liberty for wolves.

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a litany of prompts exploring intimacy and sexuality. mature audiences only; do not interact if you are a minor. add +reverse to reverse the roles. combine prompts by sending multiple at once. only use these prompts to portray consensual scenarios.

[beg.] sender makes receiver beg before giving them what they want.

[fumble.] sender struggles impatiently with receiver's clothes.

[shh.] sender stuffs their fingers in receiver's mouth to keep them quiet.

[tug.] sender grips receiver's hair to pull them closer.

[tie.] sender binds receiver's wrists with rope / belt / tie / etc.

[bite.] sender sinks their teeth into receiver's neck / shoulder / skin.

[scratch.] sender rakes their nails down receiver's back.

[drip.] sender drips spit into receiver's mouth / onto receiver.

[69.] sender and receiver go down on each other at the same time.

[needy.] sender teases receiver about how desperate they look.

[deep.] sender pushes receiver's head down during oral until they gag.

[eager.] sender holds receiver's head still and fucks their mouth.

[anchor.] sender pins receiver's hips while eating them out.

[grind.] sender grinds their hips into receiver while receiver gives them oral.

[press.] sender pushes a hand against receiver's stomach while inside them.

[hold.] sender grabs receiver's hand to hold while they have sex.

[pin.] sender pins receiver's wrists above their head.

[straddle.] sender straddles receiver's body to restrain them.

[clutch.] sender clutches receiver's jaw to hold their head still.

[hollow.] sender presses a thumb into the hollow of receiver's throat.

[cradle.] sender cradles receiver's throat in their hand, applying light pressure.

[stay.] sender cockwarms receiver.

[breed.] sender fucks receiver deep and finishes inside.

[stare.] sender forces receiver to maintain eye contact.

[cling.] sender wraps their legs tight around receiver's waist while they have sex.

[elevate.] sender places a pillow beneath receiver's hips during sex.

[suckle.] sender sucks on receiver's chest and nipples.

[eavesdrop.] sender fucks receiver where others can hear but not see.

[praise.] sender praises receiver for taking it well.

[hush.] sender forbids receiver from making a sound.

[chokehold.] sender locks receiver's throat in the crook of their arm.

[mark.] sender leaves hickeys on receiver where they will be seen later.

[nuzzle.] sender buries their face in receiver's neck mid-fuck.

𖤓 ﹙ love is a battlefield … ﹚ accepting.

it’s the kind of thing to be said upon walking into an unwelcome trap, and so he thinks his appearance was unexpected. levi had gone a grand total of five steps into the library before realising he was decidedly not alone. where they met was an odd spot; a table, a chair, and a shard of blistering light through the wide plane windows separated them starkly. he considered the other man with the half-lidded eyes of a swan debating where to tear flesh. ❛  i don’t think highly enough of you, ❜  he starts, deciding the hostility & levi’s short temper wasn’t worth his time when they had been wrangled into a treasure hunt. ❛  to care about your wants. this is happening, whether you like it or not. ❜

there's joy in the small victories after all, and he can't entirely fight against his own pettiness even if he does manage to hide it on the surface.

　　 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄 ? 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. the woman - fox is not ignorant of the threat caught betwixt his teeth, nor is she blind to the specters of yesterday's hunts that still haunt the depths of his dark shadow ; she easily sees it all, and in its grotesque beauty, she finds a reason to sing and pray. a reason to unhinge her jaw, to let the pale flesh of her beauteous visage be torn asunder by this sacrilegious eulogy of hunger and desire, to become what she was always meant to be in spite of her rebellious and selfish whims⸻ a creature to be feared, never to be loved. and thus, heart sings ... mellifluous notes interwoven with predators' growls and lovers' sighs, a harmonious melody built 'pon a raw crescendo of visceral and bone - deep emotions that may only end in one way: with a prayer to the all - mother, and the sorrowful moans of a dying man.

there is an ecstatic feeling blooming in the profundity of her belly, an electrifying jolt that journeys through each nerve across her physique, and that dangerously hastens the once steady flow of her blood. a swift brush - stroke against simpering cheeks now darkens her hues: rose - red in color, bloodied in nature, carnal with rapture and infantile impatience for what is to come. it is unsurprising, how even the lilt of her voice becomes sweeter ; honey - dulcet, just as thick and sticky. ❝ if you're truly that curious about my body, you could just ask⸻ i will happily tear myself asunder to satiate any appetite that you might harbor. ❞

her laughter is a mischievous trickster's song. high in lilt, a girlish tremor that now shakes the hills of her shoulders, until even her plush ears are twitching with obvious and shameless delight. it is then, whilst the vestiges of her taunts still waltz on the edge of her tongue, that she saunters forward. 'pon languid footfalls, graceful yet careful, an exploration of his most innate reactions. ❝ tell me, what happens to you whenever you fail to bring my tails to your king ? do you get punished, berated for being too weak ? does the collar around your neck become tighter, much more painful to bear ? indulge me, tell me what happens to a tamed dog once he is no longer deserving of his owner's love. ❞

levi's world is a house of imperatives. the wolf cannot afford to be, and would never be described as gentle in the face of such callous urgency. his streak of violence is how he's insurmountable in the weaving of this phenomenon even when subjugated by the perverse cruelty of humankind. the bark of sinews and teeth and scarlet violence doesn't feed into the quiet, because it's an overrun thing blooming in its imperviousness as it clambers within him like vines; levi, at his core, is always going to be exactly that, a predatory mark on the marble arch. what he identifies in her is a kindred submersion into the raw rapacity of bloodlust, but also communion, a breath of blessing from the winds that whisper against the leaves that canopy them. the noise of the woods covers his ears with songs of warning and longing all at once; where she remains exalted among the tapestry of constellations, he's a curse, a harbinger of signified murkiness from the dawning of twilight — a howl in the shape of a man. she moves closer into his space, analytical and appraising, and he holds his sword upright and flattened against the tip of his nose.

a soft exhale escapes him as the line of his mouth curves downward, and he closes his eyes. the red glow of the blighted blade bleeds through his eyelids. when he opens them again, his pupils constrict, the cardinal ring around them overtaking the rest of his irises from the center. he really is consumed by the thrill of the hunt.

❝ assuming i will fail bold. ❞ levi is a master of impassivity and he doesn't flinch. the monster should not tamable, simply hiding back in the aridity of dusk and shadows for the precise moment to strike, but she knows the reality of his stringing as well as he knows it himself — knows he's tethered to a crown he doesn't revere and a consciousness he doesn't savor — and he does well to mask his dissatisfaction as she taunts. he doesn't want to give her the gratification, but unbeknownst to her, in her assessment of his motivations she severely miscalculates: he doesn't fear the consequences of a failure, because he doesn't fail. his best interests are significantly less superficial than one would be led to believe ... and this means he won't stop chasing his freedom. this desire makes him far more dangerous than she gives him credit for. ❝ you're so devastatingly naive. ❞

his right hand lowers the weapon, holding the tip against the ground as it glides through the dirt. he can feel it curdling his blood, sinking into his bones with a weighted pain he's had years to grasp and exemplify. ❝ i will cut you down, and it'll be easy. come closer, and i'll show you. ❞

       ⊹ ,   necessity was a widespread motivator.. perhaps not an impetus for the queen herself but she was more concerned with the loyalty of her charges than anything else.   while she had not been born bestial she had the mark of one since she was a small child.   bearing the raised lines of a tiger's past violence across her back.   the mythology around such prominent scarring ran rampant through ravka and beyond,   the monarch neither confirmed nor denied their origins.   one piece of hearsay was true,   the dragon was not beyond being touch,   scales neigh impenetrable.   cause to make their enemies reckless and the nation remained on its back foot after the aftermath of war with fjerda.   the second army was stretched thin, which meant they could not be particularly choosey with their recruits;   not that they ever truly had such a privilege.   

      so a criminal takes up audience with a tsaritsa.   certainly not the first time,   and decidedly not the last.   ❛  what an utilitarian approach   —   i'm sure whoever was bleeding out all over your freshly pressed uniform is ashamed of the mess they've made.   ❜   a leisurely stroll through the palace courtyard which may seem a delight if not for the trail of red that dripped from the hem of his kefta.   both aware it was not his own thus there is no air of alarm between them as zoya gazes upon the flowerbed keeping an eye out for weeds to pluck as they make a turn about the cobbled path.   ❛  the mess is good though,   killing shouldn't be easy or clean if you can help it; but i'm thinking like a soldier not a spy.   i was never cut out for espionage,   it's not very easy for me to blend into a room.   ❜   while a tailor could dim her beauty,   her regal bearing could not simply be scrubbed away along with her most defining features.   one of which,   her gaze. the vast blue of a storm-filled sky,   a quelled tempest which appraises the planes of his face just then.   

      ❛  that's why you're on the frontlines while i remain here.   have you been a good shadow for me?   ❜   addressing him as one might a prized hound,   matched with a smile worthy of killing for.  

— and she certainly is too beautiful and profound for the mangled, wild thing that's found itself upon her doorstep. the wolf of the wastelands is now another lapdog to the torrid sovereignty of eventide. levi finds that maintaining eye contact seems almost sacrilegious, and he's overcome with a nagging need to break it. he looks down after he speaks, feeling chilled, tacky blood drip down his legs and into the insoles of his boots. what a pain. what a distraction.