face as his eyes obsessively wandered over her, and she felt that gaze like he was clawing blunt nails over her skin. Shivering, she beckoned him close again and pounced, legs locking around his waist. She was pressed against the wall again, unsure how he’d moved so fast but glad all the same. She mouthed and nipped along his jaw, loving the salty taste of his skin, and thrilled as the unforgiving stone abraded her back.

Only scant lace protected her from the hard length she could feel through his jeans. She was grateful she had thought ahead and worn a skirt as she reached between them and flicked his fly open, hand diving inside to wrap around his thick cock and she began to awkwardly stroke him. He retook control of her mouth, bruising and ruthless. He didn’t let her breathe as she teased him. The wetness between her thighs soaked her underwear as she sank her hands into his hair and scratched at his scalp, smiling into the kiss when he shuddered. His fingers toyed with the fastening of her bra, struggling for a time as she did nothing to help. With an impatient noise, he succeeded in undoing it and her breasts soon popped free, and she let go long enough to take it off completely.

She was shameless as he abruptly pulled back, arching against the stone to offer herself up to his hungry mouth. He took the bait, mouth closing around her hard nipple, teeth biting hard enough that she cried out and threw her head back. The pain only added to the inferno in her core, her wetness slipped down her thighs, and a delectable burn spread over her as an ache built within her. She would ignite if he touched her, so riled and crazed she lost control of herself. Her hands turned to claws, raking down his chest, drawing blood she so badly wanted to taste again. His starving mouth pulled, sucked, and nipped each breast in turn, each vulgar sucking sound making her lose herself even more. His smothered desperate noises as she tormented him with unsatisfying strokes, sending a lick of nerves down her torso as he let go of her with a lewd noise she wished she had recorded.

Letting go of his cock, she arched in a sensuous slide, the scrape of the rock making her moan. She rubbed herself against him, frantically seeking friction as he smirked at her distress. The ache of overwhelming need beat like a war drum as her molten blood rushed straight to her cunt. Her volatile desire mirrored his haunted gaze as he held her pinned against the wall. Reaching under them, his long fingers slid inside her underwear, slipping through her soaked folds. He hooked his fingers around the delicate fabric and tore them off her. She growled, slapping his arm while he laughed, and she felt the fat head of his cock at her entrance.

Without warning, he was buried inside her, the stinging pain of her abruptly rent flesh making her toss her head back and howl it was so intense and consuming. She was very tight around him, knowing it hurt them both as he snapped his hips and grimly smiled at her wide eyes. She was suddenly very vocal, her back torn to ribbons with every thrust that shoved her up the cave wall. Sweat prickled on her skin and her many abrasions stung, she gave herself over to the madness of the flesh, letting it control her as he marked her throat. When he met her eye, he looked as dazed as she felt, his eyes like black burning coals as he claimed her mouth again, and his punishing thrusts caused a torrent of her essence to flood her sticky thighs.

It was exquisite agony. Her skin was inflamed as her nerves fired, making her jumpy and incapable of doing anything other than keen and wail. Richy was panting, and his jaw tensed so hard it could cut glass. Her torment was so complete she barely noticed when blood dripped down her back, his hands sliding over her skin as she whimpered and viciously pulled his hair, initiating a kiss to silence the noise she was making. She had hoped it would be like this. Ferocious and insatiable, each plunge of his cock inside her taut channel made the hair on her nape lift. The pain merged with the fire in her core decadently.

Stealing his breath, she tasted his fervor like spiced honey on his tongue and urged him to fuck her harder, clutching his shoulders hard enough to bruise when he did. Brutal and merciless, he forced her to a familiar peak, using her body just the way she liked and she revelled in the fact she would hurt tomorrow, looked forward to it more than was healthy. Soon she was walking on a blades edge, inner walls fluttering and clamping around his cock as he sensed her nearing release, her body going tense as he tore his mouth from hers and snarled in her face.

“Every moan you make belongs to me. You’re mine.”

She managed a short chuckle, pleasure surging so fast she was breathless and shocked. They were fighting each other with every kiss and thrust, spinning her so high she closed her eyes against the onslaught as he growled into her ear that she was his to use, his to keep. She would have agreed to anything then if it meant he kept fucking her. Their kind didn’t love. They owned. And the thought was so sinful and demented she could only nod, mentally claiming him as hers too. Toxic and unstable, it fed her chaotic self and it was all she ever needed from a lover. The warning pulse of release snatched a wanton moan from her black soul and a dark laugh from Richy. Prying a hand from his shoulder, she let it fall between her thighs, fingers slipping through the mess he’d made to feel where he split her in two, keening when he drove into her impossibly harder.

Circling her clit, she was sobbing and quivering in his hold, the wall at her back not enough to keep her bound to reality as red bursts of light obscured her vision, and he ordered her to come. His command, her fingers, and his cock worked in tandem to send her freefalling. A loud and fierce scream erupted from her and seemed to go on forever as the echo bounced off the stone. Richy groaned and chased his own end, ignoring her pleas for respite as she fluttered and spasmed in his hold, the force of her orgasm almost terrifying in its ferocity. Every pore on her skin sparked, her nerves exposed as her muscles jumped and tensed. It was almost unbearable as he slammed into her again and again. He gave a strangled, pained moan and one last cruel thrust, impaling her on his cock as he came inside her.

Her name was a curse on his tongue as he sunk to his knees. The scratches on her back worsened as she was pulled down with him. The wound Dan had given him had reopened at some point, and she saw her bloody handprints and fingerprints tattooed into his pale skin. She smiled lazily, brazen and bold, as he blinked at her in amazement. Nothing more was said. There was no point in sweet nothings or platitudes. Neither would mean them; she’d rather spend that time doing anything else, like plucking the hair from her underarms one by one. Richy seemed to feel the same as he cleared his throat and shifted her weight a little, wincing in discomfort as he softened inside her.

The aftermath was funny, as she usually found it as they hastily redressed and adjusted themselves as best they could. Her skin felt flayed and too hot each time she moved, and her jacket irritated her sore back. Every part of her ached in some way, and it kept her smiling as Richy explained what he planned to do. He wanted to release Hannah and then stage his death by burning all the evidence he had moved into the mine. She agreed with his plan, except for one detail, and Richy’s sadistic grin when she proposed her changes made pride flare in her ruined heart.

“Let’s untie Hannah, but we won’t let her out. She killed someone and covered it up. She has to earn her life. Give her a taste of death before she gets her freedom.”

“She may get more than a taste,” Richy murmured.

Aylin shrugged, “Then that’s what she deserves… Come on. We best get moving.”

Richy left her with multiple gasoline containers while he went to untie a drugged Hannah, who had woken due to the noise they’d been making. Fractured rainbows sparkled on the dusty mine floor as she laid her trail of destruction. Richy soon joined her, and they moved swiftly as Hannah could be heard weeping, her sluggish footsteps ran away from them as the cloying scent of gasoline saturated the air. Richy had chosen a different exit, both agreed it would be the rankest stupidity to use the one they entered through. They ascended the rickety ladder. She stopped halfway up; Richy rushed the rest of the way up to shove the wooden board covering the exit aside as she took out a Zippo lighter, igniting its perfect flame before letting it fall into the gasoline pool.

Scrambling up the ladder as quickly as she could, she still cried out in shock as the shockwave of heat washed over her, the flammable liquid catching with a thunderous whoosh that deafened her as Richy hauled her out of the mine shaft and into the forest. Sirens blared in the distance, and they shared a look, knowing their “friends” had given up waiting for her to decide, and they must have called the police. Without a backward glance or thought of Hannah’s fate, they turned their backs on the magnificent sight of the fire spewing out of any crevice or hole it could find. Neither knew how far they’d get or how long they’d manage to stay free, but both were determined to have a marvelous time ruining everything until the day they were forced to stop.

Maybe she would end up killing him when he grew tiresome. Or he would get there first, and she would finally know what it felt like to die. Either way, she was determined to make the most of it as they bolted through the forest and ran as far as their feet would carry them. It was over. She had solved the case. It was a shame that only she knew it. At the very least, whatever became of them would be worthy of a true crime documentary. And that was all she had ever wanted from life.

Very unsure of this. I hope it was fun for anyone reading! I wanted a challenge, lol. Don’t tell me if you hate it 🤭❤️

Part Two: Kiss With a Fist

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