#bdsm!au

[fagetwrites]

For the last day of @andersweek, Speculative Sunday, I have a thoughtdump for Anders in my modern AU with a focus on BDSM/Kink, community and trauma, carve your niche.

I find Anders particularly tricky to translate to AUs in all his particularities, and in this case I made it so his trauma comes from constant psychiatric institutionalization and that he has DID, making Justice one of his alters.

TWs: ableism/sanism, psychiatric institutionalization, medical abuse, child abuse, death, homophobia

Is in his mid-late 30s by the time he meets Fenris, so he was born in the late 1970s.

He was born in rural Ferelden with the last name Anderson and named after his father.

His family was wildly dysfunctional and abusive—there were traditional patriarchal expectations that Anders failed to live up to as he was quite the gay little boy. Frequent physical abuse made him learn to dissociate as his main survival mechanism, and he had his first split at eight years old.

He was caught self harming by his father when he was twelve, and quickly sent off to a psychiatric facility as a way to “fix” him. 

He was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder (as was the terminology at the time) and his home was deigned not safe for him to go back to after he spoke at length about what he went through there.

He was bounced around the foster system, often being returned to psychiatric facilities due to his instability and trauma. He spent most of his teenage years institutionalized, heavily medicated and abused. Food denied as a punishment, solitary confinement, etc.

He was nicknamed Anders by the children in the first ward he went to, as he refused to speak to anyone and the doctors and nurses referred to him by his last name. He decided to go by it later as he preferred it over his father’s name.

After aging out of the foster system, he spent a few years at a time in freedom, though oftentimes he had breakdowns and a trauma holder-protector alter, who believed the wards were safer than the “real world”, brought him back inside.

In his mid-late 20s, he started to get involved in antipsychiatry and mad pride. While dealing with his DID, CPTSD and other such things in therapy and support groups, he worked to advocate for himself and other people with mental health issues. This made him… quite unpopular with the doctors in the psychiatric institutions he ended up going back to quite often.

He met Karl Thekla during this time; he was also a chronic ward patient, though he had not left nearly as often as Anders and didn't share his penchant for freedom. He fell madly in love with him despite the rules being against it. After a while, Anders was discharged just so they would not be involved any longer. When he returned years later, Karl was so heavily medicated as to not be recognizable. It broke Anders’ heart and he blamed himself for him being “lobotomized”.

During one of his stints outside wards, he met Justice, an older man heavily involved in mad pride circles. They formed a strong friendship, with Anders seeing him as a father-like figure. Some time after meeting Justice, Anders was institutionalized again and went through systemic abuse at the hands of a doctor who considered him “beyond recovery”, unfit for the outside world and a danger to himself and others. In the stressful situation of solitary confinement, Anders dissociated and split off an introject of Justice as a new protector. When he got out of the ward (after a few years, lots of arguments and many different medication regiments), he went on the search for the ‘real’ Justice, only to find out he had died due to a drug overdose while fighting homelessness. His introject was now the only Justice that existed.

After this, he spent some time in a commune, where his resilience, unpredictability and creativity were considered a net positive rather than something bad for the first time in his life. There he met Sigrun, Velanna and Nathaniel, all people he tries to remain in contact with to this day.

When he turned 35, he had a bit of a midlife crisis as he realized he had spent his entire life chained to a system that hated him, either stuck inside it or trying to fight it. He moved from Ferelden to the Free Marches and started working whatever jobs he could to stay afloat along with his disability benefits. He also works as a street medic during protests.

Away from psychiatric institutions for the first time in his life, he started to explore himself and his interests. Thinking of the games he played with the commune, he started investigating BDSM and kink. 

Which is how he ended up in the Kirkwall Kink Club, throwing himself at anyone and everyone dominant for a chance at turning his brain off.

[heyyoubuckaroo]

sorry SORRYRSYORRY i am very late but but but

🪑🪑🪑 please and thank?????

Charlie, I am SO sorry this took forever. I got stuck on this fic and fell into a bit of a writing slump these past few weeks. As an apology—and a thank you for your patience—I’ve roughly doubled the number of sentences you requested for this snippet. ❤️

~~~

At Buck’s suggestion, Eddie takes a shower and changes into comfortable clothes before they start. As he tosses his work shirt into the hamper, he tries not to think about the way Buck’s voice had dipped when he’d said, “I’ll wait for you in the living room”—that low note of dominance tugging at his navel as the dynamic between them stirred to life.

Eddie doesn’t sub much. Of his previous partners, Shannon and Marisol had both been switches, like him—Ana the lone full submissive—but Eddie grew up in a world where men were expected to be dominant providers (unless they were like that). To step up. Be a good brother and a good man. Lead the household from a place of strength. It’s the role Eddie’s been playing his entire life, if not the one that comes most naturally to him.

Which isn’t to say that Eddie never switches. At his core, it’s who he is. But it’s not the same, laying down and showing his belly for a woman versus doing it for a man—regardless of whether sex is involved. It’s the divide between a beautiful girl putting pink, fuzzy handcuffs on you in the heat of the moment versus getting real cuffs slapped on you while an officer shoves you into the back of their car. Vulnerability always wears different when it’s paired with a physical threat.

Eddie might be good at yes-sirring and taking orders when he has to, but he’s a little too proud to keep himself out of trouble when someone tries to put a boot to his throat. (Figuratively speaking, anyway.) He’s always been a hair too reactive, too eager to shove back. It’s hard to temper that instinct—even with someone he trusts.

And he does trust Buck, fundamentally so. Eddie repeats this to himself like a mantra as he walks into the living room. He feels raw where he’s scrubbed himself clean, made himself ready for inspection. Buck’s a big guy with a ton of muscle, sure, but he’d never use that against Eddie. He’d never hurt him—not like that.

Eddie finds Buck sitting on the couch. His legs are spread, his back straight and a little stiff against the cushions. He’s toying with the frayed threads from the hole in the knee of his jeans. It’s not necessarily a sign of nerves—Buck’s a fidgeter in general, needs to be in constant motion—but something about the gesture settles the anxious flutter in Eddie’s stomach.

“You’re sure about this?” Buck asks as Eddie crosses towards him. The overhead light is off, side table lamps throwing shadows across the floor. There’s a pillow at the edge of the light—off to the side of Buck’s legs rather than between them, which… yeah. Makes sense. Eddie hesitates only a moment before sinking to his knees on it.

Flashing a grin that’s way more cocky than he feels, he says, “Show me what you’ve got.”

[meggie-stardust]

A few months ago, @teenwerewoofs asked me if I wanted to collaborate on something for @stetopherweek, and I told her that I would love to, though I had never written Stetopher before. Then she asked me to keep the fic like 2-3K so she could podfic it... and then I handed her a nearly 6K fic. Ooops. Sorry not sorry though, I just can't write a PWP to save my life.

BDSM!AUs are one of my favorite tropes ever, and I find them so underrated and uncommon. Usually in this tag, I find AUs that happen to feature BDSM relationships rather than AUs where everyone is either a Dom or a sub (or sometimes a switch), and much like A/B/O fics, dynamic is deeply part of society. You can read more about the history of BDSM!AUs on fanlore and see how this whole trope originated with like 2 authors, and that's just amazing!

Finally, this is my first foray into Stetopher (though I have been active in the Steter fandom since 2016, and Teen Wolf even longer). I really enjoyed writing this and exploring what these guys would be like in this world, and I hope you all enjoy it as well.

The Belt Awaits You by Wreck A Stetopher Week 2022 BDSM!AU

Chris Argent blows back into Beacon Hills with Isaac Lahey in tow as if they had only been gone for a weekend trip somewhere. Stiles becomes immediately interested, much to Peter’s annoyance. He knew that when they decided to make things a little more formal (though still nothing official, Stiles isn’t his sub; Stiles isn’t even a sub, he has to remind himself), that Stiles was going to be a handful. But he hadn’t expected Stiles to bring up another Dom in the middle of sex. “Do you think Isaac would share Chris?” Stiles muses as Peter cuffs him to the bed. “Asking after another Dom while we’re in bed, Stiles? How gauche,” Peter says, trying to keep the humor in his voice, playing it off as if he isn’t bothered by it either way. “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Stiles says, looking up at Peter through his lashes, a classic submissive move that never fails to send a bolt of desire through Peter. “But, have you seen the man? Who wouldn’t want to kneel for him?”

Read on AO3

[neworleansspecial]

About three months into his arrangement with Buck, Eddie realizes how happy he is.

For one, he's been able to drop his shifts from 60 hours a week down to a part-time 20, and he no longer has to pull overnights or be there longer than 12 hours, which means he has a lot more time to spend with Christopher. Then, there's the deposits in his bank account. Every week, he and Christopher go to the store and stock their fridge and cabinets full of fresh produce and good snacks and everything else they could possibly want. Eddie's started practicing cooking so he can make the two of them real meals, and he packs Christopher a lunch every morning instead of handing him a fiver for the cafeteria. He's no longer behind on his car payments. The dishwasher and AC are fixed.

And all that is only the monetary improvements. Besides those, he's just so much more at ease than he can ever remember being. Sure, he had doms before Buck- he married Shannon, after all- but between their constant fighting, his deployment, and the perils of dating as a single father, he hasn't really been able to drop in years, and certainly not with the same person more than once or twice. Buck takes care of him. He gives Eddie the rules and structure and love that he so desperately needs, coaxing him slowly to a much needed drop, and then cares for him until he's steady enough to go home.

Plus, Buck has quickly become Eddie's best friend. Outside of scenes in Buck's penthouse or office, they often meet for dinner or coffee and talk for hours without ever running out of words. By now, Buck has even come over and met Christopher, proving himself to be great with kids and endlessly kind.

Eddie doesn't remember the last time he was so content, if he ever has been. He's just... happy. Happy with his life, happy with his found family, happy with Buck, and it almost feels like it can't possibly be real. How could he have gotten something this good? Eddie worries, late at night by himself, what's going to happen if things end.

Those thoughts follow him to a dinner date with Buck. The restaurant is really nice (and far out of Eddie's price range), the wine poured by a sommelier, and the candles on the table a pure bright white. Buck looks happy too, he thinks.

"I can hear you thinking," Buck says, taking a sip of his water. "Everything okay? Did Christopher's tuition get raised again, because I can-"

"No, no, his tuition is still the same," Eddie assures. And paid by you, he doesn't add. "I just... I don't know. Things are good, really good, and I'm scared that it's not going to last."

Buck uses this as his cue to take Eddie's hand, lifting it to his lips and brushing a kiss across his knuckles. "I told you, I'm in it for the long haul. When you're ready for a real relationship, I'll be here. And however long it takes until you are, I'll still be right here, making sure you have what you need."

The pure emotion in his voice has Eddie ducking his head. He knows Buck wants to be more, wants them to live together, wants to be able to put a day-collar around Eddie's neck so every dom who passes him on the street knows he's taken. And yes, Eddie wants that too, but it terrifies him. When they first talked about what a real relationship would look like, Buck had laid all the cards on the table. If they give this a go for real, he'd want full submission. It's not uncommon, for doms and subs to live that way, but still less than half of the population do it. It takes a lot of trust. Of course, he knows Buck will still respect his autonomy, his fatherhood, his thoughts and feelings, but he will also expect certain things from Eddie as his sub, and all of that still feels like a little too much pressure for Eddie to handle.

"I need more time."

"I know." Buck nudges Eddie's water toward him, a reminder to drink more than just wine. "There's no rush, I promise. And if you're never ready for that, I promise I'm still not going anywhere."

[pynkhues]

I’ve actually spent a fair chunk of today working on the BDSM au, and let me tell you, it is just completely feral, haha.

[heyyoubuckaroo]

🪑🪑🪑🪑 – follow you down

MAKE ME WRITE (WIP GAME)

For @exhausteddiaz (🪑), @hawkslonggoodbye (🪑), and @perlaret (🪑🪑). Thanks for playing!

“I mean, it’s not like you haven’t dommed me at the station before,” Eddie points out. There’s a smear of yellow mustard on the side of his hand, and he licks it off.

Buck makes a choked sound. “What are you talking about?”

Without looking up, Eddie places the top slice of bread on Christopher’s sandwich, presses down gently, and slices it on a diagonal. “Pretty much anytime you get your clipboard out, for starters.”

He steals a glance at Buck, whose cheeks have gone red.

“That wasn’t… I wasn’t…”

“Don’t get all worked up,” Eddie goes on, biting back a smile. “It’s not like I don’t let you do it—and besides—”

He pauses, lingering on the way it feels whenever Buck gets a little bossy.

“—it’s good for me, too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t exactly been doing a lot of scenes lately.”

“Eddie,” Buck chides. He sets his mug down and leans a hip against the counter, hitting Eddie with those big, earnest eyes. “You’re gonna end up dysregulated if you’re not careful.”

Buck’s too polite to say again—but it’s what they’re both thinking. Eddie’s forced to think about it every time he wakes up and sees the texture of the patch job on his bedroom wall, still visible beneath the paint.

“Let me worry about that,” he says.

[fagetwrites]

Happy friday and welcome to DADWC!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉 I'm asking for fenders (obviously) "Do you want me to hurt you?"

Insane first fill maybe but here it is. @dadrunkwriting

For context, it's a modern BDSM AU I've been rotating in my brain - Fenris is a switch and a sort of protector figure in the local kink circle after going through horrors, and Anders has just gone through an Unspecified Trauma and is throwing himself into kink as both coping and self-harm.

TWs: allusions to trauma, one use of the f-slur (reclaimed), lengthy discussion of pain play in the context of kink negotiation. Ends in a fade-to-black. 927 words.

Fenris can't help but pace around the room. He's glad he's finally got Anders here, at least, after enough talking with each person who looked at him and saw a suitable partner for the night. He can recognize him and his kind off the back of his hand, like a mirror, he has been there, was there for too long—he can see the need to hurt even when it didn't feel any good.

Anders is wearing a ratty woven sweater that hangs off his skinny frame and ripped jeans showing off pale legs. He doesn't look like he belongs here, in this kink club, not like Fenris does, all long white lines of tattoos all over his body, leather pants and boots and jacket, a black handkerchief tucked into both left and right pocket. He says leatherfag with one look and he likes it, thrives off it, this visibility.

"So, what, are we doing this how you think it should go or not?" Anders bites out after enough silence, staring up at him with amber brown eyes that glint dangerously.

Fenris lets out a small sigh. "It is not how I think it should go. It just is how it should be. Not throwing yourself at any alleged Dom and begging to be whipped, we have to actually talk about what you want and what you don't want."

Anders rolls his eyes. "It's not very fun, to do it this way. I prefer to not know what comes next, no long interludes or explanations of safety."

Fenris' gaze hardens at that. "You will get yourself killed one day, being such a fool. Now. Do you want me to hurt you? If so, how?"

Anders smiles at that, props his chin onto his hand, leans into it as he watches him. There are a good few years between them, even if Fenris doesn't know for sure how many (all his ID had a made-up birthday, after all). Ten, maybe? He still doesn't know where Anders came from, what happened to him there. The other kinksters who have interacted with Anders have speculated about anything from cults to kidnapping to prison. Whatever it is, Anders now throws himself to the wolves and hopes to come out bruised and bleeding, maybe with an orgasm out of the way as a bonus.

Fenris knows retraumatizing yourself when he sees it. He was doing much of the same until Zevran grabbed him and shook him around like a lost puppy. He hopes he can give the same to Anders.

"Now we're talking. I like cock and ball torture, though only with bare hands, no implements, no burning, either."

A limit! A little miracle with this guy in specific. Fenris stops his pacing just to grab a notebook; Anders snorts as he scribbles down his name and then the information he is giving him, but doesn't stop.

"Face slapping is good, punching I can take but elsewhere, I don't look pretty with a black eye, in my opinion." He tucks a long strand of auburn hair behind his ear; as Fenris looks up from the notebook, he finds that he'd look all the more gorgeous with a black eye, but that is just his sadism talking. "I like implements when it's for my ass and thighs."

"Any you don't like? What kind of pain do you prefer?"

"Thuddy, hard," he replies without thinking twice. "On my ass and thighs, at least. I like when my face stings from a good slap."

Fenris writes this down. He'll have to consider his implement choices based on this preference; there are a lot of ways to hurt someone. And how to be safe about it, of course; he wants to punch him, a need that travels down to between his legs, but he ignores it for the time being. There are more important matters at work. Knowledge is power, and all that.

"How would you like to feel when I hurt you?"

Anders stares at him, raises a brow in confusion. "…In pain, duh?"

"No, emotionally. Scared? Relieved? Like prey? Pleasured?"

He chews on his lip. "Defenseless," he replies after a few seconds of thought. "Like there is nothing I can do about it, nothing but take what you do to me."

Fenris' cock twitches in his underwear. Of course the submissive he picks as a project in community care is just his type of masochist. His luck. He exhales through his nose.

"If you can remember to safeword when it gets too much, I am certain I can get you there."

Anders groans, like he just told him that he has to run a mile, or something equally annoying. He waves a hand around dismissively. "Fine. I'll try."

Fenris stands from his spot and puts the notebook and pen down on a table nearby. There are still things to discuss, ideas to go over, but he knows himself more than he knows everyone else, and trusts his own damaged self to be able to take care of this man, over the clueless 'Doms' who just want to get their rocks off. He can do this. At least it'll make Zevran proud, to know he's following his example.

"How about we start with something simple, then?" Fenris drawls. "Get on your knees for me, so I can slap you around."

Anders' annoyance dissipates into excitement, a puppy who just got told they're going for a walk. Fenris tilts his head and smiles as he sinks into his knees. Yes, he can do this just fine.

[neworleansspecial]

Buck drooling after sucking Eddie off. Or vice versa.

surprise this is bdsm!au //

One of Buck's favorite ways to start a scene is with his cock in Eddie's mouth. Sometimes he has Eddie kneel for him and wait, simply keeping him warm, for a while. Others, he asks him to make him feel good. And, on occasion, he will hold Eddie's head in place and take his pleasure. All three have this way of settling them both into the right headspace to scene properly.

Tonight, Buck has no patience for the first two.

Since he gave Eddie a key, it's made it so they can start off like this: he walks into the house after work to see Eddie kneeling by the sofa, naked, with perfect posture. He's a beautiful sight like this, and still so breathtaking every time that Buck has to press a palm against the bulge in his pants to relieve the pressure.

"Good boy," he praises, almost like it's instinct to come out of his mouth. It might be for how often he says it, but he means it each and every time. "I'm so lucky to have you."

He watches the blush spread over Eddie's cheeks. The first couple times he said something like this, Eddie had broken out in protest. His acceptance of the compliment now marks how far they've come from first meetings in Buck's private office.

Buck unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his slacks as he closes the distance between them. For the most part, he puts off coming because he typically doesn't do it more than once in a scene- twice if he's lucky. But something about the sight of Eddie tonight makes that thought fly out the window. All he can think about is how perfect Eddie looks kneeling for him, in his home, waiting to please him.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart."

Eddie parts his lips as Buck takes his hair in hand and lifts his gaze from the floor. Their eyes meet.

"You know the nonverbal signal if you need me to stop?"

"Three taps to your thigh, sir."

The smile that tugs at Buck's lips is involuntary. "Good boy."

Once again, the effect of the praise is obvious on Eddie. Not only is he beautiful, but so reactive, too. And none of that is even to mention his sharp personality, dry sense of humor, and big heart. Buck might be falling for him, he thinks, but now is not the time to give such thoughts the time of day.

With the hand not buried in Eddie's hair, Buck guides his cock to his mouth, letting the head trace over his soft lips. Ever the perfect submissive, Eddie doesn't try to lean forward and take more. He waits for Buck to give it to him. The fact that anyone before him could have ever parted with someone like Eddie is unthinkable.

Finally, he guides Eddie's head forward. His mouth is hot and wet like always, and Buck is helpless against a small whine when Eddie hollows his cheeks around him. Buck doesn't push in all the way. Instead he lets Eddie have just enough to feel it, and for his dark eyes to begin to water.

"Beautiful," Buck murmurs.

Eddie looks away.

Buck allows him the shyness tonight, because he knows how long it's been since they last had the opportunity to do this, and begins using his grip on Eddie's hair to guide his head. He uses his mouth, thrusting deeper every time until he can feel the back of Eddie's throat and he's nearly taken all of him.

He carefully pulls Eddie just that little bit closer, and holds him as a tear slips down Eddie's cheek and he breathes through his nose. Eddie looks up at him with such adoration and affection that Buck's heart skips a beat. He's so fucked.

Instead of dwelling on that realization, he releases Eddie long enough for him to take some deep breaths. Only when Eddie tells him, "I'm okay," does Buck return to what he was doing.

While he's gentler than he would be if he was fucking Eddie, he's still not overly cautious. He knows what Eddie's limits are, and that if something did start to be too much, Eddie would communicate that to him. At some point, Buck stops pulling him around and instead just holds him in place while he thrusts into his mouth.

"Perfect," he can't resist praising, even as he can barely catch his breath. "You're so good, Eddie, such a good boy. You're beautiful. You're perfect."

He means to keep his eyes on Eddie the whole time, but when Buck finally comes, he can't stop his eyes from squeezing shut. It's always good with Eddie, but especially now, as Eddie's throat works around his cock to swallow his come, and his talented tongue works him through the aftershocks until Buck has the presence of mind to pull away.

Eddie looks up at him while they both catch their breath, cheeks wet with tears and drool dripping down his chin, face flushed and eyes wide. He looks filthy. Buck smiles down at him and pats his cheek.

"Come on, to the bedroom. I'm only getting started."