#but naturally both worlds have different customs

[cognacdelights]

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [2]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: a whole fuck tonne of daddy issues. self-esteem issues. abandonment issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. praise kink. mentions of death and grief. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: sorry that it took so long to post. i had a few issues. but we're here. also, i got carried away. it's now going to be in three parts, but i promise that the final part will be worth the wait. minors have been warned. do not interact.

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel out of boredom. His heavy metal mixtape filled the background as he watched carefully out the windscreen, observing the world before him. He was always watching. Scrutinising. That’s how he managed to stay ten steps ahead — by knowing his environment, noticing when the tiniest of details were off. His eyes scoured every inch of the scene that unfolded in front of him, followed people and their every movement, and noticed every little detail.

The faint smell of chlorine hung in the late-spring air and smoke-like clouds loomed in the distance; there was a flash thunderstorm brewing nearby. The bearded barista’s apron pocket was stuffed full of dollar bills, yet in the six hours that he had been parked there he’d only seen six or seven customers wander inside the upmarket coffee house — and one of them was Sam; he was most likely stealing from the cash register. Short-changing customers and pocketing the difference. And the cops were clearly rattled by the deaths at the boarding school; three patrol cars had cruised past in the last thirty minutes, and there were extra patrols on foot. They were on high alert.

The door to the Impala opened, and Dean instinctively whipped his head towards the passenger side. His malachite eyes found Maggie — dressed in a modest, high-neck blouse and a long, flowing skirt that grazed her ankles. Her dark locks were neatly braided into a sensible bun at the nape of her neck, and a natural layer of make-up cleverly hid the garish welt that stained her cheek. She looked positively prudent. Respectable, even. He almost didn’t recognise her.

“Nice get up,” he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a half-smirk as he turned the music down.

Maggie responded with a tight-lipped, sardonic smile — then flipped him her middle finger — as she climbed into the passenger side. She reached into the depths of her leather purse and retrieved two matching pieces of cloth; they were tied neatly into parcels and wreaked of flower-like herbs. She threw them carelessly towards Dean as the door slammed shut behind her.

“Hex bags?” Dean raised an untamed eyebrow. He curiously untied the leather string that held the cloth together and peered inside at the contents. Rabbit’s teeth, bird bones, and lavender.

“Hex bags,” the feisty brunette confirmed. Her fingers found the clear buttons of her blouse and swiftly began unbuttoning — the high-necked garment uncomfortable and suffocating around her throat. “Matching, best friend hex bags. I found them in both their dorm rooms.” Oh, the irony of a witch in a Catholic boarding school.

Dragging his tongue along the dry ridges of his bottom lip as his gaze followed her quick-moving fingers, he watched in anticipation as she exposed her chest to him once again without any hint of hesitation. As the black, lace fringes of her bralette were exposed he cleared his throat and diverted his attention back to the contents of the hex bags. “So, uh—” he twiddled with the bird bones, fighting the urge to take her half-naked body in once again, “—that’s great. We just find the jealous third wheel and case closed.”  

“If only it was that easy.” Maggie ridded herself of the god-awful, itchy blouse. She clumsily kicked off the kitten heels that had rubbed her heels to glory and pushed the waistband of the skirt down her thighs. “Missy Braun was a resident Regina George, and Imogan was her Gretchen Weiners.”

Dean peered towards her out of the corner of his eyes and simply blinked; Maggie may as well have been speaking a foreign language.

Rolling her umber eyes at his lack of pop culture knowledge, she explained, “Missy and Imogen terrorised the school.” Her long, pleated skirt fell into a crumpled pile in the footwell and was soon joined by her tan-coloured tights. “There are about three-hundred potential Sabrina the Teenage Witch’s on roll that those girls have humiliated in some kind of way, and we only have two days to find her. They’re shipping them all back to Mommy and Daddy for an early summer vacation come Friday.”

“Looks like we got some work to do,” he mused in his usual, sarcastic tone. It was then that he caught sight of her in the rear-view mirror — round ass shamelessly in the air and covered only by the thin string of her thong as she leant over the seat, reaching for her clothes in the backseat. Jesus Christ, she really was going to be the death of him. He adjusted himself in his seat, finding a more comfortable position that kept his semi-erection a secret.

“Where’s Sam?” she questioned casually. Maggie had noticed the empty coffee cup that had his name and order scrawled across the side, discarded in the cup holder, and the noticeable lack of his presence. There was an unmentioned tension that hung in the air between them; it surrounded them, holding them in a tight coil and squeezing until the pressure overflowed in way of a petty sibling squabble. Even though Maggie had grown up with the Winchester Brothers, their bickering still drove her to the point of insanity.

“Gone for a walk.”

“Okay—” she twisted her half-naked body back around and slid into a sitting position, t-shirt and shorts in hand, and asked directly, “—what the hell is going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Dean deflected, folding his arms across his muscular chest in an obvious display of defence, “we’re fine.”

Maggie sent him an unrelenting glare. One that Dean was no match for. He broke instantly with a long exhale and threw his head back against the leather seat.

He was quiet for a second longer, formulating the words in his mind. “He shacked up with Amelia when I was in purgatory,” Dean admitted with a careful choice of words — cleverly calculated to keep his deepest and darkest emotions from surfacing.

“I know.” That was all she said. I know. It was tactical really. She knew Dean Winchester far too well. In fact, she knew the man better than he knew himself, and this was one of his best self-defence tactics. Give just about enough to satisfy them without giving anything away at all. Keep everybody at a distance so when you give an inch, they’ll think it’s a mile. But that didn’t wash with Maggie. Maggie knew better. Maggie used the same damn tactics herself.

She merely shimmied a pair of ripped, denim shorts up her thighs.

It took several moments of an awkward silence before Dean broke once more. “So—” he reluctantly delved further, “—instead of looking for me, he was holed up in a motel room doing the horizontal line dance with Florence Nightingale.”

“First of all—” Maggie pulled a t-shirt that he distinctly recognised as being one of his own over her head, “—Florence Nightingale was a human nurse, not a dog nurse. You’re thinking of Dr Doolittle.” She tied the hem at her abdomen into a crop. “And secondly, I know.”

“If you know all of this, then why are you asking me what’s going on?�� His head swivelled to face her abruptly in frustration.

“Because you’re being an asshole, and you’re fobbing me off with some bullshit excuse to shut me up,” she answered, casually shrugging her shoulders. Tugging at the elastic in her hair, she released the braided bun and combed her fingers through her long, sleek locks. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Dean.”

He threw his head back against the seat once more, rubbing the palms of his hands over his face. A loud, defeated groan echoed throughout the Impala; this was the last conversation he wanted to have with a half-mast hard on. “Can we just drop this already?”

Of course, in true Maggie May fashion, she ignored his very obvious pleas to leave this subject well alone. “You’re hurt that he didn’t come looking for you, aren’t you?” she spit-balled her thoughts on the situation, “you’re upset that he moved on without you.”

Dean sent her a look. It was one that she couldn’t quite interpret. A cocktail of emotions swirled around his tired eyes as they glazed over ever so subtly. His stubble-lined lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke, voice considerably timid. “I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d gotten Sam back if he was the one stuck in purgatory.”

“Dean—” her whole demeanour shifted, softened, as she scooted closer to him. Her arm rested atop the back of the seat and her body twisted towards him, her legs haphazardly hanging over his. “There’s a few things that you need to remember here. Sam isn’t you. Your childhood was a lot different to Sam’s. You were raised to protect him at all costs — hell, you raised him yourself. You weren’t just his brother. You were Mom and Dad too. Yeah, Sam was taught family above everything, but he didn’t have the responsibility of someone else’s life in his hands.”

He watched cautiously as she leant forwards, the gentle palm of her hand resting on his shoulder. It was such a simple gesture, but the warmth of her touch comforted him immensely. “It just—” he really did struggle with emotions, even if it was easier with Maggie, “—feels like a punch in the gut.”

“You know, deep down, that Sam never wanted this life. He went to Stanford. He applied to law school. He wanted to be a lawyer, and get married, and buy a house with a white picket fence, and have two point five kids. The whole shebang. He wanted a normal life. And Sam grieved in the same way that a normal person would. He put you to rest and built a new life for himself, and he just so happened to find someone that he really cares about in the process. I might not like her, or agree with what he did, but I understand why he did it. He made a normal life for himself.”

Gradually, he melted into her delicate touch; he found solace in her words and the strokes of her fingers against his skin. He knew that what she was saying made sense, and he knew that she was right, but it didn’t curb the anguish that consumed the very pit of his stomach.

“Sam loves you very much Dean, and he idolises you. Hell, that’s probably why he left this woman that he loves to jump back into a life that he doesn’t want. To be with his big brother. And yeah, he probably feels guilty for not looking for you. For being happy with Amelia whilst you were fighting for your life in purgatory. But you can’t blame him, or even hate him, for going after what he really wanted. He thought you were dead. We all did. You just disappeared. How was he supposed to know where you were, or what happened to you?”

Dean simply exhaled in response. Words were too difficult in that moment. Mostly because everything that Maggie was saying was right. She had rationalised everything for him, plain and simple for him to understand. Now he just had to come to terms with it.

“I’m not taking his side—” Maggie reaffirmed with a tender tone, “—I’m actually on your side.” She dragged her finger carefully down the length of his neck and traced the glimmering metal chain of his cross necklace, toying with it. “I’m on the side of you not holding onto all this resentment and hatred for your brother, that I know you love very deeply. I’m on the side of letting whatever this right now is go and moving on with your own life. You’ll regret it.”

“And what about you?” his eyes flicked up to meet her own.  

A reticent laugh spilled from her throat, “that’s a lot to unpack and we’ve had enough chick flick moments for today.” She couldn’t ignore the obviously elephant in the room any longer that she herself was harbouring a stubborn grudge against the youngest Winchester, too. But she was going to give it her damned best effort. She chose to ignore the disapproving shake of his head that she’d earned.

The fox-eyed brunette reached upwards and placed a loving peck against his cheek before he could respond, signifying the end of their conversation. Her gentle lips lingered against his skin, replaced only with a fervent burning sensation. She untangled her bruised legs from his body and shuffled back into the passenger side.

Dean gave her thigh an appreciative squeeze. A silent thank you, and a hopeful reminder that he was there to listen whenever she was ready.

Maggie’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile as she peered out the window. Suddenly, she was one with the clouds. That familiar jolt of electric that she felt every time he touched her.

Maggie and The Winchesters had committed numerous crimes over the years. Breaking and Entering. Impersonating a Federal Agent. Grand Theft Auto. There had to be a case for kidnapping in there somewhere with all the times they’d shoved a demon into their trunk and hit gas. However, stealing confidential information about private school girls and proceeding to stalk them in every area of their sordid lives might just take the biscuit. If anything, this was the one that was going to get them caught. This was the one that was going to stick. It didn’t look good from any angle, and there wasn’t a single explanation that was going to make it any less creepy.

Maggie sat in the leather armchair — her bare leg pulled up in front of her and her spine arched at an unhealthy angle as she scrolled through the social media site. An open, room-temperature beer stood beside her laptop, always within touching distance, with a crumpled-up register of all three hundred and sixteen students beside it. Condensation from her thawing beer had dribbled onto the paper, staining and blurring the ink of her rambling notes. They would only make sense to her anyway.

Sam perched opposite her, fixated on his own laptop. His long hair was dishevelled and tucked behind his ears, and his pin-strip shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal the navy t-shirt beneath. His own beer had gone relatively untouched, now flat and bordering on stale.

“Well, it looks like the field hockey team were out of town during both murders,” his smooth voice filled the room, airing out his findings. His bloodshot eyes peeled away from his brightly lit screen long enough to meet with hers and capture her attention. “We can rule out an Emmy Palladino, Victoria Harding, Shannon Brackenridge, Kayleigh Dougherty, and a Fallon Carpenter. There’s others but they’re not tagged.”

In one swift motion, she placed the pen between her teeth and pulled the ball point free. She searched through the seemingly endless list of suspect names and crossed them off as they appeared.

The harsh taps of Sam’s fingers hitting against the keys sounded through the motel room. Then, he spoke again, reeling off another list of names at an unhelpful speed, “—ah. Verity Montrose, Daphne Alcott, Annaleise—”

“Slow the fuck down,” Maggie grumbled as she tried to keep up with him. Her pen scratching against the thin paper, and the hard wood of the table, filled the awkward silence between.

Until it didn’t. And Sam was left uncomfortably waiting for permission to continue. He looked anywhere but the laptop screen before him as an icky feeling swirled in his stomach; there was just something about digitally stalking teenaged schoolgirls that made him feel dirty. Even though it was rationalised as being a part of the job, it still wasn’t his favourite thing to do.

“You know—” she piped up, popping the cap back on her pen with a purpose, “— you really hurt him, right?”

“Him, or you?” Sam questioned. His dark, thick eyebrows furrowed together, almost accusingly as he stared towards the petite brunette.

“Both,” Maggie admitted candidly. Her posture straightened as her shoulders fell backwards in a defensive move and a blazing glare bounced back towards him. “But this is about Dean.”

“Yeah—” he let out a breath, unfamiliar with the vicious heat of Maggie’s anger being directed towards him, “—I sorta gathered that. He’s giving me the cold shoulder and benching me on cases like he’s Dad.” He sat back, his back falling against the stiffness of the chair. “He won’t talk to me.”

“It’s Dean, he isn’t going to.”

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders out of exasperation, a look of helplessness etched into his fuzzy features. “I don’t know what he wants from me anymore,” he admitted solemnly, “I left Amelia for him. I jumped back on the road at the drop of his hat. I gave up my job, and the first place that I’ve called home in… forever. I don’t know what else he wants me to do.”

“He’s a stubborn asshole sometimes—” Maggie agreed, “—but it only ever comes from a good place.”

“You’re telling me?” he let out an indignant scoff, his voice raising to a pitch he never thought he’d take with her, “—if he’s not digging me out for stupid things, he’s giving me the silent treatment. He won’t listen to anything that I say. Everything is done Dean’s way, in Dean’s time, exactly how Dean wants it. Whether it’s right or not. I’m almost thirty and still being treated like a child. He’s no better than Dad at this point.” His boot-clad foot propped against the wooden leg of the table as he leaned backwards in his chair. “I should have known you would take his side. You always do.”

“This isn’t about taking sides. This is about you two not killing each other so we can get this job done and move on with our damn lives.” She was surprisingly calm in her response, despite her defensive flags being up. The very tips of her ears tinged an angry shade of rouge and her pruned brows dipped inwards. Her tone wasn’t it’s usual melody by any means — and her tongue dripped with poison — but she refrained from raising her voice. “Dean raised you. Dean dragged your ass up and did a damn good job of it given the circumstances. So, excuse him if the lines between brother and father are a little blurred here.”

Sam ran his fingers through his long locks, frustration evident in the way his face contorted into a frown. He opened his mouth to reply but was abruptly silenced when she continued; she wasn’t afraid to speak over him and make sure that her opinion was heard.

“You know, Dean told me that he wouldn’t have stopped until he found you. He would die for you — hell, he has died for you. He sold his soul for you. He went to Hell for you. And you just gave up on him at the first hurdle.” Maggie grabbed her beer and took a long sip, allowing the rage that was slowly building in the pit of her stomach to subside before proceeding. “Dean has a right to be upset that the brother that he loves, that he gave his life for, didn’t even bother to go looking for him. He has a right to be upset that the same sentiment wasn’t returned.”

“Maggie, that’s not what happ—”

“I’m not finished,” she cut him off curtly. Her dark, cinnamon eyes bore into his as she spoke soberly. “And he’s right to bench you from the job. You’ve been out of the game for a year. You’re out of practice and your head isn’t in the game. You’re still caught up on Amelia and that’s going to get somebody killed. The best place for you right now is doing research. And it’s just tough shit that you don’t like that.”

He was left in a pensive silence; she left him to soak up her words, to digest them fully. And he did. Sam saw things a little clearer, but that didn’t mean he liked what he saw. He often liked to live in a world where Dean, his father, and the lifestyle that he had been born into were the root cause of everything that had gone wrong in his life. And, most times, one or the other were to blame. However, Sam often failed to accept his own responsibility in things. After all, it was easier to blame Dean and his father.

Although, after several, drawn-out seconds, she couldn’t resist spilling the words that flooded her brain once more. “Maybe I am taking his side—” she contemplated aloud, “—but, this time, he deserves it.”

“So, what does he want?” he asked genuinely, “an apology?”

Maggie merely shrugged her petite shoulders. “An apology wouldn’t be the worst place to start.”

He raised an untamed eyebrow as he questioned cautiously, “and what about you?”

She stared at her beer on the table. The label was soggy and peeling off the side of the bottle. Small, carbonated bubbles rose from the very bottom of the bottle to the quarter line, where the liquid stopped. “I want the last year of my life back,” she told him. The viper had retreated and had left a door mouse in it’s place.

“Mags—” Sam breathed out unsteadily, still feeling the heat of their exchange, “—I’m sorry.”

“You turfed me out on my ass and told me to git,” Maggie recounted with a detached tone. Her cold gaze peeked above the rim of the bottle and pierced through him. “Dean was gone and you just left me. Alone. You, of all freaking people, left me alone. It took me weeks to catch up with you in Texas. Weeks. And when I finally did, you tossed me out like I was some piece of trash. I had no one, and I needed you. But you were too busy cosying up with Amelia. You didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

“You ever thought that, maybe, I didn’t want to be found?” he spat back with sharp words, each syllable lacerating her diminished defence. He dragged his tongue along the upper row of his teeth. “I was grieving for my brother in my own way, and that didn’t involve you, Maggie.”

She was overcome with emotion. A fuck tonne of heavy, painful emotions. All of the grief that had consumed her — strangled her, choked her, suffocated her — over the past year had finally come to a head. It had churned her stomach sick for twelve long months; it had burned the inside of her throat; and it had decayed her insides until she was nothing but a walking meat sack of anguish and despair. Not anymore. She was about to expel that demon.

“So was I,” she screeched, her bottom lip rippling ever so slightly as her eyes burned with salt-laden tears, “I was grieving Dean, too.” Her chest heaved up and down as she took deep breaths; exhaustion poured out of her from every angle as all of the pent-up emotions from the past year began to creep to the surface and seep out.

“That’s enough—” Dean’s gravel-like tone filled the motel room as he appeared in the doorway, a take-out bag full of waffle fries and chicken tenders clutched against his chest, “—the both of you.”

The palms of her hands pressed against the table as she pushed herself to standing. Maggie made for the motel room door, a well of tears fighting to escape against the barricade of her waterline. Her heart thudded tenfold against her chest when she felt his ring-cladded fingers wrap around her wrist as she attempted to slip past him, and a high-pitched ringing blared through her ears. She simply shook her head at him, and slid herself from his grip, before disappearing out the door.

Maggie had vowed to sleep in her truck that night. The stubborn, defiant side of her had reared its ugly head and was seemingly there to stay. A permanent scowl had etched itself into her fair features — her full, rose lips pulled into a downturned pout and deep-rooted frown lines crinkled her forehead. Her umber eyes were reddened from the sting of tears, and her flushed cheeks were stained with streaks of strays that slipped past her reinforced defences. An empty cone of waffle fries and a half-used barbecue dip occupied her passenger side seat, as an empty beer bottle sat, in pride of place, in the cup holder.

However, as the clock ticked over into the am and the temperatures ran cruelly bitter, Maggie begrudgingly relinquished. She tip-toed back into the dark motel room and slipped into bed, beside Dean. She was careful with her movements, slow and steady, as she lifted the quilted blanket and nestled herself inside.

Dean stirred when he felt the spring-filled mattress dip, yet his eyes remained closed. A shiver danced along his spine in an elegant ballet sequence as she burrowed her ice-like toes between his legs, pressing them against his calves. His sweltering skin burned at the contact and felt her feet thawing against him. God, he hated with an undying passion when she did that.

“Maggie May—” he let out a low grumble, “—get them goddamn feet off me.”

“It’s just until they warm up,” she whispered back, her voice dainty and quiet. It was never just until they warmed up.

His burly arm casually stretched across the flattened pillows in an open invitation to the petite brunette. She currently resided on the opposite side of the bed, clinging onto the edge of the mattress. He knew that she would come to him in her own time — when she was good and ready. She always did. However, for the sake of an extra half an hour of much-needed shut-eye, there was no harm in hurrying that along. “Get here,” he rasped deeply.

Maggie shuffled closer, nestling into his side. As she laid her cheek against the bare skin of his chest, it burned. Dean emanated heat, from everywhere. Her arm lay casually across his stomach as she burrowed her feet further between his legs. She felt the gravelly vibrations of his disapproving grunts as a small smile curled the corners of her lips upwards.

The palm of his hand found her back — his thumb gently caressing the bumps of her spine. Slow, tender movements eventually faded into nothing as he fell back asleep. The sound of his soft breaths eventually turned to gruff snores.

When Maggie woke in the morning, it was abrupt. She turned herself over, eyes remained closed as she desperately grasped onto the frayed strings of a peaceful slumber. She poised her bare leg, ready for her thigh to fall over Dean’s thick, muscular ones. But it didn’t. All she felt was the cool crumples of the bed sheet, where he once laid. There were no chainsaw-like snores reverberating around the room. There were no cadenced breaths that fanned against her forehead, tippling down to the very tip of her nose. There were no calloused palms caressing the lengths of her half-naked body. There was no feverish heat radiating from his side of the bed.

Her sleep-filled eyes peeled open instantly and she propped herself up by her elbows. Her heartbeat pounded with rapid thuds and her stomach churned with bile — forcing it up into the crevices of her throat. Static coated her exposed skin, making the hairs stand on end. In a bleary haze, she scanned the room and her gaze fell on the nightstand. Car keys. Phone. Gun. All still laying, haphazardly discarded, exactly where Dean had left them. A long exhale deflated her lungs as she allowed her eyes to wander the motel room further, feeling the trepidation slowly leaving her body; it seeped out through her pores, evaporated off her skin into the musty motel air. His boots lay at the foot of the leather armchair and his jacket lay in a rumpled heap over the arm.

She let out another deep breath and let the relief overcome her. It gave her more clarity as she spied the harsh, white lighting emerging from the cracks in the doorway to the bathroom. The sound of the running shower soon filled the room, alongside the grating echoes of Sam’s snores.

There was something that that just drew Maggie to him. It was an ever-present presence, a sensation, a feeling. The invisible string. The slightest of tugs had her gravitating towards him, and vice versa. And that moment wasn’t any different. She felt the ever-familiar tug in the very pit of her stomach, and she answered to it. There was no use in fighting with it.

Climbing out of bed, she made her way across the motel room. Her feet were bare and padded lightly against the dull carpet until she reached the bathroom door. Carefully, she turned it and slipped inside. Sam remained sleeping not so peacefully, and none the wiser.

It was considerably warmer than outside in the main living space; the room fogged over with tepid steam as condensation laced the mirror. Maggie stepped onto the apricot bathmat and slinked out of her sleepwear. The old, logo-printed t-shirt and her plaid shorts ended up in a crumpled pile on the floor. Her lemon-coloured thong skimmed her bruised thighs as it dropped to the floor, and she stepped out, embracing the nakedness.

Maggie slowly peeled back the curtain and stepped inside the tub.

Dean turned to face her — his eyebrow arched questioningly, and his body draped with glistening water droplets, “can I help you?” His voice was low and scratchy; just how Maggie liked it. He’d caught the soft click of the door as it opened, and the blurry outline of her silhouette as she undressed herself out of the corner of his eye.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she answered with a reticent tone. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she felt a wave of nervousness; Maggie was in a newfound state of rawness. She was riding the wave of raw, untouched emotions and with that came a raw sense of vulnerability. She spoke her truth, even if hesitant. It was as though a dam had been broken the night prior, and all the pent-up emotions had been released.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he told her, stepping aside, “I thought you could use the sleep.”

Her slender figure slipped past him, under the water stream. Immediately, she was overcome with a warm and comforting feeling. Her dark lashes fluttered closed, and her muscles relaxed, her shoulders dropping backwards. She took a moment to relish the peacefulness of it all; the water pattered against her back at a heavenly pressure, and the warmth of the water felt like a loving embrace.

Dean took the opportunity to admire her naked self. Her breasts were full and pert — her taut nipples a glorious rose colour as the silver bars reflected under the harsh lights. Her curves were spectacular as an hourglass figure carved out her waistline. Her thighs were thick and juicy, and her pussy was freshly shaven. She truly was a sight to behold; full lips parted ever so slightly, dark locks slicked back, and a hint of a flush rouging her cheeks. He would savour this moment for the duration of his lifetime with several mental polaroids. Mentally framed and displayed in his Hall of Fame. He’d waited years for this moment, and it suddenly all became worth it.

Feeling the sear of his lust-filled eyes tearing her naked body apart, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I thought you’d left me,” she admitted quietly, chewing involuntarily on her bottom lip.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured. She needed that.

Dean reached his thumb upwards and, with one gentle motion, pulled her bottom lip from between her teeth. He then, ever so tenderly, placed a finger against her shoulder — guiding her to face away from him. She complied without question in her fragile state. His ring-clad finger meandered slowly down the length of her spine, until he reached her rounded ass. He wanted to give it a rough and playful squeeze — digging the crescent-shaped tips of his nails onto her fair skin and leaving his mark. But now wasn’t the time for rough; now was the time for tenderness. Maggie was delicate in more ways than one, and she needed soft. She needed comfort. She needed to feel his presence.

“You know—” he began, running his fingers through the lengths of her wet hair, “—you should take your own advice every once in a while.” He combed her chestnut wisps until they were sopping wet beneath the warm streams of water.

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked in response. She allowed herself to indulge in the feeling of the tepid water running along her body; it was calming — restorative even. It was as though she was washing away the memories of her emotional outburst from the previous night.

“You should let this thing with Sam go. Not for him, but for you.” Dean squeezed a generous dollop of her fruity-smelling shampoo onto the palm of his hand before massaging it through her hair. The tips of his nails grazed against her scalp in a gentle massage, working the product into a lather. “You told me to do it for me because it’s bad to hold onto so much anger and resentment. That same sentiment goes for you. It’ll eat you alive in the same way it would me, Mags.”

Her long lashes fluttered closed as she melted under his touch; the way in which his fingers worked her scalp scratched at her soul. “I can’t—” she deflated with a saddened exhale, “—I just can’t.” Her head tipped backwards as his masterful fingers found the sweet spot, a soft purring noise slipping from between her parted lips. “He was all I had left, and he still chose to leave me. I’ve spent the last year alone because of him. I needed him. I needed you.”

“Hey—” his palm carefully covered her forehead as he rinsed the shampoo from her roots, “—I’m here now.”

“But nobody was here this past year—” her voice cracked, making way for the heartache that she had held so deep inside of her, “—nobody was here when I needed them the most. Nobody was here when I bumped into my father on a hunt. Nobody was here when I was stabbed by a demon and was laying in the hospital as a Jane Doe for weeks. Nobody was here on the anniversary of Bobby’s death. Nobody was here on my freaking birthday. But Sam should have been. He promised me he would always be here.”

He continued rinsing down to the ends of her sopping locks, ensuring that he had gotten all the suds. “I agree. He should have been.” Placing the showerhead back in the holder, he picked up the bottle of conditioner. He squeezed out another generous blob and started running it through the ends of her hair. “Just think about it, yeah?”

Maggie stayed silent. She didn’t want to make any promises that she couldn’t keep — and if there was one thing about Maggie, the girl could hold a damn grudge.

Dean didn’t push her; he knew that would only push her in the opposite direction. Maggie did as Maggie pleased — or Maggie did as what made Maggie feel the least shitty about herself. She may know him better than he knows himself, but he knew her just as well. He knew her like the back of his hand; he knew the games that she played and exactly why she played them. Sometimes it was just a case of playing into them games. Sometimes it was anything to put a smile back on her face, and pull her out of the gloomy funk that she’d gotten herself in.

He simply rinsed the condition from her long, luscious strands. He took extra care to ensure that he’d got it all before reaching for her loofah. He lathered it with a sweet-smelling body wash and began scrubbing down her skin. He ghosted over her petite shoulders and arms, caressing each breast with an acute attention before continuing down to her stomach. He could feel the scald of her attentive eyes as she watched his every move. He continued down her body — seizing the opportunity to fondle her pert ass and exploring every inch of her juicy thighs. He reached her lilac-painted toes before trailing the loofah all the way back up. He skimmed the inside of her leg, grazed the mound of her pussy and past her naval, and brushed across her rigid nipple. She was enjoying that.

Once more, he detached the showerhead from the tiled wall and aimed it at her body. The pressure was just right as the stream hit against her shoulders, washing the suds away. He moved down to her ample breasts. A haughty smirk quirked the corners of his lips upwards as a low hum vibrated through her chest — the water hitting perfectly against her pierced buds. He took a half step closer to her as he slowly swirled the jet around her nipple, her back pressing against his sculpted chest. His hand snaked slowly around the concave of her waistline and settled against her hipbone as he continued downwards. He gently rinsed down her thighs.

Then, with one soft but commanding movement, he nudged her bruised thighs apart.

Maggie, consumed by the drips of dopamine coursing through her, obliged immediately. She spread her thighs apart, just enough to give him access to her aching cunt.

“Atta girl,” Dean praised with his usual, gravel-like tone. He aimed the water jet between her legs, letting the stream hit against her.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden contact. A familiar tingle crept along her spine and down into the very tips of her fingers. Her skin tinged with the fire that she had been keeping at bay — locked within the dark, dingy caverns of her soul. Her eyes fluttered shut as heavy breaths slipped from between her chewed-up lips. The jet circled around her clit in lazy ministrations, forcing a strangled whine to claw it’s way out of her throat. She caught it with her hand, pressing her dainty fingers against her lips in a knee-jerk reaction.

Arching her back at an unholy angle, she threw her head back against the robust muscles of her shoulder. Her mahogany tresses splayed across his tattooed chest as her hand reached up to grip onto his collar bone. She needed an anchor as the tension began to build up inside her. Her fingernails sunk into his wet skin, scraping and scratching until she broke the barrier. Heavy, sordid pants spilled from her mouth as the metaphorical rope began to coil around itself in the very pit of her stomach. It knotted once, twice, three times as her hips bucked candidly against the water stream — hitting her most sensitive of nerves.

“Dean,” his name rolled so effortlessly off her tongue with a salacious whine, her voice barley above a whisper. Her breath-like pants grew faster, and the metaphorical rope pulled tighter and tighter. Until her hand found her mouth once again, capturing the sinful moans that carelessly spewed from between her lips. Her curvaceous hips rocked back and forth in frantic motions, her back leveraged against his solid body, as she rode out her orgasmic high.

Dean eventually placed the showerhead back against the wall when she let out an overwhelmed whimper. His calloused palm still gripped her waist, keeping her naked body pressed against his own. His jade eyes peered downwards at the beauty before him, brimming with pride at the mess he had created; her cheeks were stained a fervent rose and her chest rose and fell in a rapid cadence as her lungs desperately pleaded for air.

Maggie nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, her eyes still closed. She felt the warmth of his lips as he placed a soft kiss into her hairline. Oxytocin and dopamine drowned everything surrounding her out. Everything but him. For several moments, the only sound she could hear was the gentle thuds of his heartbeat; the only thing that she could feel was the delicate traces of his fingertips against her hipbone; the only thing to exist was him.

Then, she felt a surge of adrenaline and her natural instincts took over. No thoughts or considerations of the consequences — just pure desire. She pulled herself from his tight embrace and turned on the tips of her toes. Her fix-like eyes gazed upwards into his as her arms wrapped around his neck, her bare silhouette pressing against his own. Her full lips ghosted against his, caressed them with a sweet embrace. It was nothing like either of them had anticipated; it was loving, and tender, and fragile. She continued with her soft touch as his hands clung onto her waistline — securing her in place. Their tongues moved together as one. Exploring. Tasting. Embracing.

After what felt like a hundred lifetimes, Dean retreated slowly. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her jawline. “We better get you back to Mary Magdalene’s, Sister Maggie. We’ve got a witch to find.”

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles

[pianokantzart]

Oh! Hello Luigi! Hello Princess! What's that you're holding? Oh, this?... ask Mario.

#My art #Super rushed but have a bit of mareach for the season #With an actual background! 😲golly! #Mareach #super mario brothers #super mario bros #mario #princess peach #luigi #I headcanon that Christmas was a thing in the Mushroom Kingdom before Mario and Luigi arrived #but naturally both worlds have different customs #and Mistletoe is one of those things Peach is yet to know about #piano can art

[st4rtar0t]

What will your future spouse love about you?

I'm offering paid readings if you're interested please dm me.

let me know your thoughts in the comments and I hope you enjoy this reading.

PICTURE 1

hello there! the first thing I want you to know is that your future spouse will love you just the way you are. I mean they'll literally be so in love with you. they'll see perfection in your flaws, I see that you are some who loves learning and your fs will love this, they'll love the way you'll share information about your latest interests. they will love how ambitious you are about the things you love. they'll love the way your sense of responsibility however I also see that they'll want you to chill out sometimes. I see that they'll lobe your voice especially your morning voice and for some of you I also see that you may make cute or strange voices sometimes and they'll love that, they'll love the voices you'll make when you see a cute animal. I sense that you guys have a really expressive face and your future spouse will love that. they'll love how you can spice up any situation, they'll love your fun personality. I also see that you can finally be yourself around them because whenever you tired to be yourself, you felt judged because you guys have a naturally bubbly personality. honestly you guys are cinnamon rolls wrapped up as black pepper. you try to put up a tough front in front of others but on the inside you just want to be held in someone's arms like you're their whole world. rest assured because your wish will be fulfilled because they love you so much.

PICTURE 2

I hope you are doing well! the message I got while channelling for you was that they love the way you style your hair, I sense that you guys may like to experiment with your hair to find the style that suits you the best. I am also getting the message that they love your moles, you may have a really noticeable mole on your face, arms and neck. I also see that some of you may have really pretty hands and your future spouse will love them. they'll love massaging them too. they'll love how you are always ready to try something new, how you are not afraid of what's about to come and how you are always open to new possibilities. they'll love your adventurous soul. I am also picking up on the message that you guys have really big eyes, you may have soft features that make you look cute. they will love the way you are able to adapt to new situations really easily because I see that you will have to travel a lot with your future spouse, so you'll need to adapt to new places. they will also love your down to earth personality, they'll love how humble you are. they'll love the way you always treat others with kindness. In their eyes you are literally a blessing from god himself. they will love how protective you are of your loved ones because I see that your future spouse may have had a harsh childhood growing up, so your protectiveness makes them feel loved and cherished.

PICTURE 3

Hello! I sense that your future spouse is someone who has been through a lot of difficult situations and as a coping mechanism they use a cold exterior to save themselves from the outer world and they love the way they can be themselves around you. They love the way you can understand them without even saying anything at all. i also see that they love your independence. They love the way you both know what the other wants without saying anything. They love how unbiased you are, they love the way you can understand a situation from different perspectives. I see that your future spouse feels protected and understood in your presence. This message may be a bit strange but they love your family, they love your culture and the customs you follow, for some of you your future souse may be from different culture. your future spouse will love your straightforwardness, they love the way you always speak your mind. I see that they hate people pleasers because at some point they have been that way. I also see that they love your hospitality, they love how you are always ready to welcome people. I see that they love being babied by you but at the same time they loving they way you love them. to be honest I see that a lot of people have used them for their money, but they never have to worry about you using them for money because they are capable and independent.

I hope you enjoyed this reading!! and please leave suggestions for the readings you will like to see in future.

#pick a card #divination #spirituality #tarot #tarotcommunity #pick a photo #tarot reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick an image #tarot pick a card #tarot readings #tarot cards #tarotreading #tarot witch #tarotblr #tarot community #tarot deck #spiritual knowledge #tarot reader

[tiyoin]

me yapping about azul

since seeing the recent 'leaks' for the new octavinelle 'chapter' in the twst manga

I was wondering how Azul would show you he likes you

maybe its from him boasting his achievements while you're in ear shot to let you know just how accomplished he is. because after all, the3 ladies love a well rounded guy 😼

but he makes sure to reel it down a bit when he thinks you might think of him as full of himself (to which he is to some extent.) mainly because he heard you grumble the other day about how pretentious some of the students are. he agrees! stop acting like you achieved something when you haven't!

he's different because[insert list of achievements]

he seems like the type of guy to subtly listen to your food preferences (by sitting near you in the cafeteria during lunch time) and oh boy! there's now a special dessert at the monster lounge for a limited time only!

oh no... one of the twins are serving you and he/ one of them creates some kind... spectacle in the lounge. yes its unprofessional and it kills him. but he makes it seem like some customers had a bad day and decided to take it out on his poor helpless employees

(boohoo, cried the wolves in sheep's skin)

he has no other choice but to go up to your table and apologize for you... rowdy neighbors.

"it's fine-"

no! he cannot have a first time guest think so poorly of him. here- you already ordered their limited addition dessert, how about he gives you another one for... 15- no! 20 percent off! everyone else has to pay full price though... yes even your other neighbors who he merely apologizes to about the disruption

azul is a cocky coward to sum it up

he plays the game well, but also has no idea what to do. plan all he like, charm all he likes. the reality is, is that is not getting him closer to you. not yet that is.

he's calculative. I mean, you have to be to be running a successful business at 17. see! he is good at everything (why are you bringing up gym. that's pointless in the business world. is he not in good enough shape? he is strong despite his skinny stature... so who cares about stamina.-)

he's smart, kind (eye roll), and a hoot to be around!

after azul has 'crafted' his personality to you through subtle gestures (he only does around you), kind gestures (only to you...) and his off handedly brags about his feats and reasons he’d be a great boyfriend (through 'subliminal messaging'

he's going to move onto plan B! where he slowly intagrats himself into your life. mhm.

so when you and grim are looking around for a partner in the first year second year crewel assignment, azul is a kind enough senior to offer his assitan- no there's no catch.

he just thought that you would need all the help you can get- not that you're dumb, but with... azul doesn't even need to finish his sentence before you’re both eyeing grim sashaying his way to the chemicals.

so prefect? what do you say?

oh no, you happen to bump into the table and am falling with the beakers and test tubes? no worries! azul is there to play knight in shining armor and grab you, hoist you up, and protect you from the falling glass that shatters into smithereens on the ground.

yes crewel is yelling at you but see how reliable he is!! not only is he smart and... handsome- but he is a natural protector!-

just dont smile at him like that while you tuck your hair behind your ear- it makes him feel... queasy (that's what they call butterflies azul)

while merpeople are shown to be more touch centric than everyone else. when you accidentally touch Azul's finger when handing over a beaker, azul is lucky that you're on his right side where his long strand of grey hair. effectively blocking your vision of his blush striken face-

NO HE'S NOT ILL- does he look it?” “well… your face is blue-“ (you're so innocent he just wants to strangle you ugh. how utterly adorable) it's just... ridiculously hot in here, dont you think? boy he's parched.

he swiftly makes an exit to the bathroom to get. a. grip. he almost let his carefully crafted charismatic personality slip and show you-… no time to dwell on the past.

something tells him that he shouldn't be leaving you, grim and chemicals alone.

WHY IS JADE FUCKING LEECH AT YOUR TABLE??

THAT NO GOOD-

he was just helping? azul narrows his cerelium eyes at his vice dorm leader. helping with what exactly, jade? the project? …ha yeah right you no good leech.

when you tell azul about how jade was saying he- azul- was just as good at potion making as the benevolent sea witch. azul 'humphs.' why of course he is. as the dorm leader of- ....yes he did have a lot of time to study in his childhood and has been doing stuff like this for a long time. what about it.

azul can't help but feel.. irritated. what else did jade say to you? hmm?

oh.. that was all? clearing his throat, he looks back at jade who is wearing a shit-eatting grin. the eel-mer lowering himself into his seat, eyes looking up as the amber eye catches the light of the potion room. it's that sadistically percerted grin he likes to wear when he's up to no good. having sowed the first seeds of his discord and is waiting for another opportunity to tend to his garden of chaos.

whatever. lets just focus on the assignment. yes prefect he is fine.

azul doesn't like for things to go sideways. he has plan A through Z all thought out and ready to go at any minute. but when a number is added to his perfectly organized letter plans, that's when his knuckles turn white and his nails dent his palms.

the leeches are always there to keep him on his toes. he just thought that he kept his... admiration for you under good enough wraps that his two pesky workers wouldn't find out, not until later when your relationship is closer. but nnooooOOOoo

it was his own fault for underestimating them after all.

but time and time again he has prevailed through such hardships and will continue to best them when they think they can toy with him. and to win, means getting you no matter what those two whisper in your ear, and what they don't.

#azul x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎 #azul ashengrotto x reader

[fragileheartbeats]

Create another valyrian household that escaped Valyria. They hid themselves away by magic on an island not visible to anyone, they don't wish to be seen. On an island with a huge fortress accompanied with another smaller fortress which is basically a library. They are similar to Targaryens, but much more knowledgeable on everything (thanks to Valyria). They ride dragons, purple shades of eyes, silver-gold hair. Only two differences being, they have never been married outside of family(yuck) with no Westerosi blood therefore very different customs, fully valyrian customs and traditions rather than Westerosi+valyrian(Targs, Vels). Hope you have fun, thank you:)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐿𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘈 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

─ 𝘈 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

In the rich tapestry of Valyrian history, woven with the threads of power, magic, and dragonfire, the House Lyrielle stands as a testament to the enduring grace and wisdom of Old Valyria. Their story is a whisper on the wind, a secret melody sung by the waves that surround their hidden island sanctuary. Known to but a few, the Lyrielles are the guardians of a legacy untainted by the ambition and corruption that led to the Doom. The sigil of House Lyrielle is as enigmatic as the house itself—an angelic dragon, graceful and serene, enwreathed in a ring of white roses against a backdrop of deepest emerald. The dragon, smaller in stature but fierce in its intelligence and agility, represents the nature of the Lyrielles' own dragons. The emerald ground symbolizes their secluded island, a jewel hidden in the vast sea, and the white roses signify the purity of their intentions and the mystical barriers that veil their home from the unwary eye. Their words, "Beyond Sight, Within Light," speak to the heart of the House Lyrielle ethos. They live beyond the sight of the known world, in a realm of their own making, where knowledge and virtue shine brighter than any Valyrian steel. These words are a promise of their commitment to the greater good, a reminder of their hidden presence guiding the fate of the world from the shadows. The Lyrielles, in their seclusion, have preserved the purity of their Valyrian bloodline, untouched by Westerosi influence. Their customs and traditions remain a living tapestry of Old Valyria's glory, a culture preserved in amber amidst the tumultuous seas of change. Education and learning are held in the highest regard. The smaller fortress, known as the Lyceum of Light, houses a vast collection of scrolls and tomes, not only on magic and dragonlore but on the sciences, arts, and philosophies of the wider world. Even though the Lyrielles seclude themselves from the outside, they possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge that keeps their minds as sharp as their swords. The Lyrielles are ethereal in their beauty, with eyes that hold the mysteries of the universe—shades of purple that shift with the light. Their silver-gold hair flows like liquid moonlight, a hallmark of their Valyrian bloodline. They are skilled in the art of healing, their touch capable of mending wounds that would confound even the most learned maesters. Their bond with their dragons is profound, rooted in a deep understanding and respect for these majestic creatures.

Their dragons, lithe and swift, mirror their masters in both appearance and temperament. With scales that catch the moon's light, casting reflections in hues of amethyst and sapphire, they are specters of the night sky, their presence felt rather than seen, their agility unmatched by any creature, mythical or otherwise. To the Lyrielles, the world outside is a place of beauty marred by the scars of greed and violence. They see themselves as custodians of what remains pure and true. Their philosophy is one of balance and harmony, seeking to preserve the natural world and its wonders. They are benevolent, yet their kindness is not a weakness but a strength, fortified by their unwavering sense of justice and fairness.

The Lyrielles embody a paradox. They are both guardians and isolationists, wielding their power to protect the natural world and its untold secrets while shunning the very societies they seek to preserve from afar. Their personalities are marked by a gentle demeanor, an innate grace that belies the strength and wisdom that centuries of unbroken tradition have instilled in them. They are the custodians of healing, their knowledge of the arcane arts allowing them to mend wounds and cure maladies thought beyond the reach of mortal hands. Yet, for all their power and knowledge, the Lyrielles possess a naivety born of their seclusion. They view the outside world through the lens of caution and fear, tales of its dangers passed down through generations. This isolation has fostered a deep sense of kinship and loyalty among them, their bonds unbreakable, their trust in one another absolute. In a realm where the quest for power often leads to ruin, House Lyrielle remains a beacon of hope. They are the whisper in the heart of the storm, the unseen hand that guides towards light. Their existence is a testament to the belief that even in the darkest of times, there are those who shine brightly, not for glory or fame, but for the love of all that is good and true in the world.

My other original house:

House Celestyr

House Valysar

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

#house lyrielle #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of dragons #house of dragon oc #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd oc #hotd x reader #a song of ice and fire #song of ice and fire #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones oc #game of thrones #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x reader #writing #fantasy #novel #story #daemon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #asoiaf

[lovebites-if]

DEMO (tba) - FAQ - NAVIGATION

Tag(s): Slice of Life, Fantasy, Comedy, Drama, Romance, YA, LGBTQ+, Text-based, Lighthearted. Inspired by The Office and What We Do In The Shadows.

Congratulations, human!

You have been chosen to join the extraordinary Creature Mediation Center (CMC), a unique workplace where all kinds of different monsters creatures collaborate to bridge the specieist gap in our society. As the newest and only human of our team, you'll navigate a world of diverse creatures, handling counseling sessions, managing projects, and making critical decisions to foster harmony between two worlds.

Welcome to a realm where diplomacy is a blend of corporate intrigue and fantastical diversity!

Customize your human MC's physical appearance, personality, age (25-35) and many more features.

Build relationships with diverse colleagues, each with unique personalities, backgrounds, and challenges. Strengthen alliances or face consequences based on your interactions.

Encounter a plethora of fantastical creatures, each with its own cultural nuances, habits, and communication styles. Learn to navigate this rich tapestry of diversity.

Juggle various projects aimed at fostering understanding and cooperation between monsters and humans. Successes and failures affect the overall atmosphere in the office.

Engage in crucial decision-making that impacts office dynamics, relationships, and the overall course of monster and human relations. Your choices influence the harmony or discord between both species. Good luck, human!

RO Intros • Choosing a route

Among the various members of your team, we present you the Monsters Working With the Human Division (MWHD) provisional name.

Naira/Namid (she/her or he/him) • THE WEREWOLF • 32 years old

Animated, bubbly and incredibly friendly, our beloved N brings an energetic and passionate, and lively spirit to the office. As a Werewolf, their empathetic nature makes them adept at counseling. They joined the office seeking a bridge between the worlds, hoping to dispel misconceptions about werewolves and foster understanding.

Friends to lovers, idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Val (she/her or he/him) • THE VAMPIRE • age undisclosed (200+)

Mysterious and meticulous, Val is the epitome of a centuries-old vampire. Their adherence to rules and structure contrasts with the unfortunate chaotic nature of the office. Val took on this role to observe and maintain order, ensuring the delicate balance between humans and monsters.

Slow-burn, (Val's) First love. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Maureen/Marius (she/her or he/him) • THE GRIM REAPER • age undisclosed (300+)

Enigmatic yet compassionate, M retired from their reaping decades ago. They've been part of the office for a few years now, working almost exclusively with ghosts and their human relatives. M's unique perspective offers profound insights into life and afterlife.

Forbidden love, friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Devan (they/them) • THE ONI • 28 years old

Devan embodies the mischievous spirit of an Oni, their playful and curious personality makes them difficult to handle, yet very useful in dynamic environments. Their love for challenges drew them to the office, eager to tackle the complexities of monster and human relations.

Idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. Oblivious to love (Devan).

Lucian/Leah (he/him or she/her) • THE MERMAID • 25 years old

L's calm and observant personality brings a tranquil presence to the office. As a Mermaid, they contribute a unique perspective on the challenges of both land and sea. L joined to explore new horizons and bridge the gap between underwater and terrestrial life.

Rivals to lovers, (possible) rivals with benefits, pining (one-sided, mostly MC's).

Cyrus (he/him or she/her) • THE ZOMBIE • 30 years old

Cyrus defies zombie stereotypes. Their ability to empathize and understand others' emotions makes them an excellent counselor. Cyrus joined the office seeking redemption and a chance to demonstrate that even the undead can contribute positively to society.

Everyone can see it, Girl/Boy next door, Soft love.

??? (he/him or she/her) • ??? • ???

Are you sure about that?

Enemies to lovers. Red flag RO. “I can fix them.”

While we support, Human-Monster relationships, dating a coworker is prohibited. If you suspect anyone in your work environment of engaging in such behavior, contact your boss and supervisor Arion/Arianne (a proud gorgon).

We hope your time with us is fruitful, human.

#love bites if #love bites #cog #choice of games #choice script #hosted games #interactive fiction #if game #cog wip #intro post #interactive fiction game #if intro

[makomaki5]

If you want some other game recommendations from a huge gamer that is NOT Hogwarts Legacy, I got you bc we do not support antisemitism or transphobia.

Full disclaimer: If your advocacy goes as far as for Trans and Jewish voices to fall on deaf ears about a VIDEOGAME?!? Then, you were never an ally to begin with.

But, as a videogame lover and player, I will make other recommendations for you to play if you really need a good game that will support the rights of other people and is not built on hate!

If you really want a wizard game:

Play Skyrim and Eldan Ring! Those are two great open-world/build your character/magic games that don’t center around magic but have magic nonetheless! They actually have more spells and than this stupid game centered around wizards! Plus, they both have HUGE open worlds that will take (I promise) hundreds of hours to play and explore.

Play the Witcher!!! Although I have not played it, my sister raves left and right about the Witcher 3! It’s a choice-based, super long, world-heavy game that just immerses you in both magic and spells from the get go! Although not a ton of spells, it’s a timeless game and WAY ahead of it’s time.

If you really want a choice based game:

We literally got Cyberpunk a few years ago! It has amazing features for custom characters and fun armor to mix and match. It also has a choice-based storyline and multiple endings based on the choices you make/categories of your personality you update! What’s also so great about this game is it naturally has great representation. I’ve never seen a game that has NPCs have a set sexual orientation and won’t stray from it: if you are a straight man and hit on the lesbian, she will TELL YOU she’s a lesbian. It’s very interesting and also have trans representation and her personality is not just her being trans. It’s compelling. So, play this game!!!

Another set of great choice games is the Life is Strange series! Although not open world, every choice you make impacts the ending/relationships you have with different characters. There is also GREAT LGBTQ+ rep in every game they produce. The first time I played these games, my brain chemistry changed.

The walking dead series is an AMAZING choice-based series with a lot of representation. Although not open world and depressing(lol), it is a super immersive experience and has your heart rip in half for the characters. In the last game, especially, we see a more immursive and creative fighting techniques that just made you binge the game.

Another great game (that isn’t exactly choice but has an interesting way for you to interact with the world based off the way you want to explore) is Disco Elysium. You get to choose how/why/when/where you interact with the world and people. I have literally never played a game like this and my jaw dropped when I started. I could NOT put it down. The clock ticks throughout the day so you need to be careful about what you do with the amount of time you have. EVERY relationship will unravel another part of the mystery going on throughout the game. And, it’s very intense, fun, and full of philosophical shit that just makes you excited. Plus, you can tell it was made with so much dedication and care.

Fallout 4!!!!! This game is super underrated now a days, but is it worth playing! You can customize your character and choose who you side with/who you kill/who you save/who your friend are/what clothes you wear/what weapons you weld. Like, you cannot ask for more out of this game!! And, the world is HUGE and filled with such intricaticay. I cant rave about this game enough.

Persona 5! This is one of the best games I have ever played in my life! Like Disco Elysium, you only have so much time throughout the day to complete tasks and your relationship with peers/the skills you have are gotten from that time. So, if you choose not to hang out with someone or do homework or whatever, you could not max different parts of your personality/combat techniques. Is game is also in part a choice game, where you get to choose which route you want your narrative to be. Super fun! Also, this game has super fun turn-based combat that just leaves you on your toes! It’s super fun and super immersive and super HARD. It will take you a hundred hours to play.

If you want an immersive open-world:

I already named a few up there, but I haven’t mentioned the Horizon series yet, which is just fantastic. Both games have HUGE open worlds and a great amount of representation that just comes so easy to it and feels so natural. It’s not forced or random or anything: it’s right and natural and not a HUGE deal. It also has very immersive worlds with quite a lot to do. Although Horizon Forbidden West only has about 28 hours of the main story, it took me 80 hours to complete it because that’s just how huge the world was. Plus, the lead character, Aloy, has so much depth and interesting tidbits about her that you KNOW the game was created so much love and care. Also, the face expressions are so real and beautiful, it literally brought tears to my EYES

Red Dead Redemption 2 literally has one of the greatest open-worlds of all time and y’all are gonna play that shitty wizard game 😭?? It’s SO intimate and fun. There are times where you’ll be stopped to do a side mission and, if you die, you can’t go back to do it! I can’t say enough about this game because im sure everyone has heard it already but it’s emotional, FILLED TO THE BRIM with character depth, and super goddamn fun.

We all know about Breath of the Wild, but if you haven’t played that yet and are choosing to play Hogwarts Legacy, what are you doing ??

And just other GREAT games:

All the Batman Arkham Series games are INCREDIBLE. They literally were the stepping stones to other great games and was one of the first to introduce such an interesting half-open world concept. They fighting and stealth is ridiculously fun, and I have replayed these games so many times!

The tomb raider games are FANTASTIC. Filled with puzzles, stealth, and fighting, you cannot milk out more from this game. Plus, you okay as the incredible Lara Croft, who is such an interesting character.

The Last of Us?!? Such great representation! And what great character depth! You can see the love that goes into this game and what it means for the people that create it. Although a linear game, it does not necessarily feel that way because of the amount of exploring you are forced to do. This is one of those rare games where crafting does not feel like a chore, but an immersive and anxious experience. Both games are perfect!!!

If I forgot any, repost and add them because yeah! And, if you’re still not convinced to play something else, you aren’t an ally and stop calling yourself one!

#hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #fighting games #indie games #pc games #supermassive games #video games #horizon forbidden west #the last of us #fallout 4 #sekiro #eldian ring

[tarotwithavi]

An appreciation letter for you

Not a reading you asked for but a reading you needed 😛

These pictures belong to their rightful owners.

Masterlist

paid readings

Customize your own reading

Pile 1

Hey lovely rose

I wanted to take a moment to share something with you that I've observed and truly appreciate about you. Your presence is truly magnetic, and it's not just because of one particular trait, but rather a combination of several remarkable qualities that you possess.

First of all , your determination is inspiring. Your unwavering commitment to your goals and your ability to push through challenges is truly admirable. You never give up, and that's something that sets you apart. Your hardworking nature is evident in everything you do. I've seen how you consistently put in the effort and go the extra mile to achieve excellence. Your work ethic is truly remarkable and inspiring to those around you.

But it's not just your hard work that impresses me. Your intellect shines through in the way you approach problems and find innovative solutions. You have a keen mind and the ability to grasp complex concepts effortlessly. It's truly remarkable to witness your intelligence. Your never-ending curiosity is another aspect of your personality that I find incredibly magnetic. Your thirst for knowledge, your eagerness to explore new ideas, and your willingness to constantly learn and grow are truly remarkable qualities. It's infectious and inspires others to embrace curiosity as well.

Moreover, your love for your work is evident to anyone who interacts with you. You pour your heart and soul into what you do, and that passion resonates with those around you. It's a joy to witness someone who genuinely loves what they do and brings that enthusiasm to everything they undertake.

I hope you understand that all these qualities combined make you an extraordinary individual. Your presence is not only felt but cherished. You inspire those around you and create an environment that people are drawn to. I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge and appreciate all these qualities in you. All these qualities contribute to making you an incredible person. Keep shining brightly, because your magnetic presence truly makes a difference.

Thank you for being such an inspiration for me and the people around you.

Avi

Pile 2

Hey apple pie

I hope this message finds you well. I wanted to take a moment to express something that has been on my mind. Your remarkable qualities have always struck me, and I feel it's important to share my admiration with you.

Firstly, your capacity for forgiveness and maturity is truly extraordinary. The way you handle difficult situations and extend understanding to others is both admirable and rare. Your ability to let go of grudges and embrace forgiveness with an open heart is truly magnetic.

Your ethereal beauty goes far beyond physical appearances. It emanates from within you, reflecting the kindness and compassion that resides in your soul. Your genuine care and concern for people, regardless of their background or circumstances, is a testament to your remarkable character.

I've always been fascinated by your ability to strike a balance between your logical and emotional sides. You approach challenges and decision-making with a rational mindset while remaining attuned to your emotions. This makes you incredibly magnetic, as you have a unique ability to connect with others on both intellectual and heartfelt levels.

Another quality that sets you apart is your alacrity, always ready to embark on new adventures and embrace life's opportunities. Your adventurous spirit and willingness to step out of your comfort zone make you magnetic to others who are inspired by your zest for life.

Lastly, your innocence and pure heart are like a breath of fresh air. In a world that can sometimes be jaded, your genuine and kind nature shines through. Your actions and words reflect your true character, and that authenticity is truly magnetic.

I wanted to let you know that your presence and these extraordinary qualities have a profound impact on those around you, including myself. You are a true inspiration, and I'm grateful to have you in my life.

With heartfelt admiration,

Avi

Pile 3

Dear bossy pumpkin

I wanted to take a moment to express something that has been on my mind. Your presence is undeniably attractive, and it's not just because of your physical appearance, but rather a combination of remarkable qualities that make you truly captivating.

Your passion for life is infectious. Your enthusiasm for embracing new experiences, pursuing your dreams, and living each day to the fullest is truly inspiring. It's refreshing to be around someone who radiates such vibrant energy and makes others feel alive. Your creative mind is a gift that sets you apart. The way you think outside the box, find innovative solutions, and bring fresh ideas to the table is truly remarkable. Your creativity adds a unique and exciting dimension to every conversation and endeavor.

Your maturity is evident in the way you carry yourself and handle situations. You possess a sense of wisdom and understanding that goes beyond your years. Your thoughtful perspective and ability to navigate life's complexities with grace and composure are truly impressive. Knowing your self-worth is an incredibly attractive quality. You recognize your own value, and that confidence shines through in everything you do. Your self-assuredness is magnetic and draws others towards you, as they see the strength and self-belief you embody.

Beneath your seemingly cold exterior lies a beautifully soft and caring interior. Your ability to show vulnerability, empathy, and kindness to those close to you is a testament to the depth of your character. It's captivating to witness someone with such depth and emotional intelligence.

Please know that your presence has a profound impact on those around you. Your captivating qualities draw people towards you, and your genuine nature makes them feel seen and valued. You have a remarkable ability to leave a lasting impression on those who have the privilege of knowing you.

With utmost admiration and respect,

Avi

I am working on improving my English after my second last pick a card being a whole mess. 💀💀

Hope you like it!!

#tarot reading #tarot cards #free readings #free tarot #pick a card #tarot #pick a pile #tarotblr #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card tarot #self love #appreciation #i appreciate u so much #you deserve the whole world #tarotwithavi #divinity #love tarot reading #spirituality #tarot readings #tarot witch #oracle reading

[thepeonysbackup]

Somethin' Stupid

Pairings: Husker x Fem!Sinner!Reader

Summary: You're the night shift, apparently the only shift for Husker that he cares for, even if you both sold your souls, you somehow warm his up.

Tags: MDNI, explicit language, explicit gore, assault (by others not Husker), vulgar topics, flashbacks, a musical number, fluff!!

Song name: Something Stupid ♬♬♬

Request: Yes/No

Word count: 5.6k

As the hotel came to its quiet stillness for the night, you emerged from your room, in your usual attire. Being a night worker, a creature of the darkness in your boss's words, one of the housekeepers as most would say during the day, it was a perfect time to get your work done, finding joy in bringing a building to a pristine shine in the crimson moonlight. However, one thing you never left your room without was your headphones. Having the easiest job in the hotel, it was annoying to listen to the aimless silence. So to tune that away, you'd engulf yourself in the wonders of music, being lucky enough on your first day of hell to get your hands on an old ipod filled to the brim with old songs from Earth instead of the vulgar profane ones from there in hell.

To you, without music in the world, it seemed void of all happiness. You listened to all kinds, Rap, Rock, Classical, Retro, Swing, Polka, Pop, Jazz, and so many others. But right now, you had seemed to be on a rather wholesome and sweet song kick. Finding an unspoken joy with the way the guitar would play with the violinists hunkering down with great precision to add the melody and bring you back to the softness of the tambourine. Though, most down here would find Sinatra to be too heavy with the sheer affection in his tone, the love that he felt for his family, his daughter, his life, his world.. It was comforting in the realm of depravity and anguish.

As your dainty hands pushed down your uniform, straightening the fabric of your skirt and apron as you neared a closet on the lobby floor containing many different types of cleaning supplies. You grabbed the mop and mop bucket, a bottle of Fizz-uloso, and a few rags from the greed ring that you tucked away into your apron for safe keeping before venturing to the bathroom to situate yourself and your products. You thoughtlessly yet automatically began to get your things together, flipping through your shuffled playlists in search of a song that would start off your night just right.

You settled on Frankie Valli, giggling as you exited the bathroom with your things in either hand, having tucked away your phone into your pocket as soon as the beat had started up. Even though you were in good spirits, a certain bartender was not in the best of moods, but who could have blamed the poor man? He was being forced to work off his debt by playing nice guy at a shitty hotel he had no desire to be at. The two of you had many big interactions as well as the common clumsy moments from you that he saved you from. Husker sat on his stool, opposite side to the lobby while waiting late for customers to wander in, clipboard on the bartop 'incase' some poor soul wanted to redeem themselves for some unruly reason, seven had for boarding up for the night. He doubted some fucked up Crackhead had any intention of becoming a better person, or a murderer for that matter. But he did secretly have hopes for the princess of hells bleeding heart, her kind nature was foreign to hell, the people down here truly not deserving of her hard work whatsoever.

The cat demons ears twitched, flexing while they rotated lightly to the sound of footsteps, initially believing they were from outside but finding comfort that it wasn't some random creature and merely the night crew like himself. He'd always been fond of seeing you around, especially when he'd be doing work for the radio demon, though you never spoke much and always seemed to be ignoring the world unless needed, he considered you good company for the fact you kept to yourself. He'd gotten to see your vulnerable side, when he'd try to think of anything about you the amount of memories that flooded in were almost overwhelming enough to make him drop the glasses hed be cleaning, for you never wanted a drink, nor would you partake in any activities during the day time, he knew that strawberries were something you detested, and the thought of building a garden had always crossed your mind when talking with Nifty. He'd only see you in the night, a translucent pale sinneress, a ghostly creature with only a singular repetitive mission everyday. Now, he'd greet you once or twice if you'd get close enough, always nodding acknowledgably, or perhaps asking how your night was by saying you looked tired due to how much you really slept, but you'd never respond because of that other world you'd submerge yourself in, in your mind. At first he considered it rudeness, or a smug attitude, but it really wasn't when he'd find you suddenly engulfed in a conversation with Sir Pentious or Niff, even if shes a creepy little thing, it seemed you were a rather patient and caring thing despite being down here. Apart from ignoring everything you were probably as nice if not 'nicer' then the princess herself, so gentle and sweet, traits that attracted the fucked up and deprived creeps to the bar so often. You never noticed them, the regulars that would check into the hotel for a few hours just to drink some good brain damage and gawk at you until they made a slip up that he'd have to correct and reprimand. There were many times unbeknownst to you that these lowly creatures would come in and talk about a beautiful demoness that worked here that they'd follow or seen and got some info about, loan sharks often slinking in claiming to have business just cause of your appearance and sweetness, and just as you'd come around the corner they'd make their moves. A cat caller was there the first night Alastor had ordered you to work, a short demon with a sizeable amount of power, though not enough to gain your attention when he'd speak. He had called out to you, calling you a curvy piece of ass as you had bent down to wring out your mophead after just dusting and wiping the pillars to a bleached white shine, your thigh guard peeked from below your skirt just barely. But what really set him off was when he called you over after your blissfully unaware form began to receed to the bathrooms to refill your bucket, he was only a few feet away from the bathroom door when Husk had him pinned onto the floor with a growl of annoyance and disgust. That customer was thrown out after a good thirty seconds of threats and a single slugger to the jaw. You had exited the bathroom with new water just to see some blood on the ground that you'd have to clean up, but thankfully you hadn't seen how it was made and that was good enough for Husk at the time until he learned of your many experiences watching the Radio demon at work.

The one after that was a taller, regal yet idiotic looking demon with a face resembling a mime but could still communicate verbally without the movement of its mouth. Illusion was his trick, appearing near the bar as he actually inched closer to you as you were on a small step ladder, a single leg popped out into the air as you leaned forward to reach the top of a shelf near the bar where Husk was cleaning at the counter. Mischievously the demon snapped one of the legs of the stool to get a rather risqué view of your underwear, your body went tumbling over to the side with a yelp as you tried to grab at the shelf for balance which resulted in bottles to fall aling with you. The warm embrace of fur and a soft grunt made your eyes pry open, finding yourself in the clutches of Husks claws.. They were digging into your plushy legs and the other at your ticklish side, much to the mimes anger at the time. You had given him a supressed noise of automatic laughter while wiggling in his hands to push at his chest, much to his amusement you began to giggle as he tried to put you down, claiming he was doing it on purpose due to his grip tightening at your hand which was gripping onto his tie for support. The mimes face shifted to one that had stared a silent scream at the two of you, a howl leaving it as it made an attempt to knock over the over liquor bottles that were on the wall before vanishing out the main entrance of the hotel with a high pitched screech.

The Demon that had actually had you in his clutches and out of the building was probably the second to last of them that had been hanging around. He was a loan shark, one of those, you owe me one kinda guys that took it to the extremes. With his fedora the guy sauntered in, directly to you, practically dragging you half way out of the hotel with you only blinking in inquiry as you followed behind, innocently watching his lips move but to no avail to you due to your earphones. You had seen Husk worked up but not to this extent at that time, and he had never been so surprised with himself. At that moment he had seen only a filter of red over his gaze, eyes blazing with hatred as he loomed over you and the male demon who turned with a shriek before pulling out a gun to aim at the Cat. Husks cards took easy care to destroy his opponents weapon, pouncing with wings spread full length before he tore the Loan sharks throat clean out of his neck with his fangs and slashed a gash the size of his tail through his body. By that time, all of you were outside, but his friends had been waiting for him so the commotion was seen by them and their gunfire retaliated at Husk. In the end, they were in a heaping mess scattered around. Charlie had walked out the next morning to dead bodies and flipped out on Alastor, who took the fall with grace and little care.

The last one, had made you the most uncomfortable out of the ones you'd remembered, or that Husk had seen you truly scared. He wouldnt have blamed you for it either.. You were such a fragile beauty in the dark pit that hell was. The guy was bulky, ripped to say the least and apparently blessed below the belt because even through your earbuds you could hear his disgusting advances for you and you'd turned off your music to politely decline him and shift over near the bar entrance to keep good distance, but because of how Featherlite you were, even with your curvaceous appearance you were easily tugged over to him by his big arms. "Come on, sweetie, don'tcha want a nice guy like me keepin' the creeps away?" You had never shaken your head so fast, your little body tugging away feverishly. He tried harder, noting how the both of you were alone for that moment, and that had urked you blindly to grip at the bar countertop to rip yourself from his grasp, he didnt like it. "Quit strugglin before I break something toots-" Because of the grip, he'd taken your hand with him, the flesh and bone ripping enough to invoke a groan from the injury and your voice to go from its usual sweet and kind to a fearful and desperate scream of agony. “HUSK!!!” It wouldn't have been the first time your body had been ripped up, but it always, always hurt like no other feeling. The burning sensation of your phantom limb no longer being in place made you tremble, legs shaking as the larger demon barked an insult to your frailness, "Fucking pathetic-"

Husk hadn't ran for someone in years, but your voice being so distraught and desperate made his instincts kick into overdrive and his drunken mind go sober instantly as he rounded the corner from the bathrooms to see you behind the counter backed into the bottles, “Sir, you can't be back here-” The tears that were streaming nervously down your face nearly stopped at seeing him, “Whiskers, there you are!!” eyes widening joyously before realizing that you were still pinned and reverting back to your scared expression, the water works upping yet again as the demon snagged your torn wrist to worsen your pain with a powerful tug forward. And that did it, his wings expanding to full mast as his body grew larger, and he entered his demonic form to the extent that his contract would allow, roaring loudly as he destroyed the bar area of the new hotel, its sleek new design now crumbled to piles of concrete, wood, and various liquids as well as blood. The disgusting pervert crawled out of the rubble somewhat fine, a hurt arm being held by his better one as he turned to stare into the demonic face of the bartender as you popped out from beneath the four legged man above you.

It was gruesome for you, but an eternity for Husker as he completely ruined that monster, pulling entrails out and body parts off with force so strong that it had made you nearly gag at the noises and mere sight of this unrecognizablesize of the bar cat youd came to liking so much. But you had to end it, even if you believed the bastard deserved it. To be, be torn from each joint, ripped from the bone to the soul that he had managed to keep from most over lords. Husks claws scratched and dug, his fangs tearing at his skull and piercing through the socket with that satisfying crunch. Covering yourself in blood as you tackled Husk off the unfortunate little bitch to try to calm him down as his mouth oozed blood and eyes burned with rage, you clung around his thick neck, burying your face in his chest fur while pleading loudly over his howls of rage. He only really stopped seething when you started crying for real, sobbing into his shoulder hard as you held your injured arm against his chest. He had remembered how it felt like a lasso had been wrapped around his mind to be pulled back onto the brink of sanity he had always been at. He shrunk down back to his normal form, wrapping his arm around you as he fell to the blood covered ground to catch his breath with you safely in his hold as footsteps echoed in the creaking silence. Charlie had screamed in horror at the bloodbath spreads across her new walls and began to cry into Vaggies shoulder as they emerged with Alastor to see what all the hullabaloo was about, the radio demon mended your wound while Husk held you in his lap, head on your shoulder heaving as you had stopped crying and the pain went into shock as the glowing black threads stitched you back together perfectly. But as you had tried to get up, Husk moved the two of you around the corner and to the hall so you could go and clean up in the bathroom as he went to the mens. That night had really sealed the deal for the former overlord when it came to you.

As you skipped around the corner, you caught glimpse of the big cat, seeing a nod from him as you found your way to the center of the lobby and dropped your bucket so-so onto the tile with a tiny wave back, watching as water splashed over the side from the force before you dipped and wrung out your mop. The squelch of the mop water was happily drowned out by your tunes, feet moving to the pace in which the music was set as your tentacle-like cleaning utensil glided across the floors. Even with how large the main floor was, it was easier to clean then it looked, your first round being finished by the time about six songs had skimmed by. Your mop found its way near the bartop, Michael Bublé blasting loud in your ears while you used a single hand to lift each barstool as you mopped beneath them, soon gliding with the click of your heels behind the counter you shifted around the big cat and his wings by ducking under them, sweetly and gently brushing them with your free hand and a giggle. You hadn't heard him ask you what your deal was, nor the growl of annoyance as he got up when you spun again and unknowingly dropped your device onto the ground with a light tac as you treaded off. Husks ear flicked again as you disappeared into the hall with your mop after you'd wrung it out again, his cat-like curiosity taking hold of his better judgment as he picked it up and took it back over to the bartop to set it down.

The screen lit as it was sat down, the music name scrolling over the screen as well as the names of the artists, the particular genre was an odd choice. But now he understood why you were constantly unaware of your surroundings as he slid up on the screen to unlock it, sliding down to reach the Bluetooth button so he could turn it off to see what would occur and to his delight, from the darkness of the hallway at the near end of it he heard a confused hum. With this in mind he clicked on the play button of the music icon on your home screen, slipped the phone under the bartop, and music began to ring about the lobby. 'Sha-boom, by The Chords? What a selection..' He concurred as your petite figure emerged from the dark of the hall with a nervous expression. "Uhm?-" Your voice, like always, dripping in an affectionate honey like tone as you scampered over to the bar where Husk made it clear he hadn't cared that she had attempted to gain his attention. 'Let's see how you like it, hm?'

"Husk, where did my phone go?" You inquired, hands reaching behind the thick strands of your hair that hid your headphones so that you could take them out. The music continued, the end of the song coming up as you shifted to look around the countertop and under barstools, a bit around the bars area as well before you attempted to come round the back of it again, only to have Husk stop you with the loud clink of a glass on the solid surface of the counter. It was full of a brownish bourbon, ice clicking together as he reached under the counter to pull out a small, yet big cherry that he dropped in the top with his usual scowl. "Sit down." He grumbled as he watched your obedience slide up and onto a stool with a nervous noise of discomfort. "What's up with these?" He huffed out as he pulled out one of his clawed hands that was tightly closed, unfurling it to show the headphones you'd taken out just moments ago. You blinked, looking to your hand with a surprised but also rather impressed expression, "I- I like to listen to music? Uh- Excessively?" You stated, more like questioned, a tad bit confused by the sudden interrogation. "On full blast? How the hell do you get anything done when you can't hear shit around you?" He huffed, dropping the little items on the ground as the sweet voice of Missus Fitzgerald began to scat herself into song. "Well it's easier when I tune everyone out, I truly don't like interacting with sinners.. So uh, I just turn up the volume and submerge myself?" You began to shrink into yourself as you explained what was going on, simply trying to end the conversation so you could go back to your little world of musicals and dancing at random.

"And if someone were to attack you while this is happening again? The hotel is always open, it's always available for said sinners to enter, what if a serial killer fond of little ladies like yourself ends up wandering in with an adrenaline rush like the last few fucked up dickheads?" His paw slammed on the top of the bar, making you jump slightly and look down with a blush of embarrassment at his skepticism and truth. "Well, I-" He cut you off, seeing how you'd drawled out your words in thought, "Well what? You keep it low enough to hear? Bullshit, I asked you what your deal was a bit ago and you were ignoring me-" You blushed harder, your pearly white skin turning bright pink now as you tried to speak up cause you felt your reason valid to your little situation. "You know what? No, I definitely need to know that actual reason because, however stupid this shit is, I'm gonna end up drinking because of you dipshits." He picked up the drink he'd offered you, taking a swig of it with a straight face, like he'd just drank water when you knew it had to be strong just by the damn smell. "I listen to it loudly because I know I'm safe!" Was your discreet and polite way of speaking, making Husk scoff into the glass as he slammed it down with a clunk. "You're safe? Yeah, about thirty seconds is all someone needs before your ass is on the floor half naked and being taken advantage of before someone else comes out because the commotion is just barely too loud." You gasped and covered your ears with a shriek, head shaking as you began to speak rapidly and more explainitory. "No no no no, Jesus, fuck- No!!" You gasped, burying your head into your little hands with a noise of embarrassment at his miss of what you meant. "God, I mean't that you're out here every night!" He expression faltered, eyebrow raising slightly as he took a swig again, apparently at the reaction you'd had to his bluntness. "And - And since‐ Since you're always watching me while you keep up with who wanders in and out, I assume that you'll spring into action if a danger comes by.." You muffled your words into your hands, a soft noise of embarrassment earning you a scoff yet again from the big winged cat. "Oh, come on, Husk -" You were already embarrassed, his additional noise making it worse than even before he cut you off, "Nah, listen to me. Yes, yes.. I'd help you out in a cinch like that, doll. I always will, but I can't always be there to help-" You butted in with an, "I know-" But he shoved the bourbon into your hands and that hushed you as the liquid sloshed and splattered onto your apron with a strong stinging smell that made you squint a wince out a noise of discomfort "And since I can't always be there to help that means you gotta take care of yourself. So, no more headphones while working. As grotesquely fucking wholesome as your music is, you can play it down here when your here out loud and work.." Your eyes lit up as you subconsciously brought your glass to your lips, sipping at it only to go bug-eyed and cough harshly while setting it down, much to his delight of finally coaxing you to partake in his indulging you in his drinks of fancy. He smiled at your fit of gagging, eyes narrowing knowingly now as he revealed your device to place it on the bar again, but smacked your hand as you went to take both it and your headphones.

So, things went as so. You'd wake around midnight and bring your things out, hesitantly leaving your earphones behind each time as you'd lock your door behind you, then get your cleaning supplies, set up your music whatever genre it may be, get a load of rude-teasing from the bartender, and then start from the bottom up like usual. But through this different change, you noticed that Husk was much more talkative during the night then during the day, mentioning he'd barely talk this much even to Nifty when you'd make your little sweet observations. He'd always greet you, albeit in a moody tone, but nonetheless. He'd see if you'd like a drink half way through your cleaning when you would have to come back down for a refill of supplies or had to run out and back in from the store to get more things, and at the end of your shifts and his, he'd even started walking you back to your room since his was a few floors higher for his hermit-like type of living.

It was all rather refreshing, if you'd say so yourself. Learning that he had been doing most of this the whole time you'd been working here, apart from the walking to your room with you and you had been ignoring it all. So much kindness from a source you would never have thought could be that way since you had sold your soul for your happiness to remain in any situation. At this point you had throughly enjoyed being in his company, finding yourself looking forward to not only cleaning the hotel but getting to chat up the ol' drunk kitty cat who didn't mind your frazzled repetitive music tastes. Even gone as far as to wonder what he'd sound like while singing with you due to hearing him hum along to your same songs you'd listen to on repeat. So deep.. Perhaps a baritone?

You smiled softly as you skipped down the hall with your things in hand, sliding your bucket into the middle of the lobby as you tossed the mophead into it to soak for a moment before you got to work. Approaching the bar countertop, you got your phone out and pulled up the very first playlist you had been listening to when you'd left your headphones in your room and placed your device on the surface full blast, much to Husks distaste. "What's up with you and this? It's like your trying to not so subtly hint at having a kink for soft lovey dovey shit." His way of putting it always made you cringe, 'Why does he have to put it that way..? These were the songs he'd hum to so often..' You sighed inwardly to yourself, slowly wringing the mophead into your bucket as Ella's voice rang for the umpteenth time throughout the main entrance before slapping it down to get to work.

The BarCats eyes narrowed at your ignoring of him, he wasn't upset, nor did he dislike the music. You just played it so fuckin much that he knew all the words to these ancient songs, the tunes, pitches, and tempos. He rolled his eyes when you got to work, almost instantly humming away while mopping and spinning about the floor. You'd gotten so comfortable with his gaze, so carefree when he was around, more so when you both were alone like this and he truly liked this side of you. The glass that he was cleaning with a semi-dirty rag sat on the counter with a light tap as his claw double clicked on your phone screen so he could get into your music app to look through the songs on this playlist. 'Seriously?' He huffed in his mind, 'Would he?'. What kind of a playlist name was that? He shucked his belittling thoughts away and scrolled through them, noting how they were placed in and what days they had been added. "Hey," He barked, eyes still on the device below him as you hummed in response. "Why is this playlist so sappy?" He asked again, toning down his phrasing so that he could get an answer.

You hummed again, twirling and swirling around until you got near the bar counter again to answer. "I like these songs together? It's a lovely ambiance, don't you think? A wonderful feeling that spreads into to make you all warm and fuzzy?" You were chipper, unfazed by his scowl of disbelief. "You actually like this?? Cause I find it hard to believe." You rolled your eyes, Marvin Gaye taking hold of the atmosphere of the lobby which made you immediately start swaying along with the music and lip syncing to the words with a wide shit eating grin on your face. "Yep, it seems like you really do.." He groaned, a clawed paw running down his face as the song continued, ending in your attempt to sing the beginning of Paul's Ankas hit single while pointing at the bartender.

"That was trash-" He scoffed as you stopped half way and kept mopping, watching as your offended figure spun around, skirt fluttering with a graceful anger as your heel clicked the ground in a light sounding smack. "I'd like to see you sing one of these song then, they're hard when you don't have the vocals, huh?" You puffed your cheeks out, obviously joking, you loved to sing this way to throw people off. You really had a wonderful voice, merely shy to sing with your heart in front of others. But the stolen shit eating grin you'd had was now on his toothy smirk, tapping on a song that you hadn't heard in a while. Husk walked around the bar and over to you, starting off Frank Sinatras duet that he had made with his daughter before he had passed on.

"I know I stand in line, until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me. And if we go someplace to dance I know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me.."

His hand reached out and took yours, making you stop your work to look at him with wide eyes, you were right. Baritone..♡

"And afterwards we'd stop into a tiny place and have a drink or two," The hand he'd used to grab your own, brought it above your head and spun you, sliding behind you to the other side before letting go to move closer to your side so he could sing again, hands and arms wrapping around you in a surprisingly warm hug as he sang further, enchanting you to listen more.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid, like I love you.." He swooned into your ear, teasing as you stiffened and yelped when he took hold of your hands to spin you around to face him, leading you to the music with ease because of your dumbfoundment. You piped in, quieter than him but still there, singing along with him as his moves became looser and more fluent, fun, and improvised yet rather precise. Your skirt fluttered as you were spun with grace, heels soft as they tapped the floor along with his feet. He seemed more than content, loving almost as he dipped you to where his nose brushed against yours, whiskers twitching against his muzzle as he grinned with your bashful smile.

"I practice everyday to find some coverlines to say to make the meaning come true, but then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you." You sang along, a bit louder but not expecting him to go quiet for that moment. "The time is right, your perfume fills my head; the stars get red and oh the nights so blue~" He added, watching your face turn red with a chuckle as he spun you yet again, guiding you through the main entrance and in circles. His wings we're flexing, flapping delightedly at this situation and spreading enough to attempt enticing you.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, I love you..~" You never thought his tone could have deepened, but it did, coaxing you closer in awe with your lips parted ever so slightly. "I love you.." You sang back, "I love you..." He sang, only slower this time, leaning down with slowly flattening ears and half lidded eyes, "I love you..♡" The gap was sealed, but only for a moment before the sound of clapping came from beside you. The two of you disconnected almost instantly. "BRAVO!" A voice, filtered harshly with static spoke aloud, hands softly slapping together as he walked in with a smile like the man always did. "Quite the performance, you two, quite a performance. That was a rather enthralling exchange. Just wait until Charlie hears the glorious news that her worthless hotel is working!" He babbled away proudly, the warbling ghostlike laughter of his shadow singing in the background as it circled the two of your own shadows. Your hand had smacked over your mouth at the distance Husk had so boldly closed with his furry lips, he seemed unfazed yet still agitated by your boss's appearance.

"Jesus fuck- Wow, Al, I didn't see you there!" You giggled out with a shocked yelp after placing a hand over your chest in surprise.

"Now my dear, that's no way for a lady to speak." He tutted, microphone shifting in his hand to gently tap the top of your head in warning as Husk rolled his eyes in annoyance before pulling you back over and behind him so the two of you could get back to work, how you adore this silly demon kitty.

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel husker #hazbin hotel niffty #husk x reader #husker x reader #hazbin fanfic #Hazbin hotel fanfiction #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #Husker #nifty #sir pentious #hazbin alastor #lucifer morningstar #egg bois #keiks works #keiks creatures of intrigue #keiks piece #keiks not so little fics

[yourdakg]

Donation Found 2!

It took a little while longer than expected, but we finally found an appropriate donor for Brick! Brick was in desperate need of a donation. As the owner of a high quality gym and something of a fitness influencer, he was catching a lot of shit for not showing any empathy to his clientele or, in general, people who weren't in peak condition.

Maybe that's what scared some donors off, the sheer ego of having to maintain a physique like Brick's. But, by God, he paid the $325,000 to get his new body. Did he read the contract? No. But he insisted the customer is always right and he demanded action from the team at Turnaround Technologies.

Not that he could help how he looked, he was always athletic as a kid. Football, wrestling, water polo, gymnastics. He hit the weights hard as soon as high school started. And now he's a fitness enthusiast's wet dream. Let's remind everyone where Brick is starting this journey:

But thankfully we were able to find someone who fit the bill for Brick. This is someone who has the ego, the drive, and... honestly, a lot of the same toxic masculinity that Brick has. Just in a different form. So honestly it's a perfect match. Which we were relieved to find. After all, Brick doesn't fully understand the permanence of this yet. So let's take a look at our donor plate:

Meet Lemmy Chungus. A man who is almost permanently online, a moderator for the r/gayincel subreddit, a prolific user of 4chan, and a man with a subscription to 12 OnlyFans pages and PornHub Premium. He has an interesting take on why this exchange should work.

Donor Statement: This world has winners and losers. I am naturally born to be a dominant male, and it's becoming clear to me that Brick doesn't understand the role he is supposed to have. It's not fair that some buff fuckboy was deprived of the body he needs to match his true, inner self. It's obvious he wants this, so let's seal the deal and make this exhange.

I have to admit, we hear at Turnaround hadn't thought about it like that, adjusting two men into their, perhaps, more honest selves. It really is a public service. Both subjects are being stripped down, injected with serum, and placed in their uniforms as our technicians prepare the chambers.

Just prior to taking Brick's final "before" photo, he was informed that the contract had been signed, this medicine injected, and that his fate was sealed. Of course, we expected him to fight us a bit when told it was one way, one trip per lifetime, and permanent. Instead we were shocked that the young man started to cry.

Patient Statement: What do you mean permanent? What do you mean *sniff* 'new lot in life'? I don't understand why you're taking my designer underwear. I'll never wear it again? Wh-why not? I'll be fit again! What do you mean role adjustment? Huh? I dunno what a gaycel is. I don't spend a lot of time on the Internet. Whadda ya mean that's gonna be most of what I do now? *Sniffsob* I'm still an alpha. I *sniff* wanna change my mind. I don't understand. This body isn't legally mine anymore? I'm *sniff* I'll be a good boy, please!

So docile! He's really sliding into his new role quite well, and we're all very pleased. Brick was injected again when he saw the donor body, and his eyes almost went cross from shock. There will be a stiff financial penalty for requiring several staff members dragging his muscular body to the chamber.

The process was a difficult one. As the waves started to swing back and forth, Brick was grabbing his dick and squeezing his own pectorals as if to hold onto them. The beams and serums and molecule destabilization took days. It's like his body didn't want to assume a new role. But we held out hope that eventually the assault of our technology and pharmacology would win out and he would be shoved, unalterably, into his new body. So I'm happy to report the following:

As you can see, both men are now secured in their new bodies, roles, and lifestyles.

Patient Report: Ohhh God. It's hard to move, it's hard to move. I heard some fat guys had power, but he's... got none. I have none. Oh fuck. I'll get back in the gym and... look at him. What a slut, strutting around in that thong with a muscled up ass. Like he's some hotshot. He's not! Why does it make me so angry???

Donor Report: Chances are there a lot of other losers out there who have hot, buff bodies. Cute faces. Huge dicks. Guys who look like they should be on top, but know they're a beta bitch at heart. Stop being selfish. Ask for a donation today and let the real alphas assume their natural position.

#body swap #male body swap #mind swap #fit to fat #fat to fit #donationbodyswap #muscle theft #permanent

[oftenwantedafton]

New Year’s Eve - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings for sexual content, prostitution, daddy kink, sexual roleplay, spanking

Also on AO3

Summary - You may be young, but you’re already wise to the way the world works. You’re good at what you do; a sex worker with intuition and an uncanny understanding of each client’s deepest desires.

When the middle aged career counselor pulls up to your street corner the night before New Year’s Eve, you think it will be an easy job for a decent amount of cash.

You’re about to discover this customer is unlike anyone you’ve ever met.

You hear it before you see it: the luxury sedan a vintage model from the late seventies, its engine throaty. Modern cars don’t sound like that; you know the difference because one of your first boyfriends had been into cars.

The dark vehicle pulls neatly along the curb and halts and you shift from the street lamp post you’d been leaning against, grateful that some perverted asshole has taken notice and was going to get you out of the cold.

The driver’s side window eases down—crank, you think, this was before power controls, luxury or not—and you have your first sight of the man. Middle aged, a few lines here and there, salt and pepper hair, neatly trimmed beard. Aviators seated in front of wide set pale blue eyes. He’s wearing a long sleeved dress shirt and tie, you note; it’s a good sign, maybe you’ll be making some decent cash tonight and get a bonus because it’s the night before New Year’s Eve and gratitude stretches on the holidays.

You grin, a cherry red stretch of painted lips, toying coquettishly with the hem of your black skirt, worrying at a rip in the matching fishnet stockings. “Hey there. You looking to have some fun?”

The man’s face is expressionless, and for a moment you wonder if he’s not undercover. Fuck, you really didn’t need this kind of trouble.

“Get in,” he says, his voice a rough scrape of sound.

“Sure, as soon as we talk prices, just so we’re both on the same page. It’s—”

You never get to finish, your eyes widening when he holds out several large bills pinched between two long, slender fingers.

“Consider it an advance.”

You reach for the money and fold it tightly

into your palm. “Okay.” You loop around the front of the car, seeing him leaning over to pull the tab up to unlock the door for you and you slide inside onto the vinyl seat, dumping your oversized purse on the floor between your feet.

The car’s interior is blessedly warm and you resist the urge to hold your hands in front of the vents. The stranger still isn’t speaking and the awkward silence drags on. You’re clearly going to have to direct things here. Maybe it’s his first time with a sex worker. “So, what are you into? I’m pretty good at roleplay if that’s your thing. You know, like a police officer and a criminal or a father and daughter or a school teacher and a student or—”

“—Wait. The second one.”

Of course he’d pick that. So many men did.

“But not looking like that.” He frowns, his eyes roving over the leather jacket and halter top disapprovingly, then down to the skirt and fishnet stockings before snapping back to your face. “And not wearing all that makeup. Clean faced. Hair natural. You understand?”

You blink, then nod. Okay, he was particular. Not everyone wanted a quickie. You didn’t really mind either way as long as you got paid, and this guy was already paying you well.

He digs in his pants pocket, extracting a small plated case with business cards in it. He selects the topmost one and tucks another pair of bills beneath it, handing it to you. “For your time tonight. Be at this address tomorrow at nine.” He pauses, eyes flicking down to your legs again. “Maybe a schoolgirl uniform. Regular stockings.”

“Yeah, I get you.”

He turns his attention back to the road and you feel like you’re being dismissed. You grab your bag and shove the door open, stepping up onto the curb and back out into the cold December air.

You watch the sedan’s narrow rectangular tail lights fade as the man drives away, the money and business card curled tightly in your palm.

Easiest money you’ve ever made.

***

The office building’s parking lot is nearly vacant, save for the car you recognize from the night before.

You direct the taxi driver towards what looks like the main entrance, wondering if it will even be unlocked, but as the cab pulls closer you realize there’s a tall figure standing just inside the doors, and you know it’s your customer.

You hand money to the driver and walk towards the glass doors. One folds inward and you step inside the opening.

“Hi.”

He doesn’t respond, turning and walking towards an elevator. You trail after, following him inside. He punches the button for the fourth floor and you stand across from him. He hasn’t looked at you since you’d first entered the building and you’re unsure of what to think. You’d been careful to follow his instructions from the previous evening, wearing a plain white blouse and navy cardigan over a gray plaid skirt that ends a few inches above your knees, thigh high white tights tucked into platform Mary Jane’s, everything demurely covered, your face clear of makeup and your hair free of product, the picture of innocence.

The elevator halts and the doors chime before sliding apart. You’re guided through a series of corridors before you reach an unmarked wooden door, the nameplate mounted on the wall beside it matching the one on the business card he’d handed you the night before: Steven Raglan, Career Counselor.

You enter the room and hear the door close behind you with a soft click. The office is illuminated by a solitary desk lamp casting a soft yellow glow over the space. There’s one solitary window, the gray blinds covering it drawn tightly closed. A map and a photograph of some nature scene decorate two of the walls, the rest covered with framed accolades — degrees, awards—this guy is good at his job, apparently. Everything is neatly organized, from the books and binders slotted on the shelving unit behind the desk to the items on the desk itself, the desk blotter covered by a calendar clear of paperwork, the cursive writing on several squares neat and precise, the stack of blank paper next to the electronic typewriter pristine in the box it lays in.

Steve settles into the swivel leather office chair behind the desk, pulling open one of the drawers of the nearest filing cabinet and withdrawing a folder. He spreads it open over the calendar, reaching for the pen resting beside it, still seemingly ignoring you.

You’ve dealt with a variety of personality types in your brief time working the streets, but this blatant disregard is something completely new, throwing you off your game. You sit in one of the chairs across from him, pondering what it was the man expected, watching one of the more prominent veins in his pale hands shift as he begins writing.

“What are you working on?”

“Something important. Don’t interrupt me.”

You shift a little in your seat. What the fuck was with this guy?

A few more minutes pass and you find yourself growing more impatient. You were going to have to make him pay attention. You stand, fingers wrapping around the arm rest of the chair before dragging it around the desk so it’s beside the seated man. He pauses mid pen stroke, the only acknowledgment of what you’ve just done before he resumes writing.

You cross your legs, working on the buckle of one of your shoes, repeating the process for the opposite foot. You see the hesitation last longer this time and you smile inwardly. Yeah, he’s noticing. This was the game he wanted to play.

You subtly inch the chair closer, then casually let one stockinged foot slide up the leg of his pants. You’re rewarded with a little hitch of breath. You reach his knee before he halts your progress, his hand closing warmly over your foot.

“I told you not to interrupt me.”

You smirk, slouching down further and raising your other leg, skimming along shin and stroking against calf before your foot shoots across his thigh and rests against his crotch.

He drops the pen. “What did I just…”

Your foot teases along the fly of his pants and the rest of the reprimand dies and he releases his hold on you. You feel the hard outline of his cock, massaging, toes curling and stretching, sole and arch and heel stroking and grinding.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I can’t help it.” You bite your bottom lip, continuing to rub against his clothed erection.

That does it.

His eyes snap to your face, pupils dilating with desire. You can hear every coarse, desperate drag of air he pulls into his lungs.

“Come here.”

You draw your legs back and sit up, stockings sinking into Berber carpet.

He pushes back to make room for you on his lap. “Bend over.”

You obey, your breasts mashing into his thighs as you rest your body weight over his legs. You feel the hem of your skirt lifting, inverted and dropped onto your lower back, exposing the plain white panties you’re wearing. The older man massages one cheek, then the other, kneading each globe with equal attentiveness. You squirm and he halts, reaching for the waistband and tugging the undergarment down, just enough to reveal what he wants access to, your underwear now bunched mid thigh. He traces the lace pattern of your stockings, dragging a thumb against the inside of one thigh but stopping well short of where you want him. You feel your arousal leaking out of you, a slow trail of clear fluid dripping down.

This detail clearly hasn’t escaped his attention.

He lets his fingers glide through it briefly, then his hand disappears and you whimper in disappointment.

That’s when his hand returns, this time a hard slap against one cheek.

Fuck.

He follows through with several more strikes that are firm enough to sting and you imagine your ass is quite red already. His fingers dip between your narrowly spread, trembling legs and a pair of them punch easily through your dripping entrance, curling and stroking you inside.

“Daddy…it feels so good.”

“You like that, baby girl?” It’s the first time he’s spoken in awhile and his voice is even dryer and rougher than you’re accustomed to. He sounds almost raw, like the words are being torn from somewhere deep inside of him.

“Mmm-hmm.”

He continues fucking you with his fingers but abruptly withdraws them when he feels the muscles inside tightening, preparing for release.

“Not yet. I want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your pussy throbs and you stand just long enough to be repositioned, this time laid on your back over the desk. You can smell ink and paper and the fragrance of your own arousal.

He pulls your panties off the rest of the way and spreads your legs apart and his tongue thrusts inside without preamble. It’s long, the muscle stretching and curling inside your canal as his nose presses against your clit so he can get in deep.

“Daddy,” you gasp helplessly, reaching for whatever you can get ahold of, fingers curling into the soft waves of his hair. He replaces his tongue with his fingers again, sucking at the bundle of nerves below your mound. “Please make me cum, Daddy.”

He moans against you, the fingers inside of you working fervently, his tongue a blur of motion against your clit and you feel yourself shatter, coming apart warm and liquid against him, your thighs shaking violently, struggling to snap closed when the sensation becomes too much but he’s relentless, savoring the quivering of your flesh for a few more moments before he finally pulls away, easing back against the padded chair.

You struggle to recover, the pleasant tingling spasms still snapping through your body as you push yourself up on your elbows and then use the palms of your hands to lurch upright. You can feel whatever papers he’d been working on plastered beneath your bare, damp skin.

The client looks absolutely wrecked. His beard is wet with your juices, glasses askew, the tidy part of his hair mussed, sending a dark tendril across his forehead. You slide off the desk and kneel down, removing his glasses and setting them gently on the desk behind you, then reaching for the belt at his waist. He watches your movements with dark, hungry eyes. The leather strap releases from its metal entrapment and the button and zipper of his fly surrender next. The purple boxer briefs are the final obstacle, the waistband smacking with an elastic snap somewhere at the base of his cock after you wrench them down. You let your fingers drag through the trail of precum ozzing down the shaft, teasing him, watching his reaction.

“Open your mouth, baby.” His large hand is heavy against your cheek, thumb pressing on your bottom lip, encouraging you to cooperate. You open for him, watch the languidly draped form straighten, bringing his hips forward, his fat prick stretching your lips. He’s one of the larger men you’ve been with; probably even the largest. The kind of dick that porn stars are blessed with, and fuck if he isn’t testing your ability right now, pushing himself in further along your tongue, the head hitting the back of your throat. “Good girl. You can take all of it, baby. You’re doing so well.”

He knots a hand in your hair and tugs your head back, easing the rest of the way inside that moist cavity, then holding himself there, studying the flare of your nostrils and the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes before he finally relaxes, withdrawing, and you cough, gagging, his member now slick with a thick layer of your saliva.

You grab a few quick lungfuls of air, preparing yourself for the next push. “I love your fat cock, Daddy.” You stroke over the shaft, the wet sounds lewd.

“”I know you do, baby. Suck it again.”

You let him fill your mouth again and again, allow him to direct how quickly your head moves back and forth as he fucks into your mouth, the lazy pace picking up speed as the pleasure mounts and his urgency grows. “You’re such a good girl,” he praises. “You’re going to make me cum.” His eyes are so, so black, so far above you because he’s so tall, watching you raptly, a hawk studying its prey. A tremor wracks the thigh you’re clutching and he groans as he spills directly onto your tongue.

You swallow the bitter liquid down as his grip in your hair relaxes, surprised when he offers a hand to pull you to your feet. His thumb is back at your bottom lip again, his eyes focused on your mouth. The first lesson you’d ever been taught was never to kiss the customer. It was too personal, too intimate; when you’re willing to sell every piece of your self, it’s the one thing you get to cling to that’s untarnished and untouched.

You are so tempted to break that rule right now; wish he’d just do it for you. Instead his hand drops and he begins straightening his clothing. You hike your panties back into place, smoothing down your skirt while he tucks his shirt tails back into his pants and draws up the zipper. You sit in the chair you’d dragged over earlier in your session, reaching for your shoes, the man surprising you again when he kneels down, helping you slide each foot in and fastening the buckles, the touches oddly tender.

You murmur your gratitude and stand, allowing him to guide you to the restroom across the hall. He’s standing by the door when you exit, more cash waiting for you crushed in his fist.

The money is warm, like he’s been holding it for awhile. You follow him back to the elevators, the ride back down to the first floor silent and swift. You eye the phone on the receptionist’s desk, thinking you’ll use it to call for another cab when his voice interrupts you.

“I can give you a ride home.”

Rule number two: don’t invite the client back to your place, or go to theirs; keep the meetup somewhere public. Followed by the next: once you’ve completed the transaction, go your separate ways. Don’t linger. Time was money. It was strictly about business.

You hesitate.

“Or wherever you want to go,” he adds, as if sensing your reluctance to accept the original offer. “We could get some champagne. Toast in the New Year.” His eyes are still dark, the hunger not nearly sated, his fingers twitching as if he wants to touch you again.

You know right then you’re going to break the commandments you’ve been given.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #william afton #steve raglan #dividers credit @ saradika

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 5 - I feel numb

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bucky is a dick in this one. Angst! Jealousy! Idiots who don't communicate!! But I’m loving Steve...He’s moving in a different direction than planned but I’m enjoying it.

Surprise chapter drop! This came outta nowhere lol. Thanks again for all your reblogs and comments, I truly can’t emphasise enough how much they mean to me.

You had whiplash after the kiss with Bucky in the office. It all happened so fast, so fast you didn’t even really think about it. Not that you needed to, your body thought and spoke for you. Every feeling you had for him was poured into that kiss. Every stolen glance, every secret second of pining. Kissing him felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if you were meant to be doing this. A tiny part of you had almost hoped that if you ever did manage to kiss him, that it would be bad…or worse - uneventful. Then maybe the mediocrity would snap you out of your infatuation and allow you to move forward, finally stop you crushing on a man who you knew would be no good for you.

Alas, no. It had only stoked the embers, the fire for him burning brighter than ever before.

That night you had driven home, Clint riding alongside you on his bike until you were safely behind the front door. That was sweet. You had insisted you were fine and apologised to him for the waste of gas, but he was nonplussed. A loyal soldier doing his duty.

You had laid awake in Granny’s old bed that night, wondering what exactly had led Bucky to make a move. Yes, there had been a bit of flirtation between you both, but you’d got the impression he was like that with women generally – especially if his interactions with Amber and co were anything to go by. You’d met many flirts in your time, and you knew better than to pin hopes and feelings on a bit of banter. Some flirts treated it like a sport, getting girls to fall for them with a few sweet words and well-timed winks just to see if they could. Others just did it to pass the time, enjoying the buzz of the exchanges but never really intending it to go further. You didn’t know which category Bucky fell into, but you were smart enough to keep your wits about you. Or at least try to...

He seemed genuinely shaken up by the incident with the customer, angry that he hadn’t been there to save the day and keep his employees out of harm’s way. Was he worried about you? Or was it a bit of a macho display to save face in front of the MC? Someone had caused trouble on his turf, after all. You didn’t know. Why had he even hired you? Did he like you, or were you just a bit of fun that he knew had an expiration date when you sold the house? Did he feel the same way you did, or just think you were a good time girl who would serve him beer and maybe let him into your pants for a few quickies after hours? You didn’t know. But a glimmer of optimism was blooming.

And just how far would the kiss have gone if Sam hadn’t interrupted? You definitely didn’t know that. All you knew was the dizzying feeling you’d felt when he’d kissed you…and just how down bad you were.

Ugh.

To your disappointment, and possibly helping to confirm where Bucky stood, you didn’t hear from him over the next few days. Only a cursory text from Steve to confirm your next shift. You weren’t sure what you expected, but making out with your boss in the back office wasn’t a regular work activity for you – you at least thought he’d text or something. But maybe that’s where you were going wrong. Maybe that was a typical Sunday night at the bar for him.

You pulled up into the parking lot of The Snake Pit on Wednesday evening to begin your shift. As you wandered in, various members of the MC greeted you and asked about your injuries. You smiled and amiably chatted back, reassuring them all was fine. Nat gave you a wave over by the jukebox before berating Sam about his song choice. Just another regular shift. If anyone knew about your little tryst with Bucky, nobody gave anything away to suggest it.

As you got to the bar, Steve was leaning across it and meticulously inspecting a CCTV camera he must’ve unscrewed from the ceiling. You said hi to Tom who was already working, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he acknowledged you while very carefully cutting up some lemons.

“Still playing up, huh?” you asked Steve as you started putting clean glasses away.  

“Yep,” he replied without looking up. “I thought the connection was loose, but I can’t see any problems with it – so I think it’s something with the individual cameras”.

A couple of the cameras had been on the blink for a week or so, leaving surveillance blindspots in the bar. Bucky was very blasé about it all, but Steve was clearly nervous.

“Want me to call the repair guy?” you asked as you worked around him.

Steve grimaced. “Not yet…I’m just gonna have a play around and see if I can figure it out”.

You poured him a beer as he pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and began opening up the camera’s case.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as you placed the glass in front of him. He hadn’t looked up at you the whole time you’d been there. It would’ve bothered you when you first started here, but you knew now that was just how he was.

“How’s the arm?” he asked suddenly, his eyes still locked on the task in front of him.

“All good, thanks. Bandage was off the next day”.

“Good. And the head?”

“Also good. Just had a bit of a fetching goose egg on my head for a few days”.

“Eh, a look you pulled off, I’m sure”.

You smiled. Steve may have been a man of few words, but he did listen. He did care.

“And don’t worry about that guy. He wouldn’t dream of coming back here. Trust me”.

“Thanks, Steve”.

“Mmm. Y‘welcome” he muttered.

He went quiet again, and you knew that meant the conversation was finished for now so you continued working.

You were just re-stocking the bottle fridges when you realised you hadn’t seen Bucky around yet. You did a quick scan of the room when the front door suddenly flew open.

You couldn’t help the wave of nausea that rushed through as you watched Bucky sweep into the bar, Amber glued to his side as she giggled hysterically at whatever he’d just said. He’d never been that funny, you thought.

Some of the MC members called out to him and he hollered back. Amber was clinging to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He dashed by the bar and his eyes caught yours as he walked. He seemed to give you a double take as he stopped.

“You’re working tonight?” he asked, pointing at you accusingly. “I thought you were in tomorrow”.

“Well, hello to you too,” you mumbled back, a little grouchier than planned. But you couldn’t deny that you were expecting a warmer reception.

“I scheduled her,” Steve replied gruffly. “You know those guys from the manufacturing plant are in here Wednesday nights after their shift. We need all hands on deck”.

As if on cue, Tom stumbled behind you and nearly dropped the liquor bottles he was holding.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“Buuuucky,” wailed Amber as she tugged on his kutte. “C’moooon…”

Bucky huffed. “Alright…”

He looked at you for a split second, but then they moved over to the other side of the bar. You finally exhaled. You felt stupid. What did you expect? He was going to sweep you up and continue kissing you in front of everyone? You hadn’t even heard from him. God, you thought you’d grown out of this type of thing. Your embarrassment curdled into anger.

As you seethed silently, Steve spoke up again. Well, it was more like a growl than anything as you couldn’t make out what he said.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked.

“I said,” and his blue eyes flickered to finally look at you, “Don’t believe everything you see”.

You frowned. “Cryptic…”

“You heard me”.

You watched as he turned and pointedly looked over at Bucky and Amber. Bucky was chatting away to Nat as Amber held onto his metal arm with a vice grip, holding court with the other girls. She was showing Bucky off like a prize.

You felt your face flush. Did…he know? Did Bucky tell him about what happened between the two of you? And what was he inferring about Bucky and Amber?

You went to question him further, but he slipped off the bar stool without another word, zipping off across the room to reattach the CCTV camera.

*

The shift was a particularly painful one. You had to stand and watch as Amber was all over Bucky like a bad rash. He wasn’t necessarily reciprocating her attention – moving through the group drinking, chatting, but equally he wasn’t shaking her off, either. He seemed perfectly happy to have an Amber-shaped appendage, occasionally giving her breadcrumbs in the form of a smile or a wink which she happily devoured. He hadn’t acknowledged you since his admission of surprise that you were here.

Ugh.

Fortunately for you, Steve’s prediction about the plant guys keeping things busy was entirely correct. You and Tom would have bursts of activity as the group all seemed to go in for another round at once, then moments of quiet as they guzzled their drinks back at the tables. You were grateful for the distraction.

The hours clicked by towards the end of the night, and you were tired. Tired of being on your feet all evening. Tired of picking up the slack for Tom. Tired of keeping up with the plant guys who seemed to have bottomless pits inside them that no amount of beer could fill. Tired of how embarrassed you felt by Bucky’s rejection. Tired, tired. Your tank was empty.

The bar had emptied out with only a few stragglers left alongside the MC, so you started cleaning up and closing. You were just stacking some dirty glasses when the high-pitched giggle cut through the air.

You and Tom both turned to see Amber sitting rather unashamedly in Bucky’s lap, giggling as she ran her finger across his chin. He looked back at her with amusement, grinning like a fool.

You squeezed the glass you were holding so tightly that it was a miracle it didn’t break. All the feelings you’d been suppressing suddenly bubbled up, your stomach a nauseating soup of fatigue and hurt. And some rage thrown in for good measure.

“Oh man, she’s so hot…” Tom practically drooled.

That didn’t help.

“I’m just gonna change the Bud barrel,” you muttered in reply, your voice monotonous.

You slipped out through the door behind the bar and quickly rushed down the stairs to the quiet basement where the barrels and stock were kept. Grateful for the privacy, you threw your hands flat against the concrete wall and bent your head towards the floor, exhaling. It took you a moment, but you managed to compose yourself. God, you were stupid.

You unhooked the old barrel and got to work replacing it with the new one, relieved to be doing something with your hands. You berated yourself for getting to this point. A brief make-out session with your boss was hardly a binding contract. It didn’t mean anything. Nothing. Bucky probably got up to more mayhem before 10am most weekdays with his little harem of women. You were just another skirt to him. Jesus. How silly you’d been. You realised maybe you’d let yourself to be caught up in this crush to distract yourself from your Granny and the house. And it was a welcome distraction. But here you were, hiding in the basement at your job and feeling like a high schooler whose crush had invited someone else to prom.

Enough.

You inhaled and finished the task, standing back up and wiping your hands on your jeans.

You straightened up your back and shook your limbs out as you climbed back up the stairs. Time to do what you did best. After all, the only way is through.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #this must be the place fic #biker!bucky #motorcycle club au bucky

[drakaripykiros130ac]

What is it with this Targaryens are blood supremacists bullshit?

Let’s make some things clear right now:

1. Targaryen blood is superior. It’s not some sort of twisted Nazi belief, like some people make it out to be. It’s actual fact.

Sue the Targaryens for constantly pointing that out and lacking modesty. It doesn’t make it less true.

Their blood gives them godly features and the ability to ride dragons. The hypocrisy of Andals never ceases to amaze me: they have a tendency to complain about how Targaryens have ‘queer customs’ but what actually bothers them is that they choose to keep their ‘superior blood’ within their family and not share it with others. Andals criticize Targaryens for being different and yet trample over one another for a chance to marry into their family so that their offspring would have godly features and ride dragons. If Targaryens are so “bad”, then why don’t Andals keep to themselves too?

2. When did it become an actual problem to want to stick to your own kind?

Valyrians are not originally from Westeros. Their home was destroyed. They found another home, of people who constantly judge them and look at them differently despite hundreds of years after conquest.

Despite the many flaws in the show, there is something that actually stuck with me: when Daemon said, “Valyria is gone. We don’t belong anywhere.”

This actually broke my heart a little and got me thinking: how many Targaryens actually felt like strangers in their own home despite having been born and raised there?

I mean, Andals constantly treat them differently and yet blame them for wanting to stick to their own Valyrian kind (Targaryens, Velaryons and Celtigars).

The Conquest in itself is no excuse. The Kingdoms were divided and at constant war with one another, which destroyed the smallfolk. The Targaryens took away their individual powers, united the Kingdoms and gave the people a better chance at peace. The Andals are pissed because they lost their autonomy? Well, considering what they used that autonomy for, they shouldn’t have had it in the first place.

I applaud the Targaryens for taking charge and conquering Westeros for a better future. I mean, do you honestly believe that they would have been accepted in Westeros if they hadn’t? That they would have showed up with their dragons, asked to be a part of the Andals’ world and they would have been accepted with hugs and kisses? Don’t make me laugh. They would have never survived if the Andals kept control of Westeros.

And do keep in mind that if their intentions were actually bad, the Targaryens would have turned Westeros into the new Valyria. They didn’t do that though, did they? They even accepted and converted to their faith.

3. Valyrians are actually attracted to their own kind. So what? It’s their custom and nature. It’s the one thing they asked for. The only exception. To be able to keep their traditions of marrying within their family, not only in order to keep their blood pure for the purpose of controlling dragons, but also because they feel comfortable with one another. They connect with one another. They don’t want to lose ties with their true home, with their history, language, culture etc.

Andals will never be able to understand Valyrians. It’s called having a connection with someone. It can be both physical and emotional (like it was with Daemon and Rhaenyra). Why is that such a crime?

Targaryens are constantly criticized for wanting to stick to their own kind, yet the Andals have been treating them like strangers for hundreds of years simply because they are different.

Who is the blood supremacist here?

Who are the ones who constantly discriminate and create the division lines? Answer: the Andals.

#Let’s keep in mind that Targaryens never tried to impose Valyrian traditions on Westerosi. They wanted those traditions kept for themselves. #And yet the Westerosi couldn’t even let them have that. #To be honest now I am kind of sorry they didn’t do that considering all that went down. #Queen Visenya should have burned the Starry Sept to the ground and Westeros should have become the new Valyria. It would have been better. #house targaryen #canon asoiaf #asoiaf meta #team black #pro team black #house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #pro house targaryen #the blacks #loyalty to House Targaryen! #daemyra

[inmyfxith]

Being a member of the Sully family (Oldest child version)

A/N: Female reader.

Being born before Neteyam, making you the oldest after Spider as you were already in your mother’s belly when your father transferred his consciousness into his avatar self. Bonding with your mother and the Pandoran collective consciousness through the Tree of Voices instantly after your birth and developing a strong connection to Eywa and the natural world.

As the daughter of Jake, you may have inherited some human physical traits due to your father's Avatar status. One such trait could be the presence of five fingers on each hand, rather than the four fingers that are common among the Na'vi. That would maybe lead to you experiencing discrimination or prejudice due to being a hybrid of both Na’vi and human ancestry.

As the oldest daughter of Jake Sully, you would have the opportunity to learn a lot from your father, who would encourage you to develop your curiosity, independence, your sense of adventure, and to pursue your own passions and interests. For example, your father might take you on hikes through the rainforest, teaching you about the different plants and animals that you encounter and encouraging you to ask questions and explore your surroundings. He might also teach you how to defend yourself and your loved ones, showing you different techniques and strategies that you can use in combat. Additionally, your father would likely encourage you to follow your heart and pursue your passions, whether that be in the arts, sciences, or other fields.

You would also have the unique opportunity to learn about both the human and Na'vi cultures. Jake would teach you the ways of the Na'vi and the importance of protecting Pandora. You would follow in his footsteps as a warrior, a leader, and a defender of your home, learning how to use your natural abilities and connection to Eywa to protect and defend your people. You would also have the opportunity to learn about human culture, gaining insights and understanding of their ways and customs. With your father's guidance and support, you would develop the confidence to become a strong and capable leader in your own right, using your unique perspective and connection to both cultures to make a positive impact on Pandora.

You can count on your father to be there for you whenever you need him. He will always be there to support you and help you through any challenges you may face. For example, if you were feeling overwhelmed, your father would be there to listen and offer advice and guidance. He would also be there to help you celebrate your accomplishments and successes, and to encourage you to pursue your dreams and goals. Additionally, your father would always be there to protect you and your family, using his skills and training as an Avatar to defend Pandora and ensure the safety of all its inhabitants.

As Jake and Neytiri’s oldest child, you would be expected to represent your family well in all your actions and words. This might mean working hard in your training and duties as a warrior, upholding the values and traditions of your clan, and always striving to improve and better yourself. You might also be expected to be a role model for others, especially younger members of your clan, and to be a strong leader who can inspire and guide others.

You might feel pressure to live up to Jake's legacy as a skilled warrior and respected leader within your clan. Jake has achieved much in his life, and you might feel that you have to work hard to measure up to his accomplishments. Being Neytiri's daughter may also involve a certain level of scrutiny and pressure from the community, as Neytiri is a respected tsakarum and leader within the clan. This could be both a source of motivation and a source of stress, as you strive to fulfill the expectations placed upon you.

Being Jake's daughter also comes with certain privileges and opportunities. Jake is well-respected and influential within your clan, and his position as your father could open doors for you and provide you with access to resources and support that might not be available to others.

Your father may also rely on you to help him in his leadership duties within the clan, such as mediating disputes or assisting with important decisions. However, Jake's overprotection and control could also be a source of frustration for you, as you may feel that you are not being given the same opportunities to make your own mistakes and learn from them as your younger siblings are.

Overall, you would have a close relationship with your parents and siblings. But you may also struggle with jealousy and resentment towards your siblings, especially if you feel that Jake favors one of them over you. This could lead to conflicts within the family, and you may need to work on managing these emotions in order to maintain a healthy relationship with your siblings.

Neytiri would likely be a strong influence on your upbringing and would teach you about the importance of harmony with nature, the sacredness of Pandora's wildlife, and the role of the Omaticaya clan in the spiritual and cultural life of Pandora.

You may also have additional responsibilities towards your siblings, such as looking after them and helping them to learn the ways of the Na'vi. You may also feel a strong sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards your family and may be willing to put yourself in danger in order to defend them. As the older sister of Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Tuktirey, you may also have a close and supportive relationship with your siblings. You may act as a role model for them and help to guide them as they grow and learn about Pandora and the Na'vi way of life.

You have a close and supportive relationship with your younger sister Kiri, and you often act as a mentor and guide for her even if you’re only a few months older. You try to be patient and understanding with Kiri and to be a positive influence in her life. You deeply love and care for Kiri and you are always ready to lend a helping hand when she needs it.

Neteyam and you often work together on various activities, whether it’s hunting or exploring the Pandora wilderness. You also share a strong bond through your shared experiences and challenges, such as growing up in a world filled with danger and uncertainty. Despite the occasional sibling rivalry or disagreement, you deeply love and respect Neteyam and value his guidance and advice. You have a deep understanding and appreciation for each other, and you know that you can always rely on each other for support and love.

You have a supportive relationship with your middle brother Lo'ak, although you sometimes struggle with his reckless and impulsive behavior. Despite this, you deeply care for Lo'ak and you are always ready to stand up for him when he needs it. You try to be understanding and supportive of his feelings and to see things from his perspective.

Tuk often looks up to you and seeks your guidance and support. You also deeply care for Tuk and you are always ready to lend a helping hand or offer advice and guidance when needed. You try to be a positive influence in her life.

#avatar #avatar headcanons #avatar the way of water #awow #jake sully #jake sully x reader #neytiri #neytiri x reader #neteyam #neteyam x reader #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #kiri #kiri x reader #tuk #tuktirey #tuktirey x reader #headcanons

[blackcat419]

How different cultures in ASOIAF view cats pt. 1

In our world, culture and religion shape how we view animals, and for this post, specifically cats. An example of how cats a view differently in cultures can be seen in Islamic cultures and Romani Cultures. Because cats clean themselves often, they are viewed as clean by Muslims and can be kept with the family. But for Romani, because of the Marime which states that the genital region is a source of impurity, a cat licking its own lower regions this becomes unclean. Roma still keep pets but they generally don’t let them sleep in their bed or lick them. This is all contrasted by American culture where a pet is viewed as a member of the family and will be referred to as the baby or child of their owners and is allowed to sleep in bed with them.

It’s so interesting and I want to expand this to how Westerosi people see cats and what types of cats they keep.

Dorne

Dorne takes a lot of inspiration from the Arabic would and I think it only makes sense for them to have a similar view of cats.

Cats keeping themselves clean makes them the perfect pets for humans. Cats are also known to pray to the seven if given a seat in a sept (cats love prayer rugs and it’s really cute). Both religious and hygienic, cats are viewed as more sophisticated than other animals and thus are kept closer by their families.

The salty Dornish are best known for their love of cats with many ancient breeds residing in their homes. The green orphans will sail with a cat or two and give them a fish from the days haul. Cats are also seen as omens of good fortune and many shops have a resident cat. Septa also keep cats control pests and because they will sleep at the feet of the seven when their statue is warm. The Turkish Van and Turkish Angora are both old and rare breeds of cats that would flourish in Dorne.

The Sandy Dornish also enjoy cats. Because cats naturally retain more water than dogs, they are fitted to live in the desert. These cats are some of the more wild ones as it’s common for the domestic cat to mix is wild cats. During harsh sandstorms, the Dornish will wrap the cats up in a blanket to protect them from the elements. Cats are known to love this and scene request it when their is no sand storm. The Savannah cat is a cross between wild Serval and a domestic short hair cat.

The stony Dornish are less attached to cats than the Sandy or salty Dornish. Every house hold does have a cat and it’s common for cats to sleep in the room of their favorite person, but the stony Dornish believe that cats have some impurity to them because they lick their own genitals. Families will often perform a cleaning ritual on their cats by wiping them down with a wet cloth to cleanse them of impurity. Cats in stony Dorne are slender and very angular, making them great at slipping through stony hills and along steep walls. The Cornish Rex and Devon Rex are popular cat breeds.

The Iron Islands

Cats were a big part of Scandinavian culture. The goddess Freya had her chariot pulled by Norwegian Forest cats (also called fairy cats) and it was custom for a groom to give his bride a kitten as a wedding gift. For Vikings specifically, cats were kept to control the pests on ship.

Because the Iron Islands is more based on mythical Viking culture than historical Scandinavian culture, we can have some fun with the cats.

Ships are a big part of the iron islands culture, so each ship should have a cat or two. Perhaps to “bless” a ship before it sets off, a kitten is brought into the ship and makes it their own. I also see the Ironman have a very communal ownership of the cats. Fisherman will give the cats some of their catch as part of a good luck ceremony and people will set up small cat houses for them. They could also view a cat staying with you as a sign of good luck. But because of Thai communal ownership, it would probably be taboo to try and keep a cat to yourself. The iron islanders see a cat as not belonging to a person but to a ship or island.

Types of cats I think the iron islanders would have. Because they’re kind of weird, I think some weird breeds would fit. The Selkirk Rex is known for playing in water, being loyal to their human, and also have some curly fur!

The Andal Kingdoms

The Andals had a similar relationship to cats that Europeans had before the Black Death. For the Andals, cats were viewed as mainly pest control for their farms and cities. People rarely tries to socialize kittens when born which led to people believing cats were naturally aggressive.

It wasn’t until Maesters discovered that cats help prevent the spread of disease by killing rats that cats became a more popular household animal.

The reach was the first kingdom to become very found of the cat. They were perfect help for their farms and perfect pest control for old town. Old Town holds a celebration of cats each year to thank them for preventing extreme disease outbreaks from happening in the city. The Redwyne family is famous for breeding Persians cats that resemble the pugs they breed with short faces. Rich families have a few Persian cats that they dress up as little lords and ladies as an extra show of wealth.

In the storm lands and riverlands, cats are seen as antithetical to the land. The kingdom’s natural wetness drives cats away. Fisherman are often at odds with local cat populations as they fight over fish. Despite the general population’s disinterest in cats, they are a common staple at inns and bars as they keep rats away from the straw and wheat. Patrons consider seeing a cat with folded ears as a lucky charm that their stay at the inn will be a pleasant one.

I reached the max amount of photos for this post so we will continue with westerlands, the vale, north, beyond the wall, and valyrians!

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf headcanons #cats in asoiaf #HotD #house of the dragon #hotd headcanon #cats in hotd #I love cats

[lalalian]

futuristic dr ideas pt.1 : jobs

date: march 24, 2024 (technically march 25, it's 2 AM rn)

If you're interested in more futuristic dr things, I posted a video on tiktok with more futuristic stuff

A lot of this stuff is inspired the things I've read in cyberprep books!

disclaimer: none of my ideas are made by AI, sometimes I may be aided by AI to get inspired (especially with civilizations). If I do use AI somewhere in my ideas I’ll be sure to let you guys know!

World Acclimatizer

Also known as an ‘Acclimaitzer’

These help people move to other planets by aiding them in adapting to either living in space or living on different planets. World Acclimatizers often work closely with primary care doctors, and are extremely well-versed in non-earthly sicknesses and the effects space has on the human body. Realtors from other planets will always refer their clients to an Acclimatizer if the house is located on another planet.

Planetary Humanitarian

Planetary Humanitarians promote natural and peaceful development in other planets. These people typically advocate for limited human interaction with other life, some even going as far as to never stepping off earth. Planetary Humanitarians tend to dislike Civilization Examiners.

Cybernaut

Cybernauts work with techspace (technology relating to space) engineers to test out products. These people are often pretty popular in the media sphere because, as I mentioned earlier, many engineers are inclined to sponsor them. Cybernauts can frequently be seen in AR Gaming hubs and Cyber parkour arenas (more about those in the tiktok linked to this post)

Cybernetic Designer

Cybernetic body parts are designed by these people. These parts are not designed to look realistic like the prosthetic parts we see today. Most designers specialize in a body part, the most popular one being the left arm. Cybernetic designers are not licensed in creating full body AI androids, but they can create parts for androids.

Android Engineer

Android Engineers obviously do have some sort of license to make androids, but there are different tiers to an android making license:

Limited 2D Design: Very similar to character ai or j.ai bots, these bots do not have a physical form and can only be spoken to through text. They may have voices or a 2D body.

AR Immersive Experience: Like love and deepspace but with AR, you can feel, hear, and taste the android only through AR goggles. Some android engineers make their own goggles to allow their customers to feel a more personalized experience with new features. Why is this a completely different tier from 2D design? There's more room for corruption both mentally and digitally (hacking). The AI that makes the bots act so human can make the bot become too sentient, which could make them want to break free from the simulation.

Small Non-Human Physical Design: Most people with this license make android pets. Dogs are obviously the most popular, but jelly fish and vampire squids are popular these days. This license requires more training than the AR experience degree because these androids exist in the physical world.

Non-Human Physical Design: Designers with this license are not always involved in the abstract or purely artistic sphere. Many make hyper realistic android animals to blend in with the environment to either monitor species development, observe other planet-life in a non-invasive way, or encourage certain behaviors in animals. Even if the creature is not considered large, designers who plan to enter this field of design must earn this license because of this job requires complex AI design and ultra realistic visuals.

Non-Interactive Human Design: Designers with this tier do not create androids with crazy complex AI models. These androids are often displayed in museums, and are no where near sentient enough to even speak outside of a few lines, if that.

Life-like Interactive Human Design: This is the highest tier. People with this license often advocate for equality amongst humans and androids. Anyone with this license should exercise caution when making their androids, as talented designers can make androids that are so indistinguishable from humans that they become acknowledged as civilians rather than 'product'. Reports against designers with these license are taken extremely seriously.

Civilization Examiners

I'm planning to have a DR with this job kekekeke. I'll tell y'all storytimes if I can get myself to focus on shifting instead of scripting 😞

There's two kinds of civilization examiners: public or non-public. Public examiners assist journalists and researchers after living for days, weeks, months, or even years on a different planet. They collect data like plants, animals, environmental samples, and most importantly, get as much information as possible about other civilizations. Civilization Examiners are required to be at least semi- decent artists because they need to be able to draw what they see. They are required to come back with information about the civilization's culture, religious customs, traditions, language, fashion, appearance, parenting style, government, and more importantly, alliance potential.

edit: I forgot to talk abt non-public examiners 😭 non-public examiners work for the government and are apart of the CIA. Public examiners research about alliance potential, but not nearly as intensely as gov examiners.

istg more shifters need to talk about their futuristic drs :(

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifters #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting diary #scripting #desired reality #lalalian