#i don’t want to be under pressure to claim or maintain continuity with all the iterations of me that have ever existed

[shabbytigers]

tfw someone reblogs something i reblogged several months or years ago and it pops up in my notes all surprise bitch 🫥 i get that tumblr puts algorithmically generated ‘more like this?’ suggestions under posts you click into nowadays, so probably nobody is deliberately spelunking my archive in a mariana trench ready diving bell, and what if they were? knock yourself out, lmao. it’s just exhausting to contemplate.

[sluttywonwoo]

In the mood to be ravaged by Minsung 😩😩

um. idk where this came from. goodnight.

word count: 1.2k

details: smut (mdni), threesome, oral, degradation, frat!au, toxic behavior

“hold her down,” minho sneers at his best friend, watching you with his arms crossed over his chest.

jisung mutters something under his breath but complies anyway, straddling your hips and pinning your wrists above your head on the mattress.

minho seems satisfied enough with that and squats down next to the bed so that he’s at eye level with you. you refuse to look at him, knowing your bratty behavior won’t get you anywhere, but you’re too proud to give him what he wants.

you’ve been fucking minho for, oh, a couple of months now. on and off. he’s good in bed but doesn’t want to be tied down, etc. etc. like every other frat guy you’ve ever met. except for jisung. unlike minho, jisung actually did seem to want to get to know you. he took you out on dates. he texted you goodnight. he didn’t have a snapchat account.

“i didn’t know he was your best friend,” you insist bitterly, glaring at jisung.

the only person who could’ve known and likely knew you were sleeping with both men was jisung. you’re trying to get a read on him, which is why you’re staring him down, but he maintains eye contact and stays stoic, not giving any indication as to whether or not your suspicion is correct.

minho snorts. “i don’t believe you.”

“he’s way too nice for anyone to assume he’s associated with you.” well, the position he had you in now wasn’t very nice but it was turning you on.

minho full-on laughs this time which gets you to finally turn your head in his direction. “nice? han jisung?”

“is that his last name?” you ask, looking back to the man in question who nods in affirmation. “then yes. he’s perfectly nice.”

“would someone perfectly nice fuck you behind their best friend’s back?”

“sure,” you say, shrugging to the best of your abilities with jisung on top of you. “i’m not anyone to you. we’re not exclusive, we’re not even a ‘we’. you text me when you’re horny, sometimes i respond. and vice versa. how could jisung have known we were sleeping together unless you told him? and even then, how could he have known how weird you’d get over it?”

“she ever talk back to you like that?” minho asks jisung, completely ignoring your little monologue.

for the first time, jisung looks nervous. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he does. “he likes it,” you say.

jisung’s cheeks flush even pinker and he averts his eyes from his best friend’s, all but confirming what you’ve just claimed.

“he likes being bossed around,” you continue, as if the poor man’s grave hasn’t been dug deep enough. “why do you think he spends so much time with you?”

minho makes a sound in the back of his throat, annoyed. “so you like having it both ways? being used like a slut and having one of your own?”

“see, you get it.”

“oh, i get it, alright,” he spits, standing back up. “ji, take your pants off.”

“wha- right now?”

“unless you don’t want to fuck her?”

“no i do, i do…”

he scrambles up and starts unbuckling his belt, fumbling with the clasp. you reach out to for him, your hands now free, and touch him gently.

“don’t feel pressured to do anything, baby. we can do this later, just us if you’d rather.”

jisung lifts his head to meet your gaze, smirking. his eyes, usually so bright and sparkly, have gone completely dark. it catches you off guard. “and let him have you all to himself? yeah right.”

you shake your head adamantly. “that’s not- i was just-”

“undress her,” minho interrupts, his voice echoing out from the corner of the room.

jisung finishes getting his own jeans off before moving on to you. you make it easier for him by lifting your hips so he can pull your pants off and then do the same with your arms for your shirt.

minho undresses himself, depriving you of the sight as he does it while you’re distracted by his best friend.

“min…” jisung murmurs when joins you both on the bed.

“hm?”

“can i… taste her?”

minho smirks and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. of course he was loving this. sure, doing this with jisung meant he had to share you, but it also meant he had another person to dominate. figures the power would go straight to his dick head as soon as he learned jisung would listen to his commands.

minho cocks his head to the side, pretending to think about it. “how badly do you want it?”

jisung gulps before answering, eyes falling between your thighs. “so bad.”

“fine, you can.”

“thank-”

“but only over her panties.”

jisung’s eyes go wide. “but-”

“take it or leave it.”

jisung whines, barely audible, but doesn’t protest further.

“sorry, baby,” he says to you, pouting as he parts your legs and lowers his head between them.

your hands fly to his hair the instant you feel his tongue on you, pushing his face further into your pussy. jisung moans against you which makes you moan in turn.

you don’t remember closing your eyes but when you open them, minho’s got his cock in his hand, squeezing it gently as he watches the two of you. he notices you looking at him and grins lazily.

“feel good?”

“uh huh…”

“jisung’s good at that, isn’t he?”

“mhm…”

“better than me?”

you blink at minho and frown. “i don’t—”

“i mean, he doesn’t seem to be making you scream right now so i can draw my own conclusions.”

“you’re an asshole,” you scoff.

he shrugs. “an asshole that can make you cum really, really hard.”

you want to point out that he’s purposely put jisung at a disadvantage by making him eat you out through your underwear but you don’t. instead, you focus the feeling of jisung workig you closer and closer to the edge with his tongue.

“don’t let her cum, ji.”

you both groan at that.

“no, no, no i’m so close. please don’t stop,” you plead, trying to trap him in place with your thighs around his head.

jisung freezes, unsure of who to listen to.

“please, baby, i’m right there,” you try again.

timidly, jisung nudges your clit with his tongue a couple more times, just enough to send you over. but minho yanks his best friend away as it washes over you, effectively ruining the orgasm and making you cry out in frustration as you clench around nothing.

“‘m sorry,” jisung mumbles.

“save it. get her on all fours.”

“i can do it myself,” you say defensively, pushing yourself up onto your elbows just for you to immediately lose your balance and fall back into the pillows.

minho doesn’t so much as blink at you. “like i said.”

jisung does end up helping you. he even holds you upright with his hands on your hips as he positions himself behind you. minho opted for the front, citing something about being the only one who could shut you up properly.

“ready?” he asks jisung as he taps his cock against your lips.

jisung nods, presumably, because you can feel the head of his cock push in just slightly.

“this time, don’t let her cum for real.”

“and if i do?”

minho just scoffs and shakes his head, muttering brat under his breath. “then we’ll just have to edge you as many times as we edge her.”

[asherlockstudy]

What's your take on the recent ear biscuits episode? It sort of took a gloomy turn with the topic of one of them dying, I especially think Rhett was having a harder time maneuvering the idea that one day he might outlive Link, even more than Link who just wanted to joke his the sappiness out of it.

Nooo I actually loved it. Finally some deep conversation between the two of them again. I loved that Rhett wanted to answer this 100% seriously and profoundly. Despite being much better than Link at hiding his emotions, it was clear he was affected by the mere thought too. And it was great that even though he did try to maintain his trademark ego and claim he would not care if Link continued GMM with another person, you could see it on his face that he was lying and what I loved the most is that he allowed this to be seen. He felt so strongly about this he knew his effort to convince otherwise was a lost battle but he gave it anyway. This is why Link teased him for a clear answer and even Rhett was breaking too under Link’s smiley pressure. Just beautiful.

As for Link, he didn’t want to joke about it, it’s just that this is his sole coping mechanism. He was better this time compared to older incidents but he still tried hard not to cry when Rhett was answering seriously and sentimentally. He also clarified at certain moments, he said “I am joking by the way” and at another moment he said something like “there’s not really a way, there’s no way, so let’s just say that” meaning that he could in no case see himself dealing in any way with Rhett’s death for him to realistically answer what he would choose to do with GMM. And he said in some other moments that he would be too sad to think about any of this etc

This brings us back to that older EB when Link had explained that one reason he has become so social and tries to make many friends is in order to have a supportive circle that would prevent him from “going under” should anything happen to Rhett. And Rhett at the time had also said that he was not so worried about dying but mostly about how Link would take this. All these just prove how open they are to each other about their feelings at this point.

Another great moment is Rhett’s recurring conviction that they will most likely die together. That has been stated too many times and it’s so interesting. Also when he said that if ghosts exist, then he would choose to haunt Link. A few episodes ago they said that technically if they go to hell they will be alone because it wouldn’t be hell if they were together. So, they really want to spend eternity with each other.

And I believe them. To be honest, I don’t believe 80% of the celebrity relationships out there, maybe way more. But theirs is the one of the extremely few I believe. Not only I believe in the sincerity of it but I also believe in the intensity of it, which is why I have stuck around for so long. Because in a just world most relationships should be like Rhett and Link’s but in our world, it’s just them and too few others that are this blessed.

[thereallifecath]

I doubt I can reason with you, but truly, we are voting for an administration we can protest. An administration we can criticize. One that may actually change if pressured enough. You said yourself you don’t know how the ballot works. Here’s how it works: there’s two candidates that could possibly win. That’s it. Harris, or Trump. Third party is statistically impossible. This isn’t how it should be, but it is. A lot of vulnerable people (see: those listed in your pinned post) would be devastated under a second Trump admin. With Harris, we have a fighting chance at maintaining or improving our rights, and can continue to fight for Palestine without unfathomable repercussions. This would be all but impossible under Trump. Please don’t weigh in on USAmerican elections online when you admittedly don’t understand them. Thank you for listening, and understand I mean no disrespect by any of this, just hope I can give some insight on the unfortunate reality of our choice. Not voting for Harris is a vote from Trump and essentially my own death warrant as a marginalized USAmerican.

Starting any response off with ‘I doubt I can reason with you’, is immediately disrespectful and a cop out. You don’t know me, we’ve, as far as I’m aware, never conversed before and so I am confused as to why you feel ready to make that assumption - that I’m an unreasonable person.

I am Australian, so I am aware of how frustrating it is to be constantly told to vote for the lesser of two evils because statistically the other parties won’t win… but I also understand that that statement is very much a ploy to keep us voting for the same two parties. Here in Aus, there is a ranking system on the ballot, so you can vote for your first choice, second, third, etc. So that is very different, to my understanding of how the US American’s ballot works. You claim that I admitted to not understanding how American elections work, when I didn’t - I stated that I don’t know how specifically the ballot works - as in what it looks like. I was having a hard time getting a straight answer on whether there is other parties on the ballot other than Republican and Democratic, and I understand now that there is but like here, it’s unlikely that anyone else will win. It is of course, easier for me to say that I would vote someone else, as again here it’s different but I also don’t know how real change is supposed to happen if we (globally) just shrug our shoulders and accept the system instead of fighting it or trying to change it. How is anyone other party ever going to have a chance if everyone collectively just agrees to that shitty vote for the lesser of two evils bullshit. I’m not telling you - and I didn’t once say that I hate Americans for voting for Kamala, I was mainly criticising celebrities and people in power for supporting this rhetoric instead of trying to invoke real change.

You say a lot of vulnerable people would be devastated under Trump rule as if no one is being devastated now. I am very much aware of the struggles the American people face, as the Australian government/parliament follows and kisses USA’s ass more often than not. What happens in America doesn’t just happen in America, it’s a ripple effect that affects life and laws here too. The police here take inspiration from the USA’s police, and Prime Ministers always buddy up to the Presidents. In saying that it’s not as overtly bad here as it is in America, but USA news is constantly broadcasted here. There is of course one candidate that is worse than the other, and in no way am I saying that you shouldn’t vote or that voting for Trump would end up better than Kamala, but talking about it like Kamala is going to be better than him, feels wrong. The Democratic Party and the Republican Party are basically the same at this point, they both want the same things, except one is just a lot more open and honest about it than the other. Kamala first and foremost will always be a cop, and she is not going to go easy on protesters and that’s evident in the last four years - hell - the last eleven months with Palestine Protests and police’s abhorrent behaviour towards students and other protestors. She may not have been President, but she was Vice, and I wonder how much in the past two years has been Biden, and how much has fallen to her because of his age and physical state at the time. By vulnerable people, I wonder if Muslim, Palestinian, and Middle Eastern citizens of the US as a whole, are considered under your definition, because if you ask them their lives don’t get better with either option. Same goes for the black community, it’s been horrible for decades, Kamala isn’t going to actively make it any better. And considering a high portion of violence against African Americans and people of colour is done by the police, why do you think Kamala is going to listen? I don’t want anyone to die or get hurt, and I understand that under Trump more people will be in danger, but Palestinians don’t have a threat of danger - they’re past that - the danger is a constant, almost a certainty that they will die sooner or later… if no one stops it now. I’m not telling you that whole stupid thing of ‘you can’t complain cause it’s worse in x’ I’m saying that I don’t see how just voting for the lesser of two evils is going to help anything, when you could band together and vote for a third party instead. Statistically it may be impossible but physically it’s not? You could invoke real change.

And the ‘you’ part isn’t even the main issue I had. I am more than allowed to criticise celebs for their engagement in an active genocide and how their behaviour and influence affects real issues. I have lost all hope in celebrities this past year and to see two celebs I loved, especially Misha Collins, endorse a woman who supports the genocide is disheartening for sure, and considering the fucking emotional wreck you naturally become when you see burnt body parts of kids on the fucking daily, yeah I’m gonna be angry, and yeah I’m gonna be angry at the people who are putting their hand in to help the wrong side. Both Trump and Kamala want Israel to succeed, and I don’t see how standing on the side of either can be seen as the right choice. I don’t want Trump to win, but shit has been fucked under the Biden/Harris administration and I of course get angry when I see people praising her. And really, a whole GEEKS FOR HARRIS/WALZ event when you have not done a single fundraiser for Palestine? Fuck that, that’s just openly being ignorant of the people suffering because of Israel yes, but also because of the USA’s involvement as well as Canada’s, Australia’s and Britain’s too. The western imperialist countries have done NOTHING to help Palestine, instead we have disgusting officials encouraging the killing of babies - celebrating it even, and we just have to sit back and stay partial to the bullshit. I’m tired of the system and you should be too, be radical, try to change the system because it’s not working for anyone and Kamala isn’t going to change that. The least we can do is demand that Kamala understand that the president should serve the people, and that to get the people’s vote she must divest from and sanction Israel.

And look I’m not going to fault you for voting for her, in complete honesty, I get it, it’s a fucking difficult situation. But I am going to fault everyone involved in creating this stupid event, because they could’ve put on a fundraiser or sanction Israel event sometime in the past eleven months, but they didn’t and they still could’ve put on an event to convince the people that they do have a choice and they can actually change things by voting third party. Yeah people aren’t going to vote third party if they are told they can’t or their vote doesn’t matter if they do. And I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings in any way, I genuinely am, but I am fucking tired of seeing people in so much pain and not being able to do much about it. The least these celebs can do is openly campaign against Israhell but they don’t, and I’m more than entitled to tell them to fuck off when instead they support Kamala Harris.

The protests for Palestine have been going on for 75 years, there is very little tiny chance that Kamala is going to somehow listen to protestors when she’s elected and change things. We have to change things, the people, and I get it, you can’t change things is you’ve got a dictator preventing you from doing so, but talking about Kamala like she is going to help… isn’t it.

[peachel-ayam]

my first post on this personal blog

on being ridiculously skinny — I’m not proud of it

All I want to do is gain weight

Disclaimer: This post was initially published on my Medium account under the "Bitchy" publication, and received hundred readers per week. Given that this is my personal journaling blog, I wanted to share it here as well. You can find the original post here.

(image by me)

Toxic body positivity doesn’t only apply to those who are overweight; I’ve experienced it too — an underweight individual.

People would tell me, “You should be grateful for God’s gift,” or “Being thin is a favor,” or even claim, “All women want a body like yours.”

But at the same time, I also received tons of, “Whoa, you look like you haven’t eaten in months,” or “You are thinner than paper,” or the worst of all, “If there’s a windstorm, it can be strong enough to push and float you.”

These words echoed through my mind, causing me to question my self-worth and validity.

“You MUST accept your body or you will never be happy”

I don’t want to invalidate all the words they say because I do feel concerned about my weight. I’ve noticed that I’m significantly underweight compared to others around me.

My clothes seem to hang loosely on my frame, and I feel self-conscious about my appearance. While some people may think being thin is a blessing, I can’t help but worry about my health and well-being.

I’m not proud of it. There, I said it. The truth can be hard to face, but I can’t keep denying it any longer.

Yes, I may have a naturally slender figure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with body image issues. The pressure to fit into society’s narrow definition of beauty is relentless, and it affects all body types, including mine.

My self-esteem plummeted, leading me to avoid social interactions and feeling too insecure to wear certain clothes that I feared wouldn’t flatter my thin frame, making me look like a walking pencil in strange costumes.

I’ve been doing some research about being underweight, and it appears that there could be various factors contributing to my situation.

Stress and anxiety could be affecting my appetite, and I may not be consuming enough calories to maintain a healthy weight. Moreover, my busy lifestyle has led to irregular eating habits, often skipping meals or opting for quick, unhealthy snacks.

I realize that I need to make some changes to my daily routine. Eating a balanced diet and incorporating more nutritious meals will be essential in healthily gaining weight.

I was once confused about whether to see a therapist — for a possibility of anxiety — or go straight to a doctor for my weight problem. In my confusion, I turned to the internet for answers and unfortunately fell for weight-gain ads instead, purchasing a high-priced honey-like product that had no effect.

I also tried making smoothies from various online recipes, but they yielded the same disappointing results. It was a valuable lesson not to trust random ads or articles on the internet.

Then, I decided to talk to a nutritionist who suggested meal plans and specific foods to increase my caloric intake healthily. I started a little food journal on my phone to keep track of my eating habits.

This will help me identify any patterns or deficiencies in my diet. I'm not going to lie, it was challenging to break old habits and adopt a new diet, but I’m determined to give it my best effort.

Weeks and months have passed, and I’m starting to see some positive changes in my weight since I’ve been following the meal plan prescribed by the nutritionist. However, I won’t lie; it’s still a struggle.

Some days, I feel bloated and uncomfortable after eating more than I’m used to. My self-esteem is also taking a hit when I think about how much effort — and money — I have to put in to reach a healthy weight.

I remind myself that this journey is about my health and not just my physical appearance. It’s essential to stay focused on the bigger picture and continue working towards a better, healthier version of myself.

A year later, I got sick. Stomach problem. My busy schedule in the new office has interfered with my good and healthy eating habits. Forgetting to take lunch and eating unhealthy foods late in the evening became a common occurrence.

The long commute to work with an empty stomach and sleepy eyes only worsened the situation. Months of unhealthy behavior led to my hospitalization, resulting in further weight loss.

I was devastated, knowing that I had to start my healthy behavior from the beginning and endure all the struggles again. However, I realized it was necessary for the sake of my health.

As a first step, I made the difficult decision to resign from that office, prioritizing my well-being.

I started keeping a food journal again and attempted some exercises to gain weight — though I must admit, due to my 9–5 daily schedule, finding time to exercise is hard, resulting in rare opportunities to do it. To compensate, I maximize my efforts by consuming more weight-gaining foods.

I understand that this is a slow and gradual process, but I’m determined to continue. My new eating habits are becoming more natural, and I don’t feel as overwhelmed by the calorie intake as I did initially.

It’s essential to clarify that my decision to focus on gaining weight is not influenced by others’ judgments of my appearance, but rather driven by my genuine concern for my body’s health.

People often assume that because I’m thin, I must have it all — that my life is perfect and carefree.

But they don’t see the battles I fight with myself or the times I avoid social situations because I fear judgment based on my appearance.

Back to the first topic: toxic body positivity doesn’t discriminate. It affects us all, regardless of our size or shape. Society’s obsession with body ideals has created an environment where any deviation from the norm is met with criticism and scrutiny.

I want to embrace body positivity just as much as anyone else, but it’s hard when the world constantly sends mixed messages. On the one hand, I’m told to love my body and be confident, but on the other hand, I’m bombarded with comments that make me feel inadequate and ashamed.

“You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin, you have to say you want to be healthy. But also, you have to be thin — — It’s too hard, it’s too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you!”

The monologue lasts longer than that and serves as a reminder of the importance of embracing authenticity and acknowledging the complexities of our emotions and experiences.

Body positivity should be about celebrating all bodies, not just those that fit a specific mold. It’s about recognizing that every person is unique and deserving of love and respect, regardless of their appearance.

To anyone who has experienced similar comments or struggles with body image, know that you are not alone. We must challenge society’s unrealistic beauty standards and foster an environment of acceptance and understanding.

Despite still being underweight and facing the challenge of regaining it, I refuse to give up on loving my body and striving to be the best version of myself, as evidenced by finding and wearing more suitable clothes for my current weight and not shying away from social interactions, as embracing self-love means giving my body and appearance the best care.

My worth is not determined by my size, and I refuse to let toxic body positivity bring me down. I will continue to work on loving myself for who I am, and I hope others will do the same.

Let’s strive for a world where body positivity is truly inclusive and where everyone can feel valued and appreciated, regardless of how they look. It’s time to break free from the shackles of judgment.

I am more than just my body, and so are you. People who say otherwise can f themselves.

[sgreffenius]

This is major good news from the front, arriving on the same day as our election returns. The Russian army now has its back to the sea all along the southern coastline. Press them from the north! That gives them three choices:

A Dunkirk style evacuation

Surrender

Destruction of their army

The Russians will not win in this theater, or any theater. Reports of victory and defeat from Kherson are the same ones we heard from Kyiv, Donbas, and every other area where Ukraine has defeated its enemy: looting by Russian soldiers, often because they do not have enough to eat; officers who run the other way as Ukrainian forces approach; no plan for an orderly retreat.

The headline above finishes with, ‘a potential blow to Moscow’. I’d like to know why the editor inserts the word potential. Wars have turning points at key places. The victory at Kherson is a turning point, nine months into the war. Let’s hope that Ukrainian forces have enough ammunition to maintain their momentum, and that Russian forces suffer major morale problems as they are forced to fight in winter weather. Lend Ukraine the ships, helicopters, attack aircraft, tanks, and trucks they need to expel Russian forces by springtime. Give them fuel and ammunition to supply this heavy equipment.

Remember, when Ukraine agreed to destroy its nuclear arsenal in 1994, the agreement came with an implicit agreement that the United States and NATO would protect Ukraine, should Russia try to reincorporate the country in its empire. We have made good on that commitment, in part. Now we need to pull out all stops, to enable Ukraine to move ahead with no doubts about the level of support it receives. The Russian army will crumble under pressure.

One more strategic consideration: if Ukrainian forces can continue their successful attacks in both the east and in the south, they will force the Russians to defend a line they cannot possibly defend. No Russian wants to fight in Ukraine anymore - not the draftees, not the convicts, not the reservists, and certainly not the soldiers who die by the hundreds as their leaders run away. Supply Ukrainian armed forces with the equipment and ammunition they need, and this war will end in victory for Zelensky and company. If that happens, we will be rid of Putin sooner than death can claim him.

If Zelensky had accepted U.S. offers of evacuation to the West, Ukraine would have lost this war. Leadership matters. Instead, Zelensky said, “I don’t need a right, I need ammunition.” He addresses the Ukrainian people on television every night, to update them on the war, and to encourage them. They will continue to fight. Every time Putin addresses the Russian people - and I can tell you that does not happen every night - his speech is so full of lies that his audience regards him with contempt.

Russians are a canny lot. You cannot start a war, bury truckloads of soldiers in body bags, and tell your audience the war is going well. Putin is in trouble, his army is in trouble, and his nation is in trouble. Help Ukraine end this war as soon as it can. That means no negotiations until Ukraine destroys Russian armed forces on its territory, or forces them to leave. The process of destruction and retreat began in the east and northeast in September. It continues in Kherson and the south this November. Do not let the Russians reestablish a stable front, anywhere.

[greensaplinggrace]

What I Would Change About the Ruin and Rising Ending

So this is separate from what I actually think would have been best for the story, in that Aleksander is the third amplifier and Alina is a tracker. Baghra never has her ridiculous plot twist info dump and Alina is actually allowed more agency and the ability to take initiative and the Darkling is actually written consistently from the start.

Here’s what I think should have happened in the ending if all the events leading up to it were the exact same: 

Alina kills Mal and with the power of the three amplifiers kills the Darkling. As punishment for using all three amplifiers, she and the Darkling both lose the power of Merzost. This power is then used to fulfill Morozova’s aching loneliness, creating hundreds of shadow and sun summoners all across the world. The Darkling comes back to life through the loss of Merzost, and Mal comes back to life through the loss of his tracking abilities and status as an amplifier.

This ending feels not only more consistent with the themes LB tries to convey throughout the books, but it also aligns more with character arcs, established lore, and the parts of the plot that actually made sense.

The Darkling was punished for using Merzost by the Fold’s creation, which was a place where his powers were rendered useless (although the fact that he still has much power over the fold feels contradictory to this fact). He still retained the ability to use it, however, the result of only using some of the Merzost’s power. Alina was punished much more severely for not only using Merzost but also taking all three amplifiers. Therefore she is stripped of that power entirely. The Darkling, who she killed with the power and who has also lusted for power, is stripped of it as well. 

Not only that, but the presence of hundreds of people like them now ensures they do not have more power than everybody else. It strips Alina and the Darkling of power without robbing them of a very important piece of their identity that should be impossible to take. By making it so that they now have hundreds of equals, that they have people to match them, challenge them, stop them. That they can no longer take more power, that they can no longer use their powers over those less powerful than them, that their greed does not destroy those around them. It makes them essentially powerless (consistent with the theme of punishment in regards to the Merzost), without removing their status as members of a persecuted and oppressed minority. 

This remains consistent with Alina’s character arc as well. Her growth as a character, coming into her abilities and learning to accept every part of herself, instead of denying an essential piece of her identity because she’s trapped by the past and her prejudices and her fear of moving forward - because she’s also trapped by her low self esteem and her loneliness and her fear. By allowing her to remain as a Grisha, her developmental arc - of learning self esteem and self acceptance, of learning to love every part of herself and to not deny those parts of herself for others or because of her worries, of finding a community, growing into a woman outside of one person, learning to connect with others and love others and love herself and love her powers - isn’t regressed in any way. It isn’t negated. 

There still remains a punishment for the Merzost and for her hunger for power. There still remains a way to acknowledge the thematic ties between loneliness and Grisha - especially Morozova’s loneliness and therefore Aleksander’s. There still remains the culmination of three books worth of seeking out amplifiers - a satisfying result of all her effort and her traumas; the powers she sought out to defeat the Darkling actually used to defeat him. There still remains the acknowledgement of Alina’s growth and change. She isn’t robbed of a valuable piece of her identity and her path of self fulfillment and self acceptance. 

I won’t get into this much now, but I also think Alina’s reluctance to accept herself as Grisha, hurting herself to remain untested and weakening herself by denying that crucial part of her, is the result of centuries of the oppression and persecution of the Grisha as a people. It isn’t just her own fears, but also the way the world has forced Grisha to integrate into society. How the Grisha’s oppressors have treated them, not allowed them to truly develop or grow or gain power. The way they’re viewed by society and the prejudices against them as a whole that stifles their ability to truly connect or form a healthy community.

That part of Alina’s culture and birthright was denied her by her oppressors. She lived amongst these people for years and grew up with their customs, and when she finally discovered the part of herself that made her Grisha, she was introduced to her people. Her community that the world, through endless hunting of the Grisha and stripping them of agency, using them and othering them and ostracizing them from society, refused the ability to truly connect. She was allowed to finally realize herself and who she was born to be.

Her stay at the Little Palace was distressing in a lot of ways, but I’m not talking about just the Little Palace, I’m talking about her journey throughout the books as a whole, as she learns about the people and community she belongs to. As she grows to love it and accept it and take pride in it. Her culture and her people - the Grisha. 

So when people say Alina losing her powers is good because she doesn’t want to be a part of the Grisha (even though she grows to love being Grisha, not wanting to was only in the beginning), and that she’s happier as an otkazat’sya because she grew up with them (the people who have oppressed her kind and smothered her powers), and that Grisha culture isn’t hers, I want to scream. The reason it wasn’t hers was because she was held back from it. Because Grisha oppression has become systematic and ingrained within society. Because prejudice against the Grisha runs deep. 

To say that it's good that she’s stripped of what makes her Grisha because she was raised otkazat’sya? When if the Grisha were free she never would have been in the first place? To refuse to acknowledge the harm done to her people and therefore her, in creating a world so against Grisha that she was never given the chance to be raised in her own community? Amongst her own people? Who would understand her and would never have let her get sick by refusing to use her powers and who would have helped her because they know what it’s like to be Grisha - because they are Grisha.

That’s fucking bullshit.

Alina doesn’t hate her powers. Her powers don’t cause her pain. It’s others and the world that hurts her because of them. And this is an important distinction. Alina losing her powers isn’t a healthy message. That others hurting you for how you were born means that the only way to remain safe is to strip away the part that makes you different. That Alina returning to the people she was forced to assimilate with and that raised her to deny a massive part of her identity is a healthy thing-

That’s not a message that should ever be given. Which is why Alina should have kept her powers as the sun summoner, even if she loses the amplifiers.

And the burden of being the only sun summoner is lessened with the spread of her powers as well. People claim that Alina losing her powers was good for her because the world burdened her too much because of them, but that’s an issue easily solved by the splitting of her powers. She now isn’t the only one with a weight to carry because of the way she was born, and in fact she no longer has to carry it at all. 

Additionally, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Merzost itself, which he created, being used to fulfill the loneliness he felt in the world and that all Grisha feel - that Aleksander especially suffered under (and which he suffered under in part due to Morozova), is a much more poetic and thematically consistent way to maintain equilibrium and fill the void of loneliness in the world than robbing Alina of her powers to do so. Which is just pointless and random and doesn’t align reasonably with any of the narrative elements. Morozova himself doing so through his amplifiers and the Merzost makes it a state of healing and even redemption. It ties his story and his character together with the plot and established themes.

It also keeps with the theme of balance. In that the Merzost is now gone and the amplifiers are now gone - abilities deemed to be unnatural and against the balance - and instead both of their powers are spread across the land. Not just Alina’s. Which was an unbalance and not in keeping with the themes established throughout the books. With both powers not only split but also split amongst many, real balance returns to the world.

I also think that both Mal and the Darkling coming back makes the ending more in line with the plot and all of the character’s arcs, and also more intriguing as a whole. Alina now has the opportunity to navigate her relationship with the both of them on new, uncertain ground.

I think this would be a unique start to a Darklina relationship in particular, as the Darkling now has many equals that are not Alina. So what would make him stay? A fun premise to explore in regards to both characters and their motivations.

On the other hand, Malina has to continue to grow with Alina still living as a Grisha sun-summoner, but now the pressure isn’t all on her. She’s free of the burden she was forced into, but not free of the powers which she came to love. She also hasn’t been stripped of her identity within a group of persecuted and marginalized people that she came to connect with.

Alina and Mal could very well live out their lives in peace. Or they could take a different path, with so many new avenues open before them. This could provide the opportunity for an even more complex future if the Darkling still remains involved with Alina (with them) even peripherally. Like if they still had dealings with him in some way, even if there isn’t anything romantic going on between him and Alina.

All in all, I just think it would be a better ending for all three of them in a variety of ways, and it also creates so many opportunities for different paths to be taken. It’s more consistent with the themes LB attempted to convey, the plot and character arcs as a whole, and the established lore.

[compassion-of-a-lightner]

I guess I'm sleep deprived enough having not slept for 4 days to make a post about this.

People who entirely write off Asgore as a character worth caring about in any respect, what's up?

I should clarify.

This is not directed to people who fully consider his story in UT, or the implications in DR and come out of it going "I don't forgive him and therefore don't like him"

It's more to the weirdly hostile voices I see that are just like, entirely dismissive of his story and just go "Haha, he sucks. Definitely no nuance here! Just shitty! Every other character is worth the world and Asgore is a piece of shit forever and should die lmao" and like, did you play the same game?

Because I feel like you're just robbing yourself of a whole ass dynamic of the story in UT just to go "Haha, he's a lame divorced shithead and murderer, Toriel deserves better uwu" and like, that's not the point? OBVIOUSLY she does? Because she decided he's not for her in both games for different reasons? That doesn't delete his story from the game(s) or make it less valuable to consider?

Also good for her (in UT), the dumbass goes kid killer and you tell him to go fly a kite.

But like, seriously man. Asgore has one of the most hefty 'crumbling under the weight of the world' narratives to his story in UT.

He's in charge of giving all monsters a better life, and he's looked deep inside, witnessed his son killed by humanity, witnessed the (supposed) best chance at peace between humanity and monsters pass with Chara, and he's decided that the only hope to provide for those he cares about is to give up his own 'humanity' and gather the power of human souls to break through... AND HE CAN'T EVEN DO THAT BECAUSE HE CAN'T BRING HIMSELF TO BECOME THE MONSTER HE HATES!

(Yes he kills though, I mean finish the plan, we'll get to that)

Like cut and dry, it's a pretty shit plan bud. But it's born from a place of deep compassion and a sense of significant loss that made him desperate.

(some of these details might be too fuzzy from a long time since playing but the general point remains)

He doesn't know all the facts.

He doesn't know everything about Chara.

He doesn't know that Chara, while fused with Asriel, wanted to commit violence against Humanity for what they did to the monsters.

He didn't know that Asriel died because he fought against this.

He didn't know so much of the story. All he saw was his adopted child dying with a simple wish to see the flowers again, and humanity attacking like the beasts they claimed monsters were when his son attempted to fulfill that wish.

He saw humanity's darkest, and questioned why monsters were the ones locked below. And he saw what Asriel and Chara were able to accomplish together so he made a plan.

His plan rings the same tones of most 'last chance' narratives. There IS no other way out from what he's witnessed. Chara and Asriel WERE the good option out, and it didn't work.

The good ending was attempted, and denied. So he looked at his options and there really weren't many.

Either die underground, or kill to make the surface their home.

And upon finally building up the determination to put his plan in motion, he couldn't do it.

He killed, and immediately had too much regret to follow through.

He shut down, he crumbled under the pressure, he saw the blood on his hands and he realized he wasn't able to hate strongly enough to use the soul to break through and attack humanity as a whole.

As Toriel said in the true end, he could have gone with 1 soul, but he hid away and hoped that no more humans would come.

His true plan was to end his plan. To live in regret of the life he stole and never see another human again, and out of fear of revealing his failure to his people, out of fear of admitting to them that they would never see the surface again, he hid from his responsibility because it would demand he become a true monster. He claimed to need more power, and hoped no one would come to confront them.

He locked himself into the responsibilities of a mad king, to kill and gather power whenever a new human arrives. For nothing.

To continuously bloody his hands in the hopes of never doing so again, all because he's too 'weak' to just go up top and become the Mercy-less monster he truly believed needed to exist to free them.

And all the sadness and regret, but hollow determination to continue on his path is so STRONG in his story, man! It's TERRIBLE!

He hates what he's become; He shows no joy at the thought of fighting Frisk. He's built an empty responsibility all in the hope of never killing again, and the world keeps laughing at him as it tosses more lives his way.

He wants to help his people, but he doesn't want to hurt the humans.

He was a good person presented with a perspective of the 'facts' that laid bare a world of disgusting hate, a world that can't be reasoned with, a world without Mercy. And after having lost his only children to this world, he gave in to his own weakness and decided to play by the rules- to also fight without Mercy.

AND. FAILED.

He's both entirely convinced that the world has no mercy, and is entirely unable to relinquish his own.

All while bitterly tending to an evil he resents to its core, all while hoping to be left alone and never be asked to shed blood again, all while truly believing he must do so- in these circumstances- if he is to protect the lives on the surface and maintain even a semblance of his mercy in the grand scheme of things.

Let them live and risk the humans finding out he killed in the first place, risk the humans coming underground to kill them all. Risk repeating what happened with Asriel, but for them all because of blood on his hands.

Kill them, for no gain, and continue the facade- continue telling everyone you're almost strong enough to kill those on the surface. Continue lying, so that the monsters are safe, and the humans are as well. All at the cost of another child. IT SUCKS IT'S FUCKING BAD MAN.

It's what makes it so touching that you can convince him through your intense determination to break the rules of this mercy-less world! You're unending compassion and inability to accept 'no' for an answer in regards to cherishing life provides him with new hope!

It's a glimpse of a person with true unending mercy that convinces him that the world can be changed- Frisk and the player's actions convince him that he was mistaken. That it never had to be the original plan, and the reason he couldn't think of a new one is because succumbing to the act of murder had destroyed his sense of hope- he wasn't the right person to come up with a plan to free the monsters after that because it was simply too damaging to his ability to hope or dream of a better future.

He needed convinced.

He needed to be shown that the world can have mercy in it, that it can be compassionate.

Things he once believed were possible, and a reality that was torn from him with the loss of his kids- revitalized as you step through to make it happen.

IT'S GOOD, OKAY.

AND ASGORE IS INTEGRAL TO IT AND IS A TRAGIC FIGURE WITHIN IT.

Anyways you can still hate him, you're opinions are you own and he sucks at being a good dude. The dude killed kids (in UT), you remember that? Fucked up.

I've just been seeing a lot of takes on the guy as some nuance-less bad person when he has so many layers of depth going on that it sounds bizarre to hear him summed up as like "Oh yeah, Asgore is a piece of shit, anyways let's talk about the character depth of Pipis"

I mean come on, Ms. Pipis is right there, talk about her, lol.

[mascwhump]

The team being forced to watch NSFW whump between Charlie and mal

CW: EXPLICIT NONCON, manhandling, guns, muzzles

AU where this is the first time the team is captured

Mallory stood with his arms folded, observing the four soldiers which were bound before him. They remained in uniform, but were stripped of any gear that could be used as a weapon. The heavily tattooed Scot had been muzzled long before Mallory arrived. Biting a guard earned him the mask. The small one remained eerily still, appearing to have been dissociating. The one who claimed himself to be leader of the team kept his eyes locked on Mallory. He kneeled with his back straight and muscles tense. The last one continued to shift around uncomfortably, his head hanging. He didn’t break his eye contact with the ground for any reason.

“You,” Mallory spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence after far too long, “Come here.”

Charlie refused to lift his head and ignored the command. A boot to his back sent him forward, and he stumbled to his feet. The zip ties binding his wrists made it difficult to maintain his balance. He continued to look at the ground as he moved forward. Once in arms reach, Mallory took hold of him and forced him against the wall.

“Get your fucking hands off of him or-“ Before Crow could finish his threat, the butt of a rifle met the side of his head. He managed to keep his balance and turned to spit at the guard. Mallory wrapped his hand around Charlie’s throat without applying any pressure. He leaned in by his ear, and Charlie held his breath.

“Do as I say, and I’ll let you and your team go completely unharmed,” he whispered, “understand?”

“Fuck you,” Charlie spat.

Mallory then tightened his grip on his throat.

“I can snap my fingers and my men will empty their magazines into your friends. You don’t want that, do you?” Mallory hissed. Charlie shook his head.

“Of course not. Do what I tell you, and that won’t happen. Now, back on your knees.”

Charlie thought his heart had stopped. At least, he wished it had. He lost the feeling in his legs as he slowly sunk down. His knee pads made a quiet thud as he landed. Crow was yelling again, but the blood rushing through Charlie’s head made his words difficult to make out. He looked to him in a panic, just as he was struck with the rifle again. Ethan was now the one staring at the ground, and Adrian’s focus was on the guards.

Mallory began to undo his belt. Charlie pressed himself back against the wall, wishing he could phase through it. His eyes were shut tight as Mallory grabbed his chin. He jerked his head away, and was smacked for it.

“Listen, you bite me, and I’ll have your fucking jaw ripped off.”

Mallory dug his thumb into the hinge of his jaw, forcing his mouth open.

Charlie let his mind drift in order to protect himself. It wasn’t until he realized that he couldn’t breath that he opened his eyes again. He looked up at Mallory and plead for air with his eyes. Mallory eventually gave in, and let him breath for a second. Charlie glanced at his team as he gasped for air, and found that Crow had been muzzled, as well as pinned against the wall by a rifle in his face.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Mallory teased as he took a fistful of Charlie’s hair. He decided that he had had enough air and entered his mouth again. Charlie’s face was completely flush, both from the humiliation and lack of oxygen. He realized that, in order for this to be over as quickly as possible, he would have to put in at least some effort. Mallory was surprised when he began moving his head and using his tongue.

It had worked. Mallory held Charlie’s mouth shut and commanded him to swallow after he had finished.

“A promise is a promise,” he said as he buckled his belt, “You’re all free to go.” He left the room without another word. Charlie collapsed to his side, facing away from the team. Tears slipped from his eyes as he held back a sob. One of the guard hooked his arm under Charlie’s and lifted him to his feet. The team were shuffled out of the building and put in the back of two separate cars. Charlie was with Adrian.

He refused to look at him. He stared out the window and tried to focus on the trees rushing by. Adrian managed to nudge him, startling him. Charlie peeled his eyes away from the window and managed to face him. Adrian nodded as sign to show his respect. Charlie sunk into his seat and faced the window again, this time focusing on not letting more tears fall.

[angelz-dust]

cheaters always win (jason todd x reader)

summary: uh... you fuck red hood. that’s it. happy kinktober.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni) - smut, unprotected sex (no condom, no pulling out),  clothed sex, masks, mild roleplaying. bad writing. terrible, actually. enjoy tho.

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

you laid in bed, comfortable underneath your soft blankets, head rested against a fluffy pillow. you had just taken a nice shower and took your time getting ready for bed. it was starting to get colder, the crisp october wind not being very forgiving, but you managed to maintain a decent temperature that goldilocks would approve of. this was a perfect recipe for slumber and you plan on indulging in that. it didn't take long for your tired state and environment to lull you to sleep.

unfortunately, though, nothing could ever be that perfect.

after getting about an hour and a half of sleep, you suddenly were brought out of dreamworld and back to reality. you wanted to close your eyes and continue your dream where you and your old friends from high school were international super spies, so you did just that. you let out a deep exhale, trying to find that sweet spot of unconsciousness again but something was tingling in your mind. you felt like something was off.

you kept your eyes firmly shut as you tried to feel for anything, the paranoia starting to settle in. was it the boogeyman coming to get you out in some inception like dream sequence or was someone in your apartment? you kept your breathing quiet as you tried to listen in for anything. you couldn't see it, as your eyes were still closed, but you could feel the that the door to your bedroom was now ajar. you were afraid to look, unsure of what you'd see.

you slowly opened your eyes, turning your head and sitting up to see someone sitting in the chair next to your dresser. they were illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the blinds of the window next to you. you let out a gasp, flinching and gripping your sheets and you felt your back press into the headboard. the person just stared at you while you panicked.

your eyes were blurry and filled with sleep. it took you a moment in your now petrified fear to realize that you knew who was sitting in the chair, unflinching at your scared noises.

"jesus fucking christ," you breathed out, pressing your hand on your chest as you felt your heart hammering back against it. "oh my god, you scared me."

silence. no response. not even a nonverbal one.

as you attempted to regulate your breathing, you stared at jason. well... not jason. you were staring at red hood. he must have just gotten back from patrol. sometimes he would stop by to spend the night with you. he must have broke in, as he always did, while you were asleep.

"goodnight, asshole," you pouted, laying back down in your little cocoon. you expected to hear a response or at least the sound of his boots hitting the floor while he shuffled around to get ready for bed. you didn't, though, which prompted you to open your heavy eyes once again.

"jason," you called out cutely, turning over to look at him. your pout returned after a yawn fell from your lips, glistening your eyes with sleepy tears. "hurry up and come to bed."

you weren't sure if there was something wrong with him or not. was he upset? hurt, maybe? these scary thoughts were starting to bring you out of your sleepy stupor. you sat up, deciding to try to throw some humor his way to get a reaction. you wanted to try and see where his head was at without having to ask specifically.

"excuse me, red hood?" you started, rubbing your eyes softly. "have you seen my boyfriend, jason?"

you watched as he shifted in his seat, his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. he went and placed his chin in his palm, looking at you.

"i don't think i have," he responded, his voice distorted because of his voice modulator.

you smiled, glad that he was talking now. you hoped this meant that nothing was wrong. "he's very tall and solid. silky black hair, pretty green eyes, ruggedly handsome. very hard to miss."

red hood drummed his fingers on his lap with his free hand, pretending to think. "it's not ringing any bells."

"oh no," you sighed jokingly. "do you think something bad happened to him?"

"he's probably dead."

your face fell into a blank stare at his stupid joke. thank god you couldn't see his smug face under the helmet. was he giving you his signature smirk? were his eyes sparkling, overshadowing the sadness that always seemed to linger behind them or had their beauty been plagued by it, along with the rest of his handsome face? it was incredibly hard to tell. you hoped for the former.

"my boyfriend is too strong to die," you told him with a small smile. "i bet he could take you. he taught me everything he knows so... i bet i could take you, too."

"i seriously doubt that," you heard him retort, sitting up straight in the chair now. he viewed your claim as a challenge he was going to accept.

"then try and fight me, red hood," you said, sticking out your tongue at him.

you watched him stand up and walk towards you, not realizing how menacing he actually was. not seeing his face was unsettling enough but his stature made him even more intimidating. you knew he wouldn't hurt you so fear was replaced with confused arousal. it definitely was not the goal of the interaction, so you quickly pushed the thoughts away.

you stood up on the bed, wanting to have height advantage. he looked up at you for a moment before reaching out to start tickling you. laughter pearled out of your mouth as you were brought back down to your knees out of shock. “cheater!” you called out through your laughter.

you tried fending him off, pushing his hands away and weakly punching his chest and arms. it was obvious he was trying to possibly let you win. even in his state of not trying, you'd still lose.

the two of you went back and forth for awhile, taking jabs at each other while you laughed along the way. at one point, jason hooked his finger under the waistband of your panties, pulling it back as far as he could before letting it snap back against your skin. you let out a little yelp, promptly giving him a very careful punch to the crotch. it was a fake fight, after all. you didn't want to actually hurt him.

he instinctively flinched back, quickly breaking your guard by smacking your hands away and reaching out and pulling his sweater up over your head, just enough to cover your face while he softly jabbed at your soft skin. you sputtered as you tried to pull it back down but not before he used both of his hands to give your breasts a squeeze. he must have gotten bored with play fighting because as soon as you pulled his sweater back down, he quickly pinned you to the bed by your wrists. you stared up at him, eyes wide as he hovered over you.

"oh," you breathed out, blinking up at him. "o-oh! ouch!"

"what?"

"i think i've been injured," you said with a little smile as he loosened his grip on your wrists, letting you free. "do you think you could take a look at it? i mean, it's the least you can do considering it's you're fault."

you could feel him rolling his eyes and it only made your smile grow. you sat up and pressed your back into his firm chest. you could feel his steady breathing starting to sync up with yours.

"show me where it hurts," he told you and you took one of his hands, slowly guiding it up your stomach underneath his sweater. you stopped when the side of his thumb was pressed against the underside of your breast.

"it's somewhere over here. i'm not exactly sure where," you explained coyly as he began massaging your breast, looping his other arm around your waist as he started rubbing himself on your ass. you pushed back against him, letting out a mewl of satisfaction.

the two of you stayed like that for awhile, slowly but surely getting each other worked up. you hadn't expected him to be so receptive. you were just going to tease him a little in hopes of getting him to drop the red hood act so you could get some sleep. you assumed he'd want to finish what you started as jason but the fact that it appeared you'd be getting it on with red hood felt much sexier and a lot more fun.

"i'm not feeling any problems, sweetheart," his distorted voice rang in your ears as his movements stopped.

"oh, well, that's good," you said softly, placing your hand over his and pulling it away from your chest. "but i have another problem now."

"yeah?" he questioned as he watched you take his glove off, carefully stuffing it into his jacket pocket. "what's that?"

you silently led his hand down to your soaked panties and he let out a chuckle. "oh, i see. that is a problem."

"can you fix it?" you asked, letting out a moan as his fingers had already gone to work.

"i can certainly try."

while his fingers worked at rubbing you over your panties, his gloved hand made its way to the breast he had neglected earlier. you whined softly as you rubbed back against him while rutting against his fingers. eventually, your panties were so wet to the point where he might as well have been touching you directly, which prompted him to get them off of you. it took some maneuvering but he eventually got them off and he kindly tossed them into the hamper before continuing.

he teased you first, ghosting his fingers over your outer lips and slit before spreading you open. he repeated this motion a few times, making you whine in frustration. once he was satisfied he slipped his middle finger between your folds, softly rubbing you. you took matters into your hands and started rubbing yourself against his finger, desperately wanting more. the more you moved, the less pressure he applied.

"stop it," he finally said, his voice firm. you pouted, complying with his request and quickly being rewarded. he teased your clit right before gently dipping two fingers inside of you, making you moan out in surprise. he began pumping them in and out of you, bringing your juices back up to your swollen clit.

your back arched, surprised at how sensitive you were. it was a little embarrassing, actually. jason clearly didn't care, continuing to exploit your sensitivity and get more pretty moans to fall from your lips. not being able to sit still any longer. your hips began bucking again. jason let you move for a little while before removing his hand completely.

"i think i might be making your problem worse," he teased, palming himself over his pants. "and causing one for myself."

you heard the clanking of him fiddling with his belt buckle and you turned around to help. you quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, giving him the space he needed to pull out his hard cock through the opening. you dipped your fingers into your wetness, using it to help slick his cock, focusing on the head. you started stroking him with both hands, one firmly gripping the base while the other was teasing the head.

jason's moans encouraged you to move faster. he moved his fingers to your lips, making you taste yourself while you stroked him. you sucked on his fingers, closing your eyes as you moved both hands to the tip of his cock. he pulled his fingers away and you let them go with a pop, making him sigh deeply.

"i have to fuck you now. right now," he said seriously, stroking himself in front of you. "i hope your boyfriend doesn't mind."

"i'm sure he will," you said honestly, giving jason a lazy smile. you turned around on all fours, bending to with your chest pressed against the mattress and your ass in the air. you felt him lining himself up with your entrance and you braced yourself for the initial stretch. you gripped the sheets tightly as he pushed gently himself in. he slipped in easily, thanks to your seemingly infinite wetness.

you felt him press his fingertips on lower back, making you sink down so your hips were against the bed. that was when he tightly gripped them and began fucking you from behind. he rolled his hips into you, his movements slow and deep initially before he picked up the pace.

"you're so tight around me," he praised you, moving his hands to grip your ass.

each thrust was met with a moan from you. you were still very sensitive and it was starting to effect your entire body. jason's shameless fucking wasn't helping. he took a moment to remove his other glove, putting it in his pocket before dragging his hands up your sides, thumbs pressed into your back for better balance and access.

eventually he flipped you over, watching your now exposed breasts bounce while he rolled his hips into yours. you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel him deeper inside of you. he obliged, snapping his hips faster and pushing himself deeper.

"you like being fucked by me?" he asked between thrusts.

you nodded sloppily, gasping softly each time his hips slammed back into you. "y-yes. i love being fucked by you, red hood."

the room was filled with a symphony of your shared moans, along with other lewd noises. you weren't sure how much longer you would last with jason's nonstop thrusting. you felt your leg starting to cramp up and give out, the sensations of pain and pleasure starting to blend together to the point where it almost felt good.

"i'm getting close, baby," jason panted, finally slowing down. he rubbed circles into your hips, looking at your blissed out form below him. "so fucking close."

"please, keep going," you begged him, rolling your hips with his slow movements. "i'm almost there."

jason picked you up, taking you back to the chair. he sat down and wrapped his arms around your waist before harshly bucking his hips upward, hitting your sweet spot. you let out a loud string of moans and whines, using the arms of the chair as support as you tried to match jason's wild hip movements. you could feel your release coming, the pressure that had built up inside of you ready to dissipate.

"i'm gonna cum," you choked out, prompting jason to hit you with deep and deliberate thrusts, finally pushing you over the edge. you clenched tightly around him, feeling his cum spill inside of you while you both rode out your highs.

the both of you took a moment to catch your breath, bodies tingling in the afterglow. you felt like you were gonna pass out at any second, but not before you saw jason's face. you refused to lose consciousness before then. you reached out, hands caressing his helmet. you heard a click and sharp hiss, talking it off of jason's head.

"there he is," you said sleepily, setting the helmet on the dresser beside you. you carefully peeled off his domino mask next, tossing it next to the helmet. "my jason."

jason's cheeks were flushed and his sweaty hair was stuck to his forehead. his eyes were shining, just like you had hoped they would. he gave you a lopsided grin, leaning in to finally give you a soft kiss. "i can't believe you cheated on me with red hood."

“the real cheating was when you tickled me,” you laughed against his lips, stealing another kiss as you held his face in your hands. "can you blame me, though? he's really sexy."

"given the opportunity, i would fuck red hood, too," he admitted jokingly, peppering kisses on your cheeks and down your neck. "sorry for scaring you. i didn't mean to."

you looked at him with a worried expression, recalling the events that got you to this place to begin with. you pushed his hair back from his forehead, carding your fingers through his locks. "are you alright? did you have a rough night?"

jason sighed before nodding softly. "yeah, kinda. but i'm alright now."

"we can talk about it. only if you want to," you offered and he shook his head, giving you another kiss.

"tomorrow," he compromised, slowly standing up with you attached to him like a koala. "we need to get cleaned up and go to sleep."

"i had that handled until you came along," you teased him as he headed for the bathroom. "but alright. sounds good to me."

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.  

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart. 

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.  

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would. 

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up.  The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become? 

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.  

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that. 

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room. 

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way. 

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!  

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend* 

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron. 

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck. 

Lying Is Forbidden 

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.) 

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q:  Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month? 

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues. 

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family. 

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude. 

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal. 

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge. 

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure. 

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing. 

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him.  This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on. 

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her.  He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you.  Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for. 

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him. 

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return. 

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed. 

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up. 

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood. 

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him. 

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation. 

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack. 

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them.  I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.  

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price. 

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him. 

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants. 

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Hellooo,

I would love to see your take on Tenzin acting jealous when he sees Lin subtly flirting with someone else some time after their break-up, realising he might not be completely over his feelings for her, even though he already plans to marry Pema.

Hope you have some fun with this :)

Hmm… here’s my take on that prompt. 🤔 Not sure it worked well but here you go.

---

  To the common Republic City citizen, they were simply standing side by side each other. A man and a woman making their way around the room, greeting, and conversing with people. There was nothing untoward about it.

Except, there was.

“Remove your frown, dear. It ruins the charming picture.” His date to the event whispered from his side, while he himself hooked her arm around his.

“I’m not frowning.” Tenzin responded, frowning down at Pema.

“Sure, you aren’t.” Pema placated him with a smile. It was obvious to him she was humoring him. “We’ve come this far and this long – don’t make it for naught.”

There was some wisdom in what his fiancée was saying but – his eyes continued to follow a certain earthbender around the room – it was an impulse at this point.

There she was – in her blue ankle length dress that shimmered under the ballroom’s light due to its silvery embroidery – looking all too pleased with that visiting envoy beside her. Even as Pema guided him to their table, Tenzin was able to track where Lin Beifong was. At present, the pair (Tenzin refused to call them a couple) was talking to one of the local businessmen.

What caught his attention was not what they were doing but what Lin was not doing.

The envoy’s arm was lightly draped over Lin’s shoulder and Lin was not even shrugging it off.

The man would occasionally dip his head closer to Lin’s ear and whisper to her. It did not seem to bother her either. Instead, she would quirk the corner of her lips, a sure sign of pleasure – and not the feigned kind either.

Pema tapped his arm after they have been served drinks, excusing herself to bring their donation envelopes to one of the main tables to submit them to the event organizer.

He nodded absentmindedly, stirring the ice in his drink before resuming his quiet observation of his former partner.

Lin and the envoy had made their way to the tables at the opposite end of the room, being stopped occasionally by people who engaged them in conversation.

Tenzin moved seats at the still empty table so he could see them more clearly. It did occur to him he was behaving crudely and oddly. Nonetheless, he could not find it in himself to care about common pleasantries or etiquette. There was too much on the line.

Meanwhile, Lin was oblivious to his presence.

To a common observer, she was all proper and even maybe stiff.

Tenzin was no common observer.

He saw the gentle touches to the arm of the man, the inclining of her head as she paid attention to what he was saying, the expression on her face that could mean she was biting her cheek in amusement.

She was enjoying the man’s company.

---

The rest of the dinner was tolerable.

Pema and he were joined by two more pairs – a pair of colleagues and a husband and wife. The conversation was mundane at best though the food made up well for it.

At least, that was the consensus around the table. He would have to take their word for it. He did not particularly pay attention to the multi-course meal the charity dinner offered.

---

There was a lull in the conversation when the program that was on-going winded down. And the guests started to leave their tables and mingle.

Pema took the opportunity to excuse herself to go to the powder room before they left. The tablemates likewise excused themselves to join some of their co-workers and family.

Tenzin saw the blue-clad earthbender wander off to one of the outdoor alcoves, detaching herself from her present company.

He left his table to follow her without any form of hesitation.

---

Even if Lin had her back towards him, he saw by the tensing of her shoulders that she recognized his presence.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you see that man – he was taking advantage of you.” Tenzin asked and stated without preamble.

“That was cute when we were together.” Lin turned to face him, arms crossed. “Now, it’s just inappropriate.”

“Cute? You’re calling me cute?”

“Were. Note the past tense.” She faced the outdoors once again, leaning on the balustrade, a picture of nonchalance. “Figures that’s what you got out of that.”

“He’s flirting with you.” He did not know why he said it (or he did but he did not want to explore that). “That’s not good for the optics.” He knew just how to bait her, he wanted to draw her attention back to him. He waited for her to deny his claims.

But she didn’t.

“And what is it to you?”

So she did enjoy the man's attentions. Tenzin hoped he was mistaken earlier but apparently not.

“Lin, please – I – it’s not serious, is it?”

“Isn’t that rich coming from you? You’re the one who is engaged.” Her bright eyes flashed at him, the eyebrows furrowing in barely hidden anger.

Tenzin maintained eye contact, pursing his lips as he decided how to respond.

He could have told her about how the White Lotus had been on his case about marriage.

How he had tried to shield her from those pressures as much as he could.

How the White Lotus was not only adamant about securing him in matrimony but also ensuring that his bride would be well enough to carry an heir to term within their first year of marriage. Never mind that said potential bride might have her own life plans and her own decision asked on the matter.

How he had drawn the line at the archaic organization at summoning her to take medical tests to prove her viability.

How he had circumvented the threats that he knew were about to arrive and ruin both of their careers and reputation. He knew how important being part of the metalbending police is to Lin. He did not want her to have to make a decision.

How he had concocted a plan with his mother and several trust-worthy acolytes to feign an engagement to an acceptable woman to bide them some time while he sought to find a loophole in the scrolls and documents relating to the White Lotus (they could not be that powerful, can they as to meddle in Air Nomad culture?).

How he thought it was best to keep her out of the loop and had chosen her safety and security and thus breaking her heart.

And in turn breaking his own.

Instead, what he said was

“I hope he makes you happy.”

The surprise on Lin's face was unmistakable. He cringed inwardly. Had he been that of a boor that any well-meaning words from him was unimaginable?

---

Lin Beifong left the ballroom in the arms of the same envoy she was with.

He told himself it did not matter.

Who she decides to go home with or spend time with was of no consequence to him.

It did not matter.

But, it did.

 --‐------

Note: It kinda went on a somber route that I didn’t expect. What do you think though? I don’t think Lin would be the kind to outright do some obvious flirting..but that’s just my opinion :)

[angelanimedesaray]

Different Breeds Chapter 2:  Roadblocks and Detours

AN:  Yeah I got nothing for the notes.  Enjoy the chapter!

Characters:  Jockey!Levi, Horse Owner/Breeder!Reader, Isabel (Briefly/Mentioned), Mr. Forster, Sarah Annaheim, Armin, Trainer!Hange, Jockey!Mikasa, Eren, Jean, MANY HORSES.

Pairing:  Levi x Reader

Warnings:  Language, Financial Problems, Job Instability/Loss

Word Count:  5592

<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    

*Levi’s POV*

The door slammed shut behind him with enough force to make a vibration go through the car as Levi returned to his vehicle, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel in a tight grip as his teeth ground together.

Son of a bitch.  At least this fucker had enough decency to give him the news face to face while the last three or four had done it over the phone.

The past few days, instead of gaining jockey jobs like he normally did, Levi was losing them.  He hadn’t thought much of it with the two calls from potential jobs telling him he didn’t get the job, it happened, and considering his busy schedule, he usually didn’t mind when the occasional job went to someone else.  But then came the call from two jobs he already had and was a few months into telling him they had to let him go, without providing him any real kind of answer as to why.  Some bullshit about budget cuts--though at least one of them he knew was doing renovations to their stables, making them fancier, and they wouldn’t do that without making sure they could afford it first.

Again, bullshit.

Two potential jobs slipping by he could accept, but losing two already secured jobs at the same time without good reason meant something was going on, something he wasn’t privy to.

He opened his phone, scowling when he saw a voicemail from yet another employer.  He started the car while he played the voicemail, slowly operating the car one handed to maneuver out of the driveway and back to the road as he listened to what turned out to be more bad news.

These assholes had let him go in a damn voicemail.

He cursed, throwing the phone into the passenger’s seat with a few more muttered curses, a fist pressed against his lips as his eyes darted around his surroundings, keeping an eye on the road even though his mind was racing with what he should do.

He didn’t have a reason why this was happening yet, not solid evidence for it, anyway, but he had his suspicions, and it made him furious.  He was out three jobs and two potential jobs now.  If this continued, he was in trouble.

And instead of waiting for the bad news to come to him, he needed to start making some calls and visits of his own.  Those that were too busy or too far away to meet in person, he would call.  The rest, this called for personal visits, if he wanted to do this properly.  And if they were going to fire him, they were going to look him in the eyes and give him a damn good reason why, not pitiful excuses over the phone.

Muttering under his breath again, Levi retrieved his phone, scrolling through the contacts without really looking at them to get to his employers group in his phone, and starting at the top of the list and starting to make calls to people who were too far away to visit in person, while he mapped out the route to the next closest employer from the ranch he just left.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you, Levi.  But I promise, we turned Forster down, even after he tried throwing money at as.  We’ve known you long enough we knew the story he was spinning was a lie.  And he tried to buy us off when we didn’t believe it, which just made the truth more obvious.”

As grateful as he was for the honesty and the loyalty, Levi’s teeth were grinding together in anger to hear the confirmation of his suspicion.  He stared out over the training track, watching Loyal Larry--stupid name for a horse, in his opinion--as he was being put through his paces by Isabel, another jockey that the Annaheims worked with and a personal friend of Levi’s.

Apparently Forster’s pride had been stung when Levi quit the other day, and the man’s idea of getting even included going after Levi’s living and trying to freeze him out of any and all jockey positions so he couldn’t continue his way of living.  He was spreading the word to potential hires that he had a bad temper, that he’d gone off the rails, picked fights, and quit when Bird’s Wing went down on the track, couldn’t stand the blemish on his record, and he was more trouble than he was worth.  Those that he couldn’t convince with just words, he was apparently making more monetary arrangements in exchange for not working with Levi.  Maybe not straight up bribes of cash, but arrangements to get bumped up the priority list for a chance to breed with some of their star horses, or time with some of the top staff, or buying and selling of horses--there were more ways to bribe people than just with money.  Besmirching his name to people he didn’t work with yet, trying to convince people he did work with that he was trouble in the long run, citing a bit of the violence in his history as evidence to back his claims, bribing people...it was sickening.

“I appreciate it.  I just wish more people had the same sense you do,” Levi said in a low voice.  He’d already lost more jobs than he wanted to think about because of this.  He had more people firing him than keeping him.  He knew Forster had reach, but this was ridiculous--he hadn’t expected the impact to be this wide.  At least some people he worked for had the sense to say no, but how long before societal pressures made someone else fire him?  Upper class could be ruthless, from what he saw as an outside observer that brushed shoulders with them.

“Well, if you need more work to make up for any losses, I’m sure we can work something out,” Sarah Annaheim said, a hand outstretched to shake on it with Levi.  He accepted the handshake, but his gaze was following Isabel as she led one of the horses back to the trainer who’d been timing the horse’s speed, the two of them discussing the ride out of earshot.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want to cut into Isabel’s hours.  And so you have a heads up, I’m liable to knock Forster on his ass the next time I see him.”

Sarah chuckled, releasing his hand.  “I doubt it would help, but that would be good to see.  Are you making more of these kinds of visits today?”

“I am.  I need to figure out who Forster’s talked to, and give a warning to those he hasn’t.  And see what jobs I can keep.”

“We’ll be here.  The usual days, usual horses.  If you need more work we can work something out.”

Levi nodded, starting to turn away and giving Isabel a small nod of acknowledgement when they locked eyes before he made his way down the fine gravel path to where he parked the car.

It was going to be a rough few days before he could figure out where exactly this bullshit with Forster was going to end up.  Before he put into action any plan to make up for the jobs he’d lost, he was going to have to figure out where he stood financially.  If the damage was bad enough…

He’d worry about that when he got home.

It was dark outside by the time he got home, the house quiet as he sat alone at the kitchen table.  Spread in front of him was a couple sheets of paper, some with information like bills or income on it, one holding his notes on the math, a calculator glaring a number he did not like at him as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Forster had done far too much damage.  With all the jobs he'd lost, if he tried to make due with what he still had, he wasn't going to be able to maintain his current standard of living.  Things would get tight, and he'd have to start making some cuts.  The payments on the house and the utilities was enough to make him nervous when comparing it to the income he was left with.  He needed to try and get back some of his jobs, or get his foot in the door with people he hadn't contacted yet that Forster might not have sway over.  Of course, some of those options might be out of his league, the cream of the crop that probably wasn't looking for a jockey, but it was worth trying.  It was a long term goal he would have to work towards.  He could at least put out feelers, get his ear to the ground for possible jobs that might be opening up.  And there were a few places that came to mind he might be able to get some kind of work.

He had to make money somehow.

Normally, he raced in the bigger races, the higher stakes, bigger cash prize stuff, not the small leagues, the races where owners tested out horses or tried to make a quick buck.  But looking at where he was at financially thanks to Forster, he wasn't exactly in a position to be picky.  He had to take what he could get and be grateful.  If things eventually blew over, which he hoped they would, he could get some of his big league jobs back and probably drop some of the temporary small time work he was going to have to pick up to make ends meet in the meantime.

Well, unless he grew particularly attached to a job or two, he might keep some of the smaller gigs, then.  Maybe.  First he had to get the jobs before he considered repercussions like that.

And he knew just where to start.

"Hey there...seems like you’re doing okay.  Least your shits easier to deal with this way.”

Levi was currently talking in a quiet voice to Bird’s Wing in the same stables he’d been in the other day, hand gently brushing up the stallion’s neck and across his forehead.  True to her word, Y/N’s people had let him in to see Bird’s Wing when he’d arrived, the blond stable boy from before--Armin, if he remembered correctly--ran off to find and inform Y/N that Levi was here and wanted to talk to her.  While he waited, he was catching up with Bird’s Wing, seeing how he was doing.  So far it looked like more of the same--still suspended in that harness, though the stallion was staying still, looking around rather calmly while Levi spoke softly and petted the horse.  The stallion must be getting used to being suspended in the air by the harness by now, considering how calm he’d been from what Levi observed starting the moment Levi walked inside.

The horse snorted, turning his head slightly to nudge at Levi’s shoulder, coaxing a slight smile out of Levi as he leaned against the horse in turn.  He was glad the stallion got a second chance through Y/N--all of the racehorses deserved better than to be put down because of an owner’s stupidity.

“The surgery went well.  He’s on a good track to recovery, so far.  And it looks like he’s happy to see his riding partner,” came Y/N’s voice from the door to the stall.  Levi leaned back, looking over at her as he started to back away from the horse and move towards the stall door.  “I’m glad you decided to come back and visit, though...Armin said that you wanted to talk about something?”

“Are you still looking for another jockey?” Levi asked, cutting straight to the point.

Y/N blinked, giving him a curious look.  “Not...actively.  We really just need another jockey when the foals are born and grow enough to start getting ready for racing.  Well,” she added after catching the flash of disappointment in Levi’s eyes.  “We could always use some help, though.  We’ve got a horse or two that is going to make a tentative return to racing soon and I’m sure our current jockey would appreciate not having to take on more racing projects, and we could always use some help exercising the rehabilitated horses, or helping with the therapy horse sessions.  There’s work, even if it’s not always in races themselves.  Why, are you trying to apply right now?”

“I found myself with free time in my schedule.  If you don’t have any positions open--”

She held up a hand to stop him before he backed out after hearing she technically didn't, her hand gesturing for him to follow.  He hesitated, but did as she wordlessly asked, following beside her as she started to talk.

"You usually race in the big important stuff, right?  Breeder's Cup, Triple Crown races, important, renowned stuff like that?  Or you at least race for people with a lot of money that are aiming for those races, right?"  Levi nodded, but didn't give her anything else to work with, letting her sell the position she had in mind to him...even though he was going to take it either way cause he needed the money.

"Right now, we don't have any horses in those races or that I plan to put in those races.  Our main goal here is rehabilitation, but…"  she sighed.  "I won't lie, it’s difficult to keep this place afloat.  All the medical expenses, and it's far more common for the horses to be retired from racing after they recover or to return to their owners, than it is for them to be in good enough shape to race again, let alone in races as trying as those--and some of them get too old before they recover to try for, say, the Triple Crown."

"You're not doing a good job of selling me on the job," Levi said bluntly, and she came to a stop in front of the same two pregnant mare stalls she had brought him to before.

"What I'm saying is, in order to make sure this place doesn't slide into irreversible debt and go belly up, I'm aiming to change that.  I'm going to start investing more in races.  And not just your standard round the track Triple Crown races.  Endurance races.  Cross country.  Short distance, long.  Maybe even go international.  There's more than just Thoroughbreds on this farm.  I adopt mustangs when they put the wild horses up for sale when they're trying to control overpopulation--and I've gotten a few young horses that show promise for endurance racing.  I've already told you one of the foals from these two mares is going to be a good racer, it's what brought you in.  Heaven knows I want to get a few Arabian breed horses and get into Arabian horse races.  Some of it is a little ways off, some we just need to train the horses, others we need to get our hands on the horses in the first place.  The work may be small and little league at first, nothing like you've been racing, and you may have to help with training, rehabilitation,  and the therapy horses and the like for a while,, but...there is a future if you come in now.  A lucrative one, maybe, if some of these foals turn out as promising as I think they will.  Maybe we'll even reach the point where you're too busy racing to be helping with the training of new foals or rehabilitation of old ones.  You'll definitely wear multiple rider hats to start, maybe it could broaden your horizons, keep your life interesting and new.  And considering the main heart of the farm, you're not going to have to worry about us doing something like Forster.  We take care of our horses.  And if one's injured, you can bet they'll be taken care of."

Levi appraised her for a moment.  He wasn't much of an endurance or cross country jockey, but he could learn, if that's what it took to make ends meet.  And it would certainly keep things interesting.  Though personally he would prefer to stick with his usual round the field in the dirt ring horse racing if he could.

But again, ends needed to be met.

"What about winnings for races? What percentage would I get?" Levi asked, staring her down.  This could honestly sway his resolve to take the job--if he was going to make shit money, then he couldn't take something that would take so much time.  He had a living to earn.

"Let's see, for races...on average, the jockey gets about ten percent.  We are trying to make enough to pay for a lot of upkeep and expenses...what's the share I'm giving Historia and Mikasa right now…"  she pursed her lips, walking slowly out of the stables and craning her head up towards the sky.  "Twelve for the little leagues.  Big leagues, we'll talk more fifteen...maybe twenty."

Levi's eyebrows rose.  That was actually generous of her.  Sometimes jockeys only made say $50 a race they didn't win--hence why he nearly panicked with all the jobs he was losing thanks to Forster.  With the usual ten percent average, he'd only get a thousand from a ten thousand winning pot.  It would make a difference to make a little more, even by two percent, and big league races, races with bigger pots mean bigger earnings even at a regular ten percent, and she was offering him a bigger cut to go with it?

Thankfully he didn't have to worry about agent or valet fees coming out of his earnings.  Clearly he found jobs himself and didn't use an agent to do that part for him--he liked to feel people out himself, and either he didn't trust anyone else to clean the tack and such besides him, or the owners of the horses he rode already had valet’s assigned to the horse so he didn't have to worry about it.

"What about how often?  This won't be my only job," Levi said smoothly, refusing to give her a revealing reaction about that share of winnings she'd dangled in front of him.  She certainly knew how to give incentive to win in the races.

"Naturally.  Well, I assume you do a lot of racing for other owners, so maybe two days a week?  I'm sure you'll fit us into your race schedule like anyone else on race days, but besides that, weekly, two days would be fine.  Come in the morning, help the horses train and rehabilitate, get their morning exercise in.  We’ll try you with some of the horses that will be racing that need a constant jockey, instead of switching between the two we have.  One of those two days, if you’re alright with it, will be when we have our therapy sessions with the horses.  It’s always helpful to have an extra hand to help out.  It’s about 115 to 300 a session for each person, which you’d get a part of, of course.  Whenever we sell a foal, if you’ve helped in raising it and getting it ready for sale, you’ll get a part of the money we make from selling it.  Basically, if you put in work somewhere, you’ll get money back for it.  If you want to put in more than two days, that’s your choice--it’s your schedule you’ll have to work around, but I’m sure if you show up outside the usual two days, we can find something for you to do.”

It sounded like a good deal--especially with how much he was hurting for work right now.  She had plenty of different ways for him to earn money here, and two days of the week was manageable--not to mention she was willing to work with his schedule to give him more opportunities to earn.  He was probably going to be doing work in the mornings and midday here, from the sounds of it, which meant he could probably do more work elsewhere in the evenings on the same days.

Long story short, he could make this work easily.  It was a good opportunity that could help him make ends meet until doors started opening again and Forster forgot his pettiness over Levi in favor of his spite for someone else. Even then, he could slowly transition from the odd jobs he picked up here to make ends meet, back to his old work as opportunities started coming back in.

“Before you make any decisions, do you want to meet some of the staff and horses you’d be working with?” Y/N asked after a few moments of silence between the two of them.

He supposed that would factor into how much he would want to be here--if he could stomach the others enough to take those extra hours.  With a small nod from Levi, Y/N gave him a slight smile and started leading the way again.

“You don’t talk much, do you?  Doesn’t matter, we’ve got quiet types and...very talkative types here.  You’re either going to be around like minded company who are just as quiet, or around people who are all too happy to do the talking themselves if they have to.”

“Like you?”

Y/N chuckled, guiding him further along to another stable, where he could see more people were moving around inside, a few horses being led out the doors towards one of the open fields by people in riding gear and work clothes.  He saw the boy from earlier, Armin, leading a cream coated horse with one white sock and light brown legs to the pasture as he talked to a young woman in full riding gear with long black hair and grey eyes, both of them giving him curious looks as he and Y/N passed them, heading into the stables.

“That was Mikasa with Armin--she’s one of our jockeys.  I’d introduce you, but it looks like they’re taking Treasure’s Truth out for a bit of exercise--she’s wrapping up her recovery and should be involved in some therapy work soon, so you might work with her a little bit.  The mare, I mean.  Mikasa’s a bit of a keep to herself type, too, so interactions with her would be up to you.”

“Do I see fresh meat, Y/N?!” came a new voice that was far too excited for his taste, a brunette with glasses in clothes that were covered in dirt and hay from the stables bounding up to them with a gleam in her eyes.  “He looks like a jockey--you were talking about hiring another jockey.  Wait, this is the one who you said might come by to visit Bird’s Wing, am I right?”

Levi leaned back from the woman, a little overwhelmed by the raw...energy she was exuding, but Y/N seemed unfazed.  This was probably normal for the woman.  Great.

“Don’t scare him off, Hange, he hasn’t agreed to anything yet,” she said calmly with a hand held out in an obvious ‘calm down’ gesture before she gestured between the two.  “Levi, meet Hange, she’s our current trainer, which means you’ll be seeing a lot of her.  And yes, Hange, we’re currently talking about Levi potentially becoming one of our jockeys and helping around the ranch.”

“I’m sure the kids would love having some extra help.  Speaking of, Eren got kicked by Jean again a few minutes ago, by the way, so he’s in a foul mood.”

“Jean as in the hired hand, or Jean as in Jean’s Jacket, the horse?  Both are likely to have kicked him.”

“The horse.”

“Well, he probably deserved it.  Tell him to take a fifteen and then let the horses out into the grazing pasture.”

“Will do.  Hey, if you end up hiring another jockey...any chance you might hire another trainer, too?” Hange asked in a conspiratorial yet also pleading tone.  “Or at least an assistant.”

“I’m looking, Hange, I promise, you’ll have some help, soon.”

“I’m holding you to that.  Anyway, I need to go watch Mikasa do a few laps with Treasure, I’ll see you later.  Nice meeting you, Levi, I hope we’ll see more of you in the future,” Hange told him with a big grin before she left the stable to go look for the Eren that had been mentioned.

“Seems like a lively place,” Levi commented, following Y/N deeper into the stables.

“Well, there’s a lot going on.  We have more horses in an almost recovered stage than we do recovering like Bird’s Wing, right now, so there’s a lot of work to be done with them.  And we have a couple horses that Hange is hard at work getting race ready.  Like…”  She came to a stop in front of a stall and let out a low whistle, which brought the stallion inside to the front door, head poking out with a soft snort.  Y/N went to the door, pulling a bridle off the wall and starting to fit it over the horse’s head.  Right now, all Levi could see was the white stripe snip on a pale grey face with dark brown eyes, though the neck seemed to turn pure white with grey spots spattered across the coat, a grey and white mane a little long and perhaps in need of a cut.

“This here...is Ember Rain.  You might have heard about him.”

Recognition sparked in Levi’s eyes.  “He got a career ending injury just before a race, during morning exercises, right?”

“Well, that’s what they thought.  But Ember here has made a full recovery.  As long as he’s taken care of, he can still race.  And I’m sure we both know he’s not a little league racer,” Y/N said conspiratorially, attaching the lead and opening the stall to bring Ember Rain out for Levi to get a good look at him.

Now that he saw the whole coat, he could see the horse looked like a pure white horse that had a can of watered down black paint thrown on him, spatters of black and grey in random places, except for the one almost all black leg save for a small white sock and a few white spots before halfway up the shoulder the black faded to black and then gave way to white again.  A twin leopard coat--and a beautiful one at that, especially when kept clean so it shone like this.  A light grey mane flicked proudly through the air as he was brought out in front of him, Levi’s eyes evaluating the muscles and the strong legs, the way the horse carried himself.  He wasn’t a vet or a trainer, but he’d been around enough horses to have a decent sense for a good racer when he saw one.

“He’s a bit proud and stubborn--he’s picky about who he lets near him.  He won’t let Historia or Mikasa ride him, unfortunately, no matter how much we try, so maybe…”

“You’re hoping he lets me ride him?” Levi asked, starting a slow walk around the horse.  The stallion's dark brown eyes followed him, head turning, not letting Levi out of his sight as he circled and appraised the stallion.  Y/N stayed at his head, holding firmly onto the lead and looking rather content as she let Levi do his thing.

“I don’t expect he will right away, but it’s worth a shot.  And he’d be in the races your used to, eventually, which I figured you might appreciate.  Eventually, of course.  Hange is still trying to train him back up to where he was, which is difficult without a jockey, so he’s going to need a bit more time to adjust, but there’s other, smaller league horses that you could ride in the meantime.  Race-wise, I mean.”

“But he’s the one you’d like me to focus on,” Levi asked, keeping a distance for now and not yet trying to pet the stallion or anything.

“For now.  We’ll have at least one more big leagues racer from those mares in the other barn, and you never know what will happen in the future.  I have some nice breeding IOU’s I’ve been itching to use that I might be able to start cashing in on with Ember Rain here...and whichever foal we keep when the mares give birth.”  She paused in her discussion for a moment, gently rubbing Ember’s muzzle with a faint smile.  “How do you feel about endurance racing, Levi?”

“Haven’t done it before,” Levi said bluntly, gaze still appraising the horse in front of him, trying to get a good sense of what the horse might be thinking about him.

“Are you willing to give it a try if I show you the most promising endurance horse I’ve got?” she asked him.  It sounded like she was eager to share a secret, like she was bursting at the seams wanting to share this great horse with someone.

Well, he was desperate for money.  And endurance racing was another way to do that, even if it wasn’t what he was used to.

“Maybe,” he said non committedly, and Y/N held out the lead on Ember Rain for him to take.  Surprised, and even a little reluctant in case the horse decided he didn’t like Levi, he took the lead, keeping a firm grip despite his hesitance.  Ember snorted and pawed at the ground tossing his head as if in disapproval, but when Y/N and Levi started to walk, the stallion followed, even if it was with a loud snort and after a pull or two from Levi.

“How many stables do you have in this place?” Levi asked as she started to lead him deeper into the property towards yet another barn.

“Well, we have the stables for the recovering, injured, and pregnant horses, we have our good health stables for our racers and breeding horses--that was the one we were just in, and it’s actually the biggest.  Our second biggest stable is the one we’re going to now.  It’s where we keep the mustangs.”

Levi glanced at her.  “Your promising endurance horse is a mustang?”

“Nothing wrong with that.  Just wait until you see her.”

When she’d mentioned she adopted mustangs when they went up for sale during the population cull, he hadn’t been expecting her to have a stable full of them.  Maybe a couple stalls, but here she was telling him she had stables for specifically the mustangs.

Instead of walking into the stables themselves, she directed them towards the fence.  Once there, Levi realized there actually weren’t a terribly large amount of wild horses running around in the large enclosure they were now overlooking.  Quite a few, but not a stable full, for sure.  He’d jumped to conclusions there for a second.

A couple looked like they were foals, which he quickly ruled out as the one she wanted to show him, his gaze roaming over the small pack that for the most part seemed to be running together.  Behind him, Ember pawed impatiently at the ground.

Y/N pointed out into the enclosure after a few moments.  “See the black appaloosa with the grey and white blanket?”

Levi followed her pointing finger, and there at the front of the pack, a few leagues in front of it, was the horse she’d just described, one that was notably faster than the others and seemed to be maintaining that pace and high energy as she raced around the enclosure, making turns around trees and jumping over a creek that cut through the open field with ease.  They watched her for several minutes before she slowed down, and even then, she didn’t seem to lose that energy, which could be observed even at this distance.

Seemed promising.  He was in no way an expert, but Y/N seemed to think she was sitting on a prize horse.  Well, more than one.  He would have asked why she hadn’t entered bigger stakes races yet, but she’d sort of already answered that for him.  She was waiting for the right team.  She needed a jockey used to bigger races, it sounded like her trainer needed some help, and the horses themselves needed trained and prepared for those races.

Again, it sounded like there was plenty of work for him to find here.  He was still going to make a few calls and try to get some other jobs as well, since this couldn’t entirely make up what he’d lost in the Forster fallout, but...it seemed like a damn good start.  And there was promise here, if he decided to stick around or if the Forster problem continued longer than expected.

And it was a guaranteed job, because even if he didn’t know much about Y/N, he knew enough to know she wasn’t going to cave into pressure he might try to put on her to drop Levi.  Especially since she’d been there that day and knew what happened.

Levi looked away from the mustang she’d pointed out to him and back to Ember Rain, who seemed to be staring at him intently from behind.  Levi turned all the way around, facing the stallion fully and very carefully reaching out with a hand to lightly touch the horse’s muzzle, sliding his hand gently up the horse’s forehead when he was successful touching the stallion’s muzzle.

Yeah...there was some promise around here.

“When do you want me to start?”

Everything Tags:  @antisteller​​

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn​​ @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus​​ @sunny-flo​​ @thirstyforsometea​​ @hauntedhousecat​​ @peaches-and-clouds​​ @queenofcurse​​ @wubbawubwub04​​ @lollobos @pasteldays​​ @xcocolinox​​ @itsmeaudrieee​​ @macaronnv​​ @tokyo-banana​​ @apuci-kis-szornye​​

Different Breeds Tags:  @french-girl-online​  @mysteriousmagicx​ @classyunknownlover​​ 

[robininthelabyrinth]

I love your story with LW and JC raising LS! Do you plan on writing more?

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2

-

“So, I have a problem,” Jiang Cheng said, bursting into the room.

Sometimes Lan Wangji wondered if Jiang Cheng had ever heard of any other way to enter a room. Through the window, perhaps, since clearly walking wasn’t seen as a valid alternative.

“Just one?” he asked, not looking up from where he was repositioning A-Yuan’s hand on the guqin.

“No, I – hey!”

A-Yuan giggled, and that made Jin Ling, currently nestled in blankets next to the guqin, giggle as well, and predictably, Jiang Cheng forgot all else in front of such adorableness, immediately crouching down to make faces at Jin Ling.

“Your problem?” Lan Wangji prompted after a few moments.

“Ah..? Oh! Yes. Remember how I got into a fight with – what’s his name, that idiot?”

Lan Wangji pointedly remained silent. Jiang Cheng got into any number of fights, given his temper, and those were only the ones he told Lan Wangji about – and he wasn’t always reliable on that score, either.

The doctor that came to visit every week was not given to gossip, as Jiang Cheng had promised, but his assistant who waited outside the door, never entering, sometimes said things.

Disturbing things, sometimes.

Lan Wangji had not yet found a way to ask Jiang Cheng if he really did capture and torture demonic cultivators to death – mostly because he didn’t know what he’d do if the answer was ‘yes’.

He knew Jiang Cheng believed that Wei Wuxian had been corrupted by demonic cultivation into something unrecognizable, that he believed it was his own fault for not having stopped him sooner, that he thought it was his responsibility to stop demonic cultivators before other innocent people suffered the way he had because of Wei Wuxian; he knew that Jiang Cheng both longed and feared any success in finding Wei Wuxian’s spirit, wanting desperately to have any hint of him again and yet terrified by the possibility that it had been Wei Wuxian, in the end, that had destroyed him utterly. There were many flaws in his thinking, but without that defense mechanism, Jiang Cheng’s psyche would collapse.

When Jiang Cheng was a little steadier, he’d bring it up, Lan Wangji promised himself. When things were a little calmer. 

Soon.

“Right, right, I fight with too many to count,” Jiang Cheng said, grimacing. The expression made Jin Ling giggle again, as if it had been made to amuse him, and that lifted Jiang Cheng’s mood a little. “The one who called me a filthy cutsleeve that shouldn’t be allowed around children.”

Lan Wangji remembered. Even if Jiang Cheng hadn’t told him, A-Yuan would have: he’d been full of excitement at how Jiang Cheng had foregone even whipping the man with Zidian and just punched him full in the face with a fist full of purple sparks. And then there’d been some kicking, according to A-Yuan, and a great deal of shouting about how people who abused children were people who abused children and that being a monster had nothing at all to do with anyone’s preferences in bed.

That poor man – he might have escaped with fewer broken bones if his timing hadn’t been so bad. That confrontation had taken place just after Lan Wangji had finally confessed aloud that his feelings about Wei Wuxian were, in fact, of a romantic nature. Amusingly enough, Jiang Cheng had not guessed it – he’d spluttered and waved his hands and said really?! at least six times – which in retrospect was in line with his general level of obliviousness. After he’d finally realized Lan Wangji was serious, though, he’d responded well enough: he hadn’t said a word about cutsleeves or anything like that, not a single word. Instead, he’d immediately leapt into criticizing Lan Wangji’s poor taste in men, claiming that actually living with Wei Wuxian would have driven him mad within weeks.

He hadn’t said that Lan Wangji could do better, though. They both knew that that was impossible.

“I remember.”

“Well, all sorts of rumors got started after that – no, don’t look at me like that, I told you that I don’t care one way or another! I don’t even want a wife right now; could I even handle having a wife the way I am now, more nightmares than sleep and no ability to control my temper?”

Lan Wangji shrugged and continued to strum the guqin in a repetitive motion, demonstrating to A-Yuan. Jiang Cheng would remember to get to the point eventually.

“Anyway. Rumors. People have started – asking.”

Lan Wangji’s hands paused. “You’ve been propositioned?”

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but dealing with propositions from men is the same as from women; you just glare until they go away –”

Sometimes Lan Wangji felt certain that Jiang Cheng would never find a wife.

After all, one would have to put up with him long enough to find the tolerable parts buried deep (deep) under all the prickliness and bad temper, and that was a task fit only for the inhumanly patient.

“– and anyway, no, I meant…someone asked me for help.”

Lan Wangji finally turned his head to look at him. “Help?”

Jiang Cheng sat down next to him. “Jin Guangshan’s bastard, the new one – Mo Xuanyu. He came to me during one of the conferences recently. He’s…he’s not fit for Lanling.”

Lan Wangji frowned.

“He’s getting bullied at Koi Tower, and pretty badly, too,” Jiang Cheng said. “He gave me some examples. Nothing truly intolerable in isolation, but when you put it all together…He’s very weak. Sensitive.”

“And he approached you?”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng said, long-suffering. “What’s the point of being infamously bad-tempered if people still approach you to ask for things…? He said that he trusts me because he thinks I’m, you know, like him.”

“A cutsleeve?”

“Exactly. It’s not looked on favorably in Lanling, to say the least.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish we were all like Qinghe. I’m pretty sure if Nie Huaisang announced that he was marrying a sentient rosebush, Chifeng-zun’s primary concern would be how good its saber skills were.”

Lan Wangji felt a similar pang. His own sect elders, at Gusu, were not especially favorable to the idea either – Lan Xichen had long ago warned him that he would need to keep his inclinations to himself and that, if he ever found a partner, it would be best if the two of them could maintain low profile, pretending as much as possible to be merely brothers or close friends.

He’d thought that had all sounded quite reasonable, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, and little by little the idea of denying the way he felt had become utterly repulsive to him.

“Anyway, I feel like I should do something? But I can’t interfere with anything in Lanling, you know that.”

Lan Wangji knew. Matters between the Jiang sect and the Jin sect remained highly precarious. Jiang Cheng’s agreement not to marry or have children had maintained the alliance between them, but there was always the looming pressure that they could one day revoke the agreement and reclaim Jin Ling – perhaps even going so far as to bar them from seeing him again.

It was one of Jiang Cheng’s many nightmares.

“I can’t not do something,” Jiang Cheng was saying, waving his hands, and that was sign enough that whatever Mo Xuanyu had told him had made an impact. Normally if something touched on Jiang Cheng’s bottom line – Lanling and its threats – he stopped thinking about it immediately. “If this isn’t stopped, it’ll only get worse and worse, and the kid’s unstable as it is…I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed himself. Maybe not immediately, maybe not for years and years, but – one day.”

The Lan sect prioritized the preservation of human life over all else.

Lan Wangji considered his options.

“But then we get back to the fact that it’s Lanling. It’d be one thing if he were a nobody, but he’s Jin Guangshan’s son – I probably wouldn’t even be able to get near him, usually –”

“Brother could.”

Jiang Cheng twisted to look at him. “What?”

“Brother could,” Lan Wangji said. “He is sworn brothers with Lianfeng-zun; he has an entry token into Lanling and is familiar with much of Koi Tower.”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “And this helps me…how? I don’t think even Zewu-jun, however kind, would make trouble over a second-hand story that’s not even objectively that bad.”

“He would believe me.”

Jiang Cheng went quiet for a moment, and there was nothing but the innocent plinking of A-Yuan’s fingers on the guqin.

“This had better not be one of your attempts at self-sacrifice,” he finally said. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to – especially for Mo Xuanyu, of all people, you don’t even know him – ”

“I am ready,” Lan Wangji said, and Jiang Cheng looked abruptly stricken. Lan Wangji didn’t understand why until he saw the way Jiang Cheng’s eyes flickered towards A-Yuan, then away, and then back again – as if he were simultaneously trying to memorize his features and also distance himself. “To speak with him only. I will not return to the Cloud Recesses at this time.”

Jiang Cheng gave a guilty start. “Really? You know you don’t have to –”

“I have decided,” Lan Wangji said simply.

Jiang Cheng rubbed his nose. “Well, good,” he said, not looking at Lan Wangji. “It’s better for A-Yuan to get a good grounding in the basics in one place before you move him around. You can always reconsider later, when he’s older.”

Lan Wangji hummed in agreement and looked back down at the guqin. “You may choose how to tell him.”

“Wait, what? Me?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking appropriately horrified by the idea. “Are you crazy? You remember that I have only the most passing familiarity with tact, right?”

“It will probably be better that way,” Lan Wangji said, and even mostly believed it. A letter would be too impersonal, a passed-along message almost certain to get garbled – he had never been eloquent in his terseness.

Jiang Cheng, however tactless, would at least be able to offer some context.

Besides, Jiang Cheng’s inevitable rant about the Lan sect’s mistreatment of Lan Wangji would likely take up several minutes, giving Lan Xichen time to recover from the shock and for his mixed emotions to settle into joy at finding Lan Wangji again. He had made his brother suffer, he knew, and he would have to explain himself and account for that – but enough time had passed, time spent here in the room where his beloved had lived, where they might have lived together if the world had been different, that Lan Wangji felt that he could do it without fear.

He was fairly sure Lan Xichen would respect his request not to share his location with the rest of the sect, and accept his refusal to return – and if he didn’t, well, possession was nine-tenths of the law. It would be very difficult for them to force him to return through anything other than emotional pressure.

A-Yuan broke a string and yelped, making Jin Ling start fussing, and Jiang Cheng immediately panicked, all other thoughts forgotten, and even as he unfolded himself to go over and make peace, Lan Wangji thought to himself that there was enough here to make resisting that pressure worthwhile.

Besides – if it came right down to it, Lan Wangji suspected he would look quite well in purple.

[captainmarvels]

wicked games [25]

Summary: Time is frozen in place as shit hits the fan. Can this be undone? Or is it too late?

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: Swearing and infidelity; blackmail

Author’s Note: A NEW UPDATE!!!!! Sorry for the long wait but I hope this chapter is worth it! This chapter is also mainly from Harrison’s POV so I hope you enjoy! also: @rocketman-s​ is the alpha in this bitch

wicked games masterlist

The setting sun showered the living room in orange and pink hues. An empty wine glass sat alone on the coffee table, condensation dripping down the sides.

“What is taking them so long?” 

You were pacing back and forth in front of the TV, your footfalls thudding quietly against the hardwood floors. Mary was sitting on the couch, face in her hands.

“It does not take this long to get back from-”

“Patience, love. We’ll hear the elevator any second now, I’m sure-”

As if she had manifested the sound herself, the elevator bell announcing an arrival rang out through the silent apartment. 

You ran to the foyer, where you greeted with an all-too familiar smile.

“Darling,” Tom whispered as you ran into his arms, tears already streaming down your cheeks.

“I… It wasn’t me, I swear.” You managed to get out between the sobs racking your body. Your knees gave out as your emotions rolled over you, and Tom held onto you tightly as you both fell to the ground. 

“Shh, I know, love, I know…” His hands ran up and down your back, his touch drawing you back as you tried to control your breathing.

“Tom…” Harrison’s trembling voice echoed around you. 

Tom helped you to your feet, his hands never leaving you as he turned to look at his best friend.

The look they shared sent a shiver down your spine.

“You said you had some explaining to do. Well?” Tom’s grip was tight on your waist, the grimace on his face showing no remorse.

“Why don’t we make ourselves more comfortable before Haz’s confession, hm?” Mary was leaning against the wall, her gaze never straying from Tom as the three of you made your way to the living room. Tom let go as he paused in front of Mary. You could barely make what he said to her.

“Thank you. For being here when I couldn’t.” Mary simply shook her head, giving him a pat on the arm before she passed the threshold.

“Ready to confess to your sins, Osterfield?”

You followed her as she sat down on the couch, but Tom maintained his distance, opting to stand behind you as he glared at Harrison.

“Haz,” You said. “What’s going on?” 

Harrison wringed his hands, his gaze falling from Tom to the floor as he steadied his breathing. 

“I want… to preface this by saying, I didn’t think anything would come of it, I really didn’t.”

“Spit it out, already.” Tom said, venom lacing his words.

“Dom knows about you two. I… it slipped out a few weeks ago, but I never meant for anything to happen because of it, you have to believe me. I was convinced he had already figured it somehow and if he already knew, what was the harm in confirming it, right?” Sweat was beading up across Harrison’s forehead, his lips quivering as he met your gaze. 

You didn’t know what to think.

But you knew how he’d react. 

“Tom,” You whipped your head back, your hands grabbing his before he could move. The fury clouding his eyes was not a good sign. 

“Tom…” You whispered, your eyes threatening to well up. “Look at me.”

“Fucking…” He took a deep breath, his eyes falling to meet yours as his jaw clenched. “How could… how could you do this? You…” 

“Please,” Harrison whined. “You know me, mate. You know I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t…”

“That doesn’t make this hurt any less, Harrison. We promised him. Promised.”

Mary’s voice did not waver as she stared at her friend. But doubt clouded her gaze as she spoke.

“Nothing trumps that. And you know that better than anyone.”

“I know, Mary. But I can…” Harrison dropped his gaze to the floor once more, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket.

Tom’s hands were still in yours, and you refused to let him go, even when you heard Harrison walk away without another word.

“Don’t. Tom, please…” You cupped his face, his gaze protesting yours as you both heard the elevator doors open.

“I can’t... “ Tom whispered, a tear gracing his eyelashes. 

I can’t do this.

-------

Harrison’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel, his breathing shallow as he drove past the painstakingly familiar iron-wrought gates. His phone screen was lit up, texts from you and Mary filling up his notifications as he made his way down the winding driveway. Once he pulled up to the main door, he turned the engine off and ran an anxious hand through his hair.

I can fix this.

That’s what Harrison had wanted to say to Tom. But he couldn’t get the damn words off his tongue. 

I can fix this.

He would regret betraying Tom like this forever, but he knew he had to do this. It was long overdue.

The front door swung open as Harrison made his way up the stone steps, his hands growing clamier with every second. 

“Such an odd time for a visit. Didn’t think to call ahead, Osterfield?” Dom’s voice made Harrison wince as the door shut behind him. 

“Figured you would try and avoid me if I did. Best to be prepared,” He retorted, his voice wavering under pressure.

“And to what do I owe… the pleasure of your company?” Dom sneered, chuckling under his breath as Harrison began to fidget with his hands.

“You can’t keep doing this.” 

Dom’s gaze flitted up, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Keep doing what, exactly? Use your words, Harrison.” 

“You can’t keep fucking with Tom. You’ve done more than enough damage, as it is.”

“And who do you think you are to tell me what to do, hm? You think you can come into MY home and tell me-”

Pulling out his phone, Harrison stopped Dom right in his tracks as he flashed the screen at him.

“You seem to forget who receives all the company emails, and can see every staff member’s activity. These look familiar to you, sir?”

Harrison swiped through his email screenshots, a look of horror crossing over Dom’s features as he realized what he was looking at.

“How did-”

“It seems this… woman forgot to send these emails to your personal account, sir. There are quite a few… inappropriate messages and, well… certainly some not safe for work photographs attached as well, it appears.” Harrison pulled the phone out of Dom’s grasp as he met the man’s aggressive stare. “I wonder what Nikki would have to say about this…”

Dom was seething, and Harrison had never felt as powerful as he did in that moment.

“Very clever, Osterfield. Looks like you have picked up a thing or two from your time working with me.”

Listen to me, Dom. You and I both know what this will do to your marriage if Nikki finds out. But I can make it all disappear… if you do as I say.”

Dom moved to speak, but Harrison glared at him.

“I am still speaking. Tom is more than worthy of this company, and that shouldn’t even be something up for debate because he has proved himself over and over again, only for you to be a complete arse who took advantage of his emotionally unstable son with addiction issues. You could’ve helped him, but instead you used him, as if he were nothing more than a pawn in your game.” Harrison could feel the pent up anger starting to spill over as he continued.

“The boy needed to learn a lesson, Harrison. You’re not a father - you don’t know it’s like to see your child amount to nothing when you have given them everything! I needed to know he would take the situation seriously -”

“You are no father to him, Dom. You have been abusing and using Tom for years, and you want to claim that as parenting? All that you have put him through made him the way he is, but he is better now. Better than I’ve ever fucking seen him.”

“Don’t talk to me about my children-”

“Shut up, for Christ’s sake. I don’t need to hear your pathetic excuses. You already know what I have on you. Make sure the case is dropped and your ‘testimony’ is wiped from the record. And while we’re at it, I’m going to need you to rewrite the terms of Tom’s trust.”

Dom paled at Harrison’s words; sweat slowly rolling down his forehead as he stammered on his words.

“What about Tom’s trust?”

“Write yourself out of the terms. Terminate all conditions of the trust, and remove the company from the living trust’s properties. Tom wants the trust commandeered under his name. He is not a child, Dominic. And I will not allow you to continue ruining his life. You are done controlling him.”

“Those conditions are a fail-safe, and you know it just as well as I that Tom is not fit for CEO.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there. But, I believe in him. Besides - Tom has the full support of the board behind him,”

“The board knows?” Dom’s eyes widened at the news. “I haven’t spoken to them-”

Harrison smiled. “They were briefed on the situation this afternoon, behind closed doors. It’s in the by-laws, Dom. Should an interim CEO be declared without board approval, the board can deliberate and either support the interim, or have the replaced individual return, under their own conditions. You have no say on that. The twins were removed from company premises just after I arrived here, I believe” Harrison checked his watch, noting the hour before meeting Dom’s gaze of disbelief.

“You son of a-”

“Save the pleasantries for later. The board wants to meet with you first thing tomorrow morning; they are concerned about the actions taken behind their backs. I would be more careful, if I were you.”

Harrison began to head for the door.

“And if I don’t follow through?”

Harrison paused, a shadow crossing over his features as he turned.

“If the trust’s attorneys do not hear from you in 24 hours, they are prepared to have you served and due in court before the end of the week. I wouldn’t want to delay any of your ventures for… personal reasons. Besides,” Harrison continued as he grasped the front door’s handle. 

“I have some mail for Nikki that’s scheduled to arrive in the morning if I don’t receive confirmation from the attorneys and police.”

“She knew this was coming.”

Harrison paused. “Who?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“The girl. I tried to convince her into signing the document herself… for his sake. She refused, but I knew she wouldn’t breathe a word of what happened to either of you. Don’t forget; Tom isn’t the only one involved in this, boy. You can’t protect them both.” Harrison’s grip on the door handle tightened, his knuckles turning stark white as he shook his head. A small, dark chuckle escaped him.

“I look forward to hearing from you. Have a nice night, Dominic.”

-----

tags: 

@cherrynat​​ @anytimebitches​​  @jobean12-blog​​ @emotchalla​​ @illletitgrow​​ @cloverrover​​ @justaveryobsessedfangirl​​ @ssweet-empowerment​​ @killmongerdreams​​ @spideytrxsh​​ @eyestheyseeyou​​ @aussie-mantle​​ @spidergirlwanab​​ @i-think-i-am-adorable​​ @amanda51015-blog​​​ @princessskylarsblog​​​ @whoneedsalifeanyhowxx​​​ @chinalois​​​ @darkerthanspace​​​ @slighttinsomniac​​​ @curlytomholland​​​ @wanderlustomaha​​​ @hollandazing​​​ @mendes-marvel​​​ @wowspideyholland​​​ @shelivesin-daydreams​ @tellurfriends​

[angst-fairygodmother]

Work of Art (Diego Hargreeves x Reader, Kinktober

A/N: Rather than try and finish 2 more fics this week, as would be necessary to finish the original Kinktober list I posted, I played a little shuffle, and combined the two remaining ones, tossed some stuff, added new stuff. Because frankly I’m running out of steam[iness], though really, this is further than I ever expected to get on this project. Anyway...the final fic. Hope you enjoy. Word Count: 2440 Kinktober Prompts: bondage, knife-play, marking Rating: E(xplicit) Content Warnings: dom/sub (dom reader), bondage, knife-play, marking kink, pain kink, begging, teasing, praise kink, oral (both male and female receiving), biting, blood, overstimulation Cross-posted to AO3 here.

“Stop squirming so much,” you laughed, dropping the soft cotton rope to start over. “You’d think I was torturing you or something.”

“You’re sitting there, dressed like that, looking that gorgeous, and not letting me touch you,” Diego pointed out. “Find me the part that isn’t torture.”

You rolled your eyes, finally securing the last knot to keep Diego exactly where you wanted him, despite his continued wriggling.

“Unless you want actual torture, stop complaining.”

“Actual torture? You couldn’t if you tried.”

You raised a challenging eyebrow and smirked. He swallowed, instantly regretting his words. 

“Well then, you wouldn’t mind if I just…” you walked over to the bedroom door, pausing dramatically in the doorway to look back at him. “Left you there then?”

“Wait, no, Y/N,” he called after you, voice straining with ill-concealed desperation. “Please. I promise I’ll behave.”

You waited a few beats longer, until you heard his faint whine, pleading for you, before you returned to the bedroom, satisfied that he knew your threat was serious. When you returned, he gave you his best penitent expression, which was admittedly, just a little bit ruined by the way his eyes trailed hungrily over your figure in the lacy, nearly see-through negligee you wore when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“I could do whatever I want to you like this,” you observe off-handedly, still standing near the end of the bed, studying his bound form. 

He wasn’t completely immobile, though you had originally tried to convince him to let you trap him in that way. But he was tied enough that he wouldn’t be going anywhere or able to pull his usual stunts to try to take control. And he looked so pretty: stretched out on the bed, hands bound above him with just enough slack to be able to twist and grab the thin wrought-iron rails supporting him, another thin set of ropes wrapped around his waist and secured to the underside of the bed. If you were being honest, it was a bit like the damsel tied to a railroad track in an old silent movie, but it was a look that worked for him, especially the way the blue ropes stood out against his skin. 

“And you’d like that wouldn’t you,” you purred, taking a few steps closer. “You like to act tough but really, you’re just craving to be used and controlled. Isn’t that right baby?”

His cock twitched at your words and you couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the visual evidence of your effect on him. He nodded in answer to your question, even as he strained against his binds. You stopped, waiting expectantly for him to use his words. It had taken a long time to convince him to let his guard down and be vulnerable like this, and you wanted to be sure that he was both capable and willing to bring it to a stop if he needed to.

“Yes,” he finally panted. “Please, use me, do whatever you want to me. Please, Y/N.”

“You look so good like this, like a work of art. What would you do if I decided I wanted to just sit here,” you plopped yourself down on a stool in the corner and folded one leg over your knee, leaning forward so you could still see his face. “And admire the art?”

He shook his head. “No, please, please touch me, hurt me, fuck me. Do anything, just please, do something.”

“You’re so right.” You stood again, sauntering to the edge of the bed and staring down into his face, gently running your nails down the side of his face, swiping them across his lips, drawing back harshly enough that they caught when he tried to suck a thumb into his mouth.

“My pretty boy.” He shivered bodily, as much as the ropes would allow, at your words, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“Do you like that? Being called pretty or being called mine.”

His face flushed and you repressed a giggle.

“Both,” he admitted shyly. 

“Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Please?”

“Of course, my pretty boy, all mine, all laid out and gorgeous for me.” A dangerous glint crossed your eyes as he tried to buck upward, a bead of pre-cum welling from your words alone. 

“Maybe, I should make sure everyone knows that you’re mine. Make it clear that they can look,” you ran your fingertips down his sternum, “but they can’t touch. Would you like that?”

You suspected that by the end of the night, he would grow tired of your prompting. And yet, if he paid attention, he would see that through this, he had more control than he ever did otherwise. 

“Yes, Y/N. Claim me.” There was a hint of frustration and desperation in his voice, and you decided not to push him any further before giving in. 

Slowly, making sure his eyes were trained on you the whole time, not that he had dared to look away for a second so far, you straddled him, just above where the ropes crossed his mid-section, moving at a pace that made tectonic plates look like speedboats. 

Settling comfortably, you leaned down, pressing your body against his, only the gauzy layer of your dress separating you. You let your breath ghost over him, teasing at the sensitive spots behind his ear and beneath his jaw. And then, sure that he wouldn’t be expecting it, you dipped your head lower and bit down harshly on the soft spot where throat met clavicle. Diego cried out, thrashing under you but unable to move, and just as importantly, not seeming like he was actually trying to get away from you. You felt the slightest hint of blood welling up and laved your tongue over the spot, soothing the worst of the sting but maintaining enough pressure to draw the blood toward the surface, ensuring a heavy, dark spot would be left behind.

“Mm,” you purred, pulling back to look at his face once more, the blissed out look on his face sending a jolt to your core. “You mark up so well for me Diego, but I don’t know if that little spot’s going to be enough.”

He gulped nervously. “Will you leave another?”

“I had a better idea, if you trust me…” you forced him to meet your gaze. 

“Absolutely.” It was the firmest his voice had been since you began. 

Hesitantly, you reached over to the nightstand, picking up one of the tiny precision blades that he used sometimes, though never in this way obviously. Palming it, you held it up for him to see. His eyes widened. 

“I promise, I won’t hurt you, not really,” you explained, dropping any act or pretense. “Lightest touch only. Just enough to leave a mark that will heal over without a trace. Or I can put this away. It’s up to you.”

His eyes flickered back and forth from the knife to your face. 

“Do it,” he said, voice gruff with desire. The muscles of your cunt clenched and fluttered at the sound, but you tried to ignore the feelings and focus on him. “...please?”

You kissed him passionately, trying to pour into it all of the thousand feelings coursing through you: how badly you wanted him, how much you loved him, how grateful you were that he trusted you like this. 

You rocked backwards, letting your ass brush teasingly against his straining erection as you inspected your canvas.

“Now, my pretty boy,” you taunted, “where shall I make my mark. There are so many options…”

You trailed the flat of the little blade along the column of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob, dangerously close to the point. You traced outward, first over one side of his collarbone and then the other and then down over the taut muscles of his chest. He hissed as you turned the blade so that the needle-sharp point was against his flesh as you traced circles around his nipples with just enough pressure to create a sting. Finally, you stopped, poised just above his heart.

“Shall I write my name right here?” you asked, “label your heart and lay my claim to it.”

“It’s yours,” he countered, “already yours.”

“Well then, let’s make it official.” 

You turned the blade again so that the full edge was pressed his exposed skin, biting your lip as you watched the little specks of red well up in the shape of your initials, tracing over them once, twice, thrice. He moaned louder with each pass, high and needy and threatening to overwhelm you, but he held himself perfectly still, one wrong move potentially spelling his end. You admired the endurance and discipline it required almost as much as you admired the patterns of pain you were tracing around the letters now, little hearts and swirling shapes. You followed behind the knife with open-mouthed kisses, as you wanted him to experience the sting and ache at the same time as you wanted to draw them away and spare him any suffering.

“Please,” he breathed. “Please, haven’t I been good?”

You looked up, a little startled at the question. 

“Of course you’ve been good. You’ve been so good. Perfect, obedient, beautiful. You’ve been all those things Diego,” you assured him. 

“Then please, I can’t take anymore. Please stop teasing me, no more games.”

You frowned. It wasn’t the safeword you had agreed to, but maybe…

“Please, don’t I deserve a reward?”

Oh.

“Of course you do baby. Do you want to cum now?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” you startled. 

“No. I don’t want to cum yet. Not until I taste you. I know you’re wet, I know you. I want that sweet little pussy all over my face.”

“Well who am I to refuse you whatever your heart desires?” You said, eyes sparkling with mirth before you rose up on your hands and knees, crawling over him until you were poised, hovering just out of reach of his tongue, which was already darting out to run across his lips. 

His hands strained at the ropes, and you knew that if his hands were free, something you could have given him with a few flicks of the little knife if you wanted to, they would be gripping your hips with bruising strength and holding you down while he pleasured you. You closed your eyes, letting the image dance across your eyelids while you sank down. 

Diego’s tongue flicked through your folds, tasting your gathered wetness. The groan that followed vibrated up through you, and it took all of your willpower, and the sharp bite of your nails into the palm of one hand, the other braced on the headboard, parallel to Diego’s own arms, not to break from that sensation alone. He sucked hard on your sensitive clit and you keened, grinding down on his face just as he moved his attention, tongue diving into you. You continued to move, hips bucking in rhythm with the thrust and flick of the wet muscle inside you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and then in a primal scream as he flicked and sucked at your clit again, alternating back and forth faster than you could keep track of. He answered each sound you made with one of his own, groans and moans and hums mixing with his clever mouth to drive you over the edge, and then again without warning as he refused to let up. 

“Oh fuck!” you cried out, “Fuck, Diego, yes! You make me feel so good baby!”

As a third orgasm tore through you, you pulled from him, trembling in the aftershocks as you tried to catch your breath.

“That was so good baby,” you panted. “You always know how to make me feel so good. But now it’s your turn.”

You slowly slunk down the bed, trailing kisses and little nips along his skin until you reached your destination. Looking up to check on him, and because you knew how much he loved the sight of you making eye-contact as you sucked him off, you wrapped your lips around his dick and slowly lowered your mouth onto it, taking him as deep as you could until he bumped at the back of your throat and tears stung at the corners of your eyes. Curling your hand around the base of him, the other bracing yourself against his thigh, you set an unstable pattern, working him rapidly, twisting your fingers and bobbing your head up and down only to suddenly slow, so that you were all but still, holding him in your mouth and the length of his cock with your tongue and then resuming your motions, trying to keep him on his toes. He bucked his hips as far as the ropes would allow him, trying to match your patterns with thrusts of his own, and crying out your name over and over. 

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.”

You squeezed gently on the base of his cock at the same you hollowed out your cheeks, taking him as deep as you could and he came with a feral growl, his cum filling your mouth, hot and salty and you swallowed down as much of it as you could, fighting the urge to gag. 

Slowly, you slid him out of your mouth and stood. Your own fluids were rapidly cooling on the insides of your thighs as you made your way shakily to the bathroom for some warm cloths to clean you both up.

As you returned to Diego’s side, you noticed the way he shivered and sweat. Concerned, you quickly slit the ropes, freeing him to curl in on himself.

“Diego, baby?” you asked softly, stroking the damp fabric over his skin soothingly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding hoarse and slightly out of breath. “That was just a lot…”

“Too much?” 

“No. No,” he shook his head, reaching around to grab one of your hands in his. “It was perfect, I’m just…I’ll be fine.”

You bit your lip, not sure if you believed him and concerned that you’d gone too far, all in the name of showing him how amazing he was.

“How can I help?” you asked, wanting to follow his lead and speed his recovery.

“Just, hold me, please.”

“Let me finish cleaning us both up, and then I can definitely do that,” you said with a smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Diego.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”