#Thomas sharpe roleplay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bianotbia · 5 days ago

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— 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄? [𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲]

˗ˏˋ After years of silence, one of Thomas Shelby's ex-lover appears tangled up in a dangerous situation pleading for his help ˎˊ˗

⤷ a/n : honestly this whole thing was just me giggling and roleplaying with chat gpt late at night (I swear I got so caried away I went to sleep at 1 am). Anyway after some editing for it to actually make sense, I guess it turned into an au where tommy never met grace or whatever, hope you guys like it <3 (this could maybe end up being a series but it depends on the feedback...)

⤷ contains : tommy shelby x artist! oc, smut, angst, drinks and cigarettes, swearing [wc: 4.3k]

⤷ now playing : ainsi bas la vida by indila

The bar was alive with low chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the distant hum of a gramophone struggling to compete with all the noise. Smoke curled lazily in the air, the scent of whiskey and tobacco thickening the dimly lit space.

Seated in his usual corner, Thomas Shelby leaned back in his chair, a glass of bourbon resting in his grip. His men were scattered throughout the room, some near the entrance, others stationed at the bar, watching everything. The past few weeks had been restless—whispers of trouble coming from Alfie Solomons, threats that were growing bolder after each day. But for now, the bar was his sanctuary, a place where business ran smoothly and where no one dared to go against him.

Until, he saw her.

At first, it felt like a trick of the light, a mere stain on that night's canvas. Her. Sitting at the bar as if she belonged there, as if she hadn't walked out of his life years ago without a single explanation. The same delicate, yet untouchable presence, the same posture that once felt like home.

Tommy’s fingers tightened around his glass. A slow exhale escaped him.

He hadn’t thought about her in a long time—or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Without a word, he pushed back his chair and stood, making his way across the crowded room. The closer he got, the more real she became.

Finally, he stopped just behind her, his voice low but firm.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again in this lifetime.”

After all those years, Lily Walker didn't think she would ever hear that voice again. Or perhaps that's what her mind wished for. Her heart on the other hand was now hammering inside her ribcage, chills ran down her spine as she slowly turned to see the man standing behind her.

“Thomas Shelby…” that familiar name once again rolled out of her tongue while she forced a smile “I didn't know you still owned this bar. What a small world we live in.” He knew there wasn't a single ounce of truth in those words, in the meanwhile her eyes hesitantly traveled the room as if looking for something or someone.

Tommy’s sharp gaze followed hers as she glanced around the bar, like a rabbit looking for an escape. Some things never changed.

His lips curved, but there was no warmth behind it. “Small world?” He let the words hang in the air, tilting his head slightly. “That’s one way to put it.”

He took his time, stepping around her until he was leaning against the bar beside her. Up close, he could see the little details time hadn’t stolen—the way her lips twitched before she spoke, the slight hesitation in her breathing, how the dim lighting reflected on her skin making her look like a renaissance painting.

“You always were good at appearing when you pleased.” He signaled the bartender with a flick of his fingers. “Question is—why now?”

A glass of whiskey was set in front of him, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer or if it would just reopen a wound that never quite healed.

She let out a breathy laugh “It's not my fault you're always out there looking for me.” She finally gazed at his eyes with an innocent smile, but with another quick glance at the room she anxiously bit her lip.

“Look Tommy, I think it's better for us to talk somewhere more private” she stopped for a while to choose better at what words to say next “...I don't think the spirits here are the most amicable tonight. If you know what I mean.”

Tommy’s fingers drummed once against his glass before he pushed it aside, unreadable eyes locked on her.

“That so?” His voice was quiet, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. “Funny. You didn’t seem too concerned with spirits the night you disappeared.”

But despite the bite in his words, he didn’t ignore the urgency in her voice—or the way she kept glancing around, like she was expecting something bad to happen. Quietly she looked into his eyes, almost begging “Please, Tommy.”

With a slow exhale, he straightened. “Fine.” His eyes flicked to Arthur who stood near the door. A small nod. No one would get past them easily.

He turned back to Lily and motioned for her to follow. “Upstairs. Now.”

Without another word, he led the way through a side door and up a narrow staircase, his footsteps firm against the wooden floor. His private office was just ahead—a quiet place where no one could hear them.

And for the first time in years, they would finally talk.

Lily never got to enter his private office while they were dating. His business life was something he tried to leave as far as he could while they were together. Being in there now felt like he was treating her as a complete unknown, and somehow that made her a bit sorrowful on the inside.

With a slight shake of her head to get rid of those lingering thoughts she took a few hesitant steps closer to him, “Look, I know that I owe you a proper explanation and apology…and you're completely right in hating me for it.” She looked away from him, not being able to hold his gaze as she used to. “But I really—really need your help now.”

Tommy leaned back against the heavy oak desk, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her. The office was dimly lit, the scent of cigars and old paper lingering in the air. He noticed the way she hesitated, the way she avoided his gaze—so different from the woman he used to know.

“You need my help.” He repeated the words slowly, tasting them like something bitter.

For years, he’d buried the questions she left behind. Why she left. Why she never sent so much as a whisper his way. And now, there she was—desperate enough to seek him out.

His jaw tightened, but he kept his voice level. “Tell me, Lily, why—why the hell would I help the woman who walked out on me without a single word?”

He didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off her. “Give me a damn good reason.”

Unsure of his reaction, she stepped closer to him anyway, gently resting her hands on his shoulder and whispering in his ear “It's Alfie Solomons...he wants me to kill you Tommy.”

Her hands slightly trembled as she clinged on his smooth dark suit “God—I did everything they told me to…but I can't do that!” with a shaken voice she rested her forehead on his shoulder.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to tell you at the time. You seemed to be dealing with so much, but I really needed the money so I started working for them.” With glistening tears in her eyes she looked at him, almost pleading, “I don't know what to do.”

For a long, heavy moment, Thomas Shelby didn’t move.

Her hands on him, her breath against his ear—it was too familiar, too much like the past clawing its way into the present. But her words… her words were something else entirely.

Alfie Solomons.

A slow exhale left him, but his whole body had tensed beneath her touch. Alfie had been circling his business for months, testing his patience, waiting for an opening. And now, here she was—his Lily—caught right in the middle of it.

He could feel her shaking, could hear the rawness in her voice, but his mind was already turning its gears.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands coming up to grip her wrists, firm but not unkind. “He sent you to do it?” A humorless chuckle left him, dark and knowing. “What? Did he think that’d be poetic?”

His thumb brushed against the inside of her wrist absently before his grip tightened. “Listen to me, Lily. You were never meant to walk into this life. And now that you have, there’s no walking back out.”

His jaw clenched as he searched her tearful gaze, his voice dropping lower. “So tell me—what exactly did they have you do before this?”

Hearing his composed voice and the touch of his hand on her wrist sent a bittersweet wave of familiarity through her body, as if she was sent back years ago to when none of this mattered.

“Just smaller stuff. Organizing money transactions, delivering messages, dealing with some of their partners,” she hesitated a bit before continuing “...sometimes sleeping with people to get information.”

She sheepish looked away from him, lowering her voice “I guess they found out about our relationship recently. So they ordered me to do it, or else they would kill me.”

Tommy’s grip on her wrist went still. Then, with the slow precision of a man keeping his temper on a tight leash, he let go.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes darkened—something sharp, dangerous, the kind of look that made men hesitate before crossing him.

“So that’s how he plays it.” His voice was quiet, too quiet.

He took a step back, running a hand over his jaw as he processed. Alfie was clever, he’d give him that—using her, using their past, twisting the knife just enough to make sure it cut deep. And Lily…she was standing there, telling him she hadn’t gone through with it, but how much of that was choice and how much was fear?

His fingers curled into a fist for a brief second before he exhaled sharply and met her gaze again. “They put you in a corner.” He nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision. “And now, you’re coming to me to fix it.”

He let the words settle between them before tilting his head slightly. “Tell me something, Lily.” His voice was lower now, like a quiet storm brewing. “If they hadn't found out about us—if they hadn’t told you to kill me—would you have ever come back?”

Horrified with his assumption, Lily frowned at him and gazed at him with wide eyes now full of tears, she opened her mouth but words refused to come out. Stepping further away she clutched her arms with tears falling down her face, “I—I don't know! You can't do this to me Tommy! Stop acting as if you're the only one hurting...how do you think I felt after I was forced to leave you?”

She approached the window turning her back to him, now arguing with an angered tone “And it's not like you were that focused on our relationship at the time! Always spending more time inside this bloody office or out there doing who knows what.”

Tommy let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening. “So that’s where we’re going now?” His voice was quiet, but still with an edge to it.

He watched her, the way she turned her back to him, tense shoulders, words laced with something raw. She was right—he hadn’t always been there. But that didn’t change the fact that she had left him without any explanation, left him thinking she had stopped caring, that she had walked away because he wasn’t worth staying for.

He stepped closer, his presence looming behind her. “You wanna talk about what I was doing back then?” His voice was lower now, measured. “Fine. I was out there making sure you had a life where you didn’t have to see this side of me. Keeping you separate from this world, so you wouldn’t end up exactly where you are right now.”

His hand came up but stopped short of touching her, fingers curling into a fist instead. “And maybe I wasn’t perfect. But I never—never—would’ve left you behind.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “So yeah, Lily. I’m hurting. And maybe I don’t have the right to be. But you don’t get to stand there and act like it was easy for me either.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair and sinking into his chair before shaking his head. “Fuck, Lily.” A bitter chuckle escaped him. “I should be throwing you out that door for all the things you just told me.”

After a moment of dreaded silence, he finally met her gaze again, something unreadable in his expression. “So tell me—what exactly do you want from me now?”

She turned back with an absent look, barely mumbling to herself, “I want you, Tommy...at least when we were together I could draw and paint in peace.”

She tiredly exhaled, walking towards his desk and sitting on top of it, “I don't know...I thought you had a plan for this kind of situation. I thought maybe you would know what to do.” After a few moments of silence she lifted her eyes gazing at him with a faint smile.

“Anyway…I bet you didn't run out of options after I left you. You always had so many suitors. Do you have someone now, is that why you're so wary?”

Thomas watched her, his lips pressing into a thin line as she made her way to his desk like she belonged there. Like no time had passed. Like she hadn’t just thrown his world off balance all over again.

“You want me.” He repeated her words flatly, rolling them over in his mind. “Funny way of showing it, disappearing like that.”

His fingers tapped once against the arm of his chair before he let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “And here I thought you came here begging for my help, not to pick at old wounds.”

But then she smiled—tired, teasing, the way she used to when she wanted to get under his skin. And damn it, it still worked.

He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “You really think I’ve got time for that?” His gaze flickered over her. “This life doesn’t leave much room for anything real, sweetheart. You should know that by now.”

A pause.

Then, softer, more resigned—“And even if I did, what difference would it make to you?”

Lily let out a breathy laugh while rolling her eyes “Since you're not really open to helping me out, I thought that since I'm already here why not discuss our former love life.”

Slowly she got off his desk getting closer to him until she softly whispered in his ear, “Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep imagining if you were sleeping in some other woman's arms?” her hands wandered around his back as she sat on his lap inhaling his scent “And how many more times I wished to have you by my side, with your arms around me telling me everything would be alright?”

Tommy’s whole body went rigid the second she settled onto his lap.

His hands clenched at his sides, his breathing slow and measured. She was playing with fire, pressing against old wounds as if she had any right to touch them.

His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “You think I didn’t wonder the same damn thing?” His hands finally moved, gripping her waist—not to pull her closer, but to hold her still. “You think I didn’t spend nights picturing where you were? Who were you with?”

His grip tightened just slightly, jaw clenching as he forced himself to meet her eyes. “You left, Lily.” The words were low, raw. “You left me thinking you never looked back.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, shaking his head. “And now, after all these years, you show up asking for my help while whispering sweet nothings in my ear like that makes up for any of it?”

His eyes darkened, searching hers. “Tell me, sweetheart—am I supposed to believe you still mean any of it?”

She looked at him with a sad smile “If even back then I couldn't convince you to do anything you didn't want, what makes you think I can convince you to believe me now?”

With a deep exhale Lily rested her forehead on his shoulder, getting herself comfortable once again in his embrace. “Could you ever forgive me Tommy?” Her lips ghosted on his neck, tempting him to let go of their past mistakes. “And even if you can't, could you at least let me spend one last night with you, and then I promise I'll let you forget me for good.”

Tommy closed his eyes for a brief second, jaw clenching as her lips barely brushed against his skin. She was testing him, pulling at every old wound that still laid open on his skin, every damn weakness he thought he had buried.

His hands were still on her waist, tense, like he couldn’t decide whether to push her away or pull her closer.

“Forgive you?” His voice was low, rough. “I don’t even know what the hell to do with you, Lily.”

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back slightly, as if trying to regain some kind of control. But with her pressed against him like this, it was damn near impossible.

His grip on her tightened, his voice barely above a whisper now. “One last night?” A bitter chuckle. “You really think I’d let you walk away twice?”

His hand slid up her back, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “You want me, Lily?” Lips barely grazing her ear now, turning the game back on her. “Then you don’t get to leave in the morning.”

And as with a quiet agreement, a subtle nod of their heads, they left the crowded bar together cloaked by the lonely shadows of the night. Birmingham's cold wind softly stroked their feverish skin that couldn't wait any longer to feel the heat of one another again.

Finally arriving at his home, in half a second Tommy was already taking her dress off and hastily sucking the bare skin on her neck. Their way to his room was a mixture of muffled moans and tousled fabrics, that as soon as they reached the bed were already tossed on the wooden floor.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of her hips pulling her closer as if to make up for all the time they had been apart. Spiraling down a hole of guilt and pleasure Lily couldn't help the yearning moans she let out inside of his mouth, Tommy's tongue twirling against hers, hands clawing his back upon finally feeling his familiar heat within her again.

After what felt like hours, with an almost rhythmic pace their movements began to turn sloppy as they finally felt heaven on earth once again tangled upon one another. With only their heavy breathing filling the silent room, Lily's glassy eyes searched for Tom's ever cold ones—but he still didn't look at her—restraining himself to sink his head on the crook of her neck taking in the scent that for all those years was still engraved in his mind.

Letting out one last sight she turned herself on the bed pressing her back to his chest, gently guiding his hand to hug her waist. Cuddling closer to him as she almost drifted to sleep, a melancholic whisper left her lips “Will you tell me everything is going to be alright, Tommy?” But after that subtle question nothing else could be heard inside that single lit room on the street covered by the night sky.

The dim morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The scent of whiskey, smoke, and something unmistakably them still lingered in the air.

Thomas laid on his back, one arm resting behind his head, the other lazily draped across his chest. His dark sheets were tangled around their bodies, Lily curled against his side, her bare skin warm against his.

For a long time, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the ceiling, absently running his fingers along her spine, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing.

Last night had been a mistake. A damn good one, but a mistake nonetheless.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, rough from sleep. “You still planning on running?” His fingers stopped their lazy tracing, his grip firming slightly against her back. “Or did I do a good enough job convincing you to stay?”

There was something unreadable in his tone—half a challenge, half something he wasn’t ready to name.

With a sleepy chuckle she tightened her arms around him “I don't know. Actually I might need another round to decide it.” Lily snuggled closer to his chest inhaling his scent that still felt so fresh in her memories.

“But I might advise you to think about something quick regarding your death threat, or else I might really have to leave everything behind here in England.” Slowly she stretched herself awake finally gazing at him, “What do I have to do for you to really forgive me Tommy?”

He let out a low chuckle, his fingers trailing lazily down her spine. “Another round?” His voice was still rough from sleep, but there was amusement in it. “You always were a demanding little thing.”

But seeing her so calm, those sleepy eyes locking onto his, and the weight of reality settled between them again.

His expression darkened slightly as he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Alfie won’t stop just because you refused. You’re a loose end now, and he doesn't leave loose ends.” His jaw clenched. “And I sure as hell don’t plan on letting him take another thing from me.”

Then she asked the one thing he wasn’t sure he had an answer to.

His gaze flickered over her, studying her carefully before saying anything. “Forgiveness.” He let the word settle between them before shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know if I’ve got it in me, Lily. But if you want a shot at it, staying alive would be a good start.”

His fingers tilted her chin up slightly, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “So tell me—are you ready to stop running and stand by my side this time?”

“Staying alive? Hmm...I think I can try that.” A teasing smile grew on her lips, feeling his touch sparked a fire inside her as she slowly sat up on the bed and settled herself on top of him.

“Guess you'll have to put up with me again” with a playful smirk she lowered her head until her lips ghosted against his. “You say I'm a demanding little thing but you were quite the greedy one last night, weren't you?”

And just like that she hastily connected their lips for the thousandth time in the past few hours, twirling her tongue against his, slowly gracing her hands against his chest.

Tommy’s hands instinctively moved to her hips, his grip firm as she straddled him, her playful smirk setting a fire in him he couldn’t ignore. The weight of her on top of him was both familiar and new, a sharp reminder of everything he couldn’t just leave behind.

“Greedy?” He spoke amidst heavy breaths, lips twitching into a lustful smirk, though it could barely be seen. “You should know better than to call me that if you're planning on pushing me further.”

As her lips ghosted against his, every trace of resistance melted away. He kissed her fiercely, hands slipping around her back, pulling her closer as she tangled herself against him. She was always the one who knew how to get under his skin, how to turn the tables, how to remind him of everything he had tried so hard to forget.

His hands roamed across her skin, feeling the heat of her body against his, hunger and regret mixing with every kiss. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lily,” he muttered against her lips, his grip tightening. “You may think you’ve got me figured out, but I’m not as easy to tame as you like to think.”

The kiss deepened as his hands slid down her sides, pulling her even closer, reminding them both of how easily they fell into the familiar rhythm.

With one swift movement Tommy pulled himself on top of Lily, who let out a soft chuckle “Can't you just let me have this tiny revenge after last night you made sure I wouldn't be able to walk properly this morning” their limbs tangled as if trying to merge into one body.

“I missed you Tommy—us—everything. I just want things to go back to how they used to be.” Lost into this moment they almost didn't hear the knock on the door as someone suddenly came into the room.

And before Thomas could even bark out a warning, the door swung open.

“Tommy, we got a— bloody hell.”

John froze in the doorway, eyes widening for half a second before he scoffed and looked away, shaking his head. “Christ, mate, could’ve warned me.”

Tommy let out a sharp exhale, resting his forehead against Lily’s shoulder for the briefest moment before pushing himself up, his expression darkening. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me why you’re here before I throw you out that window.”

John crossed his arms, still very pointedly looking at the ceiling. “Alfie made a move. One of our men got jumped near the docks. It’s bad.”

Just like that, the heat of the moment vanished. Tommy’s jaw clenched, his entire demeanor shifting as he sat up, already reaching for the cigarette case on the bedside table.

“How bad?” he asked, lighting up, his voice all business now.

John finally met his gaze, serious now. “Bad enough that you’ll wanna see for yourself.”

Tommy took a slow drag, exhaling as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Without looking at Lily, he muttered, “Looks like we don’t have the luxury of going back to how things used to be, sweetheart.” Then, glancing back at her over his shoulder, he added in a lower voice, “Get dressed. You’re in this now.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby smut

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perseidlion · 8 months ago

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In the Skin of a Cat (Dead Boy Detectives)

In the Skin of a Cat (13179 words) by perseid_lion Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, The Cat King | Thomas/Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, The Cat King | Thomas/Monty Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, The Cat King | Thomas, Charles Rowland (DCU), Monty (Dead Boy Detectives) Additional Tags: Possession, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Roleplay, Identity Swap, Magic, Pining, Mutual Pining, Shapeshifting, Crack Treated Seriously, POV Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Loves Charles Rowland, pov edwin pane, Bisexual Male Character, Gay Male Character, Coming Out, Gay Bar, Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland (DCU), Charles Rowland Loves Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, bisexual awakening, Romantic Comedy, Comedy, The Dreaming Realm (The Sandman), Hormones, Pansexual Character, pansexual awakening, First Time, Non-Graphic Smut, Identity Issues Series: Part 2 of Perseid_Lion's Dead Boy Detectives Summary:

The Cat King is in London, and he offers Edwin the chance to take his body for a spin. Edwin learns what it is to be alive again - but also to be seen by the world as a different person. Having Cat's libido could be a dangerous thing.

Please note that the pairings tagged aren't super straightforward because it is a possession fic!

Chapter 1

‘Your theory is…sound. But I don’t quite understand why you would want to offer me this. It is still a theory as well, and not without risk.”

“True,” said the Cat King. “But nothing worth doing is without a bit of risk.” He paced around Edwin, sweeping his eyes up and down him. “If I don’t fight you - which I don’t intend to,” he smiled toothily, “Then no crime has been committed. And besides, the prohibition is against ghosts possessing humans. And I’m not human.” He smiled wide enough to display his pointed canines, golden eyes flashing with mirth.

They were standing in a mostly empty flat in Central London where Cat had taken up residence for the time being. They had seen each other a few times since his relocation, and Cat had even been helpful on a case or two. But there was still a great deal of tension between them.

“That still doesn’t explain why you are offering to let me possess you. That is simply the logic for why I may not get into trouble for doing so,” said Edwin as he pinched his hands into fists and stood with his back soldier-straight.

Cat was wearing his trademark garish attire of a calf-length skirt and a black mesh shirt, with the addition of cropped black faux fur coat. He was prowling around Edwin, looking him over with open lasciviousness. “Because you deserve to feel, Edwin. I know that you have known mostly pain for far, far too long.” He stopped in front of him. “Let me take some of that away for a short while, hmmm?” Then he leaned in and whispered into Edwin’s ear, “I’d love to have you inside me.”

There were moments when Edwin doubted his own sexuality, wondering instead if he was just the sort to not be with anyone. But then Cat or Charles would do something that would cause a visceral reaction even though he was not, in fact, in possession of any viscera. Now was one of those moments. Cat’s words, coated in double entendre, made him draw in a sharp breath he didn’t need.

“Are you so desperate for intimacy? Is that why you came up with this scheme?” barked Edwin, the snarkiness a reaction to him feeling off-balance.

“Oh, ouch,” said Cat dramatically as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re lucky I like it when you’re a bitch.”

Edwin’s cheeks flushed and even though it was difficult he stood up even straighter. “I apologize. That was rude of me.”

“I can’t stay mad at you,” said Cat as he reached up to straighten Edwin’s bowtie. “Come on. Admit it. You’re curious. You want to know what it’s like to feel alive again. Think of it as an academic exercise. You’d also get to know what it felt to be something other than human. Surely that could come in handy with your work?” He gave Edwin a pouty, begging sort of look, his eyes as puppyish as a cat could make them.

Edwin was very, very tempted. His recent trip to Hell had reintroduced him to the concept of pain, as had Esther’s subsequent torture. That had been the only thing he’d felt in decades, and he did long for the more pleasurable and pleasant types of sensations of the sort the Cat King was now offering.

The other part he refused to admit to himself was that he was deeply curious to know what it would be like to be him, in particular. There was no use denying his attraction, or his fascination - which fell into step with his annoyance and distrust. “If we do this…”

Cat’s face lit up.

“...what are the ground rules?” finished Edwin.

“Ground rules?”

“Yes, what am I allowed to do? What is off-limits? There simply must be rules,” said Edwin.

“Must there?” said Cat. “I trust you, Edwin. You wouldn’t do anything improper, more’s the pity,” he drawled. “But if you wanted to be improper, you have my permission.” He extended his arms.

“For what, exactly?” asked Edwin.

“Surprise me,” said Cat, his eyes flashing with excitement. “I know you’re not…worldly when it comes to things of a physical nature. How could you be? I can’t imagine you’d do anything I wouldn’t gladly do myself.”

Edwin had to admit that was likely true. Still, “If we do this I don’t intend to get frisky in your body, if that’s what you’re implying!”

Cat could tell Edwin’s resolve was wearing down, and it made him more and more pleased. “Of course you don’t intend to,” he said, with a particularly long, drawn-out purr over the word intend. “Besides, you can always talk to me. If you don’t push me aside, I’ll be able to see and hear everything. If you somehow start doing something I don’t like, I’ll be able to tell you.”

Edwin wanted a very good and logical reason to say no. But Cat had systematically removed any and all obstacles. Cat knew he was tempted, knew some part of him wanted to do it. So without any real and solid reasons to reject it…

“All right.”

Cat clapped and did a little dance.

“But at the first sign of trouble…” Edwin held up a finger.

“...I’ll kick you out. Believe me, I don’t want to draw unwanted attention either.” Cat cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders back and held his arms out. “Go ahead.”

“Right now? Oh my.” Edwin swallowed. He realized too late he should have negotiated some time to think about it. But then he prepared himself by rolling his neck and focusing on Cat. He’d only possessed people a handful of times, and usually in desperate circumstances. That led to both he and Charles having to escape quite quickly, usually through a mirror, as the possession of a human drew immediate attention of Lost and Found.

But now he and Charles were working for Lost and Found, and Cat’s theory about him both not fighting it and being nonhuman made sense to Edwin from what he knew of the rules. It was the psychic struggle with a human soul that raised alarm bells, and Cat’s plan involved neither a struggle nor a human soul.

Edwin could no longer delay the possession. He either had to jump into Cat’s body, or walk away. His academic’s brain was too curious about the experience on offer to do the latter. So, after shaking his lanky limbs out and preparing himself, he strode forward and willed himself into Cat’s body, rather than manifesting solidness or passing through him.

The experience of possessing Cat immediately felt different. Normally, when a ghost entered a human’s body, their consciousness reacted like white blood cells fighting an infection. The fight was instinctual and immediate, and it usually left little time for a ghost to direct the human’s actions before being expelled. But Cat wanted him in his body, so there was no resistance.

Everything was dark for a moment, but then Edwin felt himself slide under Cat’s skin. He opened his eyes and drew in a lungful of air. The sensation of breathing nearly overwhelmed him. He found himself alone in the flat, surrounded by makeshift furniture and dropcloths. He looked down at his hands, which were stronger and bigger than his slim academic’s hands. He touched his cheeks and found short fur that looked like stubble but felt like a cat’s. His vision was preternaturally sharp. As he looked into the shadows, his eyes shifted as his pupils dilated as night vision momentarily kicked in.

As Edwin got used to seeing through Cat’s eyes and breathing again, he started to become more aware of his body. As his weight shifted, he felt the leather skirt bounce against his thighs. The soft fur of the cropped jacket brushed his cheek as he turned his head. As he took a step forward, he became suddenly and acutely aware that he was commando underneath the skirt.

“Cat? Can you hear me?” said Edwin aloud. The feeling of a voice not his own vibrating in his chest was both intoxicating and disconcerting. “Wait, what happened to my accent? I sound exactly like you.”

Muscle memory, I guess. Probably a good thing. In case you run into anyone I know. They’d think I was pulling a Madonna if I suddenly sounded all posh.

Hearing Cat’s voice in his head reassured Edwin that something hadn’t gone horribly wrong. He sounded calm and amused. “You knew you were going to offer me this. The least you could have done is put on pants.”

Cat just chuckled.

Edwin clasped Cat’s hands into fists. It was his unconscious, tense habit that he’d had even when he was alive. But in ghostly form, he didn’t really feel it. He was not used to the sensation, nor the strength of his current hands. “So what shall I do now?” he asked the air.

Anything you want.

“That is entirely unhelpful,” said Edwin as he took an experimental step forward. He tried a few more steps to get used to the feeling of motion, as well as the soft breeze that flowed up under the skirt with each step.

Well. You could go see Charles.

Something about the sing-song note in Cat’s inner voice made Edwin suspicious. “What are you up to?”

There was no answer. He could tell that Cat’s consciousness had receded. He was no longer observing every little thing, but he could tell he was aware.

“Bollocks,” he muttered to himself in an American accent. Then Edwin headed for the door. There was no handy mirror traversal to get him back to the office quickly, and although he could feel Cat’s magic, he didn’t yet know how to access it. So he was left with walking. It was a decent walk - twenty minutes or so. It hadn’t seemed like much when he was considering it, but as he moved down the crowded London streets, he started to think he might have made a mistake.

People were looking at him. Not just because he was currently inhabiting a living body, but because of the outrageous way he was dressed. Edwin only got the full measure of it when he passed by a reflective office building and saw himself as the world saw him. The outfit should have been utterly ridiculous, but it somehow worked - although less so with him at the helm as he didn’t carry himself with the same swaggering confidence of the body’s rightful owner.

It wasn’t just the wild dress that drew peoples’ attention. If that had been the only feature of the way Edwin currently looked, he would have been greeted with sneers and obvious attempts to look away.

But Cat was, in Edwin’s estimation, exceptionally handsome. The eccentric clothing just drew peoples’ eyes to him and made them realize that fact. Men and women openly admired him, though some did immediately avert their eyes.

The eyes of the London crowds did go some way to keeping Edwin’s attention off the dozens of new sensations being embodied gave him. He could smell the fumes of the cars as they passed. He felt a breeze rattle down the street and curl up around his ankles and under his skirt. When the breeze faded, he felt his forehead cooled from where it had tickled a thin sheen of sweat.

Now that he was moving, Edwin found the faux fur coat much too warm. He walked about a block with sweat trickling down his back before he was forced to remove it. That left him feeling very exposed, as the mesh shirt turned out to be partially open in the back and had short sleeves.

A pair of gay men walked. One did a little vogue-like spin on the spot, gave him a once-over over the top of heart-shaped sunglasses, then snapped at him in appreciation.

Edwin just smiled awkwardly, nodded at them, and quickened his step.

Finally, Edwin made it back to the office. He was never so glad to be off the street and away from people. He mounted the stairs and stepped forward. He stopped just short of colliding with the frosted glass of the Dead Boy Detective Agency door before he realized oh yes, he had a body. No phasing through things for the immediate future.

Fortunately, the door was unlocked. He entered, then promptly leaned against the closed door. He turned the lock and threw the fur coat on a nearby chair. Edwin buried his face in his hands, fingers trickling over his soft, fur-like hair. “I don’t think I can do this,” he murmured to himself.

“Uh, hey.”

That wasn’t Charles’ voice.

Edwin looked up to see Monty standing there.

“What are you doing here?” And then he remembered the last time they’d seen each other. “You’ve got some nerve coming here.” Edwin stepped forward.

Monty stepped backward and smiled nervously. “Edwin, it’s me.”

Edwin stopped and stared at Monty. “You know who I really am?”

“Yes. Um. Well, you see. I’m not Monty. It’s me. Charles.”

Edwin’s eyes widened. “Charles?” he said incredulously.

“This is fucking aces, isn’t it?” Then Monty-Charles looked to the side and chuckled. “Feels wrong to curse with this voice. And say aces. I’ll have to watch myself.” He clears his throat, and then said in a far more Monty-ish way, “Isn’t this great?”

The scheme, it seemed was much bigger than the Cat King offering him a temptation. Somehow, he’d roped Charles and Monty into it as well.

“Well,” said Edwin tightly. “This should be interesting.” Keep reading

#dead boy detectives fanfic #dead boy detectives #dbd fic #dbd fanfic #dbd #ao3 writer #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #cat king

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badtouchs · 5 months ago

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badtouchs is a roleplay blog focused on gay smut involving dark/taboo subjects . don't follow if uninterested or uncomfortable | policing/hate will not be tolerated .

general info :

i'm above twenty-one years of age. i live in the bra timezone. i'm open for writing in discord, but i highly prefer tumblr (open to sideblogs, even). i'm considering a muse list - for now, characters will be made up based on plotting/thread.

interested in :

dynamics: incest, teacher/student, boss/worker, kidnapper/victim, home invader/victim, abusive husband/victim, stalker/victim, nerd/jock, cowboy/city guy, fraternity bros, cop/thug, dirty cop/victim, rock star/groupie, priest/altar boy, cruising, grindr date (goes wrong), cult leader/follower(s), stripper/customer, creep neighbor, fandom characters. settings: medieval/historical, apocalypse, disaster, supernatural, dystopian, horror/slasher, camping settings. kinks: age difference, gangbangs, cuckolding, breeding, monsterfucking, humiliation, size difference, bodily fluids, gooning/ahegao, humping, frotting, namecalling, facials, degradation, feminization, pec play, watersports, slapping, impact play. extreme: dub-con, non-con, raceplay, underage/age play, orientation play, gender play, beastility (selective), bigotry, political play. more tba.

faceclaims :

andrew garfield. adam scott. zane phillips. idris elba. chris hemsworth. chris evans. sebastian stan. jack quaid. jake gyllenhaal. trevante rhodes. froy gutierrez. richard madden. jason momoa. brandon perea. david corenswet. michael b jordan. evan mock. henry cavill. kj apa. charles melton. jacob elordi. eric dane. aldis hodge. matt bomer. jonathan bailey. jonathan groff. aaron taylor-johnson. bob morley. danny pino. andre lamoglia. carloto cotta. alexander ludwig. alexander skarsgard. bill skarsgard. michael evans behling. dylan o'brien. winston duke. lewis tan. will sharpe. theo james. rege-jean page. jensen ackles. jared padalecki. jeffrey dean morgan. chace crawford. alessandro bedetti. jon bernthal. andrew lincoln. clayton cardenas. jeremy allen white. avan jogia. dylan minnette. thomas doherty. ross lynch. lee pace. leo woodall. timothee chalamet. oscar isaac. matt barr. travis van winkle. chay suede. wagner moura. jesse williams. ricky whittle. mason gooding. jack champion. pedro pascal. ethan hawke. drew starkey. harris dickinson. joshua bassett. david harbour. milo ventimiglia. paul mescal. non-comprehensive.

banned / hard no :

writers under the age of eighteen. faceclaims under the age of eighteen. faces: most tiktokers/influencers/models. johnny depp. harry styles. noah schnapp. more tba. kinks: scat, rosebud. more tba.

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years ago

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What is it today with the SAS and giving out impossible choices? 😮‍💨

Aight fine, stabby to the throat, here's my answer:

Thrill: Thomas Sharpe

You're hot and you're nearly as eloquent as a certain raven-haired god that I completely and shamelessly simp for, but I'm going to have to put you here purely because I like my life and I would prefer to keep my life. And I know that if I do anything more than flirt with you I will most likely lose said life because your sister is a certifiable piece of work.

Fuck: Will Ransome

Now see here's the thing, I have an inexplicable soft simp spot for the lusty vicar, but as a character, I wouldn't want anything more than a fling with him because I'm pretty sure that he has unspeakable amounts of baggage, and we most likely won't be able to work through that enough to actually start something substantial. And I'm also completely sure that he would agree and just opt for something short lived but ultimately only holds the fleetingly fun memories.

Marry: Jonathan Pine

Now see here I'm pretty sure he also has baggage, and it's somewhat similar baggage, but he's also the type that could and would 100% save my reckless ass from…well, recklessness. 🤣 And then have I mentioned the potential roleplay just WHEW 😮‍💨🫠

@use-your-telescope @lunarnights95 @sarahscribbles @tripleyeeet @currish-rosewolfe @coldnique @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @joyful-enchantress @ladyofthestayingpower @coldnique @gigglingtigger @fictive-sl0th @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @liminalpebble @goblingirlsarah @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @marvelouslizzie @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @maple-seed @mischief2sarawr @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration

F*ck, Marry, Kill Thrill

Tom Hiddleston Characters - Round 1

I am feeling chaotic, so let’s play a game with some of Tom’s characters.

Who would you fuck, who would you marry, and who would you thrill (shamelessly flirt with, but nothing more)?

And to give the other lads a fighting chance, Loki will not be participating (yet). 😈

Jonathan Pine

Thomas Sharpe

Will Ransome

No cheating! @use-your-telescope @lunarnights95 @sarahscribbles @tripleyeeet @currish-rosewolfe @coldnique @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @joyful-enchantress @ladyofthestayingpower @coldnique @gigglingtigger @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @liminalpebble @goblingirlsarah @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @marvelouslizzie @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @maple-seed @mischief2sarawr @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration ++

If you want to be tagged (or remove from tags) in Round 2, let me know.

Also, if you hate choosing, allow me to recommend Trials of Pleasure by @shiningloki on AO3. It’s absolute filth!

#sas threads #FMK but no one has to get K'd #thomas sharpe #will ransome #jonathan pine

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lokiskitten · 3 years ago

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!! SEEKING FOR A RP PARTNER !!

Marvel, Star Wars...

~•~

[ Hello, I am currently in quest of finding a serious, open minded and invested roleplay partner who would be willing to entertain double rps depending on my mood ( I won’t necessarily ask you for a rp if I’m not feeling like handling two of them ). If interested, make sure to check the infos below and read one of my fics to get a peek of my writing style! ]

~•~

RULES :

No god moding. The plot is to be discussed and agreed on together. Communication is also key, so don’t ever hesitate to share your ideas/opinions.

Smut is allowed, and I tend to be comfortable with most topics so don’t hesitate to come up to me with any “taboo” subjects you’ve been afraid to ask for from anyone. Judgment isn’t a thing with me.

OCs are heavily welcome, but please remain rational. I’m extremely attached to realism, and tend to keep things and events logical whenever I write.

Please be literate. I expect one paragraph or more, especially as I tend to write a lot and give much efforts into my answers.

Now that you went through my rules, allow me to present the characters I would have muse for/once portrayed in my writer background or would be willing to give them a shot! :3

CHARACTERS ( classed under their actor ) :

Tom Hiddleston :

Loki Laufeyson | any version

Thomas Sharpe | Crimson Peak

James Conrad | Kong : skull island

Dr. Robert Laing | High Rise

Jonathan Pine | The night manager

Captain James Nicholls | War Horse

Tom Hiddleston himself | young and old

Benedict Cumberbatch :

Doctor Stephen Strange | mcu

Sherlock Holmes | Sherlock

Benedict Cumberbatch himself

Cillian Murphy :

Thomas Shelby | Peaky Blinders

Jonathan Crane | Batman begins

Lenny Miller | Anna

Timekeeper Raymond Leon | Time Out

Sebastian Stan :

Bucky Barnes | mcu

Mickey | Monday

Lee Bodecker | the devil all the time

Sebastian Stan himself

Lance Tucker | the bronze

Steve Kemp | fresh

Michael Fassbender :

David8 | Prometheus/Covenant

Erik Lensherr | x-men franchise

Brandon Sullivan | shame

Adam Driver :

Ben Solo/Kylo Ren | Star Wars sequels

Flip Zimmerman | blackkklansman

Charlie Barber | marriage story

Jacques le Gris | the last duel

Additional characters :

Michael Gray | Peaky Blinders

Harry Osborn, both version | spider man, TASM

Andrew Garfield’s spider man | TASM

Henry Bowers | IT

Michael Langdon | AHS : apocalypse

Billy Hargrove | stranger things

King Louis XVI | the man in the iron mask

Jim Mason | the tribes of Palos Verdes

Alex Summers | X-men franchise

Mysterio | spider man : far from home

President Loki | Loki series

Anakin Skywalker | Star Wars prequels

Thandruil | the hobbit

Legolas | LOTR and the hobbit

Din Djarin | the mandalorian

Michael Scofield | prison break

Achilles | Troy

Norman Bates | psycho

Jaime Lannister | game of thrones

And probably more, so don’t hesitate to ask! ( mostly marvel, Star Wars, Games of Thrones, etc... )

Genres I like :

- romance

- drama

- action

- science fiction

- daily life issues ( if that makes sense lol )

- horror/thrillers

- medieval

[ Thank you so much for taking time to browse through these infos! Please don’t be afraid to message me, I promise I don’t bite. Take care :3 ]

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thomassharpe-anon · 3 years ago

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"She was a gentle sort of Horror"

#thomassharpe anon #thomas's letters #letters #crimson peak #novel #sir thomas sharpe #anon search #lucille sharpe #nonnie search #tom hiddelston rp #thomas sharpe #thomas #mcu rp #marvel rp #loki roleplay #loki rp

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alicetherplover · 3 years ago

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As the large forest trees thrashed back and forth in the unforgiving bone chilling blizzard that took over lands, Lady Allison peered out the frost bitten windows of Allerdale Hall with a steamy cup of mint tea in an attempt to soothing her aching nerves.

Something took the young woman by surprise, the outline of man appeared in the red stained snow that covered the lands. She closed her murky green eyes tightly as she wished with her hole heart and soul that she wasn't going mad all alone in the new home her father sent her away to.

The large gothic manner made the most awful screeching noises in the middle of the night, every night at 1am she could hear a woman screaming for help....the name Thomas Sharpe echoed through out the victorian walls!

Surely she was going mad...

I hope to write more for ❤

#roleplay #vintage #thomas sharpe #crimson peak #tom hiddelson #lady lucille sharpe

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roleplay-finder · 3 years ago

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Hello! 20 year old here looking for an 18+ roleplay! I am looking for a Loki to play against my oc! Also this might be a long shot but Im desperately looking for Thomas Sharpe rp as well! NSFW will be included ❤️

#loki #oc x canon #18 and over #thomas sharpe #roleplay finder #roleplay search #roleplay

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recareels · 2 years ago

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✩°｡⋆ 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬! ⋆｡°✩

anonymous wrote: what roleplays do you think the genshin men prefer in bed? for the ones you think would like a roleplay ofc

characters: ajax/tartaglia, kamisato ayato, thoma, alhaitham

notes: just a quick disclaimer before we jump into this: obviously and of course, everything mentioned here is entirely 100% consensual and just for pretend. each situation would’ve been thoroughly discussed beforehand, with safety measures and a safeword in place. please heed the warnings and stay safe!!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, consensual noncon + stockholm syndrome + kidnapping in ajax’s, mentions of spanking, slapping, and bondage in alhaitham’s, blood, hint of yandere in thoma’s, coercion in ayato’s, power imbalances that are taken advantage of/clear power dynamics (dom/sub)

words: 1.5k

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐱 | 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚 .°˖✧

ajax is into anything that involves a hunter vs hunted, predator vs prey type vibe. it feels like a bit of a game to him, and it affords him those addictive thrill of the chase, bliss of the catch highs he craves so much. the sheer, potent power that surges through his veins, thick and dense and tingling, when he finally captures you, conquers you, when he finally wins, is downright intoxicating. it heightens his senses, gnaws on every nerve in his body until they’re frayed and raw and hypersensitive, keeping him awake and alert to every slight movement and shift.

he loves reenacting any version of little red riding hood versus the big bad wolf, enjoys stretching a scene out and playing a waiting game; slow and steady, cat and mouse, stealth and stalk until he strikes. the startled scream that claws its way up your throat the moment he finally pounces is always genuine—a pitchy, cracked, shrill little thing strangled by his teeth in your neck or his tongue down your throat—never exactly sure when he’s going to lunge and attack.

and, god, he’s sure he’ll never tire of that initial terror saturating your features, a gorgeous shock of fright slapped across your face—eyes wide, mouth gaped, shattered remnants of words trembling on your tongue and a gasp lacerating your throat—that morphs, mollifies, only a few moments later, into a sort of delirious anticipation as realization rings in your brain.

that look never fades, never dims or dulls for even a second, as you pretend cry and scream and shove and kick, as you squirm and struggle in the tangle of his strong arms and beat little fists against his broad chest, as you tug and heave at the restraints bounding you to your shared bed, rope and metal chewing into the thin, delicate flesh of your wrists.

it doesn’t break the immersion, though, doesn’t ruin the scene or deaden the enthusiasm, because it only demonstrates that you’re enjoying it just as much as he is—the usual narrative he likes to play to himself throughout this scenario—only further works to prove that you want it just as badly as he does, no matter what whimpered protests and weeped out insults are spilling from your lips. because it exists within you; something innate, something inherent, a instinctive need to be taken care of, owned, controlled by your captor.

and throughout it all, his eyes are alight with excitement, bright and brilliant and beautifully blue, a breathless smile, sharp edges tinged with exhilaration, stretched over his cheeks while an aura of authority swathes his form; a regal cloak that glows violet, barely contained raw energy that snarls and snaps like bolts of amethyst lightning, shuddering off of him in wavering ripples.

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 .°˖✧

ayato likes playing mind games (to him, that’s half the fun!) and he likes being in control. when it comes to roleplays, he’d be most interested in the classic, golden age hollywood star x their devoted fan, where he is the star and you are the fan. however, instead of the fan pursuing the object of their affection, obsessive and urgent in nature, ayato flips this on its head, with the hollywood star taking advantage of the shy, smitten fan. he loves the corrupt, disgusting essence of it—the sleaziness, the coercion, the inherent and irrevocable power imbalance exerted over the bashful, helpless submissive—it’s all so deliciously depraved, and there are so many ways he can contort and coil this situation to suit and serve his needs.

it works well, because you are already so timid, so sweet, so docile and doe-eyed and desperate to please, constantly and consistently hanging on his every word, flowing from his lips like dark, decadent chocolate; smooth and rich and sinful. they’re sentiments that have your mouth dropping open eagerly, tongue unfurling—sloppy and messy in its haste—to let the letters drizzle on your tastebuds, a satiny syrup that coats the muscle, thick and sticky and so sweet it stings your teeth,depositing trace notes of a bitter twinge characteristic of artificial sugar that linger long after the confection has faded.

the amount of effort he puts into your roleplay sessions is nothing short of admirable, and he takes the whole thing very seriously. in his trademark meticulous and dedicated style, he plans every single detail, assembling full costumes (with props, of course) for the both of you, in addition to taking the time to hash out the entire situation with you, complete with a full narrative: where and how the two of you met, and how he managed to get access to you. past scenarios include at the premiere for one of his newest films; through previously exchanged fan letters and love notes that grew with startling frequency, length and intensity until he just had to meet you; you being a screenwriter or a PA on set who just so happens to have a huge crush on the lead actor—the variations on this one dynamic are endless! ayato isn’t beyond renting out actual locations for the two of you to conduct your roleplay scenes in, too—old movie houses and extravagant ballrooms and expensive hotel suites—because every aspect must be absolutely perfect.

✧˖°. 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚 .°˖✧

i honestly don’t think thoma would be too into roleplaying himself/on his own, but as a service dom i think he’d absolutely give it a shot for you, because he genuinely wants to please you, wants you to have a good time and enjoy yourself, wants to indulge you in all of your fantasies and desires, and he gets satisfaction and gratification from giving you what you want. with that being said, his favourite roleplay would probably be royalty x servant, where you are the royalty and he is your loyal but depraved servant. the scene would always begin, predictably, with you in a position of authority and dominance and thoma doing whatever you ask—you’re so cute when he gives you permission to be the boss—but it would quickly devolve as hazy, intoxicating lust compels your sweet, obedient servant, cloaking his judgement and clouding his vision and consuming his receptors. it overrides his rational thought, infects his bones, his blood, his brain until there’s barely any of him left anymore, entirely absorbed by the carnality, possessed and out of control. and, like ajax, he always savours that sweet, surprised little gasp huffed into his mouth when he’s finally had enough, when he can’t take it anymore, when he must fucking do something about it.

but what thoma really loves in this scenario is the progression, the way that hedonistic tension builds and builds and builds with each order uttered from your lips until it’s overbearing, overwhelming, overflowing; until it forces a switch, a flip, corroding any trusses of restraint and then devouring his character whole, rendering him a complete slave to his desire. the details are different every time—what the final request is that makes him truly snap, how long he can manage to hold out, how he fractures and splinters under the weight of his ardour and how he ravishes you in response, etc—entirely dependant on the evolution of the scene itself and thoma’s mood on that current day. it’s this unpredictability that makes it truly enthralling, the unknowing and the uncertainty of how it’s all going to play out this time that genuinely enraptures him, that sparks a certain type of voracity in his tummy, a gnawing, enthusiastic curiosity that can never fully be quenched.

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 .°˖✧

alhaitham is into pretty much anything that has to do with the misuse and abuse of authority. his favourite is, of course, professor x student, but he’s also interested in police officer x convict, boss x employee/secretary, and doctor x nurse—anything that involves an inherent position of power is being taken advantage of, anything that involves an intrinsic and permanent power imbalance being twisted and tooled to the superior’s benefit. roleplay situations such as these allow for infinite creativity and demand a certain level of intelligence, of cleverness, in order to be pulled off properly and satisfactorily.

it’s his favourite when you get snarky with him, saucy and snappy and resistant to his demands, challenging the limits and boundaries of this power dynamic and gifting him sufficient reason to punish, to exert that power and authority and (temporarily) tame his brat back into their rightful submissive place. props are a must with alhaitham, and he enjoys using them to deliver this punishment and/or to restrain you—metersticks, heavy books, and canes that double as batons used to spank you, each procuring a mosaic of interesting swollen marks on your ass; wooden tongue depressors used to flick and slap your nipples and your cheeks, leaving thick, cylinder shaped welts across your flesh; metal handcuffs and expensive silk neckties used to bound and bind you, cutting into the skin of your wrists and creating the prettiest bracelets of sticky scarlet, steadily oozing from thin splices, that will crust and dry in tiny mountains of ruby.

#tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #kamisato ayato smut #kamisato ayato x reader #thoma smut #thoma x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #if u saw me post this on my aes blog no u didnt

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