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ray-does-witchcraft · 7 months

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2024 Attic Calendar - January

Currently working on my own version of the adapted Attic calendar! So far I only have January, but February is almost done as well. Fair warning, this goes in depth about what the festivals/celebrations are and how to commemorate, so this post is gigantic. Attention: This is for the SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE!

⛧ [10/01/24] [Hekatombion 40th] - Hekate Deipnon

WHAT IS IT & WAYS TO CELEBRATE: It takes place at the end of the Lunar month. Hekate means "bringer of light", so at the darkest part of the month, we prepare our homes for the transition to a new month and offer her a meal. Think of it as a mini new year; clean/cleanse your house (especially altars), get rid of things you don't want to bring into next month (physical, spiritual, etc), and leave Hekate an offering at sundown (preferably a meal, but if you can't afford to waste food, just give her something else. Maybe bury or burn it if you can). Here's a list of good offerings (best left outside or at her altar, if you have one for her):

Bread

Cake (especially lit with candles)

Pomegranate

Wine

Honey

Cinnamon

Milk

Chocolate

Roses

Lavender

Poppy seeds

Dandelions

Incense (Frankincense, Lavender, Jasmine, Citrus, Dragons blood, Rosemary, or anything you have at hand)

Keys

Candles

Tea lights

Bones

Fire/Bonfire

Oil lamps

Crow/Raven/Own feathers

Poetry, Literature, Music, Hymns, etc

⛧ [11/01/24] [Metageitnion 1st] - Noumenia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: The Noumenia is the first day of the visible New Moon and is held in honor of the household Gods. The Noumenia is a celebration of the start of a new Hellenic month and seeks blessings for the household. Honestly? You can just kick back and relax if you want or can, to invite calm energies into the upcoming month. But, if you (like me) want to be a little extra, here's some ways to celebrate:

Start a new personal project or hobby, or just pick back on things you've been putting off.

Set intentions for the coming month, and make plans for any of the month’s upcoming festivals, or for any of your personal upcoming plans.

Leave offerings for your deities.

Moon/stargaze, maybe meditate under the Moon.

Do a reading with your preferred divination method with the Theoi, asking what you should focus on in the coming month.

⛧ [12/01/24] [Metageitnion 2nd] - Agathos Daimon

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: One of my favorites! Daimons are household spirits that look after you and your family, so this is a day to honor Him! Pour a libation (especially wine, but mine likes milk better to be honest), make an offering, light a candle, maybe even make Him a lil altar! He's heavily associated with snakes, but aside from that you can offer (or put in His altar) anything you correlate with abundance, good luck, protection, etc. These guys are so overlooked and I love them. Here's a more in-depth post about Him and the holiday.

⛧ [13, 14, 16, 17, 18/01/24] [Metageitnion 3th, 4th, 6th, 7th & 8th] - Athena, Aphrodite/Hermes/Eros, Artemis, Apollo, Poseidon

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: Not exactly festivals, that's why I compiled them into one section, but these Lunar days are sacred to these deities in that order. Maybe leave them an offering or light them a candle, maybe even just devotional acts! Here's a good list of offerings for each:

ATHENA

Owl feathers/imagery

Pottery

Books

Toy weapons, athames, etc

Roses

Bread

Olive

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Olive tree branches/leaves (real or not)

Clear crystals

Silver jewelry

Incense (Frankincense, Dragon's Blood, Cedarwood)

APHRODITE

Apples

Chocolate

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Baked goods

Anything vanilla scented/flavored

Golden jewelry

Flowers (especially roses and anemones)

Sea stuff (sand, seashells, water, etc)

Perfume

Self care products

Rose quartz

Incense (Frankincense, Rose, Myrrh, Jasmine, Cinnamon, Vanilla, Cypress)

HERMES

Currency (real or not) (especially foreign)

Strawberries

Lemons

Dice

Playing cards

Travel tickets

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Clovers

Cool rocks

Hematite

Incense (Frankincense, Myrrh, Safron, Dragon's Blood)

EROS

Honey cake

Chocolate

Fruit

Sweets (he likes candy a lot)

Milk

Honey

Olive oil

Rose quartz

Feathers

Flowers (real or not)

Heart-shaped objects

Arrows

Jewelry

Incense (Frankincense, Myrrh, Rose)

ARTEMIS

Animal related stuff (Imagery, bones, teeth, etc)

Moon related stuff

Moonstone

Clear quartz

Amethyst

Bows & Arrows

Leaves

Wild flowers

Acorns

Pine cones

Milk

Honey

Olive oil

Water

Silver jewelry

Incense (Frankincense, Cypress, anything woodsy)

APOLLO

Sun related stuff

Arts and crafts

Clear quartz

Citrine

Sunstone

Bows & arrows

Dandelions

Sunflowers

Poetry

Music

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Water

Honeyed chamomile tea (he loves it)

Golden objects/jewelry

Divination items

Incense (Frankincense, Myrrh, Cypress, Clove, Cinnamon, Bay)

POSEIDON

Saltwater/Seawater

Seashells

Fish

Sand

Toy horses/horse imagery

Photos of the sea

Olive oil

Milk

Honey

Salt

Aquamarine

Sapphire

Incense (Frankincence, Myrrh, Pine)

⛧ [25-27/01/24] [Metageitnion 15-17th] - Eleusinia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: The Eleusinia was a thanksgiving festival held to honor Demeter for the gift of grain. A modern way to celebrate is to have a big dinner (maybe include some breads and baking) and give thanks to Lady Demeter through it! Thank her for grain and the agricultural processes that we benefit from!

⛧ [28/01/24 ?] [Metageitnion 18th ?] - Adonia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: A festival mourning the death of Adonis, one of Aphrodite's human lovers. Traditionally, it was celebrated only by women (as a trans guy, I personally don't give a fuck and celebrate it anyway). Also, there's no source for an exact date, so this is an educated guess at best (most sources just refers to it as taking place "midsummer"). For a way to celebrate, I found this amazing hymn/poem. Remember to honor Aphrodite on this day as well.

⛧ [30/01/24] [Metageitnion 20th] - Hera Telkhinia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: A minor sacrifice for Hera, taking place in the suburbs of Athens. Again, not a lot of info, but if you worship or have a connection to her, maybe read her a hymn, pour a libation honor her on this day! Here's a Orphic hymn to her:

Hera, incense aromatic herbs and spices. You are seated in a cerulean cavern, having the form of air, Íra queen of all, happy one who shares the bed of Zefs, You provide gentle breezes which sustain the soul. Mother indeed of storms, attendant of the winds, all-begetting. Apart from you life and generation cannot be found; Mingled with the majestic air you partake of everything. You alone hold sovereignty, ruling over all. You are the stream which flutters down through the rushing winds. And now you, happy Goddess, many named, queen of all, Come with a countenance of kindness and joy.

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thegrapeandthefig · 1 year

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2023 ATTIC CALENDAR

For the third consecutive year, I made a calendar.

If you're new here, the version of the calendar I make yearly is that most of the Athenian festivals and days are slapped on the modern calendar (friendly nicknamed "Civil Roman Calendar") to make keeping track of events easier.

I have not made changes between this one and last year in term of content. The only thing that changes is the formatting and, well, the fact it's updated to 2023.

For last year's changelog, please refer to this post or simply to the last page of the calendar, which briefly goes through the method, the organization, appropriate credits and the list of festivals listed.

The calendar is available in two formats:

Digital version (image-heavy PDF)

Printer-friendly version (no image, black text on white background).

DOWNLOAD

Digital

Printer Friendly

#hellenic polytheistic #hellenic festival #hellenic paganism #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #hellenic worship #athenian calendar #attic calendar #hellenic reconstructionism #hellenic revivalism

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crazycatsiren · 2 years

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May Hestia's fire bless us and light our ways with its eternal flames! 🔥

#noumenia #attic new year #1st of hekatombaion #lunar calendar #attic calendar #hellenic polytheism #deities #religious ramblings #hestia devotee #hestia

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ourtheoi · 3 months

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I'm starting my Lenaia celebration today!

This is the first time I'm celebrating it so theres not much I have on my plans for it.

If I wanna be extra I might go out at night to pour libations for Dionysus but the weather is awful as always.

Other than that I'm just gonna dance, watch slime tutorials and drink in his honor! 😎

Hope everyone can have as much fun as possible!

#hellenic pantheon #hellenic polytheistic #hellenismos #pagan #paganism #polytheist #hellenic devotees #hellenic worship #hellenism #hellenic polythiest #attic calendar #hellenic festivals

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starofmithras · 1 year

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Wishing you a blessed Theogamia! 🦚

On this 27th day of the lunar month of Gamelion, the ancient Athenians celebrated the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera.

"With that the son of Cronus caught his wife in his arms

and under them now the holy earth burst with fresh green grass,

crocus and hyacinth, clover soaked with dew, so thick and soft

it lifted their bodies off the hard, packed ground…

Folded deep in that bed they lay and round them wrapped

a marvelous cloud of gold, and glistening showers of dew

rained down around them both. And so, deep in peace,

the Father slept on Gargaron peak, conquered by Sleep

And strong assaults of Love, his wife locked in his arms."

--- Homer, "The Iliad," translated by Robert Fagles

Art: "Jupiter and Juno on Mount Ida" (1773) by James Barry

#theogamia #zeus #hera #helpol #attic calendar #homer #iliad #the iliad #jupiter #juno #gamelion

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alsostheon · 9 months

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Happy new year to all those who use the Attic or Delphic calendars!

We are now in the 3rd year of the 700th Olympiad, if you follow the Attic calendar.

Or, the 1st year of the 652nd or 653rd Pythiad, if you follow the Delphic calendar.

May the Theoi bless us all ♡

#hellenic polytheism #hellenic paganism #hellenic pagan #theoi #helpol #hellenic polytheist #paganism #pagan #attic calendar #delphic calendar #polytheist #polytheism #helpolblr

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archaeo-devotee · 1 year

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Happy Mounichia !!!

Mounichia (Μουνίχια) is a festival in honour of Artemis Mounichia, to commemorate the victory of the battle of Salamis (480 BC), there's not much info on it unfortunately.

Cakes and candles were offered to Artemis ✨

#hellenic polytheism #helpol #hellenic reconstructionism #artemis #mounichia #attic calendar

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yoonkles · 4 months

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he’s the type to (hyung line ver.) ..

genre: headcanons, fluff. gender neutral reader.

warnings: none :)

authors note: first x-reader fic on this blog and ofc it’s ateez. my sweethearts !! requests open- just read my pinned beforehand :)

— hongjoong !

... to always give you a kiss before leaving.

always before you part from each other. rushing from room to room searching for his wallet, late to practice he says, making a mess he’ll deeply apologize for later. haphazardly throwing on a coat and tying his shoes while you watch in amusement from the couch. stuttering through goodbyes as he reaches for the doorknob, only to full body freeze, and turn on his heel. and then he’ll be hovering over you, eyes glazed over, and a grin on his lips. “what, you didn’t think i’d leave without a kiss, did you?” he’ll tease in a breathless tone and your heart will skip a beat. soft pink lips will lean in as your eyes flutter close, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. it’s a familiar warmth, one your all too used to. a move hongjoong had picked up after walking you to your doorstep at the end of your first date. a move he had yet to drop, never leaving your side without a sweet press of his lips against your warm skin first.

— seonghwa !

... to plan the dates.

always being able to count on him for a night out. planning down to the exact time, making reservations weeks beforehand, always a bright smile on his face as he adds a date to your shared calendar. it never seems to fall repetitive, either. from expensive dinner dates where you get all dressed up, to late nights in with a movie and popcorn days later. lego dates, where you both spend hours hunched over a messy table concentrating in comfortable silence. or even the time he had carved out a hole in his schedule, an entire day just for you, where you had driven hours out to a field overlooking the city. a packed picnic in the trunk, a blanket, and seonghwa staring with sparkles in his eyes as you awe at the scenery. “nowhere near as beautiful as you,” he’ll whisper with a lovesick tilt of his lips. you don’t think you had ever felt so loved than that night, wrapped in his arms and overlooking a setting sun and a lively city.

— yunho !

... to movie marathon with you.

stacks of movies and old dvds fished from attic storage displayed on your coffee table constantly. a bubbly yunho practically prancing back and forth with excitement, dressed up in silk pyjamas that match your own. the smell of popcorn seems to have embedded itself in your apartment from the hundreds of bags you go through a year, stronger now that another one is heating up over the stovetop. the man in front of you points at a large stack of christmas hallmark movies when you ask for a suggestion. you don’t remark on the fact it’s currently the middle of june, or how all of those movies were in english, not when yunho is looking at you with the brightest grin you’ve ever seen. “you’re my favorite way to unwind,” he’ll sleepily whisper hours later, hand running up and down your spine. and you exhale, heart warming, as you whisper back to him the same sentiment.

— yeosang !

... to hold your pinky.

soft laughs and lovesick smiles that make you feel like you're both back in high school again. he's always so touchy with you in such subtle, loving ways. a hand at the small of your back as he directs you through a crowd. the brush of his thigh against yours at the dinner table. soft, warm lips brushing against the skin of your cheek every time he leaves your side. but the one gesture that he seems to treasures above all else is the way his pinky wraps around yours. “it’s like a promise,” he whisper to you every time you ask about it, a pretty smile on his lips and intimacy laced throughout his gaze. a promise to keep you in his life, to follow you wherever you happen to lead him. a promise to never let you slip from his touch. you were a jewel to precious to him- he doesn't dream of letting go, ever. not when your pinky fits so right wrapped around his.

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theminecraftbee · 11 months

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[image ID: the six pages of cub's museum plans. "Cub's Museum Plans STOP SECRET For Cub's Eyes ONLY. 1) EPAND CURRENT COLLECTIONS - King's Artifacts - All Goat Horns - All Minerals - All Empires Heads - Bdubs Heads 2) Expansion - Mobs (Arctic Fox, Brown Panda, Husk, Stray, Polar Bear, Zoglin, SNiffer, Strider riding strider, hermit frogs) - Rare in-game items (armor templates, pottery pieces, beacon, conduit, mob heads) 3) Quests & Events - Bdubs Heads, Parkour Crown, Banners - Decked Out atifacts - Keralis's Attic Wordles - Wither skull from doc? 4) Bigger Items - In-game Fossil - Bdubs Head? - Sign from Scarland - HoTGuY section with calendars, posters, bows - Pieces of buildings 5) Live exhibits - Hermit on display? /end ID]

here is cub's book of plans for the museum! it only contains really normal items to have in the museum. nothing is concerning about this at all.

#hermitcraft #cubfan135 #watched his episode. was like 'hey wait what was that last bit'.#he did not elaborate.

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angryschnauzer · 1 year

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On Your Knees

Summary: As general maid for 221 Baker Street, you assist most of the residents. However on one quiet night when most of them are out, only one resident returns to his home... a little worse for wear. He thanks you in the easiest way possible.

Fandoms: Enola Holmes 2, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, NSFW, Drunk Sherlock, Oral Sex (Female Receiving).

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Wordcount: 1854

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

On Your Knees

The cold wind rattled the fragile glass in the frame, a chill advancing into your room even further as the dark night continued. The building of 221 Baker Street was colder than usual, most of the apartments empty for the night due to various parties and festive events happening this time of year meaning the tenants wouldn’t be back until the morning.

As the scullery maid of 221 Baker Street you were in and out most of the apartments each day, tending to the fireplaces and delivering meals if required. The housekeeper who supervised you telling you where to go and what to do wasn’t around either, though her instruction was rarely needed anymore, you knew the routines of all of the tenants and could read the calendar hung in the kitchen showing who was home and who wasn’t.

At that moment the wind rushed against the window again and you pulled your dressing gown further around your body, shivering beneath your quilt. Glancing at your own laundry you’d hand washed that evening, your bloomers hung on the wooden airer where the chimney breast rose through the building. With every pair you owned doing little to dry in the cold attic room, you cursed your schedule for not giving you time to do it earlier in the day when the sun had been coming through the window. Now you just had your thin nightgown and woollen stockings to keep you warm beneath your dressing gown.

You were drawn from your thoughts by the sound of movement in the hallway far below your room. Freezing you wracked your brain to try to remember if any of the tenants were due back tonight, but none were. Through the eerie quiet of the house there was another bump and a quiet curse. You reached for the large floor brush that still sat beside the door to your room with its dustpan, lifting the brush as a weapon as you opened the door and carefully stepped out onto the old floorboards to peer down through the stairwell. Clinging to your brush you leant forwards over the bannister and peered through the darkness, a single lamp in the hall four floors down barely illuminating the entryway before you suddenly saw a shadow move. Letting out a small gasp you clamped your hand over your mouth as you watched, but that tension evaporated when you recognised the wide shoulders and curly dark hair of the tenant in apartment B;

“Detective Holmes!” you called out, the figure below swivelling rapidly before spinning and looking up.

“Ah. There you are…” a soft hiccup followed as he swayed on his feet.

“I’ll be right down Sir”

Just last week Mr Holmes’ sister helped him into his apartment having had too many drinks at the pub, and it would seem he’d done the same again tonight. Padding on stocking clad feet you descended the stairs quickly, soon arriving in the hallway as Mr Holmes swayed a little on his feet;

“Can i help you to your apartment Sir?”

“Oh that would be *hiccup* wonderful Darling”

Hooking your arm around his back and pulling his own arm over your shoulders, you started to help him up the stairs one at a time, before arriving at his apartment.

“I have a… I have my… dammit” Mr Holmes cursed as he fumbled for his key, and as you glanced down you could see that the bunch of keys in his pocket had caught on the fabric and were stuck. Without even thinking you batted his hand away and slid your much smaller hand into his pocket, moving the keys around until they were no longer snagged on the fabric. You tried not to think of the heat radiating from Mr Holmes thigh, barely separated from your touch by a thin layer of cotton, nor the firm muscle beneath the fabric that flexed as your delicate fingers brushed against it. He answered your silent thoughts with a grunt, before you pulled the keys out and unlocked the door, all whilst he had his arm around your shoulder.

His body was firm and heavy, a welcome weight against your cold frame, and as he swayed you did so too, before he finally pulled his arm free of your shoulders and started to shuck off his coat and scarf, struggling as he went about the task.

“Mr Holmes, Sir, please let me help…”

He swung around, shrugging his shoulders, his coat now held on his arms around his elbows, his wide shoulders only accentuated by the white shirt and silk waistcoat that clung to his torso. Whilst distracted you didn’t spot his flailing, one stray arm of his coat socking you around the chin, and although not hurting you, caught you by surprise and knocked you back where you lost your footing and fell on your bottom.

“Ta-da! Done it!” he proclaimed proudly, before spinning around; “Where did you…?”

Climbing to your feet you took the bundle of coat from the floor;

“Ah, there you are Darling, didn’t get you did i?”

“Just a little Mr Holmes. Let me hang this up for you”

As you hung the coat onto the hook near the door you heard a gasp and a soft thud, turning to see Sherlock on his knees before you;

“Mr Holmes!”

“My Darling, i am so sorry, so very very sorry”

He had big puppy dog eyes as he looked up at you, his drunken state obviously accentuating his normally muted emotions; I should have been more careful… a heinous crime I have committed to sock a young lady around with my coat, please… please forgive me…”

You tried very hard not to laugh, for this was so far removed from what Mr Holmes was like normally, but also it stirred something within you, to see this big man on his knees before you, his face mere inches from your stomach.

“Please Darling…” He edged closer, wrapping his arms around your bottom and pressed his cheek to your stomach; “Please forgive me…”

At first you were frozen with fear, this was not only completely out of character for Mr Holmes, but wholly inappropriate, but the long days and lack of sleep perhaps clouded your judgement and you cautiously rested your hand on the top of his head;

“It’s… it’s ok Mr Homes, Sir”

He turned his head and peered up at you;

“Let me make it up to you”

You could only watch in shock as he moved his hands to rest them on your stocking clad ankles, before he started to inch those warm palms up your legs. When he reached your knees his fingertips rubbed soft circles against the backs of your thighs, your nightgown bunching at his wrists. For the whole time you kept eye contact, unable to draw your gaze away until his fingertips reached the top of your woollen stockings and he let out a small grunt of appreciation. He ducked his head forwards and pressed a single kiss to the skin just above the tied ribbons that secured the stockings in place.

“You smell divine” he muttered softly, inhaling deeply before he bunched your nightgown up in one hand and pressed his nose to the apex of your thighs.

“Oh! Sir!”

He pressed a kiss to your soft mound, before his fingers stroked softly along your seam. Never breaking eye contact he lifted one leg over his shoulder, opening you up like a spring blossom. A warm puff of breath warmed your skin before he leant forwards and his tongue found your silken pearl. If it wasn’t for his firm shoulder your leg was hooked over you would have damn near fallen to the floor, you did lose your footing a little, your back falling to rest against the door behind you and your hands found their way to his dark curls.

The slight tug on his hair seemed to spur him on, his wicked tongue parting your folds, and the appreciative murmur that came from his muffled lips only excited you more. Sherlock knew exactly what to do, and you can’t believe you had never even considered that this fine specimen of a man would be skilled in the art of lovemaking, but because of his cold demeanour it just hadn’t been something you’d thought of.

You tried to concentrate on the look of bliss on his face, but the way his long tongue was pushing at your secret canal, his nose rubbing against your pearl, it was almost too distracting. Your head slowly fell back until it rested on the wooden door behind you, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure grew in the pit of your belly. It was only when he moved a little, his lips finding your pearl again and he slid a thick finger into your tight channel did your eyes spring open;

“Oh lord!”

A quiet chuckle came from between your thighs, looking down to see the mischief in his eyes and he winked at you just as he slid a second finger in alongside the first. He crooked them just so as he moved them slowly but firmly, stroking at your velveteen walls, his lips and tongue increasing their efforts until you felt a surge of pleasure, a white hot fire bursting forth from your core and you climaxed with a loud cry of his name;

“Sherlock!”

As your body trembled he slowed his fingers, before pulling them free and holding them up to the faint candle light, inspecting the stickiness on them with a learned curiosity, before he sucked them both clean. He looked up at you as you trembled above him, slipping your leg off of his shoulder and he went to rock back onto his feet, but unfortunately losing his footing and topping back onto his behind;

“Oouf!”

As your nightdress fell back around your ankles and on unsteady legs you rushed forwards to help him to his feet, his eyes a little glazed from his drunkenness. He was like a lead weight, swaying on his feet until you managed to half carry half drag him to the chaise lounge and unceremoniously drop him on the soft cushion, watching as he twisted his body until he was on his back;

“What was i saying? I’m sure i should have thanked you for something…” he was already nodding off to sleep, oblivious to the rich smell of your sex now hanging in the room.

You let out a sigh before turning and to the quiet background noise of his snores you lit a fire in the hearth to warm the room. Making sure a heavy yew log was placed in the centre of the grate to ensure a long slow burn, you set the fireguard in place. Spotting his long blue dressing gown hanging over a chair, you carefully laid it over his sleeping form, and with one last glance back at him you exited the apartment. At least with the fire in his apartment now going a sliver of warmth would seep into your room that cold night.

#sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes movie #henry holmes #henry cavill

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shewithbloodofdevotion · 4 months

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Me every first day of the lunar calendar

(yes I know it's pronounced not quite like Mia but please I'm just a silly goose)

#here we go again #hellenic polytheism #helpol #noumenia #new moon #Hekate's Deipnon #attic calendar #musical jokes #mamma mia #sorry #please laugh #Lacy Rambles #lunar calendar

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belphegorspillow · 1 year

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Whoever you wanna write (although I’m particularly soft for Diavolo/Lucifer/Beel/Simeon) finding out MC usually celebrates their birthday alone/doesn’t celebrate

Hi Darling! Thank you for the request! [I can write longer stuff as its less characters woo!] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GN!MC Doesn't Celebrate Their Birthday Characters: Diavolo, Lucifer, Beel and Simeon ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

~ Lucifer is dating Mc and he saw their birthday coming up on his calendar ~ He starts to plan out a small date for the both of you to go on and gets a gift he knows you will love. ~ Then the night before, he would be sitting with you and his brothers where Levi brings up that its Mc's birthday. ~ "Oh, I don't celebrate my birthday. So don't worry about doing anything special for it." ~ Once he heard that, he knew what he had to do. ~ He stays up all night to prepare something special for you to wake up to! ~ He goes out to collect some scented candles, roses, and anything that he thinks would make the day special ~ He tells Diavolo he isn't working as its Mc's birthday. He will spend the entire day with you ~ Once you wake up, you are greeted with breakfast in bed with a large bouquet of roses. ~ During the day, you both will go out and do different things together. ~ When its evening he will take you out to dinner like he planned before. ~ At Dinner he will give you the gifts he had bought for you ~ Once you get back, your shared bedroom has your favourite scented candles lit and roses are all over the room. ~ "I know you said you didn't celebrate your birthday. But I wanted to make you feel special for today. As you are very important to me." ~ You end the day with cuddles [or something more dirty if you prefer]

Beelzebub

~ He will have a reminder on his D.D.D about your birthday and will go up and ask you what you want to do for your birthday ~ "Beel, you don't need to do anything. I don't celebrate my birthday.." ~ He feels sad that you don't celebrate it. ~ He goes and asks Belphie for help on what to do to be able to celebrate your first birthday with him. ~ Belphie helps him bake a cake and to make sure he won't eat the ingredients. ~ Beel will go out and find a few gifts he think you will like [all food themed] ~ When you wake up on your birthday, you are greeted by Beel with a cake. ~ After that he will give you your presents. One of them is going to be an all you can eat voucher for your favourite restaurant ~ He takes you out for the day to different restaurants, where you get free dessert because it's your birthday. ~ While the two of you are out. Belphie is trying his best to clean up his and Beel's room so when you come back you can relax. He will sleep in the attic for the night ~ When you return. Beel is happy to lay in bed with you and cuddle ~ "I know you said you didn't celebrate your birthday. But I wanted to since you deserve to be celebrated. So Belphie and I tried our best to give you a good birthday." ~ How you end your night together is your choice.

Diavolo

~ He is excited for your birthday. He is settling up a party with Barbatos and Lucifer just for you ~ The party is really grand and he hoped you would love it. ~ Though on the night before, he was out with MC walking the garden when they mentioned ~ "Oh, don't worry about celebrating my birthday Dia, I don't celebrate it normally" ~ He changed the plans ~ He stops the grand party and instead changes it to just a day for the two of you. ~ In the morning you will be greeted with Breakfast that barbatos made. ~ Diavolo will invite you out to go to a restaurant that he entirely booked out so you two can be alone for the day ~ When you return, you are greeted by a large pile of gifts that Diavolo got to spoil you with ~ "I know you don't celebrate your birthday. But I wanted to make you special today. Because you are the most important person to me my love." ~ He will end the day with whatever your heart desires :]

Simeon

~ He was getting Luke to bake you a cake, while Solomon was in charge of setting up the small party they were planning inside the Purgatory Hall. ~ Though you accidentally walked in on the surprise the night before your birthday. ~ "You guys don't need to go to this effort to celebrate my birthday. I don't celebrate it myself!" ~ Once you left the group started to plan on what to do. ~ Simeon will greet you in the morning with breakfast in bed before going to take you out for the day ~ He took you out to various cafes he think you will like ~ He takes you out to a gift store and bought you a gift there [but he has one waiting at home for you] ~ Once returning to the Purgatory Hall, you are greeted by Solomon and Luke who had set up a small party for all of you ~ Simeon would give his actual gift to you when you two are alone in your shared room. ~ "I know you don't celebrate your birthday, But Luke, Solomon and I wanted to show how important you are. Especially how important you are to me, MC. " ~ You spend the rest of the night how you choose to :]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me Beelzebub x reader #obey me Diavolo x reader #obey me Simeon x reader #obey me mc #om #om lucifer #om beelzebub #om Diavolo #om Simeon

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thegrapeandthefig · 9 months

Note

Hi! A quick question regarding your Attic calendar: do you use the concept of days starting at sunset? And if you do, do they start at sunset on the day they're written, or at sunset the day before? ( For example, if you wrote the Noumenia on a Tuesday, does it start on Tuesday at sunset or on Monday at sunset? )

Hi! Yes, it's exactly as you've first described: the day it's written on is the day it starts at sunset.

This is my personal favourite layout because it means that by the time I see it on the calendar I know I still have some time to do any kind of preparatory stuff like grocery shopping etc.

#attic calendar

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crazycatsiren · 2 years

Text

Blessed Attic New Year to all my fellow Hellenic Polytheists! 🌙

#noumenia #hekatombaion #attic new year #lunar calendar #attic calendar #hellenic polytheism #religious ramblings #helpolblr #helpol community #religious practices

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foxgloveprincess · 5 months

Text

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: Your handler comes home early to celebrate, and you can’t help but think of the day you first met.

Word Count: 5.4k

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark, Dubious Consent, Unreliable Narrator, Smut (Gun Play, Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk/Degradation, Exhibitionism), “Accidental” Groping, brief mention of Spanking, Murder/Dead Bodies, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Possessiveness, Shock Collars, Pet Names (lollipop, sucker, etc.). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Let’s give a warm welcome to Lloyd and his lollipop. Took me a moment on this one to find the motivation to write, but here we are! Happy First Sunday of Attic Wives Advent! ❄️🎉🍾🙌🏻

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Spinning around the room, your head dizzy with the motion, you travel. Skirt billowing, the swish of fabric against your thighs. Around, around, around. An endless dance inside the walls of your confinement. Soft music fills the air, strings and winds blending in a harmonic melody and filling your head as you glide.

The song ends and you pause. Halted by the sight of your handler in the door.

“Mr. Hansen,” you greet in surprise. “I thought you weren’t due for another few days.”

Stepping to the side, you find the calendar. No month or date, but days marked in little boxes. The one three days away circled to indicate his return. You point to it, as if it will provide its own explanation.

“And miss our anniversary?” Lloyd says with a hand over his heart. “Never. That pansy ass only took an hour to finish, a pop to his gullet and I was on my way home.” He mimes the shot with his fingers, pointed at your chest. “Now give me some sugar.”

You step forward and tilt your head, the perfect angle for him to slant his lips over yours and devour. You swoon against him. His mustache tickles, but it’s a sensation to which you’ve become accustomed—even enamored.

He hums against your lips and shoves his tongue past them. You meet each venture, each lick. Your fingers smooth over his sweater and shoulders until you reach the nape of his neck, scratching at the short hairs there. His knees buckle and he wraps his arms about you. He tastes sweet, like always. A little tart, like sour apple. One of your favorites. Probably rolled one of his lollipops around his mouth before arriving. He never eats the grape or cherry ones before he kisses you—knowing you hate that they taste of medicine.

“Mr. Hansen,” you gasp against his lips. The cool metal of his suppressor trailing over your body.

He chuckles and pulls back only to capture your shock in his gaze. His tongue swipes over his lips and his eyes burn with his hunger.

The gun lowers in its quest. Nudging between your thighs and pressing tight against you sex. Your fingers grip tight. Nails biting into his skin. Metal against your bare pussy.

Your eyes remain locked. His drinking in each minute expression that flits across your face. A smirk sits under his mustache. His hand rocking the gun against you. You lift on your toes. But his free hand cradles your nape, keeping you put.

A mocking concern furrows his brow. “You don’t like that, sucker baby?” he asks.

Your breath hitches and you whine. Why he has to look at you with that false pity and infantilizing voice, you don’t know. But you feel the rush of arousal it sends between your thighs.

“Sir,” you pout, “please.”

His face lifts in amusement and he keeps the motion of his hand, stimulating you with his gun.

“You know how much I love keeping you on my flavor saver,” he purrs with a predatory grin. “The thought of you on my gun?” He growls and rocks his hips forward, grinding his hard cock against you through his khakis. “Such a good, juicy girl for me.”

You whimper as the smooth metal of the suppressor’s tip catches on your clit. Your lips press together, hips canting toward the stimulation.

“More, please,” you request, your voice breathy and head tilting toward his.

He takes your invitation, kissing you again and stealing your breath. His free hand begins to wander, plucking at your nipples and smiling when you squeak in pain against his lips. But his hand travels further down, squeezing your ass and smoothing over your upper thigh.

A strange dull pain radiates from the exploration of his fingers. You blink in confusion and pull back a second. A glance down at his hand sees his finger buried in the fabric of your dress, the tender spot nearby. Your head tilts in curiosity, but you think nothing of it. Legs bumping into all sorts of things—an inexplicable tender spot or two never amiss.

But Lloyd stops. He grasps at your skirt and pulls it higher to expose the full extent of your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice dripping lust.

“Nothing,” you squeak. “It’s nothing.” You try to brush away his fingers or guide them somewhere more distracting.

But just like a dog with a bone—a very large bone—he doesn’t let you go that easy. His eyebrow quirks. His chin lifts just a little. And you’re spinning on your heel until he has your back pressed to his front.

“Now, sweet sucker,” he coos in your ear, “you wanna try that again?”

The smallest click reaches your ear. You know that sound. Have heard it far too often. The safety on his gun clicking off. Your heart spikes in panic. Yet he once again grinds it against your sex. Head fuzzy with a cocktail of panic and pleasure, you buck back toward him. He grins and presses a kiss to your cheek from behind.

“Tell me,” he grits with a tweak of your nipple. You gasp and reach for his hands. “Ah, ah,” he chides, keeping your grasp away from his gun, “don’t wanna do that, sweetheart. Don’t want an accident.”

You tip your head to catch his eye. He stares down at you, ever cool and cocky in a way that reminds you of the day you met.

“I—” You stop to lick your lips. His gun slides against you once more. Your eyes flutter closed.

“That’s right,” he purrs, “Tell me what’s happened to my candy girl.”

Another knock of the gun against your clit. Your lips press together, holding back a moan. You shake your head, hoping to clear it. “I must have bumped up against something while you were away,” you burst, trying to keep your thoughts straight with the delicious press of his firearm and cock clouding your mind. “It just twinged a little. But I’m fine.”

Lloyd hums, but you can’t see his face. Too focused on the starbursts on the backs of your eyelids. So close, so close to your climax.

“Baizen!” he barks from behind you. The tone of his voice enough to make anyone with a lick of sense freeze.

“Sir,” you ask, voice breathy and hitched as his free fingers join the barrel of the suppressor. “Why does he—” He pinches your clit, chuckling at your surprised squeak, before finding your entrance and plunging his fingers into your core. You moan, question instantly forgotten.

Your head tips back to rest against him. He presses another kiss to your skin. Tongue tracing toward your mouth and licking over your lips. He hums and you squirm with the bristly tickle of his mustache.

His fingers tease your entrance as you mewl and sway your hips, needing him to fill you. “You hear that?” he asks right by your ear. The squelch of your arousal embarrassingly loud compared to his whisper. Your lips press together and your head shakes. “God, you’re so sweet for me, sucker baby.” His teeth catch on your lobe, nibbling while his fingers sink into you once more.

Footsteps echo from outside your door. The heavy beat of their tactical boots, familiar from their patrols, approaching. Your stomach flip flops. Never once have you understood Lloyd’s need to display you. But you know better now than to fight it.

“You called, boss?” the man—Baizen, you assume—asks. He clears his throat but enters the room and stands at ease.

Lloyd’s fingers remain relentless—toying with you, keeping you on the brink, your head clouded with the ever growing need to cum. And he doesn’t respond, not for a minute. Letting the other man’s discomfort compound with your gasps and moans.

Half-distracted by you and continuing with your mind-altering torture, he states, “You let my girl get hurt.”

Baizen blinks. His brow furrows. He tries to catch your eye. But you know better.

“Of course n—”

With a final flick to your clit, the gun disappears. You only register the swift pew-pew of a double shot moments later when Baizen’s body hits the floor. Blood flows from the bullet wounds, two straight to the heart.

The safety clicks back on and Lloyd raises the gun. He examines your slick juices coating the metal and smiles. A gleam of satisfaction sparkles in his eyes before he drops the gun and wraps his arm around you, caging your body to his. His fingers curve within you and your knees crumple. Lloyd lowers you down, following you to the plush fibers of your fluffy rug. You whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, but he presses his lips to your throat in placation while his zipper snicks on its descent.

You sink your fingers into the sheepskin to prepare yourself and with little warning he plunges in. A wounded sound spills past your lips. Pain sparks at the sudden stretch but so does a exquisite thrill at having him inside you again.

Lloyd’s relentless. The moment he seats himself inside you to the hilt, he melts on top of you. A deep groan presses against your head before his hips snap back and he plunges into you again. Your pulse thrums and your fingers wring the fibers of your rug, mouth gaping as the sounds of your pleasure punch out of your chest. Each thrust another devastation to your sanity, losing yourself to the pleasure.

A deep guttural satisfaction hums from deep in his chest. Fingers grip tight at your hips. In response, they cant back, searching for more, grinding for stimulation.

“Just like that,” he breaths on a loud praise through his moans, “let me hear those slutty, slutty sounds, lollipop.” He grunts, fingers flexing at the flutter of your pussy around him. “God, I love you.”

You can’t respond, even though you’re supposed to—stroke his ego, sing his praises, shower him in affection in return. Your mind blank, save for thoughts of how he fills you. Stretches you to your limits with each clap of his hips against yours. No contemplation. Just bodies joining together in an exercise of rapture.

But he won’t accept that. That he forces all coherence from your head with his cock, words forgotten in his drive toward climax. His right hand releases your hip and without his support you collapse. Prone on the rug, he doesn’t waver but continues to bury himself in you as far as he can and wrest moans from your slack mouth. Your head tilts back, guided by his fingers gripping your throat.

“You’re so far gone,” he chuckles on labored breaths. “Look at you, so adorably pathetic.” He tuts and pauses, sheathed within you to grind his hips to yours. You release the rug and your hand flutters over his at your throat. His voice dips deep and deadly. “What do you say?” he prompts.

You mewl and blink, fighting back the heady fog of your lust. “I love you, too, Mr. Hansen,” you slur.

His head lowers, nose inhaling the smell of your hair, finding the hinge of your jaw. “Damn right.”

His hand releases your throat, letting you bury it back in the fluffy rug beneath you. Instead, as he resumes fucking you with abandon, it finds the apex of your thighs. Murmurs of delight leave him at the squelch of your arousal and his fingers grind against your clit which throbs for attention.

You cum with a keening cry, legs shaking with it and trying to squeeze shut. But Lloyd keeps you open, accessible for his use.

He grunts and his hips stutter. Relief wells up inside you, almost as orgasmic as your own climax. He cums, filling you to the brim. A weak moan spills past your lips, parched and thirsty.

With a pleased hum, he snuggles closer and pins you fully to the rug below. You both breathe heavy and his hum turns into a familiar melody. “Lollipop” by The Chordettes fills your ear. When you manage to turn your head to glimpse him over your shoulder, a cocky grin pulls at his lips.

That grin. The lock of his normally coiffured hair that falls into his eyes. Your mind flashes back to another moment—similar and very different and just as earth-shattering.

The bell dings. You glance at Naomi, flirting with a tall man, his back to you. You hesitate a moment before your feet find their way to the right spot without her. Under the dump bucket at the water park. Overhead you gaze up at the giant bucket—over 1,000 gallons of water ready to fall. Others join you, glancing at each other with glee. Your heart jumps with anticipation.

The bucket tips, the bell still sounding in your ear. Your eyes close. But you couldn’t have known to brace for the impact.

The force of the water buffeting you punches the air from your lungs. Feet faltering in their position, you start to slip on the wet floor. You can picture it. Your skull smacking against the pavement. Pain. Blood. Waterboarded by hundreds of gallons of water. Not a pretty picture.

Sudden strong hands grasp at you. One around your waist, the other accidentally gropes your chest. But they turn you away, shielding you from the rest of the deluge. A body presses against yours and keeps you tucked against them until the water runs out.

You breathe a moment, shocked by this stranger’s quick thinking and decisive action. Their hands release you and they step into your view.

“You okay?” he asks, a strand of wet hair flopping over his forehead. “Sorry about the uh—” His hand raises and flexes. Your cheeks heat and you clear your throat. “I just saw you falling and didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Thanks,” you mumble with a shy smile. “It’s silly, but I swear I saw my life flashing before my eyes.”

His lips quirk toward a smile beneath his mustache and your belly makes a nervous swoop. His dripping clothes cling to his frame. A low chuckle spills from him as he wrings water from his open Hawaiian shirt. You try your hardest not to stare at the white undershirt, transparent and outlining his muscles. Your teeth sink into your lower lip. You glance over your shoulder toward Naomi, now approaching with a smile on her face.

“Well, uh,” you mumble turning back with a shy tap of your toe, “how can I repay you for your…” But by the time you look back, the stranger has disappeared.

“Look at you,” Naomi says with a pinch of your shoulder. You flinch and look at her. “Soaking wet. Don’t you just love it?”

You shake your head with an uneasy chuckle. “Not exactly. Let’s go do that Tornado thing.” You herd her toward it, hoping to distract her from what just happened. But, still, you glance back hoping to catch a glimpse of the handsome man who saved you.

He doesn’t leave your head the rest of the day, even as you step out of the hotel shower that night and begin to dry yourself off with the fluffiest towel you’ve ever used. You hum to yourself and sigh, pushing thoughts of your mystery man aside for a moment. Naomi suggested a club nearby and you trudge to your luggage to pick an appropriate outfit. The club scene was never yours, but it is Naomi’s. You take a picture of yourself in the mirror and text her for approval. Seems only right since she’s treating you for this whole trip—the hotel, the food, the water park—all on her daddy’s card. It’s nice to be the heiress of a business empire.

A text comes back after a moment. Gorgeous! 😍

Your brow quirks at the response. Used to her responding selfies and abbreviated text speak, your thread full of them.

Everything alright? You ask.

A minute passes. Nothing. You sit at the foot of your bed, keycard passing through your fingers while you wait. She’s usually glued to her phone. Why it’s taking her an age to reply, you don’t know. You check the time, tap the card against your phone screen, take a glance around your room to make sure everything’s tucked away.

A knock bangs on the door. You jump, startled. That’s not like Naomi at all. You stand and fidget with the short hem of your dress.

Hesitant steps take you to the door and you look out the peephole. A man, tall with dark curly hair and glasses, stands outside your door. He looks one way down the hallway as if speaking to someone else.

He says your name in a forceful, clipped command. “Please open the door. For your own safety.”

You step back and turn toward your room. Panic spikes up your spine until you shiver with it. You step toward the bed, then the bathroom, then the window not knowing where to turn.

“I’m from the FBI, Agent Denny Carmichael. I must insist you let me in.”

Your fingers tremble as they tap Naomi’s number on your phone. It continues to ring and ring before going to voicemail. The agent stops talking. But you hear mumbling from just outside.

You drop you phone by your purse and approach the door again, trying to hear what he’s saying.

“Look,” he says, an edge of frustration to his tone, “Naomi Jackson has received death threats from foreign organizations. We’re working closely with the CIA to mitigate the threat, but she has been taken into protective custody for the time being. And, until this threat passes, you will need to be under our protection as well.”

You swallow hard. Stomach transforming into a pit of dread. You look toward the peephole, hands clenched with your apprehension.

A heavy sigh comes through the door. “Would you like to see my badge?” he asks.

Making sure the chain lock remains in place, your hand finds the doorknob. You twist and open it a fraction, standing behind the door to shield yourself.

Agent Carmichael’s hand slides his badge holder through the gap. You snatch it away and close the door. His hand slaps it with a bark of “Hey!”

You flinch from his shout but take a long look, verifying his name and his status as an FBI agent. It looks legitimate—at least to your eye.

With a final moment of hesitation, you unlatch and open the door. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I just—”

Agent Carmichael holds up a hand to silence you. “You were startled and scared. I understand, but we need to move. Now.”

He grasps you by the arm and guides you down the hallway, head swiveling back and forth. You can only guess he’s looking for threats. Would you really be in such danger?

Your feet can’t move as quickly as your escort wants, but you try to keep up. It’s a whirlwind of back exits from the hotel, avoiding staff, and being shoved into the back seat of some sort of black sedan. Agent Carmichael explains nothing else, even when you notice a woman sitting in the passenger seat beside him. He simply starts the car and begins to drive.

“Uh, hi, hello,” you mumble to greet the woman.

She gives no response. Almost as if pretending you weren’t there at all. She turns to the other agent. “I can’t believe he changed his price.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Agent Carmichael replies in low tones with a peek over his shoulder at you. Your eyes glue themselves to the tinted window, pretending not to listen. “He’s not likely to do it again.” With another glance to capture your attention, he says, “Just a few more minutes until we hand you over to your handler at the airstrip. He’ll take over your protective custody from there.”

“Alright, thank you.” You sink lower into your seat and play with the hem of your dress.

The airstrip is desolate save for one small plane, another black sedan, and a man standing beside it. From the backlighting you can only make out the shape of his broad shoulders and large stature. He leans against the car, almost at ease. Though it doesn’t calm your buzzing adrenaline and anxiety, the display of nonchalant confidence reassures you just a little.

Your escort car pulls to a stop a few feet from his. Agent Carmichael opens the door behind the driver’s seat and grabs your bicep once again as he takes you closer to the man.

One glimpse of the mustache and slicked back hair and your mouth gapes on a gasp of recognition. Without thought, your hand raises to point at the man and you blurt, “You!”

“Hey lollipop,” he greets with a cocky strut toward you. He produces the small candy from his pocket and offers it. You take the lollipop by its stick and hold it close. “Looks like I’m gonna be taking care of you.”

“Hello again,” you say, feeling more at ease with a familiar face—especially one who had been so helpful earlier that day.

Agent Carmichael clears his throat and steps forward, placing you behind his shoulder. “Have you delivered the asset to the live drop?”

The man scoffs and pushes the agent away with a sweep of his hand. “Of course I have. I’m not some candy-ass rookie—I get the job fucking done. Now, are we?” His arm wraps around your waist, guiding you gently to his side.

“Yes.” Agent Carmichael spins on his heel and returns to his car. He drives away, his partner in the passenger seat glaring out the windshield as it turns.

You look up at your assigned protector, his eyes locked on the retreating car until it’s out of sight. Only then does he look to you and smile. Your lips press together to suppress the shy smile ready to break through.

“The name’s Lloyd Hansen,” he introduces himself. He offers his hand and you give it a quick shake. “Let’s get going.” Lloyd directs you to the plane and you start walking toward its stairs. “By the way, before you start wondering, your luggage and personal effects should be shipped to our safe house. Just takes a while to make sure our tracks are covered.”

You pause on your climb up the plane’s stairs, turning to him on the step below you. “Thank you, Mr. Hansen.” Your heart starts to calm. Your handler has everything in hand. Everything will be fine.

Which wasn’t exactly true. Though, it had taken you about two weeks to realize just how wrong you were.

The first hint was the mansion. The huge structure and sprawling grounds supposedly your safe house—not very inconspicuous. The second was the large staff. All ready and willing to help with any little thing, and already set in a routine. He explained it away at the time with a vague story about the seized assets of a drug lord. But then your luggage arrived without your cellphone or tablet. And Mr. Hansen insisted on you staying in the renovated attic—a gorgeous space full of light and luxury, but quite restrictive and remote in the long-run. Hints number three and four.

When he stopped answering your questions about the FBI and Naomi’s case, and started to find too many reasons to put his hands on your body, the penny finally dropped.

The first time you tried to run away, he spanked you so hard you couldn’t sit for a week. He threatened worse the next time. That was also the first night he slept in your bed. You woke up to his hard on pressed between the cheeks of your ass and his hands cupping your tits. To your utter confusion at the time, he didn’t do anything else. Just walked uncomfortably from the room and left you to your own devices until that night’s dinner. That was when he spilled—cocky smirk twisted on his lips.

That foreign threat to Naomi? He was hired by the CIA, specifically Agent Carmichael, to deliver her directly to them. How lucky for you that you’d caught his eye during his surveillance and he’d decided to change his deal. The heiress in exchange for her friend. That was hard to swallow. Thoughts of what had become of Naomi filling your head until it felt like you’d pop.

The second time you tried to sneak away, it’d taken months to understand the guard’s schedule. To count the minutes in your head until their rotations. Then to find out how the household staff worked. Which maids cleaned the floors below and when. The cooks, the housekeeper, the head of security. Mr. Hansen’s travel routines. And the technology everywhere. It was impossible. But you almost got away. Just a few feet from the top of the back wall before they caught you.

When Lloyd had returned, he introduced you to the collar—the electric collar. Locked now around your throat and a very persuasive tool to keep you in your attic.

How long ago was that? Months, at least. You weren’t the best at keeping track of time. Though Lloyd helped with his penchant for celebrating anniversaries—if he could be trusted. Still, the days tended to blur together.

All you know is the fight left you a while ago. Resistance doesn’t deter him and it’s so much better when you just enjoy it. He’s not mean without reason, and he is what he initially proclaimed himself. Your protector.

Lloyd stands with a groan and you jolt at the feel of him slipping out of you. He hums with pained pleasure.

Your fingers run through the fibers of your rug, turning on your back and staring at the ceiling. Head tilting to the side, you listen to Lloyd putter around your room. He picks up your perfume bottles, catching your ear with the clink of sitting them back in their tray. You look to see what exactly he’s doing. He leans against your vanity, pants pulled back up but fly undone.

He smirks as he looks down at you. “That’s what I like to see.”

Heavy steps approach from the hall and a knock sounds at the door. Lloyd pops up.

“There they are.”

You follow him with your eye. Siting up more fully to watch him kick the body out of the way of the man and dog standing in the doorway. Your head tilts in confusion, but you know to say nothing. Just straighten you skirt, hold back the grimace at his cum starting to drip out of you, and wait for his explanation.

Lloyd takes the leash with a nod to the man. “Take care of this shitbag, will you?” He prods Baizen’s body once more with his toe before turning back to you.

With a proud smirk, he leads the dog over—maybe a giant schnauzer judging by its little beard and large size. It’s then you notice the sparkly yellow ribbon around the dog’s neck. You wait, looking up to the man who once proclaimed to be your handler. He’s sure to give you some sort of cue.

“Happy Anniversary, lollipop!”

You blink. “Happy Anniversary, sir,” you return.

He crouches down and smacks a sloppy kiss to your lips. “What d’you think of your present?”

“Present?”

The dog steps forward and sits right in front of you. Lloyd gestures to him and hands over the leash. You take it, trying to piece together the bits of the puzzle—at what exactly he’s doing.

“He’s yours,” Lloyd explains. “Been raising him since he was a puppy to be the perfect guard dog for you. He’s smart and strong. He’ll be perfect for when I’m not here to keep you company.”

“So,” you wonder, reaching out a tentative hand to pet the dog before you, “he’s mine?”

The dog dips his head and sniffs before rushing forward and nearly tackling you to the ground. You push him back and situate yourself better. He finds a comfortable spot sitting in your lap, though he’s far too big to be a lapdog.

Lloyd chuckles. “Yup. He better be. Been scent training him to make sure he knows you. Even if he’s only just met you.” His head tilts and he stands back up. “You wanna know his name?”

You nod, running your hands through the black fur along the dog’s back. You snuggle into him without realizing, but he just sits for you, seemingly content with your embrace.

“Shadow,” Lloyd commands, “perimeter.”

Immediately, the dog steps away from you and begins patrolling around the walls of your room, sniffing along each. Looking for something—probably a threat.

“He looks like a shadow,” you say with a glance to the man standing above you.

“Huh,” Lloyd says with a cock of his head, “I suppose he does.”

Shadow finishes his circuit and returns to you, his shoulder pressed to your side.

“At ease,” Lloyd says.

Your dog relaxes into you and searches for your hand to begin petting him again. You’re happy to oblige. Your lips purse, holding back hope with your new companion by your side. Though, from your keeper, you can’t hide anything.

He tips your chin up to meet his eye with two fingers and asks, “What’s on your mind, sucker baby?”

“Will I get to take care of him?”

“Well,” Lloyd hems, “you won’t have to bathe him or clip his nails. We’ve got someone to groom him—”

“Will I get to take him on walks?” you ask before you can stop the interruption—almost regretting it.

Lloyd clicks his tongue and bends to tap his hand against your cheek. Almost a slap. “You thinking about leaving me?”

Your head shakes vehemently at the glint in his eye. Too close to displeasure.

“Of course not, Mr. Hansen,” you assure, standing up and clutching at his shirt, pressing as close as possible in an effort to wipe away any of his misplaced suspicion.

He hums and runs his hands along your sides. Smoothing them up and to your neck, he taps on the collar. You swallow hard.

“Your perimeter has been expanded,” he says, wrapping his hand around the side of your throat and drawing you closer. “You can go all the way out to the balcony and watch him in the garden. Isn’t that nice?”

You breathe steady. Though your heart sinks and you can hardly stomach the disappointment, the slightest expansion is something—less than what’s allowed a dog, but something.

“I can go outside?” you ask, quiet and hesitant. Fearing that somehow he might think better of it.

Lloyd keeps you close as he guides you toward the balcony door. Tall French doors opening onto a sun-soaked expanse of space.

“Go on,” he prods.

Your first steps with bare feet on the tile, you cannot believe you’re allowed this. A breeze brushes your cheek. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. The blue sky widens overhead, spotted with fluffy white clouds. You breathe in the fresh air and your heart lifts and keeps rising. It’s a gorgeous day.

Lloyd says something behind you, but you pay it no heed. Too caught up in the taste of freedom. Thoughts of a star-speckled sky spur plans of sleeping outdoors. Feeling the rain again, the chance to crunch through snow. Part of you doesn’t understand the bubbling joy welling within you at such an insignificant delusion of freedom. You never dwell in those thoughts, afraid of what they might spark.

Your hands grip the hard stone railing, leaning to look down at the lush gardens below. Shadow races out the downstairs door and runs around the corner. You watch him until he’s out of sight.

Steps approach from behind. You glance over you shoulder and meet Lloyd’s eye. The gratitude of your gaze meets the hunger of his.

He steps closer and bends you over the rail, his hips pressing his hard cock against your ass. His hands cover yours on the stone and he runs his nose along your throat until he reaches your ear.

“Happy Two Year Anniversary, my sticky sweet girl,” he husks, the grit of arousal dripping from his words. He sinks down to his knees and flips up your skirt. With a dip of his head, he latches onto your cunt. You jolt, but can’t move away. All you can do is moan and let your body become his again.

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