He has a praise kink that could rival most, but he won't admit it or show it unless he's developed feelings. He also finds himself drawn to people who suffer from madness if that madness is poetic and favors him (Drusilla, his Maker (Sire), is the reason for this). He enjoys the usual as well: pain, bondage, orgasm denial, humiliation, voyeurism, mental/physical manipulation using telepathy, etc. and though he's a Brat and a power bottom at times, he greatly enjoys it when someone has What It Takes to get him to fully submit without question or hesitation (something he is rarely compelled to do for others than Drusilla or his Grandsire, Angelus/Angel/Liam).
👠: Do they watch pornography? If so, what kind?
Sometimes. It really depends on the pornography being displayed and the aesthetic/look of the people in it. Some of it he finds hilarious, some of it he finds grotesque and some of it he finds properly stimulating/arousing. Despite the wildly savage vampire he has become, in his human life he was a poet and a fantastical dreamer, so he prefers Porn With Plot rather than all-out smutfests. However... If it's someone that he's immediately/intensely attracted to, all bets are off.
@knot-ee || Damn, I hope you don't mind me being so utterly blunt and giving you a surprise starter which you clearly didn't ask for. Feel free to ignore, or reach out if it isn't working for you. 🙈 I adore your writing!
It had been a few days since his turning and he had yet to find his footing to dare and step outside to face the temptations of what he now was. Certain temptations had always been lingering and he managed to keep them in check for a long while until a certain man used his charms and fell into bed with him. He showed him such disdain for what he was, but was he any better for sharing a bed with him?
Mizrak had been running from that truth for so long and he was reminded of the vows he had taken to become a monk, vows he had broken. He had followed his God without questioning, followed Emannuel without questioning as he believed that they would be fighting in the name God. How blind he was… How corrupted the Abbott was, or simply a man who was too afraid. He had judged him for it and yet… On his own deathbed, he too was frightened of the eternal damnation that was awaiting him.
The evil he helped to unleash… No… Mizrak would be tortured for all the things he had let happen and he was petrified. The devil is easy to cheat, if you have someone who cared for you enough to share such gifts or curses… Mizrak didn’t fight Olrox, he would accept it. Accept one life he was so uncertain of to escape the one he feared more than anything.
As he hid himself in the room he shared with Olrox, he found his mind and body conflicted with his morals and with his desires once more. Heightened like never before. He was hungry but couldn’t allow himself to seek out.
Realization hit him when he was offered a goblet of fresh blood to sooth that hunger. The first few sips were careful, tasting. He hated the first taste, doubted that hate the second… a few more later he was gulping it down like he hadn’t had water for days. And when Olrox tried to take the goblet away from him, he hissed at the green eyed one. Shame settling only seconds later and hid himself in a corner of the room they shared.
Mizrak didn’t know what to do with himself. He was afraid he would never get the hang of this, though partly knew that it was because he was still clinging so tightly to the recent past.
@knot-ee
Yuji's head was pounding as he came to, a cracked stone ceiling swimming into view. Where was he? Something beneath him creaked unpleasantly when he rolled onto his side- a thin dirty mattress. He blinked a few times and rubbed at his aching eyes with the heels of his palms before looking up to take in his surroundings properly. He already knew what he'd find before it all came into focus. Another damn jail cell.
"Oh come on." The complaint was voiced to no one in particular, except for maybe whatever capricious and mean spirited god oversaw his existence.
He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot, and running a hand through his hair-fisting it at the back in frustration. At least they hadn't cuffed him this time- but that also meant whoever brought him in felt pretty surely about the security of his cell. Sure enough- the bars looked just about brand new and the lock on the door appeared equally as up to date. No one was even standing guard, so either they were positive about him staying where he was put or no one much cared if he did or not. Yuji didn't feel like testing which it was. Nothing made a man look guiltier than trying to break himself out of prison.
Heaving a sigh he cast a cursory glance around and was relieved to find a tin cup of water along with a plate of some meager offerings sitting on a rickety stool beside the cot. He eagerly emptied the glass and then allowed his attention to extend beyond the bars to the rest of the immediate area.
It was a typical jail- not a prison, thankfully. There was only one other cell beside his- empty and a desk in a far corner beyond that. Yuji recognized from past experience, the settings of an attached sheriff's office. Odd to find it empty, but he didn't mind having a moment or two alone to collect his thought and try to piece together what had happened.
A few hazy images crossed his mind- the warm interior of a well kept bar, a few friendly faces turning sour. The barrel of a gun between his eyes. And now it was rushing back all at once. Another bank robbery with his name smeared all over it- and this time it hadn't been clean. Three people wounded and one dead. Never mind that Yuji had been two towns over at the time- it was his face people remembered, clear as anything. Just like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and- Shit. He really couldn't go anywhere these days. A certain someone had made sure of that.
He buried his face in his hands again and wracked his brain for a better excuse than "It wasn't me."
@knot-ee asked: 28﹕ sender strikes receiver with a pillow . lambert + alucard for our witcher au
“Hm. So that is the difference between a ghoul and an alghoul”, Adrian quietly muttered to himself as he neatly wrote down a little list of differences between the two species into his notebook. As Vesemir was away to deal with a pair of griffins that had decided to build their nest too close to Kaer Morhen’s keep, today’s lessons had been cancelled, which left all the witchers in training to be responsible and study on their own. Adrian took the lessons and training very serious, what with him being accepted as a student of the school of the wolf without even going through the trial of the grasses.
When his mother was about to pass away she had begged Vesemir to take Adrian back to Kaer Morhen with him, to take him under his wing and raise him to become a good man. A witcher. Adrian wasn’t exactly sure what had motivated his mother to urge him on a path like that, but he knew he wanted to make her proud, it was all he could do for her now that she was gone. If she wanted him to become a witcher that was exactly what he would do.
Dedicating himself to his studies Adrian skimmed through the Ghouls and Alghouls book, wondering if the prestigious John of Brugge had written any other books he could use to advance his studies. Once he had reached a page that depicted illustrations of the differences between the creatures, Adrian flipped to a new page in his notebook before grabbing a charcoal crayon to copy the drawings into his own book.
That was when he heard the door open, but knowing exactly who it was Adrian did not turn around, too fixated on not messing up the spikes on his drawing of these necrophages. His studies were important to him, even if the knowledge demanded of them could be overwhelming at times, but drawing was what really brought joy to the blond. In a way it was relaxing to him, on the other hand did he not want to mess up a single detail, his urge to be perfect being both admirable and obstacle.
Suddenly, when he was almost done with the sketch of the alghoul, something soft hit his head and almost knocked over the ink pot on his desk, Adrian manage to keep it from falling and spilling all over his notebook in the very last second. And it finally made him turn around.
“Lambert!”
Out of all the young aspiring witchers Adrian had to share a room with Lambert. It was not that he minded the other young man, quite the contrary, he would definitely say that Lambert was someone he considered a friend, and if the other did not share the sentiment, he was someone Adrian would want to befriend in the future. Lambert was loyal and smarter than people would give him credit for, but he had a mischievous side too, one that would make him clash with Vesemir and provoke the older witcher without fear for the consequences. It was both brave and stupid and Adrian secretly admired Lambert’s carefree attitude, though it was difficult to align with Adrian’s own calm personality sometimes.
Just like now. Not bothering to study Lambert had apparently decided to make Adrian his distraction even though the blond was very obviously busy with his books, therefore he had hit him in the back of the head with his pillow.
“Lambert, what are you..”, Adrian began but he was promptly hit in the face with the soft pillow, interrupting the scolding. Trying to protect his studies he rose to his feet, trying to corner the other witcher to keep him from attacking again, but he was promptly hit in the face again.
“Stop!”
But Lambert was not one to easily listen to commands, so when Adrian was hit in the face again and again something suddenly snapped. Baring his teeth Adrian hissed, gold eyes glistening as he ripped the pillow out of Lambert’s hands, claws digging into fabric before ripping it apart, down feathers descending all around them.
Balaclava was jerked down the bridge of his nose, hooking beneath his chin, as Horangi very carefully leaned forward to nibble on the bare flesh of Konig's forearm. The playful bite was not meant to draw any blood, it was meant for . . well, Horangi wasn't entirely sure. Intrusive thoughts had prevailed.
The sensation of teeth nipping his skin made König jump. His head whipped to the side to see Horangi there looking more playful than even König had seen him in quite some time. "Was es das, Kim?" he mumbled. He'd started to nod off sitting up next to his friend, shoulder to shoulder as they often were, König's, gloves and arm guards were off and his sleeves rolled up, exposing porcelain white skin with a dusting of freckles and light-colored hair, a fair number of scars traversing his hands, callouses built up despite wearing gloves.
"You're just looking for trouble aren't you?" he gave Kim the gentlest smack upside the head he could without moving too much from his position. He was tired, he just wanted to get this debrief over with, shower, and get some rest. "I hope you're not going to be silly like this the rest of the night," he said, accent clunking around on the English still, all these years later.
🌶 What is the most sensitive place on Castiel's body?
We're excluding genitalia here because otherwise no one would get any other answers, I fear. So this answer is sort of dependent on whether or not he has his wings. If he does, then the answer would of course be his wings (or the equivalent thereof, being the center of his shoulder blades just along where the curve of them meets the spine). If he doesn't have his wings then the most sensitive place/s would be the inside of his wrists and his ankles, respectfully.
And no, I do not know why.
Á Is Spike loud in bed?
This is a resounding and humiliating Y E S. Though the volume usually depends on his partner at the time and their enthusiasm/his feelings toward them. If it's pure hate, pure lust, pure love/devotion or a sincere power dynamic he's so loud his throat may bleed. If it's just a mild fancy or something to kill boredom or lure a victim then he's no more vocal than your average talker.
Even though Dracula’s castle stood as still as ever, its shadow an omen of bad luck and cruelty, over the last few months its insides had become more of a home than it had been in recent years. Where the castle formerly had been a battleground, its insides charred and covered in blood, it was now filled with smiles and flirtations, if not for the eerie history of the building it could now be considered a proper home.
Alucard looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, nose buried in a book as usual, but the moment Olrox stepped into the room all attention was on him, which was no surprise with how attractive he was, though at this point it was also no longer a secret how fond the dhampir was of the other man. A smile tugged at his lips and he stood up before he reached out his hand, palm up, offering for Olrox to take it, and once he did Alucard pulled him close.
There was a gravity between them that had been there ever since Olrox had found Alucard broken and abandoned in a puddle of blood and tears and during the last months that bond had grown into something soft and gentle.
There were many empty rooms in the castle, Olrox had his own bedroom, his own bath, there was nothing he should lack as long as he was a visitor to the castle, but more often than not the two of them would find each other in Alucard’s room. And Olrox would always be welcome here.
Alucard was gentle but no longer hesitant when he kissed the vampire, long fingers running through dark locks before playfully tugging on them. They had kissed many times at this point, but to him every single kiss felt as breathtaking as the first and at some point the dhampir had noticed that the kisses not only increased his affection, there was also something else constantly lingering in the background. Something dangerously close to desire. And Alucard wondered what would happen if he tried to express it.
Feeling bold he led Olrox to the bed and nonchalantly pushed him onto it and while he enjoyed the sight of the handsome vampire spread out on his sheets Alucard soon followed, crawling over him like a lion standing victorious over his prey. Straddling Olrox’ slim waist he looked down at the other’s beautiful form and the pure want and desire was visible in Alucard’s golden eyes.
He didn’t say anything when he reached out, nimble fingers opening Olrox’ shirt to expose the toned torso hidden beneath it, but for all his feigned confidence, his body betrayed him. His hands were slightly shaking and there was no way Olrox could miss the way Alucard’s heart was on the verge on jumping out of his chest. Want. Excitement. Desire. Anxiety. All those emotions battled in Alucard’s heart. It was a tempest. It made no sense and Olrox could probably see right through him.
It was his smooth voice that broke the silence when @knot-ee spoke:
"how many men.. or women have you lain with, alucard?"
The question was unexpected but not unreasonable, especially as it was Alucard who pushed them to take things further, though it still brought unwanted memories to the surface. How many people he had lain with? Two. Sumi and Taka. Only that things had taken a very different turn and that they were not able to finish what they started.
“Two?”, Alucard replied eventually, but it sounded more like a question than a statement as he was not sure how his inexperience might change Olrox’ opinion. The last thing he wanted was for the vampire to change his mind, he did not want to see the expression in Olrox’ eyes to change from desire to something else, something like pity.
Not daring to meet those bright emerald eyes Alucard looked down, putting his hands onto Olrox’ stomach, warm fingertips drawing invisible patterns on the vampire’s cool skin. His voice, a mere whisper as he asked:
@knot-ee is just a really good dang rp blog, if you ask me ! I really like them, more people should take the time to check them out if they get the chance !
