skyeventide: (Default)
I could say "literally anything that isn't in my DNW", but I know that people often wonder whether I would like X or Y, so here is a list of what I do like, more or less comprehensive. This entry is very nsfw.


Classic vanilla things such as very slow sexual acts to draw on the pleasure, a bit sloppy and sweaty, or more frantic "I want you right now" meetings, any position that people could perform without getting back pain. Loving and quiet, horny and rash.

BDSM in various forms: spanking, other forms of impact play like riding crops or paddles, or any other inventive object that could be used on the fly, like walking canes, belts, what have you; face slaps are also good. Please no impact play on joints (like knees or elbows etc) or on delicate areas (wrists, places with little flesh like the shins). I don't have anything against blindfolds or impaired sight, but it's also nothing I go crazy for; I prefer, in these cases, if a partner is behind the other, so that one can't see what the first is doing. For impaired movement, tying up and other restraints are cool, including casual ones like neckties or sashes, or simply holding the wrists. Complex tying like shibari is more interesting to me as an artistic spectacle: I find descriptions of long and laborious knots a little boring, but third parties watching the show are great.

As you can guess, voyeurism is great, but with limitations: a third party (or a public!) consensually watching in a room is good, someone watching unseen is only cool if it's done as something illicit and guilty (e.g. a queer character in denial accidentally witnesses a queer couple performing sexual acts and is shocked by their own arousal: good. BUT someone intentionally seeking out showers or bedroom windows to watch unsuspecting lovers/bathers: not good.)

Dirty talk and humiliation are both great. Demeaning characters with insults like "slut" is nice (but nothing that insults intelligence, so no "you dumb idiot" and the like), pointing out that they like to be X (fucked, bent over, sucked off, what have you) is great. Sentences like "you love to be used", "you like it when it's rough", and mild threats like "I should show you like this to everyone/what if everyone saw you this way" or "I should teach you to behave", all good; the submissive can talk back or be completely overwhelmed. Bratty, rebellious behaviour and punishment that comes with it are amazing. Some things that are especially fun are sense of shame and shock over being treated this way AND liking it, doubly so when the character in question is usually in control, proper, and/or put together (but shamelessly liking it is also very good). Nothing against praise such as "you're being so good for me", but it doesn't interest me as much as teasing, dirty talk, or humiliation. Please avoid this kind of kink if the power imbalance between two characters is SO heavy and marked that the submissive wouldn't really be able to respond due to their position, making the act coercive or genuinely humiliating, not in the sexy way (unless the dominant is somehow the character who otherwise has less power, e.g. a lord and a low class house servant who tops him. It doesn't actually eliminate the imbalance or potential coercion, but I can be fine with reading it then.) ANY sort of banter during sex is amazing, even things like political talks.

Semi-public sex (such as alleys, hidden nooks, theatre boxes, being touched in a crowd) with that faint hint of exihibitionism. Semi-clothed sex, which is related, is good, as well as fully clothed sex acts, even through the clothes themselves (mouthing at the groin through trousers, touching and sucking nipples through a shirt etc.) Illustrating power plays via clothing is very fun, for example one character is fully clothed, the other naked or partially naked, and certain clothing kinks are fun too: uniforms, leather, lace, contrasts like a rough "biker" look versus a very soft and frillier look, suits, formal wear of any form, lingerie (on any gender), heels and boots, boudoir fashion...

Rough sex, likewise with oral: deep-throating, insistent face-sitting, tears, hair pulling, bites (not on the genitals though) all good. No focus on bodily fluids though. All alternatives to penetrative sex are fine, especially if they would be more logical: if characters would realistically have no lube or no time for penetration or whatever else, intercrural is good, fingers are good, just rubbing on each other's thighs and other types of frottage etc. Penetration needn't be the end all be all of sexual acts. Being manhandled or manhandling, giving orders without touching, moving partners around physically, all great.

On the topic of multiple partners, I enjoy probably every combination. Double penetration (same hole or different holes — but if it's the same hole please add in mentions of lengthy preparations), spit-roasting, other more vanilla combos, go wild. I also like consensual gang-banging, where one character takes multiple partners one after the other, either in short sequence or with pauses so that games can be played on the aspect of sensitivity, ownership ("it's my turn now"), or "using at will".

For very peculiar and specific things, I adore blasphemous religion games. Sexual acts in places of worship or that are considered holy, using religious symbols for sex (e.g. a rosary around a dick) or liturgies in blasphemous way (for example oral in a confessional), or straight up involving religious figures (e.g. priests) in sex acts. I do heavily prefer when the religious figure is the dominant if any such thing comes into play, as I don't very much like the trope of defiling an overwhelmed virgin/celibate person; I prefer when they are the corruptors. I lean a lot on Catholic imagery and props for this, but fantasy religions are also totally fine (I'm a bit wary of this kink with other real life religions, but if you think you can do it decently and without it getting orientalist/othering/racist or what have you, you can go for it)(and Protestantism is just not very sexy lmao).

Any power plays are great. If partners play-fight for dominance, or keep switching mid-act or depending on mood, that's great. Using positions (like being bent over or put on their back) to decide who "won" the round is a fun trope. Topping for the bottom is also very fun, where the one who's bottoming is giving orders, directions, or teases in such a way that they are effectively dominating, no matter the position. Power bottoms and service tops are fun. The physical part of things could also be overall very "tame" and vanilla, while the power play is all mental and psychological.

Matters of consent: I don't require all these kinks to be negotiated on page. Especially with established partners, I'm always assuming that a given kink was already discussed or happened before, and the partners are familiar with what they like and how, especially if they're clearly both enjoying it and appear confident in their actions. If it's a new relationship or a particularly extreme kink, I don't mind negotiation IF it's worked seamlessly into the story and the mood of the scene. Asking if X likes it, or what the partner wants, and receiving feedback on it can be sexy, just please don't use constant checks like red/yellow/green methods, they really break immersion for me. I don't care to read long and detailed discussions of what is fine and what isn't before any action happens (again they tend to break immersion for me), I can suspend disbelief and go with the flow, and I prefer to concentrate on what you're trying to communicate through the story than to be absolutely 220% on-page certain that everything was properly negotiated.

I'm in fact totally cool with reading sex that's less than great, kink that is under-negotiated, or kinks that a character enacts inspired by the moment but receives a "no" and must stop, or a general negative reaction that interrupts the act. If it builds plot and characterisation, I like it. I also enjoy dub-con and unsafe practices in stories, so for example introducing kinks out of the blue that were NOT mentioned before is fine, and maybe it goes well, maybe it causes problems, maybe it's just not questioned further even though it should. Consensual but not safe or sane is a great trope. This can be characterised as dub-con, depending on how it's written. That said, I don't want to read any rape unless I specifically request it, nor characters who, surprised by something they don't enjoy during acts they'd otherwise consented to, explicitly say "no/stop" but aren't listened to. Blur the lines, but don't cross them to explicit unequivocal violations.

Consensual non-consent is good, however: characters who negotiate the terms beforehand, and establish a safe word, then enact the kink afterwards (e.g. "If you ever want to fuck me, just come and take me no matter what", conversation ensues, kink which is then fulfilled at a later date, and the first character tests the scenario by saying something like "wait" or "not now/like this", but gets physically overcome and fucked anyway, bonus if very visibly aroused by it.) Just please throw me a note that there was a bit of negotiation first.

Other more extreme play, such as knife play, bloodplay (including horny vampire stuff), choking, tears, edging and overstimulation, actual bloody scratching (this can get as extreme as the setting allows; modern setting, please keep it realistic; fantasy setting with fantasy healing, you can go harder at it), all good. I also particularly enjoy situations where characters enter a dom-space or sub-space, so fully immersed in the act that they shut down and reach new limits of what they'd usually be willing to do, or where they are just "in the zone" and it takes time and aftercare to recover from it and return to themselves. Both subs and doms needing aftercare, or one but not the other, is great.

Use of toys, in private or in public (e.g. a butt plug worn at dinner, a vibrator kept in the vagina during the day and activated from afar by the partner). Other forms of extreme debauchery, such as Bacchanal-like parties, brothels, opium dens, very lewd clubs: drugged and alcohol-fueled sex is fine if all parties involved took the drugs and/or drank the alcohol intentionally and in full awareness of what they were doing.
skyeventide: (Default)
Maglor is a model for erotic art: a voyeuristic threesome with a wedded pair ensues, with the blasphemy of sex against the Laws of marriage and not without some humour. This entry is nsfw.


Written for the Kings & Kinks challenge of the Silm Writers' Guid.


***
Concealed Art

 

« Indo? », Macalaurë asks, with the tone of a soft warning rather than a question.

« Cáno », Indovarno answers, mixing colours undaunted, though shifting, perhaps, a touch awkwardly on his feet.

« That is my face. »

« Forsooth. »

Macalaurë stands, stark naked, with his prick still half hard, next to the painter, his hands firmly planted on his hips. He gazes at the little figure at the bottom of the small wood panel, a little figure, also stark naked, that reclines against a black background, onto an invisible lounging chair. The little figure holds its own prick in a firm grip, voyeuristically caught in the act of languidly stroking it – Macalaurë himself can very well feel the sweat that yet runs down his neck, down the curve of his spine, and the pleasant throb of the indolent orgasm he drew out of himself, as Indovarno painted, the aftermath of which he wiped from his own stomach with a wet cloth.

« I must beg your pardon, Indo », Macalaurë says, « but I vividly recall agreeing to this solely, and I must reiterate solely, if you gave the painting a face that is not rather obviously mine. »

Indovarno shifts again. « Please, worry not, I shall paint over it. »

« And what is all that blank space above it, anyway? Is the composition not unbalanced? »

His friend now bristles almost visibly. « Why, now you are just critiquing my technique. Paint it yourself, if you must be so meddling. »

« Oh, nay, I am no painter. »

« Then I beg of you, Cáno, just let me work. »

Indovarno has rolled the sleeves of his house robe to his elbows; the velvet, a dirty white the colour of the Pelóri’s peaks under Laurelin’s light, has nonetheless already be stained by pigments many times before, leaving faint halos of colour that might never fade.

Between the folds of the robe, Macalaurë spots the bulge of Indovarno’s trousers. He raises a hand, touching his own nape, picking the locks that stick to his shoulders, and casually he says, « You are aroused, my friend. »

Indo’s green eyes cut to him sharply, glancing briefly at his crotch, then at his unbound hair. « Why do you think. »

The heat of want rolls from Indovarno’s thoughts to his own, filling the room. The tip of the boar brush mixes flesh colours in varied shades, dipping in water, preparing the pinks and the brows and the blues. The light from the large windows in the parlour plays interesting games on the painter’s ashen brown tresses.

« Besides », says Indovarno, who seems a breath away from clearing his throat, « I thought perhaps I could fill the upper side with more figures. Perhaps – you and my wife…? »

A jolt draws Macalaurë’s prick slightly up again, a sudden flood of thoughts from his friend’s mind to his own, such that it takes air from his chest with the faintest gasp. « Ah – you want me to take your wife, now? Are we doing blasphemy, is that so? »

Indovarno’s face flushes. « Only if you would like – »

« Gladly. »

« Well, I am delighted. »

Macalaurë wets his lips and drops his voice to a velvet that is smoother than any robes. « You would like me to come in your wife? Feel me tease your souls’ bond ‘till neither you nor she know pleasure from shock? »

Indovarno inhales sharply, pulling the brush away from the panel before his hand might tremble and betray him. « Ai, Cáno! »

He laughs, resonant. « So, then, where is your wife? »

 

*

 

Aranorellë leans face down on piled pillows, her hips thrusted back and raised, her lower back arched; Macalaurë slides slowly inside her and stills when he is deep into her heat, the back of her thighs flush against his own legs. He throws his head backwards, torturing the both of them with the forced immobility, broken but by the faintest hint of rocking into her cunt.

« I could make a music sheet out of the sounds you make, Noryë », he whispers.

« Please, refrain from trying to seduce my wife, Cáno. »

Aranorellë lifts her head, strands of hair from her topknot brushing her skin. « I daresay he’s doing more than seducing me at the moment — »

Macalaurë gasps a chuckle. She begins rolling her hips and bottom, clenched around him, sliding back and forth however much the position allows her, and Macalaurë dips his head down again, to watch his prick disappear inside of her body.

Indovarno takes numerous and generous looks, his face emerging from behind the easel, his hand hovering as it holds a thin brush. Macalaurë locks eyes with him, settling into the melting rhythm of Aranorellë’s swaying, into the tempting whimpers of her appreciation. He locks eyes with Indovarno even as he reaches around her and presses his fingers right at the top of the mount of her cunt, rubbing over her hair, and on the outer folds.

Something in both their spirits stirs, in husband and wife, that oath to each other against which they play when they both lick and suck at Macalaurë’s erection, or when they both bed him, whoever is in the middle, or as now, when one of them watches as the other shivers.

How liberating is, at times, this most taboo of transgressions.

He leans down, panting over Aranorellë’s ear tip. « Shall I fill you? »

She moans, pressing herself upwards against him.

Indovarno steps to the side almost agitated. « Wait – can you do more positions first…? »

A groan escapes her. « Indo, please! »

But Macalaurë pulls out of her all at once, bemused, the air too cool on his prick glistening from her wetness. With his arm, he pulls her upright by the waist and drags her against his chest. « Come, let us make him happy. Why don’t you sit on me, facing him? »

A frustration builds in her and makes her move quickly – he loves to feel that eagerness to take him inside again, the eagerness to reach blissful pleasure to which she was already oh so close. Macalaurë watches her straddle him, lean against him back to chest; he cups her breasts, so sweetly soft, sinks his fingers in them with a gentle hold, and half-lidded watches Indo.

It is a triangle of watching, as Indo watches them, watches his wife’s breasts touched, and watches his wife’s legs hook the sides of Macalaurë’s own thighs, spreading, exposing her sex, watches as she brings herself down on the hard shaft of him.

Macalaurë finally closes his eyes and thrusts slowly upwards into her.

His head lulls back, a hand leaves her breast to crawl high into the knot of her hair, lock after lock patiently undoing it, freeing the mane to come down to tickle his shoulder.

« How is the view, Indo? », he calls throatily.

« My pants are quite tight, I must admit. »

Aranorellë arches her back, quite theatrically. « How many other positions? »

« Perhaps two more…? Perhaps – you look at each other next. »

Macalaurë sighs with pleasure, engulfed in heat. Ah, the profanity. « Tell me – shall I come as I look into your eyes and see your vows there, Noryë? » He knows how she shudders, how her thoughts both recoil and, in their flinching, startle with thrilled titillation, with a flare of wild want.

« Yes », she gasps, clenching around him. « Soil me. »

 

*

 

Macalaurë lies cooling on the lounging chair, his skin yet warm. He turns to observe the heart shape of Aranorellë’s legs and bottom, and her sex tucked between, slick with their pleasure, leaking sticky white. After a little while, she leaps up with a sigh and announces that she shall go bathe.

At a time, Indovarno had suddenly abandoned his painting, opening his trousers with flustered haste, and had set himself behind his wife, carefully yet determinedly penetrating her also, her flesh so eager, giving in to the thrust. And Macalaurë had felt their pricks rub together in her, who quivered doubly taken, in a bundle of breath-stealing pleasure. And when Indovarno had come, he had slipped out, leaving Macalaurë to sink into the slippery warmth as he returned to his art.

He stands also from the wicker chair, slowly, stretching his back with his feet on the cool marble. With measured paces, he walks along the hexagon of the window-walls, looking into the empty gardens of the house outside. A songbird chirps, unawares of the secrets of this afternoon, their uncaught misbehaviours.

He halts next to Indovarno again and tilts his head, observing the little figures caught in their intercourse.

« He still does look a little like me. »

His friend sighs. « No one would recognise you. And besides… » He turns to the table and picks up a painting of fruits and flowers. « This goes in front of it. It slots in from the top and hides the lower panel. »

Macalaurë hums. « Well, they are very pretty. »

« I know that tone, Cáno. »

He gestures, an eyebrow raised. « Well, it is only that your fruit looks somewhat ill. But it is very pretty, if you wanted wilted fruit. »

« —I’ll pretend it was on purpose. »

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