#i still maintain that I am an old soul

[haz311bl0gs]

Black is the colour of my true love's hair, Her lips are like a rose so fair, She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands, I love the ground whereon she stands. (x)

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

[lizzybeeee]

Am I the only one who thinks it's fucked up that the Mortalitasi are parading about King Markus's corpse...as opposed to letting the next in line rule??

He's alive in DAI - old, but very much flesh and blood - and we know this because the venatori use blood magic on him to get him under their control. So, what is he in DATV then? Are they implying that he's a lich? That he still has his mind? That they've got a spirit in there?

What do they gain from this? Cassandra's, what, 64th in line for the throne? So there's a bunch of potential heirs just hanging about -> potential heirs who want the crown because we know that Cassandra's parents were executed for trying to overthrow him.

Cassandra may not be fond of her family, but I can't imagine her letting this slide. This is the type of shit that gets an Exalted March called down on you! Especially if she's divine?! Nevarran's can be 'death-focused'* yes, but they let the living rule and not the dead.

It's their belief that when their soul passes through the Fade it results in a spirit being displaced - so they have the Mortalitasi find the spirit a new home in the Necropolis. That is their job - they maintain the Necropolis and, according to DATV, sometimes deal with awry magic.

The potential relation to a Divine or the Head of the Seekers, the King of Nevarra, is having his corpse puppeted about by a mage...and no one seems to care?!

Is this not super fucked up to anyone else?!!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edit - I put this down in the tags but I think it's important to point out: In all the previous games up to this point not once has a mage, manipulating a corpse like this, ever been portrayed as quirky or funny. This is not the norm of what the Mortalitasi are supposed to do - they honour the dead they do not puppet them.

Thedas is a world very strongly intertwined with faith, especially the Chantry. It is Nevarra's attitudes towards death and their burial practices that distinguishes it from other Andrastian nations - they still have the Chantry, the Templars, and the Circle of Magi just as the rest of Southern Thedas has.

It's impossible to imagine any Divine (Leliana, Cassandra, or Vivienne) hearing of this occurring and not taking action against this. It's extremely strange that Emmrich bemoans that half the nobility know this has occurred when this action should be seen as nothing short of an abomination to the faithful - including Emmrich.

[graveyrdvamp18]

i'm bored, , so here's what i think of each lost boy

i'm gonna do this one vamp at a time so i don't get overwhelmed, starting off with this mullet king

david

• he's a self - proclaimed leader

since he's the first turned and seemingly the most mature one, as each boy joined the gang, he took it upon himself to look after everyone. cause he cared for them ? that could be a factor, but also cause of his controlling nature

• he loves to read

david seems like he secretly loves to read, and im talking about newspapers, too. he even has reading glasses. and i would know this cause i am the glasses. anyway, as far as genres, maybe horror, mystery, and throw in a little romance from time to time

• he is the most possessive of his belongings

this man does NOT share. and he will be mad if he catches anybody besides him with his stuff

• he is the smartest

okay so i'm not calling the others stupid, vampires in general are intelligent beings. i'm just saying david is extremely smart, but this is also what makes him very, very good at manipulation. a master manipulator, if you will. and it's not just with the mind games he can play, with his words, his expressions. he knows exactly what to do or say to get you

• anger issues

something tells me if he's not the one who comes up and speaks to you first, don't even try. he would probably just ignore you or tell you to go away. this is probably something he picked up from his father (not max), and i don't necessarily think it's shown in the movie, just from his energy, makes me think that

• not the biggest fan of sweets

i keep switching from serious to silly things, but that's just how i roll, anywayy. he doesn't hate sweets or candy, just could live without them. he hates the stomach ache you can get after, and probably how sugary they are. the only sweet i think he can handle is cookies, more specifically snickerdoodles

• david has the highest level of maturity

i've actually read about this on here, i can't remember the person's user, but i just remember how they talked of how he dresses and how he talks, and i have to say i agree. he does indeed dress and talk completely different from his three vampire bros. this also makes me think that david is definitely an old soul and he was probably forced to grow up instead of having the freedom of being a wild and care-free child

• black and red are his favorite colors

more specifically darker shades of red, he hates bright colors. probably would complain it's hurting his poor eyes and he's going blind

• cares about his health.. a lot

there's absolutely nothing wrong with caring about your health. although the man's main diet is bl0od, clearly they can still eat human food. he eats junk food still and is definitely always down for some pasta or a good burger, but he tries to maintain a healthy way of eating. maybe he tried encouraging the other boys to do so, but gave up cause he was getting no where

• keeps things clean

if he sees a mess, he cleans it. or gets one of the others to clean it cause they caused it. the cave is definitely organized, and that was probably thanks to David. cause you can see during any cave scene how it's an organized mess

• his favorite food is pasta

already mentioned this briefly, but please he would fck up olive garden. i just know they would hate to see him coming

• despises loud noises

this includes the TV being too loud, loud crunching, any kind of beeping and so on. it pisses him off

• stupid nicknames

can't stand them. the other boys definitely have silly nicknames for him like 'pookie' and 'davey' and so on, and he wants to curl up every time

• early birdy

as soon as the sun sets, david is the first to wake up. mainly cause he loves night time. even before he was turned, he was always a night owl. he probably snuck out into a field near his childhood house a few times

• writing

there's really no doubt in my mind that david loves to write. he has many journals stored away cause he considers them personal. he has such a high guard up that whenever somethings wrong, he turns to paper and pen. he also has the most beautiful handwriting out of all of them

☆ what he could've been

i feel like if david was never turned, he would've wanted to be in a major career. he would've been an excellent psychologist. he would've wanted to start his own family, and have kids, probably out in the west.

he misses this at times, the chances and hopes that he lost, but despite that, i actually think he loves being a vampire. he loves the chase, the thrill of it all. he loves doing whatever he wants, whenever he pleases

one last thing, this man loves music. all 4 of them do, really. i feel like he'd listen to anything that isn't rap or pop. he also listens to country but doesn't let the other boys know that, they'd probably never let him live it down

let me know what you think ! whether you agree or disagree, i'm open-minded

i love david, honestly. i know he wouldn't love me back, cause I mean, have we watched the same movie ? but he's still my pookie bear

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (ii) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit // previously // next // i hope i didn’t miss anyone for tags! //

Pairing: kaz x davina rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,271

Summary: Nothing is simple in Ketterdam. Davina learns a hard lesson when trying to expand her snakes. Bloodied with a bruised ego, she think she finds help in an unlikely ally, only to have to run. Again.

The next few months were uneventful. You continued your usual pattern of withdrawals and reconnaissance. You watched Kaz and the Dregs, even visited Nina Zenik a few more times to make a better acquaintance with her. You had no plans for her specifically in your overall schemes, but having her vote of confidence may prove useful for your potential alliance. Plus, it didn’t hurt to befriend a Heartrender.

But she always asked the same thing. “Your boss hasn’t claimed her little ring yet, has she?”

And your answer was always the same. “No. It’s not the right time, I suppose.”

And it wasn’t. Your gang, while managing decently filled coffers, was minuscule. You were a small, yet arguably skilled group. And it wasn’t just Kaz Brekker you had to convince. Even though he was the harder of the two to persuade, you’d need enough of a footing to convince Per Haskell. Unless a time came when Kaz took full control, he was technically Haskell’s lieutenant, and the old bastard could veto any deal you made with Dirtyhands.

“We need to start venturing out.” You told your lieutenant. You were seated in your office, spinning the tip of your blade against your desk. You had done it so much you had worn a little divot in the wood. “We need to start doing jobs or running cons.”

“Word is there’s a gambling hall near the Crow Club that’s struggling.” Melli offered up eagerly. “It’s a solid location.”

“Then why is it struggling?”

“Advertisement?”

“Melli.” You let your blade fall to the wood top and stared your lieutenant in the eyes.

“I think the Dreg presence keeps them from really capitalizing.” She answered, tugging at her sleeve.

“And you think adding snake presence will do anything towards pacifying Brekker and his Crows? They don’t trust me or any of us, and if Brekker finds out who I really am, he’ll burn down any business attached to us. Whether or not that is before he drags me, kicking and screaming and bleeding, to my father’s feet, I couldn’t tell you.”

“He won’t.” She tried but you simply raised a brow. “You’re careful, Davina. If he hasn’t figured it out by now, after he took you captive, he won’t find out unless you let

him.”

You tapped your finger against your desk in thought. You stared at your discarded knife and wondered if it was worth the risk, especially after your last encounter with him. The hits to your ribs had broken two and left your lungs bruised. Getting them healed was a pain and if you thought hard enough, you could still feel that pain in your chest.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Melli fidgeting with her sleeve again and you redirected focus to her idea, though you made a mental note to talk to her about that tell. If you left Melli to run the hall, it could maintain your anonymity while also bringing in funds outside of your father’s unintentional donations. It could also be an opportunity to get in good with Haskell.

“Go see what the owner might sell for…” You waved her off, trying to ignore her giddy smile. “If it’s not an arm and a leg or my eternal soul, I will consider it.”

“Yes!” She celebrated.

“But.” You said firmly and her giddy movements halted. “It’ll be your passion project, meaning you will be responsible for any and all failures or success, and you’ll be compensated accordingly from the profits. And if we take it, I intend to use it as a foot in the door with the Dregs.”

At that, her mouth fell open.

“I can offer Haskell a small percentage of our profit to allow us to operate within his boundaries.”

“That’ll make us look weak!”

“We’ll look approachable.” You countered.

“We don’t need Dreg approval.”

“We’ll need Haskell’s good graces if we want to get Kaz.”

“We don’t want Brekker. You do.”

“You’re right.” You nodded. “And while I respect your opinion as my lieutenant, I’m not debating this with you. Dime Lions won’t hesitate if they get a chance to wipe us out, neither will the Razor Gulls. Especially if either of them figure me out. You want the gambling hall?” You made a platform with your fingers as your elbows came to your desk. You rested your chin on said platform. “You have my terms, Melli.”

She opened her mouth, likely to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, she nodded with a heavy, defeated sigh and stomped out the door. You dropped back into your chair and rubbed your tired eyes.

If you had known how tiring it was to run a gang, plot revenge, and seek alliance from your father’s sworn enemy, you may have thought twice.

You decided you wanted something stronger than the poor quality coffee Melli kept warm in the main room. You tossed your cloak over your shoulders, fastened it at the base of your throat, and slipped out your window. You slid down the peak of the roof from the building practically leaning against yours and caught yourself on the usual broken guardrail at the edge. It hung off into a sliver of an alleyway and the small space became a small altar to Sankta Alina.

You were always careful not to disturb it when you made your landing. Once, you even drew your own sun on the wall around it.

You pulled your hood up and blended into the streets. You were lucky to set up business in a building that was near the edge of the Barrel. It was out of your father’s reach and that was what was most important. But in the nights you needed the comfort of bustling nightlife and drinks, you wished you had found something a few blocks closer.

At the end of the night, you were safe when you slept. You were warm every night. You were fed, not always well but you and your snakes never went without necessities. It was all you could ask for to start with, yet did nothing to quell the need for more.

You didn’t end up at any clubs or bars. Instead, you ended up walking the canals until you reached the one spot that you hated, yet always found a way back to. There was a small space where you could see Reaper’s Barge. It was far enough that you couldn’t make out any specific bodies, if there were any, and you couldn’t smell the rot or decomposition. It was just the salty tang the ocean always left in the air and the ever present mist hovering. You used to wonder if the Council of Tides had put that mist there, but you came to be thankful for it. It seemed to keep the worst of the dread away.

“When they said the monsters were in the shadows, it was supposed to be a story.” You threw over your shoulder after you felt the stare at your back. “You weren’t supposed to take it literally.”

“There’s enough truth in every story. Besides, I am the nightmare.” He answered. 

“So I’ve heard…” You nodded. “Some say you’ve got bones for hands, the flesh rotted away by all your misdeeds. Others that you don’t have hands at all but are just cursed with phantom fingers. I’ve also heard you have claws, so which story has your truth?”

“All of them. Or none of them. You can pick, really.”

You were surprised to find he seemed relatively docile and it made you wonder how long it would take for you to say something that provoked him. And part of you wanted to try.

He came and stood by your side.

“Are you here to slice me open again?” You joked and turned your head. He stared ahead and you stuck your arm out, exposing your bare forearm. “Go on then.”

He glanced down then and pushed your arm away with a sound that almost resembled a chuckle. Then his eyes found your face, tracing the length of scar from his cane. It burned with the memory and you almost felt the stream of blood down your face again.

“I think it adds a certain charm. Don’t you?” You tried another joke and he shook his head, looking away. You frowned to yourself and looked back to the water. “Why are you lurking in the shadows anyway?”

“Midnight stroll.” He answered calmly.

“With a leg like that? I don’t think so.” You scoffed. “Is it even midnight?”

As if on cue, the bells began to ring.

“Oh, Saints.” You muttered.

“Let that be a lesson.” He commented and you turned towards him. “I’m almost never wrong.”

“Almost? So it is possible.”

“Nothing is impossible.” He shrugged. “Improbable, yes, but not impossible.”

“The Wraith told me pride would be my downfall, yet here you stand.”

“As I’ve mentioned, Dear, I’ve already died.”

You nodded slightly and looked back to the water nearer the Barge. When you went there, your thoughts always strayed to Jordie. You wondered how long he had been in the water, if there was anything left of him. You wondered if Kaz had been in the water or did someone have to pry him off his brother’s body, screaming for the only family he had? You always shuddered at the thoughts.

“How is Davina?” Kaz asked suddenly.

Your eyes moved, head staying forward. You saw he was leaning his elbows on the railing. His leather clad hands were fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt beneath his coat, and the moonlight bounced off the silver crow-topped cane at his side.

“She worries.” You confessed. You had missed Kaz so dearly, so you were taking the small opportunity he had given you to just talk. “She’s not sure we’ll have enough to offer when she needs to make the deal. That’s part of why she doesn’t come out often.”

“Why she sends you, Melli?”

Your comfort was yanked away at his words and your hand began to creep towards the blade inside your collar. You were a fool to think there was anything other than malice in his intent. “What?”

“Yes.” He turned towards you and you took an instinctive step back. “You see, after our last run-in, I looked into the little clutch she’s built. Fortunately for her, not many know her roster, but her lieutenant’s name has a few whispers.”

You felt a swell of panic. If Melli’s name was known, how long did you have until yours was tied to your face? Was the gambling hall a ruse to lure Melli, thinking you would show, for capture? What would happen to Melli?

“I am not Melli.” You said firmly, maintaining eye contact even though you wanted to bolt to the gambling hall.

“Are you telling me-“ He lifted that cursed cane and you pulled the blade from the sheath. “-that my sources are wrong?”

“Not quite.” Another step back. “There is a snake named Melli and Davina trusts her, but I am not Melli.”

“Then who are you?”

“You're Kaz Brekker, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

In a swift movement, the blunt end of his cane slid under the fabric of your cloak, where the clasps met, and he pulled you forward. You stumbled slightly and his free hand grabbed your face, leather-clad fingers digging into your cheeks. You could’ve sworn you had felt the sharpness of the fabled talons he hid, but you knew it was your imagination.

Kaz was human. You knew that, but he was also dangerous.

“If you value your hand, I suggest you let go.” You threatened but with his grip your words were mumbled.

He just raised a brow and pushed you to step back. Your empty hand grabbed his forearm desperately as he bent you backwards over the railing. You felt yourself lifting off the ground, toes of your boots scraping the ground and you scrabbled for purchase.

You could feel the dull end of the cane pressing on the underside of your chin. You gripped his arm tighter and you saw a change in expression. His jaw tensed, the grip on your face faltered, his entire body seemed to go rigged. In that hesitation, you acted.

You found the upside down crow’s head and slammed your foot down on the beak. You felt it slide away before it clattered to the ground. You slashed your knife in a careless move, seeing it skate along the front of his hip. He winced slightly but you let go of his arm, holding to the railing instead. You put the knife’s handle between your teeth and braced the other hand against his chest.

You shoved as hard as you could and he stumbled back. You tumbled over the railing, slamming your side into it as it spun your arm in your socket. You glanced down and the darkness made the water seem hauntingly endless. You turned back to climb up and you saw the silver arc. You yelped and had to switch hands in a hurry, the impact of the crow’s head vibrating through the railing. You thought to yell at him for trying to break your fingers but he swung the cane again. In a panic, you simply let go and fell into the waters.

You were dripping wet when you got home. Your cloak was sticking to your chest, hood heavy against your forehead. Your knife was lost to the waters and your teeth were chattering, loose hairs sticking to your face.

“Send Melli to my office when she returns.” You told one of the snakes in the common room as you stomped away, leaving squishing sounds and wet footprints in your wake.

Almost immediately after you slammed the door, a light knock sounded before it opened. You turned and saw Melli.

“You’re unharmed?” You asked. You were worried but your voice was level. The cold waters had seeped the heat of your anger and worry away.

“Yes.” She nodded and you could see her trying to hide the smile. “The owner’s willing to sell, but he isn’t the majority owner. He says that’s why it doesn’t seem as profitable lately. Once ownership changed, he stopped advertising or putting in much effort other than paying the bills and bringing in enough for his family!”

“Fine. How much does he want?”

“5,000.”

You blew out a sigh and unclasped your cloak, draping the fabric over your desk with a wet thump. “I supposed it’s fair if he doesn’t own it all. What can you put in?”

“What?” Her smile fell.

“You wanted it. You’ll run in. You need to put in. I’ll cover some and the snakes’ coffers will do the rest. So what can you put in?”

“Um.” She tugged her sleeve and you glared at the nervous movement of her hand. “Maybe… 1200?”

“Good. I can give 1800, and then the other two wi-“

“If you put in more than me, doesn’t that undermine what I put in?”

“First.” You held up a hand. “Don’t cut me off, Melli. I’ve had a horrid night, if you couldn’t tell, so I’m in no mood.”

She closed her mouth tightly and nodded.

“Second, it’s not about you or me putting in more. It’s about lessening the strain on our gang’s funds. We’ll meet tomorrow night with him. Now, who’s the majority owner?”

“You won’t like it.” She sighed.

“Who, Haskell? Because I swear if I have to deal with Brekker again so soon.”

“You saw Dirtyhands?” She quirked a brow. “I suppose that explains why you look like a wet cat.”

“Yes, and he is continuing the infuriating habit of making my life difficult. He nearly broke my fingers before throwing me into the canals. And he thinks I’m you.”

“What?” She laughed.

“He found out your name as my lieutenant and he thinks my hooded charade is you, which means you need to be more careful for a while with your name. Understood?”

“Of course.” She began fiddling with her sleeve. “Do you still want an alliance?”

“I want to watch my father suffer.” You said plainly, leaning your palms flat against your desk. “I want to take from him the same he took from me as a child, and if it takes wooing Kaz Brekker - who wants the same thing, mind you - into some sort of partnership, so be it. Now for Gods’ sakes, Melli, quit picking at your cursed sleeve and be a lieutenant! Who’s the majority owner?”

Her hands folded behind her back and she righted her posture. She drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Truly?” You smiled and she nodded. “Well, maybe this is a good idea after all.”

The next night, you dressed for the first public appearance of Davina Rollins since her disappearance. You left your hair loose and left your cloak. Instead, you wore a fitted vest, similar to a corset but with thicker straps and less restriction of your breathing. It was another Grisha made item but this one had been far cheaper than your cloak. You had gotten it from a Fabrikator at port who had deserted the Second Army so she was willing to give it away for practically nothing. It had several knife sheaths and was damn near impenetrable.

You wore it over a dark blue long sleeved button up, tucked neatly into your pants, with two knives tucked into their homes. You wore your usual boots and added a pair of black leather gloves. The accessory made you think of Kaz and you found yourself wondering why he had added the gloves. Was it simply for mystery or something more?

You shook the thought away and reached for the last thing you needed. A dark piece of fabric that you had cut and sewn into a makeshift mask. It would cover the lower half of your face and loop over your ears before you pinned it into your hair. The hooded cloak could hide most of what you did, but you needed a statement with a true appearance.

Well, as true as you could risk.

Your deal with the man was easy enough. Paperwork for the sale would be submitted in the morning and you had him send word to your father that he was selling and the new owner wouldn’t pay him anything. You also had him add that you would be at his doorstep at midnight. Melli tried to talk you out of it, but your own spite drove you to it.

“You should meet in neutral territory. Is that what that square is for?” She reasoned and gestured towards the area most deals between gangs were made.

“I don’t know enough about the way it works there.” You shook your head. “Besides, it’s too open. Stadwatch can be bought, people can turn. I won’t risk it.”

“It’s riskier doing this!”

“Well, I’m sure dear old Dad will be too shocked to try to kill me.”

“Davina.”

“Go home, Melli. You know your tasks if I don’t return.”

“Abandon the revenge against Rollins. Forget allying with the Dregs. Make our own name.” She listed with a nod to punctuate each command. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. The deal is the deal.”

You were ushered into your father’s office quickly. Two large Dime Lions stood post and your father kept seated at his desk. You crossed your arms and your fingers grazed the handle of the blades. You were glad to know they were easy to reach.

“What business?” He finally spoke.

Hearing his voice sent a chill through you. He sounded the same, yet completely foreign. He had no warmth towards you, no yearning or longing. He wasn’t your father. Just the Barrel Boss, head of the Dime Lions, Pekka Rollins.

“Is that how you speak to your daughter?” You tried and raised a brow. “The power you claim to have has made you cruel.”

“Am I to believe you’re Davina?” He laughed. “My daughter wouldn’t hide. She’d face me as she is.”

“I wouldn’t hide?” You cocked your head. “Papa, I’ve been hiding for years. Who do you think has been building the snakes that have been making neat little dens all across your precious Ketterdam?”

You thought about taunting with the account, but if you lost those funds, your gang might drown unless the gambling hall proves fruitful.

“Snakes.” He spat. “Vile little creatures.”

“Maybe we’re more alike than I wanted to believe.”

A Dime Lion kicked at the back of your knee and you fell. Your father came around his desk and knelt in front of you, jerking your head towards him by your chin.

He stared into your eyes, scanned your face, looked at your hair. He was looking for some resemblance and you hadn’t realized how much you had changed until then. Yes, you had changed your hair, but also the set of your shoulders had changed. You didn’t cower from eye contact. Your voice matured. You held your head higher. Your round, childish cheeks had sharpened.

Even under your mask, after staring enough, he recognized you.

“I thought you were dead, Davi.” He said softly. “Where were you?”

“I tumbled with the Reaper.” You smiled beneath your mask. “I knew my time was coming when I left. I could either die at twelve or at ninety three. You’d be surprised how many thought I was so pretty, they bought a room.”

His mouth opened for a response but you spoke again.

“Yes, my tongue’s grown quite sharp with spite in my time away. I sold off my pride, figured it was easier to focus on that price you put on my head. Ego never pays so I found men who would.”

“You went into the Pleasure Houses?” He sounded disgusted.

“There was no one I wouldn’t fight to get what I wanted. Can’t you see? Worthless parents make stupid kids. Your conscience never compromised, not even when it killed the only two friends I had growing up. Looks like the apple didn’t stray very far.”

“You aren’t my daughter.” He shook his head. 

“I am Davina Rollins.” You said firmly. A hard right hook that you didn’t expect hit your jaw.

“I am the only daughter of Pekka Rollins.” A left hook that made your head jerk.

“I am the leader of the snakes.” You saw the next hit coming so you leaned away. “And I will not cower from you.”

You could taste the blood in your mouth while you got back to your feet. You made a show of dusting off your pants before you ran your tongue over your bloodied teeth. You turned your head, pulled your mask down, and spat on the floor, scanning the room to see it was still the two thugs at the door before replacing your cover.

Them plus your father. You might be able to do it. You had two blades but no pistol. Disarming one of the three was a possibility.

“That how you greet your children now?” You commented and adjusted your shirt sleeves. “I feel bad for the boy.”

“Do not speak of my son!” He shouted. “You abandoned your family!”

“Maybe.” You nodded. “And I miss my mother dearly, but that was all I left behind in that house.”

“Watch how you speak to me, Daughter. You may bear my name but you gave up your place here.”

“No, you never intended a place for me here. I was part of your schemes, always, but your empire was never going to be mine… You think I didn’t hear your whispered conversations with Mama? Maybe that’s part of why I decided to build my own. Not why I left, of course, but I’m sure we’ll get to that.”

“Why are you here?” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“I came to face you.” You explained, putting your arms out to either side dramatically. “As I am, of course. I’m taking possession of that neat little gambling hall a few blocks from the Crow Club.”

“That pisspot?” He laughed. “It brings in pocket change, Davi.”

“First, stop calling me that. You have no right.” You said firmly and you saw one of the men make a move toward you. Your head snapped in their direction. “If you like the bones of your leg intact, do not kick me again.”

He hesitated but stepped back so you faced your father.

“Second, if it’s so poorly, you should be glad I’m taking it off your hands.”

“I keep it as a thorn in Per Haskell’s side.” He explained, waving his hand through the air. “A reminder that I am everywhere.”

“Save me your dramatics, please.” You rolled your eyes. “The paperwork will be submitted and you, dear Dad, will not be involved in my new project.”

“Why do you want it so bad?”

“Profit.” You shrugged. “Isn’t that what it’s all about in Ketterdam? In Ghezen’s name and such.”

A faint explosion sounded from outside and you wondered what gang was riled up now.

“That place won’t feed your snakes.” He shook his head.

“I didn’t come for advice.”

“And yet clearly you need it, Little One. How about this? You bring your snakes and come here. We will welcome them with open arms and I can teach you how to truly become what you wish.”

“No.” You said flatly. “My snakes are mine and mine alone. I’d rather die than ever consider your help.”

“You’re a child.” He laughed, the condescension heavy in his words. “You won’t best me.”

A shadow passed by the office window and you could’ve sworn you had seen a glint of silver.

“Like calls to like. I’m sure I’ll make allies.” You answered.

You heard a pistol draw behind you.

“Tell your man to stand down.” You warned and your hand inched towards your blade.

A second pistol.

“You should’ve called to meet in neutral territory, Davi.” He sighed, then signaled to the men behind you. “It was nice to see you, one last time.”

You felt the hand on your arm and you reacted. You freed your knife and slashed, cutting a deep line across the man’s face. You whirled and saw the pistol raising. You gasped and dropped to the floor, the bullet landing somewhere in the wall. You reached forward and grabbed the man’s pant leg, yanking it towards you till he fell to his back and the gun fell away.

You sprung for it but the heavy foot of the other pinned your hand down. You cried out and you felt the squish of your flesh against the ground. Your other hand guided your knife along the back of his ankle, slicing through the tendon, and the man’s leg gave out. You rolled away and clutched your hand to your chest.

With heavy breaths, you jumped up and held firmly to your knife, the other hand still pulsing from the pain.

Another explosion, this one close enough to rock the building. You glanced towards the window but you saw your father pointing a gun at you.

“Oh Saints.” You complained, missing the safety of your cloak. “All this trouble just to kill me, Papa?”

“It’s not personal, Davi.” He almost looked regretful.

“Feels personal.”

You threw the knife in your hand before he fired. The blade buried itself to the hilt in his shoulder and it made his arm jerk, his shot going off course and he fell into his chair. The bullet burrowed into your own shoulder - of course it managed to miss the protection - and you couldn’t help but cry out. The force of the bullet made your arm jerk back and you stumbled towards the wall behind you. You slammed your hand against the wound as the pain shot down your arm.

You took in the scene ahead of you and quickly plotted a way out. There was only one Dime Lion standing, still armed. The fallen one had dropped his gun, as did your father. You could see he was torn between helping your father and going after you. You, however, needed to get out. You figured the gunshots would’ve called more Lions on the other side of the door, and the office was too high for you to take the window, so you needed a pistol of your own. You took a deep breath, clenched your jaw, and dove for the closest gun.

As soon as your wounded shoulder hit the ground, you winced sharply but refused to let it stop you. You held the pistol tightly, ignoring the way it felt slick in your bloodied hand, and dared a glance at your father. His Dime Lion had decided to help him instead of pursue you so you ran.

You burst through the door and found a surprisingly empty hallway. You didn’t hesitate, barreling down and taking the stairs two at a time. Every step sent a jolt through your arm and you cursed your father’s name each time. When you made it to the ground floor, that’s where you found the rest of his gang.

They were shooting at something in the streets but a few saw you come into the room. They pointed and opened their mouths, but your bullets came faster than their voices. You shot at their chests, bullets piercing lungs and hearts, before you ditched the gun and climbed through a nearby window. It took you into an alley and you crept along the building till you reached the street.

Habitually, you reached for your hood but found nothing. You sighed and ran a hand over your face, smearing the still wet blood along with the sweat on your forehead. The cold feeling of the leather was a stark contrast to your burning skin and the searing pain, so different you flinched away from it, but it also reminded you of Kaz. You groaned slightly and wiped your sleeve across your eyes instead.

You shook the thought and peered out into the streets. Your meeting had gone completely array and with the fire fight and explosions in the street, you needed a new way home. You took a few steps out and looked deeper into the night, trying to figure out what they were shooting at. You saw nothing, not even return fire. Curious, you dared another couple steps.

“Hey!” Someone yelled. “It’s Davina!”

“Get her!”

“Don’t kill her! The boss wants her alive!”

No he doesn’t.

You turned and ran. The pumping of your arms caused more blood to seep from your shoulder and you tried to ignore the pain. You looked over your shoulder just once and saw three of the Dime Lions in pursuit. They were smaller than the build your father usually employed, but you assumed it made them better for chases like the one you were currently involved in.

You knew you couldn’t go straight home. You’d lead them right to your snakes. There was a smaller place closer, a safe house that you had commandeered from the Razor Gulls before you had your current building. It wasn’t much but it was safe enough, with what you’d need to clean and bandage your shoulder.

You made a mental note to put out word you were looking to employ a Healer.

As you were running, a hand grasped your wrist and pulled you into an alley. You screamed but their other hand covered your mouth as you were pinned to the wall. Their body was pressed lightly against yours, your back flat against the wall, while they watched the streets instead of looking at you.

Your eyes were wide until you recognized who it was.

Kaz.

You sighed deeply in a strange sense of relief. Kaz was in no way your ally but at least he was familiar and unlikely to kill you in the alley. You two stayed huddled in the alley until the Lions ran by, shouting about which direction you went.

When you could no longer hear their footfalls, he backed away.

“You’re bleeding.” He said with a frown.

“I’m aware.” You said through heavy breaths. “Hurts like hell too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes slightly. “Why are you here, anyways?”

“Are you really questioning me when I just saved you?”

“Yes, because you don’t just appear when someone needs saving, Kaz.”

“I heard you were meeting with your father. I wanted to see if it was true.” He said with a small shrug, as if you should’ve known.

“And do you believe it?” You asked.

He stared at you in study for a minute. His eyes seemed to take the same path your father’s did. Your eyes, your nose, your face shape, your hairline. He looked you up and down before the ghost of a smile graced his lips and he gave you a small nod.

“Hello, Davina.” He finally answered and you smiled behind your mask.

“Hello, Kaz.” You replied, relief plain in your voice. “It’s good to finally talk.”

“We should get you to a Healer.” His tone changed and you saw a shift in his body language as well. Tension, control, like elastic ready to snap. Your brows furrowed and suddenly felt no relief in his sudden appearance.

And he hadn’t answered what he was doing there.

“No.” You said carefully. “I don’t want to go to Nina Zenik.”

“I didn’t say Zenik.”

“You didn’t have to. Why are you here?”

“I’ll explain later, but you won’t hear any of it if you decide

to bleed out in an alley.” He snapped.

“You’ll explain now.” You pulled your blade. You knew he was right. You were still losing blood, though it had slowed. You were tired, light-headed, growing weary with every step. Your bulleted arm was growing heavy, more useless with every pump of blood that left. But you would die fighting the Bastard of the Barrel if that’s what it took. “Or you can bleed out with me.”

“Dammit, Davina.” He sighed. Another figure appeared at the entrance to the alley and you whirled on them quickly.

You grabbed their shirtfront and slammed them against the wall. His hands went up in surrender as your blade threatened his throat.

“Woah!” He said quickly. “You wouldn’t slit my throat if I’m unarmed, would you?”

It took you a second but you recognized him.

“You’re Jesper Fahey. You’re never unarmed.” You countered.

At that, he grinned widely. “True, but you can see my hands, Love.” His eyes darted to your shoulder. “And I think you’ve already taken one bullet tonight.”

You shoved off him and glared back to Kaz.

“Oh, Saints. Kaz!” Jesper complained. “You shot her?”

“I did no such thing.” He said plainly. “The idiot got herself shot somewhere else.”

“A parting gift from my father.” You spat. “If you were just here to verify I was alive, why bring your sharpshooter?”

“If you think I’m daft enough to plot against the Dime Lions alone, then you’re a fool.” Kaz countered and you didn’t miss the hint of condescension.

It made you think the figure from before wasn’t just shadows. “No, I suppose that’s my job, as you do so like to point out.”  You looked to the rooftops.

“The Wraith here too?” You asked.

“She’s good.” Jesper praised. “Maybe we shouldn’t-“

“Shut up.” Kaz muttered. “Davina, Dear, we really should go.”

“What were the explosions?”

“Wylan’s handiwork.” Jesper said proudly. “Nothing dangerous, moreso just sound and some bright lights.”

“It shook my father’s building.” You deadpanned.

“Well.” He grinned again, his face alight with the thrill of a fight. “Maybe a little dangerous.”

“This wasn’t curiosity.” You turned on Kaz, his expression as unreadable as ever but he gave up the charade. “This was a heist. You wanted to kidnap me. Was my lieutenant not enough? Breaking her ribs, throwing her into the canals, that wasn’t enough?”

“You think me a fool?”

“You don’t want to know what I think you are.”

“Your lieutenant is a girl named Melli. She was visiting a small gambling hall last night and, funny enough, she didn’t wear that little cloak. And her hair was a different color, different cut, and her face was rounder than the hooded one. So, either you have multiple lieutenants or the girl you send out is someone else. Which is it, Dear?”

He knew something. You could see it in his eyes, even in the minimal light. You could hear it in his voice. He knew more than he was claiming, and he wanted to goad you into a confession.

“I’m going home.” You said firmly, though you could feel your hand with your blade trembling. “I’m hurt. I’m tired. I’m pissed off and in no mood to fight with you, Brekker.”

“No, we’re due for quite the chat.”

You sighed and tucked your blade away. You looked to Jesper, who was a bit uncertain of what to do next.

“Sorry about this.” You muttered.

His brows furrowed and as he opened his mouth to speak, you punched him in the throat. He coughed and grabbed his throat, so you grabbed his forearms and shoved him at Kaz. Both men fell in a heap so you took off running towards your little safe house.

You’d clean your wound, pry out the bullet, sleep off the worst of the pain. In the morning, you’d meet with your unnamed Healer before you returned home and planned what the hell you were going to do next.

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day XXI

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It is my honor and privilege to provide you little devils with the schedule for Week Four of Kinktober, put together by our dear @hazelfoureyes! I hope you’ve all been enjoying yourselves so far — idk about the rest of y’all but it’s been an eye-opening month for me! Who said an old dog can’t learn new tricks? 🤭❤️‍🔥

If you’ve missed any — or are looking to binge read some smut — please be sure to check out the masterlist I have linked below that @synamartia has graciously been maintaining for us 🙏🏻

And without further ado, here is my fourth offering to you all. I’ll see y’all again on Sunday! ♥️

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prompt: size kink

sanctuary

“let me satisfy your soul.

i’m not a saint

but do i have to be?”

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Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!alastor x bottom!lucifer (or is it? hehe), alastor is down bad, luci worship, very brief mention of blood and viscera (yk, just horny cannibalistic demon things) 🕊️✨

word count: 1.2k

summary: alastor gets sentimental about how much he loves how small lucifer is.

author’s note: hello darlings! i am once again pushing my romantic radioapple agenda. while i never set out to instill a rose-colored haze, i nevertheless hope you enjoy. in regard to my agenda, well… it will happen again. quote is from holy ghost by børns — and this falls under my previous warning; don’t be surprised if you see it again in the future lol

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven's kinktober masterlist

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“You’re so fucking small,” Alastor groaned.

It wasn’t a new observation, by any means. In fact, it was one of the first that Alastor made mention of when he and Lucifer met all those months ago.

You are much shorter in real life!

Typically, a comment on Lucifer’s stature was just an impudent barb to throw at the King. A sure-fire way of pissing him off whenever Alastor felt like seeing that smug look on Lucifer’s face wiped clear off. Replacing it with one he found much more attractive: anger.

Lucifer didn’t always take the bait though, so Alastor had learned to measure the usage of this weapon. There were still plenty of other ways to achieve the same result. Knocking Lucifer’s hat off his blonde bouffant the other morning had been particularly enjoyable. He really did look so much better without that garish thing he dared to call a fashion choice. 

But right now it wasn’t an insult.

Alastor was slightly propped up on some pillows, admiring the pretty King of Hell whine from his words as he bounced on his cock. It was a sentiment Alastor had felt many times, lost in the awe inspiring sight that was Lucifer in the throes of passion. That golden glow radiating from under his skin like a divine beacon he couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. Pillowy wings extended on either side of them, and Alastor loved the way they tickled his thighs with their light touch.

In these moments, Lucifer seemed almost fragile. 

His lean, petite frame was easily held in Alastor’s hands. He had them on that delectable waist now, the tips of his fingers laced behind Lucifer’s back. Alastor wasn’t directing the angel’s pace, instead he was relishing the feeling of Lucifer under his touch. Soft alabaster skin, strong muscles flexing underneath; dew drops of sweat that Lucifer benevolently created to bead from pores that didn’t previously exist, solely because Alastor had complained over it once. How unfair it was for him to be the only one dripping with effort, and worse still, losing out on a facet of Lucifer that only he was allowed to indulge in. 

What a marvel it had been when Alastor felt the slick perspiration the next time they copulated. How the sweet and acrid scent of it filled his nostrils and made his mouth salivate. Somehow managing to taste even better than it smelled when he ran his tongue up the length of Lucifer’s body. Needing only to straighten the arch of his back to elongate himself and complete the path from belly to neck, finishing off with a flourish of his tongue along Lucifer’s throat and the underside of his chin. 

Alastor’s head fell backward, his jaw hanging open to let out an unrestrained moan just remembering it. He really was so spoiled.

“You feel like glass under my fingers,” Alastor panted, tightening his grip on Lucifer as if he meant to test the theory. His ears and cock twitched as Lucifer cursed wantonly, sinking down to grind himself against Alastor’s pelvis. Lucifer’s walls fluttered, managing against all odds to squeeze him even tighter. “Fuck, you take me so well for such a tiny thing…”

The words were husky in this throat, thick with lust and static. Part of him couldn’t believe his raw honesty nor how the words seemed to pour so easily from his mouth. Moaning again as Lucifer cried out his name, droplets of arousal falling onto Alastor’s stomach; his muscles tensing in reaction to the heat and weight of them. 

“I want to see you fall apart…want you to use me until you cum,” he continued, hissing as Lucifer’s hands left his chest to clasp over his own the best they could. His pace invigorated by Alastor’s words.

How delicate those hands were. Dark and graceful, with long slender fingers that could tear him to shreds if he so wished. Alastor felt, as well as heard, his antlers creak; branching out as the image of Lucifer’s pristine, radiant skin covered in his blood and viscera flashed in his mind. Mercifully, he managed not to climax, silently chastising himself for almost finishing first over a fantasy after his admission of wanting to be used. 

“Fuck baby, what’s gotten into you?” Lucifer’s voice was whiny and just above a whisper, but he was glowing with pride. Rolling his hips and clenching around Alastor’s cock with a familiar determination. “Can’t wait to cum on your cock. Gonna milk you fucking dry…”

Alastor groaned and bit his lip, the sharp taste of copper on his tongue as his climax inched closer and closer. Normally he wasn’t this affected when Lucifer spoke this way, the vulgarity of it making him feel more embarrassed than inspired. But this is precisely what he wanted now. To be used by his love as nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. It was within his power, as all things were.

Lucifer’s hands tightened over his own, which still encompassed that slight waist. His movements were becoming stuttered but Alastor refused to guide, writhing in the blissful agony of anticipation. His resolve was put to the final test as Lucifer took one of Alastor’s hands and brought it to his member, his own hand remaining on top as Alastor began to stroke with an even tempo. Squeezing the tip a little harder in his palm in the way he knew Lucifer enjoyed before moving back down.

The room was filled with nothing but the blended sounds of their affection, until finally Lucifer screamed, wings fluttering as he slammed down onto Alastor’s hips as his orgasm peaked. Alastor didn’t even notice the hot release in his hand, his eyes drinking in the vision before him. Disheveled, sweaty blonde hair framing Lucifer’s ethereal face. Mouth open to reveal sharp teeth and a forked tongue between gasps for breath and the velvet sound of his voice. The vice grip of his walls shuddered around Alastor’s length as he quickly followed suit, spilling into Lucifer’s heat with a relieved cry. Both of their chests heaving to catch their breath as their bodies twitched and jerked from sensitivity and delight.

Slowly, Alastor lifted Lucifer off him, both of them groaning a little from the loss. Lucifer waved his hand absently to whisk away their mess as he climbed down from his seat in Alastor’s lap, taking refuge on his tufted chest while Alastor’s fingers gently carded through his plumes. Their body heat mingled as their breaths evened out and synced, and Alastor couldn’t help the hum of contentment that vibrated through his chest, earning a sleepy chuckle from Lucifer.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lucifer concurred, burrowing himself further in Alastor’s embrace. 

Alastor stifled a laugh as he felt Lucifer’s tail eagerly wrap itself around his left thigh, the tickle catching him off-guard but the feeling of security more than wanted. He kept up the grooming of Lucifer’s wings as a comfortable silence settled over them, quickly punctuated by the deep, even sound of Lucifer’s breathing.

If Alastor enjoyed sleep as much as Lucifer did, he would be jealous of the angel’s ability to fall under in what seemed like mere seconds. Instead, he gazed down at the relaxed, statuesque face on his chest, his immortal heart swelling just underneath it. Beating as both a lullaby and a vow of his ardent devotion. 

His whole world encapsulated in this small, resilient, all-powerful form that he was lucky enough to provide sanctuary for.

“Pleasant dreams, mon ange. I shall be here when you wake.”

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banner by @synamartia

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[notelcol]

A rivals desire 🌹

Non gender specific rival/lover✨

A little story inspired by the Wanderers ‘about us: rivals’ voiceline. In this story, reader is studying in Vahamuna with the Wanderer and is his only true academic rival. You and he are the only ones able to really challenge each others work. It will, of course, be set in Sumeru post it’s archon quest.

Mildly edited, apologies for mistakes🫶

——-

“So, you're still stewing over our run-ins from before? Huh. Well, what are you going to do about it? Take your time. I'm in no hurry.” The Wanderer scowled at you, referring to the time you helped thwart his plans to become a god.

“For the last time. No!” Your voice became faster and louder as you continued. “Unlike you, I can let things go!” You glared at him.

“If you aren’t out for revenge, then why would you rebuke my paper?!” He leaned closer as he waved your latest paper around. “Why else would you make a point of disputing every paper I submit?” His voice became quiet, full of venom with a touch of vulnerability.

“I rebuked your paper because it was short sighted. Same as all the others.” You told him. “Your takes on history and society are factually correct and full of potential, yes. But, you always fail to see the true story.” You say, slightly distracted by how close you stood to him. “You miss out the heart of everything by only focusing on the tangible parts. True insight comes from mixing the facts with the feelings that follow in their wake.” You explained, eyes flicking to the ground as you finished talking and realised how long you’d been maintaining eye contact.

When he didn’t reply, you returned his gaze again. He seemed to be lost in his mind, you could almost see the churning of waves behind his blue eyes.

“So you’re telling me, that to reach academic greatness I must tap into my emotions to find the heart of things?” He asked incredulously before scoffing. “You realise I don’t have a heart right?” He folded his arms and raised a brow as he spoke. His words made you chuckle.

“The heart just pumps blood around a body. The brain is where all thoughts and feelings lie….surely you have one of those don’t you?” You smirked.

“Yes. Very funny.” He deadpanned. You rolled your eyes.

“Well, if we’re done here?” You gestured to the path you were on your way down before he interrupted your journey.

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you began to turn away. “If you think you know so much, then show me. Show me how to achieve ‘true insight’.”

You deliberated his request for no where near long enough, given the task it would be to get this man to view society in a sympathetic way.

“Fine. Lesson one. Tell me one emotion you are familiar with feeling.” You looked expectantly, assuming he would give you an immediate answer. After mulling it over he opened his mouth..and then closed it again, before finally speaking.

“Desire.”

“Good! That’s good, you can tap into that. Think of something you want and go after it. Study that feeling. Then when you succeed, focus on how you feel when you get whatever it is you want and it will lead you to another emotion to study.“

“This is ridiculous. Talking about feelings to better writing, how warped.” He grumbled.

“You sound like Azar.” You shook your head at him, remembering the former grand sage.

“Don’t compare me to that old fool!” Offence tainted the Wanderer’s words. “I am nothing like that failure. I am better.” His breath fanned your face as he argued with you.

“Then stop acting like him and prove it! I wouldn’t ‘make a point’ of challenging you all the time if I didn’t believe you could be brilliant.” You exclaimed. His eyes darted around your face as he seemed to freeze. You watched him wade through his mind, slowly you could see his soul becoming clearer in the distance. You had lost yourself in his eyes and possibly would have stayed that way for eternity if he hadn’t grabbed your cheeks, shocking you back to reality. He almost looked as confused as you, before pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened as the space between you closed, but when his fingers started stroking your cheek as he kissed you, you couldn’t help but melt. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and you let yourself fall into the kiss. You swore you could feel him smile right before he pulled away.

“Peace.” He spoke as he rested his forehead on yours. “The fruition of my desire leads to peace.”

——-

Thank you for reading 🌹

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Previous chapter

Year: 1912

The wind blew in through her hair as her horse galloped along the English countryside. She could’ve sworn the wind was whispering in her ear as her smile beamed at the beautiful world before her. 

“Oy!” She glanced back to see Tommy’s smiling face, “What’s the hurry, love?” She grabbed the reins to her stead, tightening them slightly to slow down to her friend’s speed.

“No hurry at all,” she said behind a grin, “I just thought you were a horse connoisseur.” Tommy raised an eyebrow at that.

“Are you saying I’m all talk?” he said, feigning exasperation.

“I’m saying your riding is shit.” she shot back playfully, letting her grin turn into a cheeky smile. Tommy’s other eyebrow raised to match the first.

“Well,” he said, adjusting himself slightly, “I guess we’ll have to see who the best horseman is.” 

“You mean horsewoman?” She corrected, a lilt in her voice. 

“I didn’t mean-” Before he could finish his thought, Y/N took off. Tommy mumbled a string of expletives before bolting after her. She leaned forward, forcing her horse to maintain the speed she needed. She could hear Tommy hot on her heels as the lake came into view. 

“Come on.” she urged her horse as she began to see the outline of Tommy in her vision. Suddenly, the horse stops at the edge of the lake. Seconds later, Tommy is by her side.

“Well, that was shit sportsmanship.” She shot him a brazen smirk.

“But I still won.” Tommy clicked his tongue.

“I guess you did.” He said, jumping off his stead. She followed his lead, landing beside her companion. 

“Now you have to admit, I am the superior horseman.” She punctuated the sentiment by placing her hands on her hips. She could feel Tommy willing himself not to roll his eyes. She tried to hold back a snicker, failing to notice he began to remove his shoes.

“I will admit that,” He placed his shoes and socks side by side at the edge of the lake. “But I think you may have to face punishment for poor sportsmanship.”

“Poor sportsmanship-” She was cut off as two strong arms wrapped around her waist. A squeak escaped her lips as Tommy lifted her into his arms and a scream erupted as they both plunged into the water. Her arms instinctively wrapped tightly around his neck, and her legs around his waist as they resurfaced.

“That punishment did not fit the crime.” she said, using her palm to rub the lake water from her eyes.

Tommy snorted with laughter as he brushed a strand of wet hair away from her face. “Then I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” She rolled her eyes at the platitude before moving Tommy’s wet hair off his forehead. She couldn’t help but giggle as she pushed the hair straight back. “What’s so funny?” he said. His smile showcased his prominent cheekbones. 

“Nothing,” she said, continuing to smooth his hair, “I just know what you’ll look like when you’re a bald old man.”

“You mean I’ll be dashingly handsome,” he struck a pose for her.

“Something like that she says,” she replied, unable to ignore the tranquility in his eyes as she combed her fingers through his hair. She knew those eyes well—beautiful eyes that could penetrate her soul and unearth every secret. From stealing money from her mother's purse to staying out late with the boy from her English class, those eyes knew everything about her. They had the power to hold her captive for as long as they desired. She almost forgot how entangled in her friend she was until he started to move them out of the water. She let her legs unwrap from around his waist and her arms detach from behind his neck. He pulled himself out of the water, helping her out with him.

Although the lake was not the most exciting place in the countryside of England, it was one of their favorites. They discovered this secret oasis nine years earlier. They had both decided to cut class that day to ride horses. The further they ventured from Small Heath, the fresher the air became, and the distant sounds of the city faded away. That was when they finally found their oasis, their lake. It has become their hideaway from reality. Tommy’s from the growing pressure of the Peaky Blinders and Y/N’s from the monotonousness that was Small Heath. 

She would rest her head on his shoulder as they watched the sun set. She always liked the way the sun streaked across the lake’s surface. 

“The sun’s telling us that we’re in our own personal heaven.” she would say, pointing at how the glittering rays of the sun hitting the lake seemed to be pointed perfectly at them. Tommy would smile and watch the joy in her eyes as she watched the sunset. 

On the oppressively warm days of summer between sessions of secondary school, Tommy and Y/N would sneak off together to the lake. Polly would roll her eyes and smirk as she watched the teens gallop away. 

“Fuck, I’m soaked.” Tommy said, noticing the way his clothes molded to his form. Y/N noticed it too, looking away when Tommy looked over at her. Tommy’s eyes remained on Y/N for another beat, noticing the way her white dress had now become transparent.

“I wonder whose fault is that.” Y/N said. Before Tommy could retort, Y/N pulled her dress over her head. Seeing Y/N in her knickers was a sight Tommy had seen many times, but he still couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks. She kicked off her shoes too before reaching out to Tommy, “Give me your shirt and trousers.” 

He snorted before beginning to unbutton his top, “Usually a lady needs to buy me a drink before we get to this part of the evening.” Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing Tommy’s clothes and hanging them up in a tree branch to dry. As soon as the clothes were settled in the branch, Y/N took the picnic blanket from her bag and laid it out. 

“After you,” She gestured towards the blanket. Tommy lay on his back, his eyes gazing at the sky. Y/N followed suit, observing whatever the sky decided to reveal to them. The clouds drifted by, and the wind whispered through the grass. Tommy's eyelids grew heavy, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

“Look!” His eyes shot open, “A bullfinch!” Y/N pointed up towards a red-breasted bird. Tommy rubbed his eyes letting out a snicker.

“You scared the crap out of me,” He said drowsily, “What’s so great about a goddamn bird?” 

Y/N shrugs and continues to stare at the bird as it lands on a branch.

Y/N shrugged, her gaze fixed on the bird as it took flight. "I don't know, it's rather beautiful, don't you think?" Tommy couldn't help but smile.

“And that, my dear, is why you will be a wonderful teacher.” It was now Y/N’s turn to smile at Tommy. With the summer coming to an end, Y/N’s first year of teaching primary school quickly approached. She felt like a kid herself in the sense that the first day of school jitters were already starting to pulse through her fingers and toes. 

“I hope so,” she said, allowing her arms to rest above her head as her fingers traced the dirt.

“I know so.” he replied, turning to look at her, “I also know that all the little buggers will adore you, especially the little boys.” Y/N playfully slapped Tommy’s arm.

“Very funny Tom,” she rolled her eyes at him, “If anything happens, I’ll make sure to tell James.” 

James. Of course she would tell James. Tommy shifted his gaze, fixing his eyes on the sky once more.

James was Y/N’s most recent boyfriend. He was nice. Very nice. Too nice, Tommy thought as a beat passed between the two of them.

“How is he?” Tommy asked, letting his eyes stay away from Y/N.

“Good,” Y/N replied, “It’s only been a few weeks but, I don’t know, I have a good feeling about him.” 

“I can tell, you two looked awfully chummy at The Garrison the other day.” Y/N’s face turns to Tommy.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” Y/N teased, “Making sure James is treating me well?” 

“It’s one of the perks of my job.” Now it was Y/N’s turn to look at the sky. 

Tommy had recently begun to become more involved in the Peaky Blinders. Y/N knew this day would come, it was the family business. She just always expected Arthur to take more of a leadership role, but in the back of her mind, she knew this was Tommy’s dream: to protect his family and provide them the life he always wanted. She can’t help but recall the young boy in the oversized clothes finding odd ways to help his family survive the cold winters. With him in charge, they both know the family will never have to worry about that again.

“How’s that going?” she asked, letting her hands rest on her belly button. 

Tommy shrugged, “Fine.” Y/N sat up, looking down at her friend.

“Come on Tom, I need more details than just ‘fine’.” He sighed, slowly sitting up to meet her eyes. 

“It’s definitely going,” He ran a hand through his drying hair, “I’m thinking we should invest in the race track.” She raised an eyebrow.

“You mean you’re going to be a horse gambler now?” 

“What do you want me to say?” he mumbled, “You know my father is gone. Finn is four, Ada just turned fifteen, John is getting fucking married and Arthur is hanging on by a fucking thread. This is the path we have to take.” She understood his predicament, that doesn’t mean she liked it.

“What about Polly? Could she take on more?” She felt as though she was pleading with Tommy. Begging him to sit back and let himself be a young man and do the normal things that young men do. 

“It’s my family, Y/N,” he said firmly, “It’s my job, not Polly’s.” 

“Well,” she looked away from him, “I hope you realize that this is a death sentence.” She knew her words cut him. She could feel all movement from him stop. 

“Why can’t you be happy for me,” his words come out almost as a whisper, “My family is finally making a name for itself. I thought you could at least pretend to be happy.” He was trying his hardest not to yell, but his frustration was getting the better of him. 

She looked back over at him, keeping the harshness in her eyes, “I can’t do that when my best friend is putting himself in danger.” That was when Tommy rose. He grabbed his clothes off the branch and began to dress himself.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, standing to face him.

“Going home,” he replied, beginning to mount his horse.

“Tommy-”

“Goodbye, Y/N.” he said, cutting her off, before riding off. Y/N sighed, taking a seat on the blanket. It wasn't their first fight—this was one of maybe one million. She knew how it would play out. They wouldn't speak for a day or two, and then either she or Tommy would knock on the other's door, ready to apologize. He needed space and she would let him have it. 

She gets home that day, hoping maybe Tommy would be at her door. He wasn’t. She sighed, bringing her horse to the stable before going inside.

That day turned into two, then a week, and eventually a month. Six months passed before she heard from him again.

Next chapter

Taglist:

@mrharringtonsbae

@mysticwitchcraftco

@globetrotter28

[rynwritesreid]

Mind games~Spencer Reid

Chapter three~ nothing’s new

Chapter summary: The FBI gives you time off, allowing you time to heal after what happened to you. But after news spreads, someone from your past contacts you, making old wounds resurface, making you turn to none other than Spencer Reid.

Chapter warnings: Talks about the BDSM community and BDSM dynamics. Talks of fainting. Submissive reader and dominant Spencer. Alcohol consumption. Mentions of what happened to you in the previous chapter but nothing serious. Reader cries but Spencer comforts her. Mentions of emotional wounds from previous relationships.

A/N: I might start releasing these every week instead of every other week, but I am not sure. I also hope this is a good description of what BDSM and specifically D/S relationships are like, I know that community gets a lot of really bad stories written about them.

~mind game’s masterlist~

~join the mind games taglist~

Everyone on the team had been looking after you, making sure you were okay. Spencer, however, had been a godsend. He would send you texts throughout the day, even though the man hated technology. He had opened up to you about what he had been through, maybe in hopes of you opening up, or maybe he just wanted to show you he knew how you were feeling. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy that he was no longer horrible towards you.

 

You did want to open to Spencer, to everyone, and let them know what you had seen, but you just couldn’t. And the fact that people from academy had been texting you, telling you they had heard what happened and that they couldn’t imagine how you felt, just made it worse.

It had also made it back to your ex-boyfriend, who after 1 and a half years of ignoring your texts, had decided to call you. Part of you wanted to ignore the call, to push away any connection to the past. But another part of you was curious about what he had to say after all this time.

 

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call. His voice sounded distant and strained as he spoke, "Hey... I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

 

The sincerity in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, you were reminded of why you had loved him in the first place. But then reality set in, reminding you of the pain and heartbreak he had caused.

 

"I appreciate your sympathy," you replied coolly, trying to maintain a sense of composure. "But I'm doing my best to move forward."

 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear him searching for the right words.

 

"I understand if you don't want to hear from me anymore," he finally said, his voice filled with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I've changed. I've done a lot of soul-searching and therapy since we broke up. I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me."

 

Your grip on the phone tightened as his words struck a chord within you. The longing for closure and understanding warred with the pain and bitterness that still lingered from your past.

 

"It's too late now," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You had your chance, and you blew it."

 

There was silence on the other end, and you could almost picture him taking in a deep breath before speaking again.

 

"You're right," he said quietly. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I hope that someday, maybe, you can find it in your heart to let go of the hurt I caused."

 

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words hit you like a wave crashing onto the shore. The pain of his betrayal resurfaced, threatening to engulf you once again. Part of you wanted to believe in his sincerity, to believe that people could change. But another part of you feared being hurt all over again.

 

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. You didn’t care what he had to say anymore, so you just hung up.

 

You couldn’t hold back any more and you just began to sob. You picked up your phone and decided to call Spencer, it probably would have been smarter to call one of the girls, Spencer wasn’t the only one who understood what you had gone through, but Spencer was the only one who could truly understand you.

 

As the phone rang, your tears continued to flow, blurring your vision and making it difficult to see. The weight of your emotions felt like an anchor dragging you down into a sea of despair. Each ring seemed to echo in the cavernous void of loneliness that had enveloped you.

 

Finally, Spencer's voice broke through the haze of your anguish. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

 

You tried to steady your voice, but it came out choked with sobs. "Spencer," you managed to utter between gasps for air. "I... I need you."

 

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Spencer's voice softened with understanding. "I'm here for you," he said gently. "Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

 

“I’m ready now Spencer, please.” In that moment, you could hear the urgency in your own voice, the desperation for comfort and solace. The pain of your past relationship had resurfaced, triggering a deep yearning for someone who truly understood you. And Spencer, with his unwavering support and compassion, was the only person who could provide that.

 

Silence lingered on the other end of the line, and you wondered if perhaps you had overwhelmed him with your sudden vulnerability. But just as doubt began to creep in, Spencer's voice filled the void once again.

 

"I'm on my way," he said firmly, his words laced with determination. "Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."

 

Relief washed over you like a gentle tide, easing some of the turmoil in your heart. You trusted Spencer implicitly; his presence was a balm to your wounded soul.

 

Spencer rushed into Hotch’s office, telling him that you needed someone with you right now, and that he will be back to work as soon as he can be.

 

And Spencer, a man who was always true to his word, was at your door within 20 minutes.

 

You opened the door, your tear-streaked face betraying the pain you had been holding inside. Spencer took one look at you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, brought a sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

 

"I'm here," he whispered softly into your ear, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're not alone anymore."

 

You clung to him, seeking solace in his presence, as he led you to the couch and sat down beside you. “You don't have to face this pain by yourself”, his voice was calming, “everyone on the team loves you, they all would be here in a heartbeat for you. I mean they are discussing what to get you for when you come back to work.”

 

You let out a weak laugh, the first sign of a smile since the whole ordeal began. It was comforting to know that you had a support system, a group of people who truly cared about you.

 

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't know where I would be without all of you."

 

Spencer's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with genuine compassion. "You're stronger than you think," he assured you softly. "And we'll be right here with you every step of the way."

 

In that moment, as you sat there with Spencer by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. The pain and heartache were still present, but now they were tempered by the love and support surrounding you.

 

“Would you like to talk about what happened, or is there something else on your mind?”

 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to relive the details of the past, but then you realized that Spencer was right. It was time to face what had happened and start the healing process.

 

Taking a deep breath, you began to share your story. The words tumbled out, sometimes in a rush, other times choked with emotion. Spencer listened attentively, never interrupting or judging. He offered gentle words of encouragement, his presence a constant reminder that you were not alone.

 

As you recounted the painful memories, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Each word spoken was an act of defiance against the pain that had consumed you for so long. And with each passing minute, you felt a little bit stronger.

 

When you finally finished, there was a silence that hung in the air, as if the weight of your story needed a moment to settle in. Spencer broke the stillness with a soft sigh.

 

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, “you should never have had to have gone through that. He will rot in prison. And that ex of yours, he did not deserve you.”

 

You nodded, grateful for Spencer's unwavering support and understanding. His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, validating the pain you had endured. Your heart ached with the realization that you had been in a toxic relationship, but knowing that you were no longer alone gave you the strength to move forward.

 

"Thank you, Spencer," you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes once again. "I don't know how I would have made it through this without you."

 

Spencer's gaze softened, his hand gently wiping away your tears. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Being there for you is what friends do. We look out for each other."

 

The word "friends" lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Spencer. The connection you shared felt deeper than mere friendship, but you were both still healing from past wounds. It was too soon to explore those feelings, and not long ago, Spencer had shown his dislike for you.

 

*

 

After about two weeks, you were back in the bullpen. Garcia had decorated your desk, telling you that this always make her feel better and she thought it would do the same to you, JJ and Emily informed you on all the gossip you had missed, Hotch had gone full dad mode on you, making sure you were okay, Rossi had invited you over to his for a private cooking lesson, Morgan had told you all the pranks he had pulled on Spencer. Spencer on the other hand seemed to keep his distance, he had smiled at you, but ever since that day he had come over something seemed to have changed.

 

You couldn't put your finger on it, but there was a palpable shift in the dynamics between you and Spencer. He was still kind and supportive, but there was a subtle hesitancy in his interactions with you. It was as if he was holding back, as if there were unresolved emotions swirling beneath the surface.

 

You desperately wanted to address it, to talk to Spencer about what had transpired between you, but you feared that doing so might jeopardize the fragile bond you had built. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he saw you as nothing more than a friend and confidant?

 

You pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the work at hand. The team had a new case, one that required their full attention. As you discussed the details with your teammates, you noticed Spencer's gaze linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. It was a fleeting look, but enough to make your heart skip a beat.

 

Throughout the day, you found yourself stealing glances at Spencer whenever you could. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a connection that had grown stronger during your time of need. But you both had been through so much already, and neither of you wanted to rush into anything without being sure.

 

As the case progressed, Spencer's presence beside you became more prominent. He would stand just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours as he passed you a file or offered his insights. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes about what he was feeling.

 

Even JJ had commented on it, asking if something was going on between the two of you, but you assured her nothing was going on. But the truth was, you weren't quite sure how to define whatever it was that was happening between you and Spencer.

 

*

 

After the case was over, the team decided to go out for celebratory drinks. This was the first time you had gone out since what had happened to you. You were sat in-between JJ and Garcia, they were both talking about their funniest sex stories and you couldn't help but laugh along with them, grateful for the distraction from your own thoughts. Across the table, Spencer was engaged in a lively conversation with Rossi and Morgan, his laughter ringing out in the crowded bar.

 

You don’t know what compelled you, but you decided to share yours, and you were almost certain Spencer couldn’t hear you.

 

“If you want to mine”, you paused, allowing the girls to give you their full attention, “I told my ex that I was into BDSM and he thought that just meant me calling him daddy. So, when I told him what I was really into, he nearly fainted. It was definitely an interesting and eye-opening experience." The girls burst into laughter, their faces turning red from the combination of alcohol and amusement.

 

The sound caught Spencer's attention, his ears perking up as he turned his head towards you. His eyes locked with yours, and you could've sworn there was a flicker of interest in them.

 

"Wait, what did I miss?" he asked, leaning closer to catch the tail end of the conversation.

 

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced at the girls. JJ nudged you playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

 

"Oh, Y/N's just regaling us with her kinky adventures," Garcia chimed in with a teasing smirk.

 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and surprise evident on his face. "Is that so?" he asked, trying to hide a smile.

 

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. The playful conversation seemed to have opened a door, allowing for a light-hearted connection between you and Spencer. You took a deep breath, deciding to seize the moment.

 

"Yeah, well, it was definitely an experience," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But let's just say, I've learned my lesson about dating vanilla guys."

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I can assure you, I'm far from vanilla," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

 

JJ and Garcia exchanged knowing glances, silently urging you to take the plunge. They had seen the connection between you and Spencer long before either of you had acknowledged it, and they were more than ready to play matchmakers.

 

"So," Garcia interjected with a sly grin, "are we going to sit here and talk about kinks all night, or are you two going to finally address the elephant in the room?"

 

“I-erm what elephant?” you asked, there was hint of confusion in your voice.

 

“Oh, come on.” JJ stated “Even when Spencer hated you, he couldn’t take his eyes of you.”

 

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly, his gaze shifting nervously between you and JJ. You could see the internal battle raging within him, the fear of rejection warring with his desire for something more.

 

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "I... I have to admit," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when I claimed to dislike you, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards you. You're intelligent, compassionate, and..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reciprocation.

 

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached across the table, gently placing your hand on top of Spencer's. "And what?" you prompted softly.

 

He let out a shaky laugh, his fingers intertwining with yours. "And beautiful," he finished, his voice filled with sincerity.

 

JJ and Garcia exchanged triumphant glances as their matchmaking efforts paid off.

 

“You know, I think it’s time you two go home, so you can discuss this somewhere Hotch can’t hear you.” Emily said in a hushed tone.

 

You and Spencer laughed, realizing that your friends were right. It was time to have a more private conversation about the growing feelings between you. As the night came to an end, you and Spencer found yourselves outside the bar, away from prying ears.

 

The air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. You leaned against the side of the building, facing Spencer who stood only a few feet away. There was a comfortable silence between you as you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

 

Finally, Spencer spoke up, his voice filled with vulnerability. "I never meant to push you away before. I was scared...scared of opening myself up to someone, scared of getting hurt. But seeing what you went through, how strong you were...it made me realize how much I care about you."

 

Your heart swelled at his words, grateful for his honesty. "Spencer, I understand why you acted the way you did. We've all been hurt before, and we all have our own ways of protecting ourselves," you replied softly. "But I want you to know that I care about you too, and I'm willing to take the risk if it means we can be together."

 

Spencer's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of relief and hope. "You would really give us a chance?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer to him. "Yes, Spencer, I would. I would give us a chance," you confirmed, your voice filled with certainty. "Because the truth is, Spencer, I've been falling for you ever since the first case I worked.”

 

Spencer's eyes widened, surprise mingling with joy. "Really? Even when I was being an insufferable jerk?"

 

You chuckled softly. "Especially then," you admitted. “But I do have to know what you mean when you say your far from vanilla.”

 

Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. "Well," he stammered, "I've always had a... deep fascination with role-playing scenarios and exploring different power dynamics." He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of judgment or discomfort. “And I can say I enjoy being the dominant one more.”

 

“Is that so? What have been your favourite scene you’ve done so far?”

 

Spencer cleared his throat, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Well, one of my favourite scenes involved a classic teacher-student dynamic," he confessed, his voice laced with excitement. "I got to play the strict professor, and she was my eager and naughty student."

 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. "Oh? And how did that play out?"

 

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's just say there were some detentions and extra credit assignments involved," he replied coyly. "It was all about the power play and the thrill of breaking the rules within the safety of our consensual role-playing."

 

He then once again looked to see if you were unconformable. “What about you? What do you enjoy.” He asked.

“I, erm- well I enjoy being the submissive one. I was in a dynamic relationship with someone, and they gave me a necklace to wear, to show I belonged to them. They used to tell me what outfits I could wear when going out.”

 

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Did you enjoy the feeling of submission, or was it more about the trust and surrender that came with it?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine interest.

 

You took a moment to consider his question before answering honestly. "It was a combination of both," you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. "There was something incredibly liberating about giving up control and trusting someone else to take care of me. It allowed me to let go of my responsibilities and just be in the moment."

 

Spencer nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he took in your words. "I understand," he said quietly. "The power dynamics in BDSM can be incredibly nuanced and fulfilling when both parties are open and communicative about their desires and boundaries."

 

"Would you ever consider exploring that dynamic with me?" you asked cautiously, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. “I mean, I would still be the submissive one.”

 

Spencer’s eyes softened, filled with warmth and reassurance. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I would be honoured to explore that dynamic with you," he replied softly. "But only if we establish clear boundaries, practice open communication, and ensure that both of our needs are met."

 

You smiled, relieved by his understanding and respect for the importance of consent and communication in such exploration. "I couldn't agree more," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "We'll take it slow, step by step, and create a safe space for both of us to express ourselves."

~taglist~

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[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM : what are the divisions specialities actually ? Like obviously the 4th heal and the 11h fight but like. The 9th? Do crosswords?

BOY AM I GLAD YOU ASKED BECAUSE THIS IS SOME OF THE BEST RETROACTIVE WORLD BUILDING I HAD TO DO AND I'M PROUD OF IT.

So in canon, almost none of the guard squads have "specialist" jobs, mostly because it's not terribly important to the plot, and because the court guards were essentially formed as an ad-hoc mercenary gang to protect one city specifically, but since Yamamoto didn't have to remain loyal to any noble family specifically, he kept getting pulled in as an arbiter and more and more responsibilities heaped upon him until the Court guard squads were acting as a De-Facto government, until the old man got pissed off with being involved in everybody else's business and rounded up a gang of nerds to do that for him so he could go do sword stuff. Seriously, everything about the administrative Bullshit in Soul Society makes sense when viewed through the lens of 'this shit was made ad-hoc out of what was available by people who only kind of knew what they were doing.

So the main government of Soul Society functions approximately like so:

Royal Guard:

Only technically part of the government, the Royal guard consists of The Monk who is responsible for making sure nobody steals any more of the soul king's body parts, and the four people he chose to help/didn't want left unattended in the Spirit World: The Guy who makes Zanpaktou, the Guy who can (theoretically) heal the Soul King, the lady who can literally mess with the fabric of reality and the lady who can create new souls. They spend nearly all their time in the Royal Realm trying to prevent the universe from unrevealing further, and don't really have administrative power so much as if any one of them decided to, they could wreck house of anyone in the spirit world, so if they say something, the central 46 listens and obeys.

Central 46:

The Highest Administrative level, sets society-wide policies, mediates disputes between provinces, wrangles the noble houses, assigns aid and designs social programs. It's comprised of 46 sages and other wise people appointed by the 46 as they die off. IN THEORY "Let a bunch of academics and philosophers who presumably know what they're doing make policy" isn't *that* bad an idea by itself, but it got coupled with "Also, to make sure these guys aren't being bribed or politically pressured, let's keep them in near-total isolation :)" and that's when things got weird.

The Central 46 does try it's best to maintain a peaceful and prosperous society, but it's got to strike a weird balance and the isolation sure does not fucking help maintain a cognizant worldview.

Noble Houses:

So the soul society, by the way they measure time*, only JUST got out of a major warring states period because magical Germany invaded and the guy that lead the army also managed to get The Mandate Of Heaven, but a lot of those formerly-warring states are still around, especially the ones that stole pieces of the soul king. They're not governmental bodies, but the families have shitloads of money, private armed forces and political influence. Think of the worst possible combination of magacorporation, mercenary army and royal dynasty. The are, unfortunately, still a political force to be reckoned with.

*Badly.

Provincial Governors:

So the Soul Society is divided up into Districts like so:

(Embiggen to actually see the damn thing)

The Seireitei is in the center, with the districts counting out until the central 46 got to the outer edge they could theoretically get forces and/or emergency food to in under a month and declared everything after that "District 80" AKA "You're on your own" No taxes are collected in the 80th district and people who don't want to deal with the soul society government often try to strike it on their own out there.

Each of those little rectangles is a district, and each of them has approximately the same number of people living in it- the lower districts are densely populated and, due to their proximity to the Seireitei, well-developed. The districts generally get less developed and less densely populated as you get farter from the center, but this varies wildly by the competence of that district's Daimyo or Governor. West 51 is a much more developed district than it's position would dictate, because it's Daimyo is canny and made good use of it's mineral resources and position in inter-mountain shipping. South 14 Should be one of the nicest districts, but their Governor is a moron who keeps picking fights with the neighboring districts like he's allowed to annex them, and the district has been sanctioned from hell to breakfast over it.

Gotei-13 / Court Guard Squads:

Sort of the executive branch of the Central 46, founded out of Yamamoto's gang of criminals he rounded up to deal with the Quincy invasion back when Rome was collapsing. So the court guard acts out the orders of the Central 46, and *theoretically* has authority over the noble houses and provincial governors, but they are pretty much constantly dancing on the edge of another warring states period, so things can get... tricky.

ALSO DID NOT HELP that The Monk who guards what's left of the Soul King came down from the Royal Realm and foisted a bunch of trans-dimensional responsibilities onto them but the Specific duties of the 13 court guards in AEIWAM are as follows:

(It's worth noting that the order of the court guard squads was determined literally by the order that the 12 criminals signed the agreement with Yamamoto to protect the seireitei, not the order of importance)

Division 1: ADMINISTRATION Oh god there is so much coordination to do between the central 46, the running of internal affairs, recruitment, training new shinigami, coordinating assignments that take more than one division's input. securing and distributing funding, etc. It's main jobs are: assigning work based on policy from the central 46, running the Shinigami Academy, and actually running the Gotei-13.

Division 2: SPY SHIT Gotei-13 is a shady-ass organization with a lot of enemies and that's not about to change. The second division is responsible for keeping an eye on the provinces and noble houses and anything else of interest, "Handling things quietly" for the Gotei-13, and preventing the Central 46 from being corrupted or assassinated. The Shihon Clan has historically held the captainacy of the 2nd division as part of the compromise Yamamoto struck with the noble houses at the founding of the court guard squads to end the civil wars- that each of the 4 noble houses would hold a captain's position, until the noble houses fell apart or the court guard did. This gave the Shihon clan a GREAT incentive to undermine the shit out of other noble houses, and Yamamoto gave them his blessing to do so. Ironically, the Shihon clan was one of the first to collapse.

Division 3: INTERNAL AFFAIRS Law Enforcement, but specifically the Seireitei and shinigami/martial court/jail. The court guard kind of lives and dies by how much it's respected* and it's essential the Gotei-13 follow strict ethical standards and also a tight adherence to authority lest one of the squads break off and start a civil war. Accepting Bribes and Defying Orders are much more severe crimes than say, excessive collateral damage. The 3rd division is responsible for investigating complaints, mediating disputes between divisions, and generally making sure everyone is behaving properly. *By the noble houses, Daimyos and central 46. The average civilian? not so much.

Division 4 Medical This division was actually the FIRST established, even before the court guard really became Squads. It was Chigiri and her pack of field surgeons that commanded Yamamoto's respect and gave him the idea of letting the other criminals have minions too. 4th divison is responsible for maintaining the health of the court guard- not just emergency medicine, but vaccinations, post-service medical care, and civil sanitation- keeping the streets clean and water safe is the #1 way to prevent deaths. Until recently, this meant a lot of trained medics were doing a lot of grunt work, until Zaraki, a guy from districts where Dysentery is still the #1 killer, successful argued a proposal to Unohana that her medics should be managing other, less-in-demand squads doing the labor, which would get the jobs done a hell of a lot faster, and not back up triage as much. Unohana, who had previously not *trusted* other squads to do the work reliably, finally relented and accepted some damn help.

Division 5: Rukongai Affairs The 5th division is responsible for coordinating efforts between the Gotei-13 and the Provincial Governors- Hollow Eradication, Disaster Relief, additional armed forces to help local police, Helping distribute grain to mitigate famine, etc.

Division 6: External Affairs Responsible for representing the Gotei-13 to other groups and dealing with Noble House Bullshit specifically. While Noble House Bullshit is 95% of what they do, but technically, they're also responsible for handling diplomatic relations with the Beastfolk in the eastern districts, Las Noches after the winter war in the west, Any Kami that might come through, and Hell, if they ever get a line open. The Kuchiki family has held the 6th Division captaincy for generations as a peacekeeping measure between the gotei-13 and the noble houses.

Division 7: Incoming Souls The reason the soul society doesn't reunite people with their families when they die is that they do not actually have control over who reincarnates as themselves (and if they retain their memories), who is reborn as a baby in the spirit world, and what district they get assigned to- that's all decided at the moment of a Soul's death by Hell, using a Metric the Shinigami can only guess at. That said, the 7th still can do a lot- Souls that had to be cleansed with Konsho go through the 7th division and are escorted to their assigned districts. Other, non-hollowfied but odd case souls will end up in the pocket dimension that serves as the queue into the afterlife- people with high spiritual power, animals that achieved personhood in the world of the living and other nonhuman persons, and somtimes spirits who were almost certainly supposed to go to a different afterlife all come through. The 7th division is also charged with keeping a running tally on important statistics like the relative balance between souls, who got hollowfied and why, collecting data on who goes to hell when konsho is prefromed on them and why, and other data to try and work out Hell's metric backwards.

Division 8: Income and Funding The court guard squads are... kind of taxpayer funded. The Daimyos collect taxes from civilians, they pay those taxes to the central 46, and the central 46 disburses some of that money to the Gotei-13, but the truth is, for all the duties they're expected to preform, they're wildly underfunded. So the court guard has had to get... inventive to make sure everyone gets paid and they can do what they need to. Investments in industries, ownership of weird land grants, taking out loans, selling merchandise and straight-up schmooze have all been used by the 8th division to make sure the bills get paid. Shunsui is, by that measure, the best captain the division has ever had- he's shrewd and had astonishingly good luck when it comes to finances so there hasn't been a pay strike since he took over. Probably his best idea was handing the branding and product design of the Gikon to the Shinigami Women's Association- that one paid mad dividends.

Division 9: Information Services The ninth division is most famously home to the Seireitei's first and most largely-ciculated newspaper, but it's also the records office, PAYROLL, library, document archives, data collection and data analytics. Also, tech support. Also also: manage all the arts programs, propaganda and festivals. This is why Kaname was load-bearing to Aizen's plan.

Division 10: Living World Affairs The 10th division was responsible for monitoring the living world- mostly keeping track of hollow appearances, but also: what the remaining Quincies are up to, reporting back on useful technological advancements, any other weird shit that turns up there, and keeping track of all the Shinigami on deployment to the living world (mostly 10th division but the post-war population boom means every division's having to chip in now.

Division 11: Emergency/Heavy Deployment Every time the Gotei-13 had to do some heavy lifting, it's the 11th division's job. Mass outbreak of hollows? 11th's job. Emergency Dam repair to prevent a flood? 11th division muscle time. Daimyo got funny ideas about conquering a neighboring district? 11th division. Funcking Quincies again? 11th division. Rampaging Kami afflicted by a terrible curse? you know who to call. This was the SECOND Division to be founded, because the actual sentence that came out of Yamamoto's mouth was "Chigiri, you and your gremlins put my guts back in, Yachiru, round up some assholes and DEAL WITH THAT FUCKING THING." and the 11th's prerogative and hiring practices have not changed since. Since the 11th's work is more intermittent, there are long periods between jobs for them, and it's only recently they've been allowed to pitch in on regular maintenance and rehabilitate their reputation as a bunch of lazy degenerates.

Divison 12: Supplies (more recently, Research and Development) Prior to Kisuke Urahara's weird science boner, the 12th Division's primary job was the manufacture and supply of everything the Shinigami would need to do their jobs. Uniforms, Gigai, medical supplies, communicators, rations, Gikon, the actual buildings in the Seireitei, bedding, Protective gear- if a Shinigami received it for their job, it was made by the 12th division. Despite previous captain Kirio Hikifune being the most accomplished chef in the history of Soul Society, it's Mayuri that has made the most profound mark on Soul Society Cuisine with the fast-prepared, acceptable-tasting and surprisingly nutritious meals he developed to deal with the mass influx of souls after WW2, and the franchise distribution centers combined with his attempts at children's educational programming mean that Mayuri occupies a cultural niche in Soul Society not unlike Krusty The Clown.

Division 13: Magical Research, Kido Corps Until recently, the Kido Corps was a seperate division governed under the purview of the central 46, and the 13th division was doing it's research into Hado, Bakudo and Haikido independently, but as the two organizations worked increasingly closely together, they began to share more until the catastrophic events of Turn Back The Pendulum left the Kido Corps severely depleted and without leadership, at which point Yamamoto persuaded the central 46 to let the 13th division absorb the rest of the Kido corps and take on their work.

So that's how the government in Soul Society is SUPPOSESD to work.

[calypsopoet2003]

Donna Casts Her Spell...

I am, & have been a Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave for over 40 years... When I was 14 years old, my best friend's Mom (& my own Mom's best friend) had caught me ogling her, & without my realizing it, had used my fascination with her beautiful pantyhosed legs & feet to drop me into a deep hypnotic trance...

Her name was Donna... She was a nurse in a nursing home, & unbeknownst to me she was also a Board Certified Master Hypnotist. Donna was in the habit of hypnotizing everyone she came into contact with without them being aware of it. She did this in order to stay adept in her craft, & to maintain a modicum of control over situations or scenarios where she may benefit if she were to exhert her influence.

That fateful day, my life had completely changed. I had no idea that I had been hypnotized, nor did I remember gazing helplessly at Donna's pantyhosed legs & feet... I didn't notice that I was missing about an hour & a half from that day either. However, out of nowhere I had new "thoughts" & "ideas" regarding Donna...

These "thoughts" & "ideas" were such as I had never before even considered, but somehow they seemed like I had always had them even though they were brand new. Such as how fascinating I found Donna's pantyhosed legs & feet to be, & how I thought her face & eyes were very pretty, even beautiful.

I came to realize that I was very attracted to Donna, & had come to realize she was absolutely beautiful. She was also kind, caring, honest, highly intelligent, very wise, & trusting to a fault. I could & should tell her anything & everything, & must always believe everything she ever said to me.

Month after month, these "thoughts" & "ideas" grew & matured into what I initially thought of as simply having a crush on my best friend's Mom... I figured I would get over it, & pretend like it never happened when I did. However, I just couldn't take my eyes off of her whenever I saw her, & found myself hanging on every word she said to me... More often than not I wouldn't even remember our conversations, but found myself craving more, always wanting only to be in her presence, listening to her, & finding ways to please her.

Encounter after encounter, I just grew more & more helplessly attracted to, & fell more & more deeply in love with her. I couldn't resist the urges to be in her presence, to obey her, or to worship her, which were constant, & ever present... Flashes of my memories had seemed more like dreams, or fantasies, & were deemed as such.

Donna never ceased giving to me what she had so effectively taught me, & hypnotically trained me to crave & desire... Over & over again, whenever I gazed upon her beautiful face, or even more so her perfect Pantyhosed legs & feet, filled with love & longing, she would luxuriate as I touched, caressed, nuzzled, kissed, tasted, & took in her scent as I worshipped them.

I never had any conscious memories of any of these events. Only in my dreams & fantasies was I availed with such notions. It got to the point that I was in a constant state of deep hypnotic trance whenever I was in her presence, & when I wasn't in any sort of trance when she was nowhere around, Donna was still my Mistress... I would forever hear & obey... She was the Light, white & pure, & she was perfect in every way...

I believed that it was perfectly normal for me to be crushing so hard in Donna... I believed that everyone else, male & female alike should as well... It simply made perfect sense for everyone to love & worship her, since she was the smartest, & most beautiful woman in the world. She was kind, compassionate, & honest to a fault. She was the most important person in my life, & should be the most important person in everyone else's lives too.

It took about a year, to a year & a half of Donna's repeated hypnotic ministrations before I had fully accepted & embraced Donna as my Mistress. From then on, asleep, in trance, or awake I was entirely hers mind, body, & soul. That is when she took the next step to ensure my permanent rapturous silken servitude to her for the rest of my life.

A couple of weeks before Christmas a little more than a year into Donna's hypnotic tutelage, I had stopped over their house one Saturday afternoon to drop off a small Christmas present I had picked up for her son. She happened to be the only one home, but she had invited me in. I seemed to have caught her when she had just gotten home from work, as she was wearing her nurse's whites, her bare white pantyhosed feet sticking out of her white slacks...

When I told Donna that I had a Christmas present for her son, her reaction was as intense as it was glorious & sublime! First she stepped in & kissed me deeply. I was simply an extension of her will, under her thrall, my mind blank of everything except for pleasure & obedience... I then followed her down the hall, & into the bathroom.

When the door closed behind us, she undressed me from the waist down. She then pulled a soft, silky, pair of her white pantyhose off of the hook on the back of the door, & she touched & caressed my face with them... The feel & the scent of them drove me wild with longing for only her.

The next thing I knew we were both standing there wearing only our white pantyhose from the waist down... Holding each other, kissing deeply, as she rubbed her pantyhosed self against mine. Nylon against nylon, she caressed every pantyhosed part of me with every pantyhose covered part of her.

I was a pantyhosed extension of her will & labido, & she was the reason I existed. I understood that I would always wear her pantyhose for her, & I was now, & always would be her Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave. I loved Donna with all my heart, & I belonged to her completely. All must obey, worship, & belong to my Mistress... All must wear her white pantyhose for her, love & adore her as I do, & obey.

Donna's power & influence seemed absolute. There wasn't anyone she couldn't or didn't control, though she had become considerably more selective in whom she hypnotically enslaved in her pantyhose after me. I was her very first hypnotized pantyhose slave, & the only male she had ever enslaved. She enslaved females a little differently than how she had enslaved me. She made me fall in love with her, desiring only her, & made me want only to please, obey, & worship my Mistress.

Donna's female hypnotized pantyhose slaves, one & all wanted to be one with her, & were made to be extensions of their Goddess. Though, we were all members of her hypnotized pantyhose harem. We all wore her pantyhose at all times, only taking them off when soiled, & to put new ones on.

I continued to live my life, only I now wore Donna's white pantyhose under whatever I was wearing at all times. The only exceptions were when I was bathing, wearing shorts, or had to be barefoot in public. This was why all of Donna's other slaves were female, so they wouldn't have restrictions like I did. However, my shoes, socks, & sometimes even my pants & underwear flew off of me when I was in her presence...

She often pushed this to the limits, & beyond... By doing so, her influence & control over me became stronger, more complete, & unbreakable. One such encounter was a Friday afternoon when I had come home from school, & I was greeted by Donna & my Mom... Well, mostly Donna, resplendent in her skirted nurse's whites, shoeless in he shiny white pantyhose...

My Mom never even looked at me, as she was gazing helplessly at Donna... Donna had jumped up from her seat as I had entered, & said...

"Welcome Home, my Love! How was your day?! I bet you are so very glad to be home with your Mum & me..."

I just barely had enough wherewithal to glance toward my "Mum" sitting across the table from, & gazing rapturously at Donna... I also noticed her bare, white Pantyhosed feet sticking out of her slacks... Donna continued as my gaze swung back to, & locked on to her...

"I see you noticed that your Mum belongs to me now, in a more similar way as you do... Unlike my other slaves who are more like drones, extensions of me. You are both mine out of your undying love for me."

Suddenly, "Mum" & I were wearing only white pantyhose from the waist down, kneeling before Donna, kissing, nuzzling, & worshiping her beautiful pantyhosed feet as she continued...

"Your Mum & I were just visiting, as I stopped over on my way home from work... We thought you would benefit from coming home with me to help me take care of a few things... You desperately want to come home with me, don't you sweet heart?"

Donna pulled he feet back, &: reinserted them each between our legs, caressing us to climax for her... We both responded simultaneously...

"Yes, Mistress!"

I never even redressed, as I simply picked up my clothes & carried them with me as I followed her to her car... We arrived at the house, & went in through her garage... I followed her up the stairs, & into her living room, where we worshipped each other's pantyhose covered bodies, bringing each other to orgasm, after orgasm, after orgasm for the rest of the day...

There were always many family parties, functions, & holiday celebrations where Donna would have every man, & woman wearing her shiny white pantyhose under or with whatever they were wearing. No one would be wearing their shoes either! Also, no one would notice except for those of us who already belonged to Donna, mind, panyhosed body, & soul.

Going back to the Christmas Eve where Donna had taught me how to truly kiss a woman, to properly kiss her, was the most glorious event in my life... I was in my bedroom playing guitar, keeping out of my folks way as they got ready, & waiting for guests to arrive. Suddenly, my door opened & shut immediately behind Donna as she snuck into my room. She must have came directly from work, as she was wearing her skirted nurse's whites, & was shoeless in her shiny white pantyhosed feet...

She rushed in & came around the bed to sit right next to me... As she did so, I quickly stood, took off my pants to expose my shiny white pantyhose for her, as she managed to lose her skirt as well... Donna had kissed me deeply before, but I really had no idea what I was doing. She kissed me deeply again as she rubbed & caressed our pantyhosed lower bodies against each other. Amidst our kissing & frolicking, she said...

"Merry Christmas, my Love... Now I want you to listen carefully, & obey... I want you to Kiss me with all the love in your heart for me... Kiss me. Slowly, take your time, there's no place you'd rather be. Kiss me, but not like you're waiting for something else, like your hands beneath my shirt or my skirt or tangled up in my bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss me like you've forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss me with a curious childish delight. Laugh into my mouth, inhale my sighs. Kiss me until I moan. Kiss me with my face in your hands. Or your hands in my hair. Or pulling me closer at the waist. Kiss me like you want to take me dancing. Like you want to spin me into an open arena and watch me look at you like you're the brightest thing I've ever seen. Kiss me like I'm the brightest thing you've ever seen. Take your time. Kiss me like the first and only piece of chocolate you're ever going to taste. Kiss me until I forget how to count. Kiss me stupid. Kiss me silent. Come away, ask me what 2+2 is and listen to me say your name in answer."

I had no other choice or desire but to obey... I had never been so aroused & never more completely under her spell... It was so intense that I climaxed several times throughout or kissing alone, as she did... The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor at Donna's feet, kissing & worshipping them while surrounded by all of the other women at the party, including my "Mum", aunts, cousins, & girlfriends of my friends in attendance elsewhere in the house. Every single one of us were shoeless wearing shiny white pantyhose, completely under Donna's spell.

So many times I was suddenly compelled to stop by her house... I would simply go inside & down the stairs to join several white pantyhosed women in worshiping our Goddess until she climaxed... We would then bring each other to orgasm for Donna... Never once would we remove our pantyhose, as they intensified all physical sensations a hundred fold!

My "Mum's" 40th Surprise Birthday Party was the one "family" event that Donna hostessed for our family. She was practically a family member herself, as all of us were under her hypnotic away, only my "Mum" & I were her's completely though. My Dad & each of my brothers had no idea that they owned pairs of my Mistress's white pantyhose for when she decided to temporarily take complete control of them.

None of my aunts or cousins did either, but they all would definitely show up to Donna's house wearing them, believing that it was simply appropriate & even expected to do so. White pantyhosed feet were exposed for everyone in attendance, male & female alike. When Donna arrived with my "Mum", & "SURPRISE!" was shouted by all, the party truly got underway!

At one point, I was cornered by Donna on the landing while I was in my way upstairs... she smiled at me & asked me if I liked what she was wearing... She had on a beautiful light blue silk dress & the shiniest, silkiest most beautiful white pantyhose I had ever seen her wear... I redponded...

"Yes, Mistress... You are beyond perfect, & are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen..."

She had me follow her into the bathroom, closed the door behind us, & hanging on the back of the door was a pair of the same shiny white pantyhose as she was wearing... She had me strip completely from the waist down, & helped me into the new pair of pantyhose.

The new pantyhose were different from anything I had ever worn... They had a pouch & a sheath that wrapped my sex perfectly, & seemed to keep all of it perfectly erect & functional, just encased in the softest, silkiest, most perfect fitting pantyhose... Donna explained that these pantyhose, when worn by a woman, had the sheath & pouch tucked inside filling the woman, & instantly enslaving anyone & everyone she was with for her Mistress...

Right then, for the very first time ever, I entered my Goddess... As she rode me, I had kissed her as she had taught me long ago. It seemed to last forever, & at the same time for only just a fleeting moment. It all culminated in the greatest orgasmic climax of my life, before or since... It was so powerful, that we both passed out right there in the bathroom.

When we came too, we managed to pull ourselves together without coming into contact, where we would end up passing out again. When we opened the door to egress, my beautiful aunt was standing there, eyes wide, staring at us... Donna immediately dropped her ever deeper into her trance, & brought Pattie into the bathroom with us.

Pattie was so deeply hypnotized that she instantly switched out of her pantyhose for the new special pair Donna had given her, right in front of us. Watching her smooth them on, & her rapturous reaction as she tucked in the pantyhose's center into her was extremely arousing to the both of us. It was as if Donna's spell on Pattie spilled over taking all of us over. We couldn't resist worshiping her, being worshipped by her, & taking her as we had been taking each other. Donna couldn't resist making my beautiful aunt a permanent Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave...

Donna had left us alone in the bathroom for a few minutes, & we couldn't help but ravage each other while she was gone. Wearing these pantyhose, we were meant to be joined together in our Mistress's pantyhose sexual bliss... I belonged inside of her, & inside of our Mistress... We chanted our Goddess's name as we made love in worship of her... "Donna... Donna... Donna..." Over, & over again... "Donna! Donna! Donna!" We couldn't stop, & kept going at it until we climaxed together in massive orgasms that made use pass out together as well...

We came to, both on the bathroom floor, & both blindly ravaging our Mistress as we had just done to each other. Almost as soon as I entered Donna, with my mouth on Patty where I had previously entered her, a massive light blinded us as the most sublime pleasure I had ever felt in my life made the world blink out & go both silent & dark.

The next morning, I was standing in Donna's kitchen making coffee as, Donna was buttering toast, & my aunt was at the stove making eggs for all of us. We were all still in our pantyhose, & wearing matching short nighties... I was still, & perhaps permanently fully erect, & it was extremely difficult for me not to enter either, or both of the perfect women I was with. Donna had told us that it took her over an hour to "adjust" everyone's memories so that no one would see my aunt & I last night, or miss us today, & maybe tomorrow.

We spent the rest of the day, & all of the next night bringing each other to orgasmic pantyhose ecstasy. Passing out in a tangle of each other's pantyhose clad bodies, & waking up only to start ravaging each other over again, & again.

I had witnessed Donna manage to covertly entrance & hypnotize every guest, wedding party included, at my brother's wedding. An hour into the reception, every single guest, male & female alike was wearing Donna's special shiny white pantyhose, & remained shoeless for the duration of the wedding.

Donna had used me to help convert several of the most attractive female guests into the newest of her Hypnotized Pantyhose Slaves. No one could resist Donna's charms, & everyone had no choice but to believe everything she said, & obey anything she asked of them. Several of us were kneeling at her feet at all times, fawning over our Goddess...

She wore a yellow dress with a front slit that went nearly to her waist... She sat regally, shiny white pantyhose covered legs alluringly crossed, & was so beautiful that it was impossible for anyone who so much as glanced at her not to fall under her spell...

At first I had suspected, but eventually found out for certain that Donna had enslaved a handful of the women at the company I worked for... More, & more I began to notice my female coworkers wearing pantyhose, as I was now hard wired to notice such things. Then, it became more, & more common of a practice to go shoeless in their stocking feet around the office...

Eventually, several of them took to wearing shiny white pantyhose exclusively, under or with anything they wore to the office... These women were all very close work friends, & had been as of late starting to seem a little more than friendly without any of them overtly crossing any lines...

Many of them had first taken to going shoeless when wearing pantyhose in the office areas, but that seemed to be more a sign of the times. I was friends outside of work with all of them, & had noticed that all of them were now in the habit of wearing pantyhose with almost anything they were wearing whenever even remotely appropriate...

Patricia from Customer Service seemed to be the first to embrace this new pantyhose culture, & also began to act more, & more seductively dominant. She was very flirty at a company Christmas Party, one time... She had playfully cornered me at one point, as she sidled up to me wearing a stunning black dress, & Wes barefoot in her shiny black semi-opaque pantyhose...

She looked into my eyes, smiled, & then playfully dragged her nails up my arm as I felt her soft silky foot slide up my pant leg... She said...

"That's right... Just relax... You can, you know... I have permission, & you really can't resist..." Then she gave me a small, sensual, yet discrete kiss on the lips, & then breathed into my ear... "...forget."

Standing at the bar, I realized I had zoned out. I couldn't remember what I was doing, or why I was so aroused suddenly. When I went home, I had some vivid dreams about Donna & Patricia kissing, their pantyhosed legs caressing each other, black against white.

I didn't understand the dream, but I definitely liked it very much. Business as usual at work, & as I was as keen on women in pantyhose as always, I couldn't help but notice how more & more of the most attractive women at work were now always taking to wearing them at work, & without shoes whenever possible.

I was in almost a constant state of arousal all day long, every day at work. Patricia was acting more, & more flirty, but was acting as if it was just innocent playful banter between friends. Then I was over her house one day, as she had offered to cut my hair.

She actually had a barber's chair, as she used to be a barber at one time in her past. She was still wearing what she wore to work, white silk blouse, black slitted pencil skirt, & she was again barefoot in shiny black opaque pantyhose...

I was massively turned on, but was a bit confused as she wasn't Donna. As she was cutting my hair, she kept brushing against me with her arms,her breasts, & her beautiful pantyhosed legs. At one point, when I was barely breathing, & ready to explode due to the exquisite torture she was teasing me with. She whispered into my ear...

"Donna is our Mistress..." ...to which I had no choice, but to chant with her... "We wear her pantyhose, we hear, & we obey... Donna is the Light, white & pure, perfect in every way..."

I fell into a deep hypnotic trance for Patricia, as I had for Donna for many years... Patricia continued...

"That's right... You can't fight it... You can't resist... You have no choice but to obey me in the name of Donna... Disrobe for me from the waist down..."

She was right, I couldn't resist, suddenly we were both clad in only our shiny pantyhose from the waist down. Her pantyhose were a black version of mine. She looked into my eyes with a desperate look of need on her lovely face, pulled me to her, & before I knew it I was somehow inside of her.

Neither of us could fight what was happening, & we didn't want to. Somehow we knew that this was Donna's will, & we had no choice, no desire than to obey. The pleasure in each of us seemed to increase exponentially as we rode each other chanting our Mistress's name over, & over again: "Donna! Donna! Donna!" We ravaged each other, & as we did the pleasure built until nothing else existed other than the white pantyhose perfection of Donna...

I came to, & I was wearing only my panyltyhose, as I was worshiping the perfect pantyhosed foot of my Goddess, Donna... Next to me, Patricia was doing exactly the same as I was, only her pantyhose were now white like Donna's & mine. Donna said to us...

"Patricia, now that you are mine completely in every way, you will use my loving enslaved adopted son to bring certain others to me... You both love only me & mine, & live only to serve me & mine, just as you are both mine & part of me... I am your world, & your universe. I am all that matters & exists."

The last thing I remember was sliding inside of my Goddess with Patricia sliding against me in pure pantyhosed bliss... The world exploded into a billion shards of light & went black.

Weeks later, I walked into Customer Service & I was greeted by Patricia... She was barefoot in her white pantyhose, & looked like she was in a very deep trance... She said my name, & sighed, & then she continued in a sexy monotone voice with...

"You must take off your shoes & come with me... We must obey, serve, & attend to our Mistress..."

I felt myself drop into a deep hypnotic trance. I then removed my shoes & socks, & dutifully padded after Patricia into the back Sales Manager's office. Inside, Donna was sitting next to Michelle, the beautiful daughter of the owner of the company... They were both wearing shiny black pantyhose, & Michelle had looked to be in a very deep hypnotic trance, & was slowly unzipping & removing her boots.

Patricia & I removed everything we were wearing from our waist down except for our pantyhose, & stood witness at deeply hypnotized attention... Donna & Michelle removed their skirts, & faced each other, each with one Pantyhosed foot caressing between the other's legs, while worshipping the other...

After a while, Donna held a hand out to me & both Patricia & I approached... I took Donna's hand, & as she swung herself up & on to me, Patricia took her place with Michelle... Once I slid inside of Donna, it was like returning home after being away for many years, yet at the same time I felt levels of pleasure & desire beyond anything I had ever felt before, even for my Goddess...

I was suddenly deeper in her thrall than I had ever been, & I continued to slide in & out of her until the world ended, & the universe blinked out. When I came to, I was buried deep inside of Michelle, & we were both screaming Donna's name as we climaxed together, & again the universe blinked out.

I woke again thrusting in & out of my Goddess, as Patricia & Michelle were worshipping her feet. I was once again more enthralled, aroused, & devoted than I have ever been in my life. Only Donna & her hypnotized pantyhose slaves existed... I lived, & continue to live to serve my Mistresses & my Goddess...

*FLASH!*

Standing before my Goddess, wearing only her beautiful soft, shiny, silky, white pantyhose... I was fully erect, standing at attention, & in the deepest of hypnotic trances. Despite the fact that Donna no longer needed to hypnotize me, as I now belonged completely to her in every way... Donna often placed me into deeper, & deeper hypnotic trances, pushing all limits as to how deeply hypnotized a subject can be. Thus far, it seemed as if she had succeeded in hypnotizing me deeper than anyone in recorded history.

I was surrounded by several fellow very deeply hypnotized Pantyhosed slave sisters. My purpose was literally to be Donna's "Key" to unlocking the next level of pantyhosed bliss & servitude to several of our Goddess's earlier Hypnotized Pantyhose Slaves that hadn't yet been gifted her new special permanent that will elevate their love for Donna from Mistress to Goddess.

Two of her son's prior girlfriends, Michelle & Tina... Stephanie, a friend's girlfriend... ...& Patricia from work we're all there... Patricia had helped the others change into the new pantyhose, led Stephanie to me. I slid my pantyhosed key into her pantyhosed lock, & we both climaxed together shortly after we started. Stephanie passed out, & was brought back awake, & then brought to orgasm again by Patricia & Donna...

Then it was Michelle's turn, & after Michelle was welcomed into Donna's inner harem, it was Tina's turn to become perfect. Donna is my Goddess, I hear & I obey... She is the Light, white & pure, perfect in every way...

*FLASH!*

At my brother's wedding, Donna approaches me from across the room, resplendent in her long yellow dress with a high upper thigh slit in the front showing off her beautiful perfect shiny, silky white pantyhosed legs & feet. She sat right next to me at my table, & immediately began rubbing & caressing my legs & groin with her soft silky pantyhosed foot under the tablecloth.

She made me climax over & over again, & had other conquests, new & old, come over & keep me thus occupied for over an hour at the reception. I spent the last hour of the reception buried deep inside of her until we climaxed in the pantyhosed bliss of my eternal love & devotion to my Goddess...

*FLASH!*

My face was buried in the pantyhosed ecstasy that is between my Goddess's thighs, while my own engorged pantyhosed excitement is sliding in & out of someone else's pantyhosed ecstasy... No cares, no thoughts, only pure intense exquisite pleasure, & blissful obedience... Such has been, & continues to be my existence, no matter what I am doing or where I am... I wear my white pantyhose 24/7, 365 days a year now. Like the other members of Donna's harem, I live only for Donna, & I always will...

[alice-after-dark]

Random Song Ideas/Inspirations

These are just some random ideas that I had and I'm no song writer so I'm just gonna thought dump them for you all to suffer through lol I wish I had the ability to make fan songs like damn. These are in no particular order btw.

TW for implications of abusive relationships. Contains abusive StaticMoth.

Hell is Forever (Vox's Reprise) - A much more dark and sinister version of "Hell is Forever" sung by Vox, more reminiscent of how he started "Stayed Gone". The song is basically addressing how he doesn't believe redemption is possible and how the Vees are going to rule Hell.

Pipedream - A "Nothing Left to Lose" from Tangled the Series and "Open Up Your Eyes" from MLP: The Movie style song between Charlie and Vox. Idea originally from and expanded on in this old post and this old post, but it's essentially Vox being bitter and pessimistic vs Charlie being hopeful and optimistic.

You and Your Chain - A Angel and Husk duet about their complicated relationships with the people who own their souls featuring flashbacks to what their relationships with them were like before things got bad and how they turned sour. It's a split duet aka they aren't actually in the same space (like "Whatever It Takes").

My Hand in Yours - A Niffty song about Alastor reminiscent of "King" by Lauren Aquilina. Basically her singing about how Alastor is struggling with both his injury and his deal and about their relationship.

Soundwaves - A Alastor and Vox split duet about the deterioration of their relationship. Has "Somebody That I Used to Know/Because of You" vibes.

What I Am - A Vaggie song with "I'm Gonna Show You Crazy" by Bebe Rexha vibes. Basically a "fuck you" to her old life and her having a let loose moment.

Welcome! - A group song with Owl City's "Good Time" vibes led by Charlie as the group prepares for the grand reopening of the hotel.

New and Improved - A Sir Pentious song in the style of "I'm Still Here" from Treasure Planet. He sings about how he's always been an outcast and how he finally found acceptance and belonging at the hotel and is missing his friends. Features flashbacks to his human life.

Pretty Playtime Dolly - A Velvette song with "Sit Still, Look Pretty" by Daya vibes about her insecurities being the youngest Overlord and comparing herself to Vox and Valentino.

Had Me at Hello - A dark Vox and Angel split duet inspired by "Tag, You're It" by Melanie Martinez about their relationships with Valentino and how they've been manipulated by him.

Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain - A Vox song with "Dollhouse" by Melanie Martinez vibes. The song focuses on the stress of maintaining his perfect image.

All Bets are Off - A Husk song reminiscent of "Roses" by Poets of the Fall. It's about him regaining faith in himself and that he can be more than what he resigned himself to. He's still not sure if he can be redeemed, but he has hope he can be better. Has hints of HuskerDust.

Silence - A Rosie song with "Listen to Your Heart" by DHT energy. Takes place after Alastor seeks her advice about the situation with Vox. Features Alastor and Vox's relationship from Rosie's perspective from the beginning to the fallout, with Alastor becoming bitter and Vox cutting himself off from all his former friends.

In Your Shadow - A "Waiting in the Wings" from Tangled the Series style song sung by pre-canon Vox. He feels trapped in Alastor's shadow and is uncertain of his own ability and what he really is to Alastor (a friend? a pawn? a source of entertainment?).

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part Twelve)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

The dimly lit room echoed with the faint laughter of the guests as they gathered around the grand dining table, sipping glasses of fine wine and indulging in a variety of delectable culinary delights. In this opulent setting, the air hung heavy with the intoxicating scents of exotic flowers, candle wax, and subtle perfumes. Amidst this decadence, you stood tall, sipping your champagne as if nothing had happened, even following the incident with your Uncle Tommy, which was no more than a mere kiss.

But it left an indelible mark on your psyche, reminding you of the inevitable truth - you could not escape the allure of this man, Thomas Shelby, your flesh, and blood. And yet, you were determined not to let him ruin your life.

As such, with your uncle and father having disappeared from the crowd again to attend some business, you took your chances and approached a handsome-looking stranger who was standing in the corner, sipping on a glass of whiskey.

You had not seen him before, not until tonight at least, but, for some reason, had a magnetic familiarity towards you.

"We have not met before," you said after having approached him with confidence. His deep grey eyes seemed to penetrate through your soul, causing a shiver down your spine.

"No, we haven't," he replied softly, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "My name is Liam O'Connor," he told you while shaking your hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shelby," he spoke, and there was something about his strong, calloused grip that sent a wave of heat coursing through your body. 

"Likewise," you replied while thinking about your name again, just as you did every day since leaving your old life behind. The Shelby name still sounded somewhat unfamiliar to you, but you had accepted it following your initiation into the family a couple of weeks ago.

"So, who are you to the Shelby Family?" you then wanted to know, trying to make conversation as you both continued to sip your drinks.

"Well, let's just say that I'm good with bets and I have been told that there was an opening for..." he began to say, causing you to interrupt. 

"So, you are a Blinder?" you asked, slightly surprised and with a hint of disappointment in your voice, knowing that both Arthur and Tommy would have control over him.

"I am a blinder, yes. I work for your uncle," Liam informed you calmly, making sure to maintain eye contact. It was clear that you did not approve of his connection to your family, but the attraction between you two seemed undeniable. As you took another sip of your drink, your gaze lingered on his strong jawline and full lips.

Aware of your scrutiny, Liam decided to change the subject. "So, what about you?" he asked, hoping to shift the focus back onto you.

"What about me?" you asked, and your eyes glinted with mischief as you replied, "Well, you see, my uncle tells me to stay away from certain illegalities that could involve physical conflict. According to him, we don't do the dirty work anymore. He pays men like you to do this for us. So, let's just say that I work in accounts and distributions," you explained, and the air became charged with a mixture of tension and excitement as the two of you continued to exchange glances.

Liam's gaze drifted from your face down to your cleavage, lingering for a moment too long. His cheeks reddened as he looked away, breaking the eye contact.

"You seem to disapprove?” Liam pointed out, and, of course, you did.

“Occasionally, yes,” you admitted, and, immediately, Liam took your uncle’s side.

“Your uncle is a smart man. The Shelby name attracts many enemies and for a Shelby to be involved in physical conflicts themselves could put a strain on your family’s reputation," Liam acknowledged. "Although, I doubt that Tommy's sporting days are over just yet. He enjoys it too much," he then laughed lightly, showing off his straight white teeth.

"No doubt he does, but let's not talk about my uncle anymore, shall we?" you requested, and Liam could sense that there was more to your relationship with Tommy than met the eye, but he respected your wish to remain aloof.

As if sensing the underlying tension between you two, the music suddenly stopped, and the guests started to disperse. The room fell quiet, leaving only the faint sounds of the dying fire and the whispering voices of those who remained behind.

A sense of anticipation filled the air, palpable as a tangible presence among the guests. In the corner where you and Liam stood, the two of you were suddenly aware of how close you were to one another. 

Liam broke the silence first, speaking in a low tone that reverberated throughout your core. "May I escort you outside? he asked.

"It seems like the night air might be invigorating," Liam suggested in a warm, persuasive tone. Grateful for the opportunity to break free from the intensity of the moment, you nodded in agreement.

Eventually, you both made your way toward the French doors that led out to the garden. As you stepped outside, a cool breeze swept through the air, carrying with it the fragrance of newly bloomed roses and freshly cut grass. The sky above was a canvas of stars twinkling brightly against the inky black background.

As you both strolled along the serpentine pathway, Liam offered you his arm for support, which you gratefully accepted. The rustling leaves beneath your feet crunched underfoot, creating a natural symphony alongside the soft crooning of nighttime creatures. "Do you come here often? To Arrow House?" Liam inquired, seeking to learn more about you.

"Not anymore, no," you confessed, feeling surprisingly comfortable in his company.

"And before?" Liam wanted to know, but, of course, you could not tell him the truth which was that, in the past, you had slept with Tommy, before you knew that he was your uncle.

That secret was something you had hidden from everyone except Polly, who already knew, so you chose to answer Liam vaguely.

"Before, yes, I used to visit Arrow House quite frequently," you told him, hoping that he wouldn't pry further and wanting to avoid any unnecessary revelations about your past affairs with Tommy.

In response, Liam changed the topic, telling you about his early days when he joined the Peaky Blinders last year. He was stationed in Camden Town, working with Alfie Solomons before looking to engage in more race and betting-related matters, thus requesting what some might call a transfer.  

He shared stories of Tommy and Arthur, some of which were humorous and none of which were troublesome or gruesome in any way. He clearly avoided telling you about those for your sake.

When talking to him about his work, it became clear to you that Liam enjoyed this kind of life, and as you listened intently, you found yourself growing more attracted to him, drawn by his charm. You realised that, despite your tumultuous past with Tommy, you may find solace in someone else.

Sensing the growing intimacy between you both, Liam gently guided you towards a secluded bench near the edge of the garden.

Under the moonlit sky, he sat beside you, taking your hand in his and brushing his thumb across your knuckles, which caused you to pull away. 

His face registered a mix of confusion and disappointment, but you could not bring yourself to explain why. Instead, you cleared your throat and spoke up, "So, how long have you known the family?"

"Tommy and I go way back. I fixed some races for him when he first opened the gambling den but then I served time and tried to become clean; give up this life, you know," Liam explained with some hesitation, wondering whether you would be upset by what he had just said.

"And here you are, huh? Working for my uncle," you teased playfully, trying to regain the intimate atmosphere between you two. 

"Yes. He pays well and I soon realised that an ordinary life is not for me," Liam said with a grin, clearly pleased with his decision to join the Peaky Blinders. You noticed that his hand was still holding yours, and you felt a surge of electricity run through your body at his touch. "I can't say I regret it," he added, a gleam in his eye suggesting he knew precisely what you were thinking.

The air between you both thickened, the tension becoming almost palpable. Unable to resist the powerful draw you felt towards him, you allowed your hand to relax within his grasp, allowing his fingers to intertwine with yours for a short moment before abruptly pulling away and standing up.

Liam, confused by your sudden change of heart, followed suit. 

"Would you like to go out with me tomorrow evening?" Liam then asked, his eyes sparkling with hopefulness. 

"You know that wouldn't be wise," you cautioned him, knowing that your newfound family's rules were strict and unforgiving.

"Why not?" Liam questioned, intrigued by your suggestion that they could not publicly date.

"Because," you paused, searching for the right words to express your concern. "I am a Shelby. Arthur is my father. Tommy is my uncle. And they would not approve," you pointed out, making sure he understood the situation.

"But I don't care about what they think," Liam retorted passionately, his eyes burning with determination. 

"You should, Liam. You know very well how dangerous they are. You worked with them and, by what I gather, you probably killed for them too," you warned him, recalling the numerous incidents of violence within the family.

"There's no need to worry. We can meet in secret until the time is right. Your family may be more accepting than you think," Liam reassured you, reaching out to take your hand once again. This time, you allowed him to hold onto it without resistance, unable to deny the alluring pull you felt towards him.

Then, without warning, Liam leaned forward and captured your lips with his own, sending shivers down your spine until you pulled away once again.

"Okay. Let’s go out. You can take me to the pictures,” you said, a wicked smile curving upward at the corners of your mouth.

"The pictures? Won’t they notice?" Liam wondered aloud, genuinely concerned about the possible consequences.

"I will handle them," you assured him confidently, taking a step closer to him. "Just trust me. We will have the picture theatre to ourselves. I have some experience in hiding things, and I am a Shelby after all, so people generally do what I tell them to do," you chuckled light-heartedly, attempting to ease his concerns.

As your eyes locked, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down upon you both. Neither one of you moved nor uttered a word, letting the silence speak volumes. It was during these precious moments of stillness that Liam found himself even more captivated by you, admiring your confidence and intelligence. 

"I must admit, I have been having my eye on you for the past three weeks, but you never noticed me until tonight," Liam told you, and again, you could not admit to the truth as, just an hour ago, you kissed your uncle Tommy who walked out on you and reminded you of your place. It was heart shattering, and it was only in the moment of this heartache that you began to notice someone else amongst the many guests at Arrow House.

Now, your attention shifted towards the man named Liam O'Connor, who, despite being a Peaky Blinder, seemed to possess a gentleness that contradicted the image typically associated with the gang. His dark hair, deep-set eyes, and lean build caught your gaze, and a sudden heat rushed through your veins as your eyes locked with his. Liam had seen you looking at him, his brow furrowing slightly in curiosity, causing your cheeks to flush.

You were unsure of how to proceed, so you took a deep breath and began speaking, your voice trembling slightly. "I want you to know, Liam, that I find you incredibly attractive and the fact that I had not noticed you before had nothing to do with you. There is someone else I have been in love with. Someone who broke my heart and I am still trying to come to terms with it" Your voice was filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, making Liam's heart race.

"Well, perhaps I can help you get over this man who, clearly, does not deserve you,” Liam told you gently in response, offering comfort and understanding.

"Maybe you can," you admitted softly, giving in to the temptation that had been brewing between you both since the moment you first laid eyes on each other.

"Come home with me, Y/N," Liam whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Let me show you how much better you deserve,” he suggested, moving fast.

Your resolve wavered as you considered his proposition, weighing the risks and rewards of indulging in a forbidden affair. The darkness of the night swirled around you, creating an intoxicating atmosphere ripe for adventure.

"I am not ready for that, and I am most certainly not a one-night kind of girl," you told Liam firmly, but with a hint of uncertainty lingering in your tone. "However, I would appreciate it if we could continue to explore our connection further, on our date. What do you think?” you wanted to know. 

"Yes, of course," Liam agreed, his eyes burning with desire. "I will be patient for you," he then winked, hoping that this would get him both wealth and power.

Unbeknownst to you, you were a pawn in Liam’s game. He sought an in, wanting to become part of the Shelby Family, and you happened to be his ticket to the lucky draw. Your relationship with Tommy had always been strained due to your blood relation, but now, as you stood there, feeling the warmth of Liam's touch, something inside you ignited. His presence was comforting, like a gentle breeze amidst a storm.

As such, Liam had exactly where he wanted you. You were smitten by him and, if he could make you his, then perhaps he could become as well known and wealthy as he wanted to be.

[nattysgirl]

~Secret desire~

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: nsfw, fingering and oral (w reviving), sex in a church, idk what more to add ¿

Word count: 2k

A/n: So this is my first fic ever! So I apologize for some mistakes that I may have made and also English is not my first language so I’m sorry if there’s some grammatical errors!

That’s all enjoy! Love u all and thanks for u support 🫶

Secret desire

The morning sun filtered through the barred windows of Wanda's small attic room, illuminating her pale and drawn face. She knelt on the hard wooden floor in prayer, rosary beads clutched tightly in her hands. Her slender frame creaked as she bowed her head, brunette hair falling around her face. Despite hours of prayer, Wanda could still feel the sinful heat pooling in her core, an ache she desperately sought to extinguish.

With a sigh, Wanda rose and walked to the small mirror hanging on the wall. Her reflection gazed back at her, wide green eyes full of shame in a delicate face. She was dressed conservatively as always, plaid skirt brushing her knees, white blouse buttoned up to her neck and stockings covering her legs. The chastity belt and bra her parents had locked her in at 13 were uncomfortably tight beneath her clothes, a constant reminder of her wickedness.

The old clock in the hall chimed, signaling it was time for another meeting with the head priest. He was all that stood between her and eternal damnation, his guidance the only thing preventing her from succumbing fully to sin. Wanda entered the empty church, dipping her fingers in the font of holy water and crossing herself before approaching the confessional. Heart pounding, she entered the small booth, kneeling in the darkness. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," she began hesitantly, hoping the torments of her mind and body would find release at last under her priest's absolution.

“And what have you done exactly sister?” Y/n answers curios about Wanda, since she has never sinned before and she was as innocent as an angel ~so she thought~.

Wanda's voice shook as she whispers her confession into the grate, unable to meet Y/n’s gaze directly. "Father, I...I have been struggling with impure thoughts and desires that plague my soul day and night. No matter how hard I pray or seek penance, they persist, filling me with shame and guilt. I fear I am too weak to resist their temptations and may one day fall completely into sin."

Y/n is shocked by Wanda’s confession and with a wicked smile decided to take advantage of this unique opportunity and asks again “And what have been those temptations exactly?”.

Wanda hesitated before continuing, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes...sometimes I imagine what it would be like to break free from these restraints and explore my own desires without fear or judgment. To experience physical pleasure without the burden of guilt weighing down my spirit."

Y/n smiles at Wanda’s response and decider to push further “And what do you imagine exactly?”.

Wanda bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggles to maintain composure. "I...I imagine being touched intimately by someone I trust and care for deeply. Feeling their hands on my skin, their lips pressing against mine in a tender kiss. I long for the freedom to express my love openly without fear of condemnation or rejection."

A whimper scapes Y/n’s mouth as she hears Wanda’s confession, intrigued by her she decides to push further “And who’s that person?”.

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat as she considers revealing her secret desire. "It's...it's a friend I've known for some time now, Father. Someone who has shown me kindness and compassion when I needed it most. I can't help but feel drawn to them, despite knowing our relationship is forbidden by our faith."

Y/n new who she was referring to and has to hide a smile that came along with the thought of Wanda thinking of her “And why is it forbidden?”.

Wanda hangs her head in shame, feeling the weight of her sin bearing down on her shoulders. "Because our faith teaches us that all forms of sexual expression are sinful, even within the context of a loving relationship. We are meant to deny ourselves such earthly pleasures and focus solely on our spiritual connection to God."

“I see” Y/n simply responds to Wanda’s confession trying to organize their thoughts about this situation.

Wanda nods solemnly, her eyes cast downwards in submission. "I know it's wrong, father. That's why I've tried so hard to purge these thoughts and desires from my heart. But no matter how hard I pray or fast, they keep coming back, tormenting me relentlessly.

“And what thoughts are they? What is she doing to you in that little minds of yours?” Y/n answers with a hidden smile on her lips, trying to tease Wanda and see how dirty her thoughts are, despite of being a sweet innocent girl.

Wanda’s cheeks flushes a deep red as she confesses her most shameful fantasies. "I...I imagine her touching me intimately, exploring every inch of my body with her hands and mouth. I feel her warmth against my skin, her breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine. I long for her to take me fully, to possess me completely and show me just how much she desires me."

“Mmmh” Y/n hummed as her only thought is the confession that Wanda just made. Y/n stood up from her seat to gets closer to where Wanda is seating.

Wanda looked up at Y/n with pleading eyes, hoping for understanding and forgiveness. "I know these thoughts are wicked and sinful, Y/n. They make me feel dirty and unworthy of God's love. But I can't help but crave the touch of another human being, even if it means damning my soul to hellfire forever."

“I understand Wanda, it’s normal to crave for the touch of someone, even if they the bible says not to” Y/n says sincerely at Wanda and looking down at her with understanding and comforting eyes.

Wanda breaths a sigh of relief, grateful for Y/n’s empathy and support. "Thank you, Y/n. It means so much to me to have someone who doesn't judge me harshly for my weaknesses and failures. Your kindness helps me hold onto hope that one day, with God's grace and mercy, I may find true peace and acceptance within myself."

“Mmhm do you want me to help you with that sister?” Y/n smirks mischievously looking down at Wanda innocent -or not so inocente after all- form.

Wanda’s eyes widens in surprise, unsure of what to make of Y/n’s sudden offer. "W-what do you mean, Y/n?" she asks hesitantly.

“I think you know exactly what I mean sister Wanda” Y/n answers with a smile looking at how Wanda’s cheeks flusters.

Wanda feels her cheeks flush a deep red, embarrassment mixing with curiosity and excitement. "Y-you mean...you could help me explore these desires?" she stammered, uncertain of whether she should accept such an invitation.

Y/n simply nods at Wanda’s question

After a moment of contemplation, Wanda takes a deep breath and nods resolutely. "Very well, Y/n. If you truly believe this is what I need to purge these sinful thoughts from my heart and find inner peace, then I am willing to trust your guidance and experience your touch."

“Good” Y/n answers with a wicked smile at seeing how her plan worked .

Wanda nods silently, taking comfort in Y/n's reassuring words as she slowly began to shed her conservative clothes, revealing her slender frame and delicate curves beneath.

At the same time Y/n strips down until she’s only her bra and panties.

As Y/n stripped down to her bra and panties, Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with nervousness. She has never been so physically close to another person outside of her family before, let alone a woman she considered a friend and mentor.

“And what do you want me to do now sweetheart?” Y/n asks as she steps closer to her and puts her hand on Wanda’s cheek.

Wanda gazes into Y/n’s eyes, feeling a deep connection forming between them as their bodies drew nearer. "I...I don't know," she admits hesitantly. "This is all very new to me. All I ask is that you guide me through this process with compassion and understanding, and that we remain focused on seeking spiritual enlightenment rather than physical gratification."

Y/n gets on her knees and says with a proud smile on her face “okay then, I must start this session” Y/n pulls Wanda’s panties down and starts kissing her inner thighs.

As Y/n knelt before her, Wanda felt a rush of vulnerability and raw emotions wash over her. Her body responded instinctively to the tender touch of the older woman's lips against her sensitive skin, causing her to gasp softly in surprise and delight.

Y/n smirks at Wanda’s reaction and gets dangerously close to her core.

Wanda bites her lip, trying to maintain control over her rapidly escalating arousal as Y/n teases her with ever-closer approaches to her most intimate areas. The sensations are overwhelming, but she clung to the belief that this is part of a larger spiritual journey towards healing and self-acceptance.

Y/n kisses Wanda’s clit and moans at the taste of her arousal.

Wanda’s entire body shudders with each delicious touch from Y/n’s tongue, her hips bucking involuntarily as waves of pleasure coursed through her system. She lost herself completely in the moment, unable to distinguish between the physical sensations and the profound spiritual awakening that seemed to be unfolding within her soul.

“Mmmh” Y/n holds Wanda’s hips still as she detaches from Wanda’s core just a second to say “don’t be shy baby. I want to hear all of you” .

Despite her initial hesitation, Wanda finds herself growing more comfortable with the intimacy of the situation as Y/n holds her hips firmly in place. The sound of her own moans filling the room served as a powerful testament to the depth of her transformation, a symbol of her emerging confidence and self-acceptance despite the weight of her past.

Y/n sucks at Wanda’s clit harshly and enters two finger without a warning into her arching core.

As Y/n continues to stimulate her with relentless precision, Wanda finds herself reaching new heights of pleasure unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Her body shakes violently, her screams echoing throughout the room as she succumbs to the overwhelming sensations washing over her like a tidal wave of pure bliss.

“That’s it darling let it all out” Y/n mumbles as she continues liking at Wanda’s clit and curling her fingers into her g-spot to help her ride her orgasm.

Under Y/n's expert guidance, Wanda rides the crest of her orgasm for what feels like an eternity, her body convulsing and shaking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over her. As the climax finally subsides, she stands there panting heavily, her mind and spirit transformed by the incredible experience they had shared together.

“That’s it darling, you did so well for me” Y/n stood up and kisses Wanda’s lips letting her taste herself on Y/n’s tongue

As Y/n kisses her deeply, Wanda tastes the sweet essence of her own arousal on the older woman's tongue. It is a surreal and indescribable sensation, one that left her feeling both connected and empowered, as if she had truly shed the burden of her past and embraced a newfound sense of self-awareness and acceptance.

“Now darling get dressed and go back to your tasks. I’ll see you next week to continue or little session” Y/n smiles and winks playfully at Wanda flushed state.

With a sense of renewed purpose and determination, Wanda gathers her clothes and makes her way back to the rectory. Despite the lingering effects of her intense orgasm, she knew that she had taken another important step towards healing and growth, both physically and spiritually. As she prepares to return to her duties, she couldn't help but feel grateful for Y/n's guidance and support, which had helped her navigate these treacherous waters with grace and compassion.

a hint of pt.2

[idesofrevolution]

My Best Friend, the Ghost

It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.

Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.

I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.

The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.

When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.

It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.

I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.

"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.

This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.

"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."

Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.

For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.

We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.

Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.

It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.

It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.

Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.

The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.

I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.

He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.

"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.

I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.

He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: Biblically Accurate Angels

@wokewerewolfagainstcapitalism I am not re-blogging the original post because I don't want to subject my followers involuntarily to the whole thing

although for the exceptionally curious I will still link to the post so they know the context.

BUT, I was surprised (and delighted) to find that there's actually a number of games that kind of fall into this wheelhouse!

I’m considering fallen angels as biblically accurate angels for this request; and there are certainly angels on this list that aren’t really biblically accurate, although there are some fun vibes.

Demon: The Descent, by Onyx Path.

Angels are everywhere. They are under the everyday world, behind it, beyond it. They are sent by the God-Machine to enact its will through time and space, delivering messages, building infrastructure, protecting some people, killing others. You were one of those angels… But not anymore. Now you are one of the Unchained, a fallen angel who defected to the human race. Yours is a world of false identities and clockwork conspiracies, stolen faces and hidden works of the Machine. 

Demon: The Descent is set in a world where God is a machine, and Its goals are inscrutable and yet definitely not good for mankind. You have chosen to side with humans - and have therefore lost your angelic status, although you still maintain powers beyond human comprehension. If you’re looking for characters that can strike the fear of… well something into the hearts of those who see them, this is a game that you might want to check out - because your demonic forms in Demon: The Descent have the potential to be truly horrifying if you’re willing to look beyond the veil.

Also, if you want more “biblical” demons, Demon: The Fallen is the old-school parent of this game, about Christian angels being cursed and deciding to fight back.

Feathers, by Thursday Garreau.

Feathers is a game about fallen angels looking for meaning and comfort in our world, using Avery Alder's Belonging Outside Belonging system. It's diceless, GMless, intimate, and very, very queer, for 2-3 players, designed to be played in a single session.

Much of the setting of this game is left up to the table that you play with; did you land in a small town? Did you know each-other before you fell? What time of year is it? The characters have all experienced different forms of heartbreak, but each archetype is provided with tools to help you get the happy ending that you hope for. Because the game is inspired by Belonging outside Belonging, you also each play as an element of the the world or the story, such as the Vibrant Flock, The Imperfect Vessel, or Handmade Deities.

This game is very poetic and evocative, and it’s also currently part of the TTRPG’s for Palestine bundle that’s going on right now. I definitely think that you should check it out.

His Red Hand, by Carrie Imago.

HIS RED HAND is a 3-player tragedy about fallen angels, built on Jay Dragon's Nameless Engine. 

This game was designed for the Trans Fucking Rage Jam, a game jam for trans creators back in 2022. It's specifically for three players, so I think it's a good game for three friends who know each-other well.

In this game, you are each characters but also threats. Your characters are doomed; you decide exactly how they die. You will watch as the things that you love, the things that keep you safe, are ripped away from you. You will be asked to turn on the pieces of your very soul, so if you want a game that is all about sticking the knife in and twisting as hard as you can, this is the game for you.

Angels and Devils, by Sascha Pogacar.

It is the eternal struggle of angels and devils for souls. Everything is placed on one sheet to experience endless stories together with a few friends.

This is a competitive game, with half of the players being angels, and the other half being demons. It reminds me a little bit of the Screwtape Letters and a little bit of Good Omens; the demons tempt mortals using the 7 Mortal Sins, while the Angels rely on the 7 Cardinal Virtues. This is a short game; it requires a regular deck of playing cards and a few hours, and that’s about it!

Halos & Hellfire, by Jason Tocci.

THEY HAVE BEEN CALLED ANGELS & DEMONS, the Heavenly Host and the Fallen Legions, the holy and unholy armies secretly locked for eons in THE WAR over the fate of humanity. These days, though, they mostly just call themselves messengers. It draws less attention when complaining about work over beers.

Halos & Hellfire is a hack of Lasers & Feelings and inspired by In Nomine, fitting on two sides of a single letter-size page. It includes rules for creating celestial beings, handling divine interventions, buying advancements with superiors' favor, and performing ever-risky miracles (adapted from the magic rules from Sorcerers & Sellswords). 

I’m really enjoying some of the character aspects you can choose for your heavenly form in this one; some of your options include many-eyed, Formless, and Leonine. Sometimes I forget that biblically accurate angels can be furries too.

Anyways, this is another Lasers & Feelings hack, with a single number representing both your strengths and your weaknesses, with a setting that can be twisted or changed in order to fit the kind of story you want to tell. There’s a little more to play with in this game than a typical Lasers & Feelings hack, with special rules about miracles, doing battle, and other character options that you can choose to add in order to give you more tools to play around with, including a method for character advancement if you want to play this for more than one session.

Relics: A Game of Angels, by Tin Star Games.

Trapped on Earth. Surrounded by Enemies. Desperate for Answers.

God has gone and the Gates of Heaven have slammed shut, leaving angels and demons abandoned on the mortal world. Their powers, long trapped in physical objects, now begin to awaken and the cold war between the two sides erupts into a arms race to control all of creation. A desperate, brutal battle will be waged in the present on the secrets of the past. 

Relics: A Game of Angels is a roleplaying game in a world inspired by Wings of Desire, Dogma and The Prophecy. Players take the role of angels who have lived on earth for hundreds or thousands of years. The unique memory system allows you to build an ever-growing backstory as you play, making you the unreliable narrator of your own past. Plus the simple Tarot-card system makes gameplay simple and fast, with characters made in just minutes.

The angels in this game aren’t necessarily biblically accurate, but it does focus on the conflict between heaven and hell. The game uses a deck of tarot cards for resolutions, and your character backstories are written as you play. The setting is heavily urban fantasy, so I think if you like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or perhaps Dresden Files, you might like this game.

War in Heaven, by milo v3.

One page rpg where you play a constellation of angels that are trading stories among each other about the rebellion that is brewing in Heaven. Requires at least 3 six sided dice to play.

This game actually uses scriptural references to describe parts of your angels! Character creation includes determining your Eye, your Gate, and your Wings, each of which determines something about your character’s secret desires and hopes. The game takes place over a series of turns, where rumours about a rebellion grow, while your Angels talk to each-other about what they think of the conflict, and confront & comfort each-other over the upset that might result in Paradise Lost for them all.

Also…

If you want to be alien and unknowable, and possibly even strike fear in the hearts of those who lay their eyes upon you, even if you’re not really an angel, may I suggest: Star-Spawned, by @prokopetz?