Drifted too far from scaramouche mb dont drift from your special interest getting into a new one sucks im scuttling back to him like a tiny spider w its front legs up asking to crawl onto his finger and be lifted its my fault i shouldnt have drifted scara would never betray me

For all the new ppl please dont be offended if i dont follow back i have triggers that i take care to avoid esp w alnst. Idc what you like!! I just dont like to have it on my tl!! Hope you all understand!!

The psyche of the bottom is very difficult to grasp... why would... why low self esteem for bottom when bottom beautiful?? Top should always love bottom??Top should make bottom feel top of the world??? Difficult predicament bottoms of the world please share sincerely service top

My till is an isfp, and my ivan is an infj. Not all of my stuff will have overt t/b and might read as switch, so if you're uncomfy w that please dni! I tag tiiv bc it drifts that way, but it's not fixed at all. And i like big booby bottoms. Thanks!! Nice to meet you all!!

There's a lot of people all the sudden but alnst is not my main fandom so please dont expect cinderella au length stuff!! Im a switch shipper, tiiv preferred. Idc for t/b, but i don't do dom Ivan bc w his personality it strays into uncomfy territory for me.

Uh i said 🔞 but theres no sex sorry i got caught up in the context!!! Not the most fun ive had w an au so idk if this one will have a next part hehe just wanted to put incubi who just fucking loves bodies innocently out there

Ivan always left when Till woke up, but the touch was enough to sustain him. "Deal." Ivan grins, holding out his hand. What he doesn't expect is for Till to grasp it, kissing Ivan's fingertips one by one. "Loser has to do a winner a favor." Ivan's already lost, but he'll play.

He vouched for Till, convinced Luka that the club needed someone softer to level things out. During his first shifts, Till would collapse with exhaustion, still learning how to garner trust to make people feel safe. Ivan would visit him, petting his wings and kissing his fingers.

Ivan would, /has/ bet his life on Till before. When Till was still wandering the upper realms, weak with malnourishment, unwilling to seek sustanence, it was Ivan that carried him to the club. It was Ivan who stripped them so that they could lay chest to chest so Till could feed.

How do you begin to trust a creature known for lying? Even without their voice, no being has ever trusted a siren enough to believe that they're not being charmed. Better to slay than be slayed. Lucky for Till, Ivan is not an intelligent siren. Not in the slightest.

It's the ultimate display of trust, to test to see if anyone would ever love a siren without their voice. To this day, no siren has ever survived giving up their voice. They've all been killed by their would-be lovers, betrayed by people mad with paranoia.

But if a Siren, sovereign of the deep sea, confesses their love, their voice will cease to work on the recipient. Sirens replicate desire, but are forbidden to experience it themselves. To want is to sin, so a siren in love is stripped of their ability to charm their mate.

Incubi are not known for their smarts. Their seduction, sensuality, and charm are feared, but not their smarts. That's why Ivan can't help but to stare, practiced mask slipping a bit at Till's proposal. Sirens don't say those three words. If prey does, the Siren consumes them.

Ivan seems increasingly confused, which Till decides looks quite good on him. "What defines 'folding?'" That's where Till wins. He smiles, smug as he struts right up to Ivan, walking his clawed fingers languidly up that defined chest. "First to say 'I love you' loses."

Till grins. "Between your voice and my hands, who can make the other fold first?" Ivan tilts his head. "By... what, practicing on the same client and timing it? There are too many variables." Till scoffs. "We do it on each other, obviously. So we can both confirm the results."

"That's not the point! You can't just--" "What? They walk out fine. It's not our fault they don't fix their own problems." Till bristles. This is why he doesn't fuck with sirens. "Wanna bet?" Ivan's eyes brighten, alit with an uncanny glee. "Yeah. Always."

"What?" Till glares up at him. "What I do with the money is none of your--" "It helps though, right?" Ivan's in his face, towering over him with a curious expression. "Spend less time with them. Stay at the bar where I can see you." Till grimaces, appalled.

"They're back because you handled them!" Till complains, throwing the washcloth at him. "You've tripled the number of repeat customers." "More cash." Ivan supplies, striding after him. "Higher pay. You can afford more studio sessions with tip now." Till stops, tail swishing.

Ivan watches with unblinking eyes. Black scales litter his body, glistening with an opulence that only a siren that's eaten entire crews can boast. Till doesn't ask him about it, since Luka hired him. His bg check must be clean? "Do you need me to handle them?" Ivan asks mildly

"I told those three that they shouldn't go picking up any random owner." Till tsks, wiping the bar down. "One hates his puffy tail, the other hates his eyes, and the last thinks that their owner left them because he whines too much. How is any of that their fault?"

And then they're just mindlessly brainwashed into feeling better. Till hates it. What's the point of these people coming if it's just to patch up the symptoms? Clients pay an exorbitant amount that he could never even dream of putting down for a chance to step foot in this club.