#sacrifice at the expense of the self

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

BTHB 2023 - Fill 8 - Outnumbered In A Fight

Mariano's gotten too much softness and acceptance and protection lately, he needs to Kill And Destroy Again

TWs: Blood, gore, death, murder, burns, torture, dehumanization, self-sacrifice

Bastian's roaring echoed down the hallways of the dungeon. It rattled the chains keeping Mariano's hands at the walls, stoking the burn in his chest even more. They'd been here for too long.

They were hurting his dragon.

He knew Bastian's different roars. His rage, his joy, his triumph, his fear. His pain. He was in so much pain. It pulled at Mariano. His fingers itched, his foot couldn't stop tapping. Sitting against the cold stone wall became unthinkable. His aches and sprains felt magnified, the awful grinding of something in his hip becoming worse every moment that he wasn't moving.

They were hurting his dragon.

The ceiling rattled. Another roar pierced the air, louder, more urgent. Magic sparked at Mariano's fingertips, as hungry as he was, leaping at his skin.

They were hurting his dragon.

The next roar was just too much. Something about it was different--more pained. Mariano found himself pulling at his chains, eyes fixed on the door at the top of the stairs. The aching void of his tapped magic felt so insignificant when Bastian so obviously needed him.

They were hurting his dragon and it was going to stop now.

Mariano's magic surged to his palms, chewing at the metal as he held it there. It spit and hissed as its teeth worked at the links, turning them orange and angry. He didn't realize he'd been pulling so hard at his chains until they shattered, sending glowing shards scattering around the dungeon

Reddened hands stung and smarted as he let his magic dissipate, staggering to his feet. He didn't have his sword anymore. They knew no normal mage would be able to break free without their focus. For all their faults, and there were many, Mariano had to hand it to his trainers.

He wasn't afraid of what his magic would do to his own body anymore.

The hiss of metal sliding against stone followed him up the stairs, and when Mariano yanked at the door he realized that it was locked. It was locked for others, anyway. White-hot magic gathered at his palm again, and two searing blasts later the door was easily jarred open with a kick.

Shaking his hand as the heat faded, Mariano stalked down the halls, shoulders tense, eyes straight ahead. He was being tugged, pulled irresistibly into a run by the brand that linked him to Bastian. Bastian needed him.

Two bodies milled about a doorway, armor-clad and not paying attention. Mariano leaped, pouncing and filling their helmets with the burn of the hottest summer days. Their screams shot through the hallway for just one piercing moment before they fell still.

Mariano plucked one sword from its former owner's hand, already falling back into his run. He'd never been in this fort before. He didn't need to know the layout though, with the invisible thread between him and Bastian urging him on and Bastian's howls sounding ever closer.

His magic raced up his new sword as two more guards heard the clattering of his chains and turned. Their heads flew from their bodies after a sweeping slash. One more set of gleaming swipes sliced the locking mechanism from the wooden doors, and then Mariano was skidding into the training grounds at the center of the fort.

Right there at the center, surrounded by people who called themselves knights, was Bastian. He glittered in the unforgiving sun, as beautiful as ever. A vicious set of metal wrapped around his face, concealing his nose and mouth. He sagged where he was forced to stand, held up by the metal that snaked around his body and kept his arms spread taut on either side.

One knight held a wooden sword, cracking it against Bastian's ribcage and pulling a cracking scream from him. Mariano's foot shifted in the dirt, tension coiling up his legs. They thought they'd found the perfect training dummy.

Mariano didn't remember raising his free hand, but as a crackling burst of magic hit one knight in the back they all turned. The crowd didn't move at first when Mariano took off in a sprint towards it. It seemed to regard the Kingslayer with curiosity as he began hacking at the first bodies between himself and Bastian.

They hit back, striking viciously as Mariano began slicing at anything that moved. The crowd swallowed him then, surrounding him with wood and blunt force, as though their metal could shield them from his magic and sword. Mariano howled and screamed, his voice tearing at his throat in the only way that felt right, painting the surrounding bodies with red and gore.

Bastian's magic sang for him, pulling him to move faster, pressing more heat into each pulse of destruction that was aimed at a face. His sword was stolen, greedily swallowed by one corpse's torso when his magic flickered, only to be replaced by another gleaming palm-full of searing power to throw.

Mariano, Kingslayer and Swordsmage of the Wind didn't need a sword to keep his dragon safe. He didn't need armor, not when the wooden training weapons kept catching fire from his casting. They could hit Mariano, draw pained shouts and snarls when those blunt edges caught his hips or arms or legs, but that didn't matter.

It didn't matter when more kept showing up and replacing the burned husks. None of it mattered, when his magic flickered and cut out again. Not when these had live steel, and more armor.

He would just keep his distance.

Planting himself between Bastian and the people who thought he was theirs, Mariano dug deeper. Bastian wasn't theirs. Bastian belonged to Mariano. A pained, rumbling whine from behind Mariano sent another jolt through his chest, sending his magic flying back to aching hands. He could feel the crawling burn slipping towards the sides of his palms and fingers, intensifying every time he loosed another shot.

More and more husks joined the pile, charred metal and twisted limbs beginning to form a wall around where Bastian had been kept. Mariano spun, always moving, focus always shifting, and ever more people poured out into the afternoon air. A panicked shout from Bastian was all the warning that Mariano got before he was dragged to the ground.

One had managed to step on one of the chains still attached to Mariano's arms. Another stepped on the other one. Mariano was pinned.

He arched with a snarling howl, pulling as hard as he could at the chains as his magic struggled to keep sustaining itself. It felt like his lungs were on fire. He couldn't feel his hands anymore.

Mariano's magic cut out completely.

A heel connected with his painful hip.

Someone got ready to swing at Bastian's neck.

Mariano didn't know what happened next. Searing heat erupted in front of his face, and the ones pinning him were sent staggering back, screaming. Rolling to a crouch and firing at the one who threatened Bastian, Mariano felt his magic surging hotter and hotter with every exhale. This was different. His stomach felt like it was being hollowed out when his magic sprung back to his hands, his insides slowly ground into a paste like herbs in a pestle. The smell of metal filled his nose as blood began dripping down over his lips.

He felt like he could kill every single person in this fort that dared to raise their blade towards his Bastian.

Mariano launched himself forward with another ragged shout, staggering but staying upright as he threw himself back into the fray. Magic dripped from his teeth like Bastian's fire between blasts, searing his chin as he threw magic from three casting points. It punched through their armor like an arrow through a rabbit.

The men fell. They didn't get back up. His magic didn't flicker when it stopped, this time.

The fort was quiet. No one was left to try to hurt his dragon. Turning to Bastian, Mariano stumbled over. "Bastian, my Bastian." He slurred, as though trying to speak in a dream. His hands shook as he reached to cup Bastian's face, smearing more dark red along his glimmering scales and hair. "Let me...let me get you out of there."

He met Bastian's gaze as he stepped away, and saw something like anger flash through his silver eyes. Bastian shook his head, starting to pull at his restraints harder. Mariano didn't understand what he was trying to say. If Bastian had been able to break free, they would've been gone days ago. This was necessary.

The sword he borrowed again felt impossibly heavy. He couldn't quite tell what the hilt was made of, or how it was supposed to be balanced. This time, when he pushed his magic out, it was weak, wavering as it crawled along the blade. His nose bled faster, sending his head spinning.

Mariano only just managed to finish slicing through the metal keeping Bastian restrained before he couldn't hold that sword anymore. He just couldn't keep his fingers curled around the hilt. It fell to the ground with a dull thump, Mariano watching it settle in the wet dirt as he tried to process why it wasn't in his hands anymore.

Mariano jumped when the scream of twisting metal filled the air, looking around them frantically. Bastian tossed the muzzle aside, eyeing Mariano as he stepped closer. "Hey." Bastian started, sounding far away. He said something else, then, something that ran together that Mariano couldn't quite parse out. He sounded angry, though, for some reason.

Dark eyebrows furrowed, and reddened, bloodied lips parted in confusion. "Let's, ah..." Mariano started. "We, we need to...I...um..."

Bastian barely had time to take a step forward before Mariano crumpled to the ground.

[mariasont]

Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right - A.H

a/n: my girl sabrina can do no wrong and i have been listening to this song on repeat since it came out so i just absolutely needed to write a fic about it

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events

warnings: angst (sorry in advance), aaron is like not a great husband, reader is also an imperfect character, reader is a girl boss though

wc: 1.2k

You were in your best dress. More expensive than you'd ever think about buying for yourself, but it had been a gift from Aaron. You had fought him on it, scolding him for spending so much on a dress you were sure to only wear once. But he had insisted, telling you that this opportunity was once in a lifetime and that it would be a sin for it to not be celebrated with a dress that made you shine like a ruby.

He was right, partly, you were shining--glowing, sparkling, glittering--as you moved through the library. It was beautiful, to say the least--all opulence and history that was almost too much to absorb. The marble floors almost seemed to amplify the conversations around you, the clinking of glasses, the swish of overpriced gowns and tuxedos.

Your eyes settled on the tiered desks fitted with bronze reading lamps, now repurposed as a station for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The circular arrangement of desks, once centered around knowledge, now facilitated hushed gossip and the discreet laughter of society's finest.

You could almost hear what they were thinking: there she is again without her husband, that poor thing always by herself, and your personal favorite—does he even exist?

You wanted to be angry, to scold their prying eyes, for putting their noses into something that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. But could you really blame them? Every event you attended you told the same story--my husband is a busy man with an important job--a line you had grown tired of repeating. 

And that was all true. He devoted most of his time to saving lives--how could you find fault in that? How could you complain to having a husband whose very essence was self-sacrifice and heroism?

This evening was set to be an exception; he was in New York for a case, and the Pulitzer Prize ceremony was not something he would miss. He had given you his word.

You understood his passion for his job, completely, because you held that same passion for your own. You dedicated years of your life to your journalism, investigating corruption at its highest levels. This is exactly how you ended up here tonight, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for that very work. A Pulitzer Prize.

The term once seemed like a fantastical concept to you, a lofty accolade reserved for the likes of JFK, Bob Dylan, Robert Frost--icons, not someone as ordinary as you. Yet, against all odds, you find yourself among the select few, a nominee for an honor that has only been won by 1,512 individuals since 1917, a fact Spencer had supplied you with.

Someone was speaking to you, saying your name. Almost without thinking, your hand found a flute of champagne, taking a generous sip before turning to face them.

"You look stunning, and a well-deserved congratulations are in order. Everyone back at the office is cheering for you." It was your boss, her stilettos adding inches to her already imposing frame.

The flattery didn't quite mask her usual coldness, it was all too artificial. She wasn't your biggest fan, and she had made that clear from your first day. Still, you mustered a smile and thanked her anyway, taking another sip of champagne, hoping to drown away her nauseating voice.

"It's too bad your husband couldn't be here," she began, and you had to resist the urge to rip out her extensions. "This is an incredible accomplishment, but he's quite the busy man, as you say."

"Yes, he is busy, but he'll be here tonight," you replied, flashing her your best smile as you smoothed the red fabric that suddenly felt too tight. "He's actually here in New York on a case."

"Oh, how great. I can't wait to put a face to the name." You could tell by the look she shot her own husband that she didn't believe a word from your mouth. "Anyway, I have to go speak with an academy representative, but I'll see you and your husband at the ceremony?"

You responded with a nod, not dignifying her with words as she left, her giggles a bitter sound. You hated her. And you were ready to make her eat her words when your husband, who looked absolutely incredibly in a suit, showed up.

But then it was dinner, and you found yourself alone, surrounded by a table of important people whose names you couldn't remember. The seat beside you was empty and suddenly that omnipotent, cloud-nine feeling you had vanished with the time that passed.

The text you sent piled up, feeling a little juvenile, like you were back in high school again getting stood up at prom.

Let me know when you're close!

Is everything going okay?

Call me if you can.

An onslaught of anxious thoughts skyrocketed around your mind as you mechanically chewed the fancy food that only seemed to upset your stomach further. What if something happened? Was he okay? Did the case go wrong? Did he get in a car accident on the way here?

You were a bundle of nerves, gnawing on the inside of your mouth as your heel tapped up and down against the floor. But this wasn't borne from concern for his well-being; deep down, you were certain he was fine. The truth was simpler and sharper: he wasn't coming.

You should have been prepared, should have braced for this, but you were convinced that this time, this occasion would be an exception.

You name was being called, but this time not by someone wanting to extract prying information or stir speculation, no, this time it was carried across the crowed, wrapped in the microphone's static hum.

Your head snapped up, fingers ceasing their fidgeting as you struggled to mask the shock and avoid the gaping, breathless look of a fish out of water.

You had won.

People were clapped, but it seemed far away as you made your way to the stage, hands coming from all directions to offer pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations.

You had won.

Your feet were carrying you up a small set of stairs. You were trying to remember how to walk--left, right, heel, toe. There was a bright light on you now, prompting a slight squint and you worked to keep a smile on your face as you accepted the award.

You had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

You were on display now, under the intense stage lights. Your body was on autopilot, stepping behind the podium, words flowing out of your mouth--a speech you had rehearsed over and over again in the slim chance that you would win. And here you are.

But the more you spoke the more you seemed to deviate from the script.

You paused, voice catching as you tried your best not to let the tears fall--your makeup was too pristine for smears.

"But tonight, as I accept this honor, I am reminded that while we may seek comfort in the presence of others, our truest strength comes from within." Your eyes dart around the audience, clinging to the slim chance he's there, that he showed up. "It comes from knowing that when we step into the moment, we step in with conviction, with passion, and sometimes, with a singularity that says we are enough."

The final words of your speech hang in the air, a brittle hope that disappears as quickly as it surfaced. He proved them right, and no amount of applause can drown out the sound of your heart breaking just a little.

part 2

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179

[earlgreydream]

His. | Loki x reader smut

I finally the Loki tv show… this does NOT have any spoilers, it’s set on Asgard with a newly appointed king and his coronation gift…

cw: d/s

“Leave any traces of fear in this room.” The command was clear, spoken sharply by a royal attendant.

Your gaze didn’t leave the fragrant water of the bath you knelt in, the attendant taking care to wash every inch of your skin. Other women pulled fluttering silks from a wardrobe, lying it out for you and finding jewelry to match. So much led to this moment, and yet it didn’t seem real — anticipation and anxiety buzzing in your head. You’d been told once already to contain the obvious fear that lingered in your chest, but the daunting task of doing so seemed impossible when your fate was waiting on a silver platter, the moment you left the private chamber you were being bathed in.

“Come, out of the water before your skin wrinkles,” you were hauled to your feet, wrapped in towels and rubbed down by several girls with movements so quick, you were barely left time to react.

Hands massaged your tense limbs, covering them in oils that bloomed with exotic scents, leaving your skin gleaming. At the same time, your hair was fixed, emeralds — his favorite — twisted into the locks and fastening to bare your neck.

“It’s customary to dress her in white,” a handmaiden spoke of you as if you were not there.

“The prince prefers black.” The will of your all-powerful god silenced any protest, everyone moving to do his bidding.

The women fretted — you had to be perfect for him. They prepared you to be presented to the god, as a divine gift to honor the crown prince of Asgard. You were bathed, decorated, and dressed, all to please the god you were gifted to, an expectation that you’d been bred for. It was a great honor to be taken from the hills, to the castle of the gods, to walk amongst the divine, even if it meant your role was to do as your master saw fit, obeying every command. You had come to terms with it, knowing that upon prince Loki’s rise to the throne, you were the sacrifice — the gift — of the kingdom, a promise of good fortune and favor granted in return.

It all seemed like a far-away, distant dream in a future that would never come. Despite that, here you were, relinquishing your whole self to Asgard’s throne. You had never met the god, and never seen him up close. Of course you’d heard the stories, the wrath and prowess of the young prince, and even seen him from a distance — but being in his presence was something entirely new, before being expected to spend the rest of time at his mercy.

Asgardian silk draped over your skin, so light you wouldn’t know it was there. Your decency was concealed beneath expensive black fabric, hiding what was only meant for Loki to see in the moments after this. The handmaidens’ fussing finally ceased, ending the long evening of preparation.

“Come with me, and do as you’re told,” the woman in charge ushered you forward, opening the chamber doors, releasing you out of known captivity into unpredictability.

You swallowed the fear in your throat, steps silent as you followed her to the throne room, the festivities growing louder as you approached your fate. Before you were given a moment to hesitate, you were led into the cavernous room of gold and heavenly magic.

All at once, it fell silent as soldiers escorted you to the throne. There he was — the god himself, draped over his golden throne. Loki was the only one adorned finer than you, a golden helm atop his onyx waves, wild cerulean eyes that bore straight into your soul.

“Your majesty, a gift in exchange for your benevolence,” the ceremony’s representative from your kingdom presented you to Loki, a hand on your shoulder forcing you to kneel before the throne.

A dangerous smile curved the god’s lips, placing his scepter aside as he rose to his feet.

“A very generous gift indeed,” Loki’s lyrical voice wrapped around your throat, stealing the air from your lungs.

He was impossibly tall and lean as he approached you, toned muscles visible even through the heavy layers of leather and gold that adorned his figure. Loki was no mere prince, but a god of mischief, holding an entire world in the palm of his delicate hand. A dark mischief glittered in his eyes, the gorgeous royal leaning down to look closely at you.

He tilted your chin up, looking him directly in the eye, immediately disarmed and vulnerable as you did so. His expression changed almost imperceptibly, gone from his eyes in a flash as he looked away from you, addressing the court who had handed you over.

Your ears were ringing too loudly to hear what he said, your head spinning. A solider moved to guide you to sit at the base of the throne, at Loki’s feet, when you were suddenly snapped back into the present moment.

“You will not lay a hand on what is mine!” Loki’s shout thundered through the chamber, stopping the man before he could touch you.

The soldier quickly fell back, recognizing the lethal danger of disrespecting Loki. An entire room held its breath, the seconds agonizing, exhaling only when Loki motioned for festivities to resume.

Despite the advice to hide your fear, Loki could practical feel your startled fright. Everything else blurred into the background, the celebration entertaining itself, leaving you and Loki at the center of your own universe.

Loki leaned down with an outstretched hand, his expression softening as you met his gaze. He had not yet spoken directly to you, but you didn’t need instruction to place your hand in his, allowing his strength to move you forward. Loki guided you to kneel at his feet as he resumed his place on the throne, slotted between his long legs.

Delicate fingers gently tilted your chin to look up at him, the touch startlingly gentle, a stark contrast to what you’d been warned of.

“There is a long night of festivities ahead, you may rest on me if you grow weary,” Loki granted you permission to lie your head against his thigh, to sink back into the new shelter.

You gave a small nod of understanding, looking back down as his attention was demanded from another round of celebration.

Despite the dizzying commotion of Loki’s ceremony, your limbs became heavy and keeping your eyes open was a losing battle. Loki peered down at you as you slowly laid your head against his leg, letting your exhausted body rest for the first time.

A fierce desire to protect you swelled in Loki’s chest, suddenly cross with the noise and lights that combatted your sleep. As he continued to entertain offerings of exotic fruits and tributes from his kingdoms, Loki moved a leg in front of you, glaring at anyone who so much as looked too long in your direction.

He couldn’t imagine how drained you were, to sleep through the chaos. Your weight rested against his leg, though you didn’t let yourself fully drift into deep sleep, some part of you making sure that you were upright, not wanting to displease him.

Loki carefully supported you as he stood, lifting you off the floor with godly strength. The festivities continued without him — kings, gods, and valkyrie reenacting stories of battles and playing with magic in the great halls.

He’d had quite enough of the noise and empty affection, and desired nothing more than some quiet time alone with his offering.

“Careful,” he warned softly as you began to stir, strengthening his grip to keep you from falling.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled, your first words spoken in a haze of exhaustion.

“It’s alright, you’re free to rest,” Loki laid you down on his bed the moment you entered the privacy of his chambers.

Golden floors were etched in sweeping illustrations of history and mythology, telling the stories of your god beneath the bed draped in dark green silks. Huge doors opened to a veranda, a summer breeze ruffling the curtains, allowing glimpses of glittering astronomy overhead.

Your mind yearned to stay awake, to learn your surroundings and stay vigilant in the presence of Loki. Despite that, your body screamed for sleep, sinking into the soft bedding he had placed you on.

.

Loki watched you sleep.

Exhaustion kept your body rigidly still, not moving once the entire night. You stayed curled up in the very corner of the expansive bed, out of reach of Loki, who eventually took his place as the sun cracked the horizon.

The only indication you were real, was the gentle rise and fall of your back as you breathed. As you slept, the frightened expression vanished from your face, softening the your features. Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your almost peaceful face.

Loki drifted in and out of sleep, not bothering to wake you after such a late and overwhelming night. You must have been weary, because you couldn’t have been comfortable, making yourself as small as possible at the very edge of the bed, not wanting to take up too much of Loki’s space.

You slowly opened your eyes, sunlight streaming in through the open veranda. The morning seemed impossibly peaceful, despite waking up into a new life of servitude. This didn’t feel like what you’d expected — waking up in a comfortable bed with the warm sun on your face, the scent of breakfast wafting from a huge spread on the chamber’s dining table.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki’s voice was much softer in the privacy of the chambers, without an audience.

You sat up, looking over as he stood from a couch, setting aside a novel. He was more relaxed, wearing loose black linen, his hair tied up loosely.

“Hi,” you whispered, at a loss for words — partially in awe of how gorgeous he was, and partially cautious, as if he were a cobra waiting to strike at any wrong move.

He watched as you observed your surroundings, inspecting your golden cage in the light of day. Loki’s chambers were beautiful, bright, and serene. It seemed so divorced from the perception you had of the god before being let in to the most private part of his existence. Loki moved smoothly throughout the room, delicate hands attached to a lean, muscular body. Loki’s face was sculpted out of marble, so stunningly beautiful it left you breathless. Green eyes pierced straight into your soul, laid bare when he looked at you.

“Eat something,” he gestured to the feast at the table, as if he were the devil, offering food to a goddess to keep captive in his lair forever.

It was your job to obey, your body moving before your mind even considered protest. The shimmering gown you were wearing the night before swept the floor as you walked, Loki admiring how beautiful you were, even slightly disheveled.

You hesitantly took a berry from the table, bringing it to your lips, licking the sweetness off your fingertips. The sight stirred something inside of Loki, his gaze focusing on the contours of your body that were visible through the just-sheer parts of the fabric draped over you.

“Master?” You could feel the weight of his gaze, invisibly drawing you to him.

Loki stepped toward you, pleased as you sank to your knees without any encouragement, easing into his submission. You wanted it, needed it, like your lungs needed air. A shimmer of green made your clothing disappear, baring you fully to Loki’s intoxicated gaze.

“Look at you, fit for a god,” he praised, slowly circling you as you kneeled, appreciating you from every angle.

“Only for you, master.”

“Loki,” he permitted you to call him by name, a request that pulled the corners of your lips up with small satisfaction.

The floor was cold beneath your knees, and your skin began to prick beneath a cool breeze from the veranda. Loki swelled over the recognition that you were his, and his alone. He was hard in the loose linen pants, eager to claim full ownership of you in such an intimate way. You willingly surrendered to him, practically desperate for him to take you, to consummate your submission to the god.

Your hands smoothed up the solid muscles of Loki’s thighs — limbs you wish to be bent over — before clutching the linen waistband and dragging down his trousers. The sight of him hung heavy made your mouth water and your cunt throb, desire swirling in your belly.

“Go ahead. Touch me as you please, I’m as much yours as you are mine,” Loki murmured, realizing you were waiting for permission, to do as you were told.

Long fingers wove into your hair, cradling the side of your head, pulling only slightly as you licked the tip of his cock, sending a shock up his spine.

He leaned back against the wall, smirking as your left palm flattened over his toned abs to brace yourself, pleased that you were trusting his words.

“Gods,” Loki swore when you took him in your mouth, letting him push you down until he was filling your throat.

Pretty tears welled at your lashes at his size, your throbbing need beginning to smear between your thighs. Your free hand worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your tongue dragging up his shaft. He was both long and thick, his skin like velvet on your tongue. It was a feat to take even half of him in your mouth, and you moaned and the thought of him fucking you, and how you’d beg to take it all.

“If worshipping my cock makes you wet enough to drip on my floor, I’ll let you do it every morning,” Loki purred with a grin, clearly taking notice of the effect he had on your body.

“Please,” you whimpered respectfully, dragging your fist up his length, giving your mouth a break.

“I’m close, darling, you’re doing beautifully,” he praised, watching your thighs squeeze together at his words.

“I want to come in that gorgeous mouth, feel myself in your throat.”

You tilted your head back just a bit, both to gaze up into his eyes and to let him in deeper. A low whine vibrated around his cock as his hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing.

“Fuck,” Loki hissed, spilling over into your mouth, filling your senses with his salty taste.

“Swallow it,” Loki commanded, and you were all too willing to obey, wanting to please him.

His thumb swiped over your lips, cleaning up the bit of mess he made, kneeling in front of you as you both caught your breath.

“Was that okay?” the question slipped out before you could stop yourself, puzzling Loki.

“Of course, it was perfect. Haven’t you done it before?”

“No, I’ve been kept pure for you,” you answered, earning a profane string of Norse as his dick twitched.

“You’ve made me insatiable,” Loki pressed a quick, messy kiss to your mouth that was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“No!” Loki shouted, standing up, displayed in his full glory to the guard who opened the door.

The furious god stood in front of you, blocking any eyes from catching even a glimpse of your body.

“Get out, now, or I shall have your eyes torn out!” Loki thundered, fiercely possessive over you.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. Odin has called on you—”

A sharp burst of Loki’s magic sent the man flying backward with a yell, the door slamming shut behind him.

“I’m sorry-” you began, as if you needed to apologize for being nude.

“I will never let anyone else touch you, see your body, or covet what is mine.”

A warmth spread through you at the words, taking his hand to stand up. He took a cloth, carefully cleaning you up, before guiding you into a closet that was full of the finest Asgardian fabrics.

“We’ll continue this later, darling, but for now, you’ll accompany me on whatever nonsense I’m being summoned for,” Loki explained, moving to dress himself as he left you to choose what maids had left for your arrival.

You chose green, pleasing the god as you adorned his colors, another sign of your growing devotion. Loki kissed your wrist, before a band of gold appeared in a shimmer, bringing a smile to your face.

He wordlessly led you out of his chambers, a hand at the small of your back. Being with him was intense — but the castle and all of its people was overwhelming. You found yourself leaning into Loki’s side, away from the noise of shouting and chaos of the everyday happenings.

He looked up from the throne to see what was bothering you before pulling you to sit between his legs where you could sink back into him and ignore the noise.

“We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished. Until then, you can entertain yourself by picturing what I’m going to do to your precious little pussy,” Loki whispered against the side of your face, gently nipping your ear.

You shuddered against his chest, feeling him chuckle beneath you as his arm tightened on your waist. Warmth flushed your cheeks and you turned your face into his arm, shy at the filthy words from Loki. He could feel your heart racing inside your ribs, anxious to tear the emerald gown from your body.

You were lost in your thoughts when Loki banished everyone from the expansive throne room, giant doors embedded with gemstones slamming shut, sealing you alone with him.

“Now, where were we?” Loki asked, mouthing hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“I believe you were about to fuck me, Loki,” you chirped.

“I love hearing those dirty words on your lips, all for me.”

“Only you,” you promised, closing the gap as he hovered above you.

The kiss was heady, his tongue warm and dominating as he pushed it past your lips. The sensation nearly distracted you from his hands, that were tearing the fabric around your torso, letting it flutter to the floor in shimmering pieces.

“I’m going to fuck you here, on this throne, like a proper king.”

You parted your legs, letting his hand drop between them. Loki smirked into your neck as he cupped your sex, feeling how wet you were, desperate for him as heat radiated from your center.

He didn’t bother to turn you over, perfectly happy to fuck you while you were on top of him, lying on his chest as he sat upon his throne. He glided his cock along your wet lips, only a moment until you were squirming with desperation.

He wanted to hear you beg, but even he couldn’t wait any longer, slowly sinking into you, every inch stretching you impossibly further. The sweet sting made you cry out, your head dropping back on his shoulder when he nestled himself fully inside you.

“You’re perfect for me,” Loki praised through gritted teeth, fighting not to slam into you like an animal. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, muscles burning as they were forced to take the stretch to fit him inside — and you loved it.

You doubted anything would ever feel so good, until his hips started to roll forward, the god fucking you deep and slow, holding your body against his chest. He buried his face in your shoulder, soaking up your squeals of pleasure as he lost himself in you.

Before he even thought to play with you, your cunt began to clench around him with an impending orgasm. Your startled whimper shot straight to Loki’s dick, and he fucked you harder, unable to help himself.

“Come around me, darling, let me know how good you feel,” Loki urged, nearly spilling into you as you trembled in his arms, coming with a scream that echoed off the walls.

“There you go,” he murmured, twitching before he filled you with his seed, painting your insides with him.

Your breaths were ragged and uneven, mind completely foggy in the aftermath. He breathed in your scent as he stayed inside you, preserving the moment for as long as possible.

“I’m yours, forever,” you whispered, as if reading his mind.

[nebulaafterdark]

At The Pleasure Of The Crown (Part 2)

Summary: Aegon and his wife regularly visit the silk streets. One night they happen upon Aemond behind one of the curtains, the rest is history.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut, infidelity, manipulation, etc.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Aegon and Aemond have been at war from the time they were boys. Over what exactly, neither can say. For Aegon’s part, he’s never truly known the love of his mother, not the way Aemond did. Mayhaps that is where it started.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Despite the teasing his elder brother inflicted upon him, Aemond wanted only to win his approval; and that of his father. Marrying Y/N boosted Aegon’s worth in Viserys’ eyes, while Aemond remained the boy irreparably damaged, over an insult.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Then of course there is Y/N, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen; used as a means to broker peace between warring houses since she was no more than a child. Made to ease the suffering of those around her, at great personal expense.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Each of them shaped by unsteady hands, hoping only for the best.

The tree remembers, the axe regrets.

Over the moon turn since Aemond hath inserted himself upon their union, not one of them has known peace. All angry or pining for another, because of a misunderstanding. Because of a book, because of a sword fight, because of a single glance.

Even seated round the council table, Aemond stares at their entwined hands. Love is a curious thing, in all its different forms. Y/N is never going to love him the way she does Aegon.

“What will my children call you?”

“Aemond, or uncle. Same as they always have.”

“What will your children call me?” The wound is still fresh, raw and aching as Aegon presses against it.

“It will be nearly impossible to tell…whether they are yours or mine, until they are grown.” Aemond admits, “I suppose they might call us both father.”

Y/N buries her head in her hands, sick with the guilt of what she’s done.

Dying in the name of love is noble sacrifice, killing one’s self to love another is a senseless endeavor.

“Sometimes these things happen.”

————————————————————————

“Are you not speaking to me?” Aemond asks, when he manages to get Y/N alone.

“What difference does it make? My words mean little to you.”

Aemond sighs, “I apologize for my lapse in judgment. I should not have said those things to Aegon.”

“Knowing what he means to me, how could you be so cruel?” The princess snaps.

Aemond purses his lips, “my brother made fun of me for the whole of my life. I saw an opportunity to return the favor. I am sorry for it.”

“Is that what this is to you?” Y/N whispers, “is that what I am to you? Revenge against your brother, at long last?”

“No,” Aemond growls, “you are…you know what you are to me.”

“Speak it.” Y/N insists, “tell me what I am to you.”

Aemond closes the space between them, taking her face between his hands. “You are my friend.”

“And that is enough for you?”

“If that is all I’m allowed.” Those who are starved will eat anything.

“Even if we were to marry, it would not be fair to you. I love Aegon, I will always love him. We grew up together, he and I. Day and night for ten years, we have been together. I enjoy your company and I should like to keep it, but I am in want of a friend. I have a husband.”

To be so tragically entangled.

“It matters not if he is studied in the histories, or if he holds interest in matters of the court. So long as I am studied, so long as I hold interest in the court. The duties are mine, the burdens are mine.”

“I only wish to help you,” Aemond breathes.

“You can’t,” Y/N shakes her head. “You cannot help me. You cannot come into my life and uproot it. I’ve children, Aemond. Aegon’s children, who need my love and affection more than anyone.

Children who grow up in the absence of love spend the rest of their lives wanting for it; no matter how much they are given. Like pouring into a bottomless cup, endless and painful because it never fills. It is cracked from the time they are small and can never be fixed. I’ve seen the difference between children born of love and those born of duty. My children will know which they are.”

“Who fills your cup once he’s drained it?”

“The gods provide.” Y/N swipes at traitorous tears, threatening to fall. “They always do.”

“Whores then,” Aemond understands. Why the pleasure house, why the wine, why the constant thirst for knowledge. “I could fuck you as well as any.”

Y/N turns away from him. “It would mean something more to you and…”

“It would not mean a thing to me.”

————————————————————————

Aemond makes his way to the silk streets, tearing back curtains, until he spots the silver sheen of his brother’s hair. Pressed back into a pillow as one of the brunettes works herself over his cock. It is not lost on him, how much the pretty little thing resembles Aegon’s wife. “I need a word with you.”

Aegon huffs a laugh, feeling the woman above him begin to pull away. “Ah, ah,” he chides, “you stay right there. Doing the gods’ work, you are.”

The woman sighs, happily, “thank you, your grace.”

He gives her hips an affection squeeze, before turning his attention back to Aemond. “What is it you need?”

“I was hoping to apologize, for the way I have conducted myself.”

“All is forgiven, brother.” Aegon waves a dismissive hand. “My wife is an endearing mystery, it is not your fault for taking interest.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, “to what do I owe your sudden change of heart?”

“Y/N and I talked,” Aegon grins. “Whichever parts of her you are stimulating, do it well for me. Tell her I love her, while you’re at it.”

Part 3

Series Taglist : @oh-you-mean-me @callsignwidow @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @cluz1babe @visenyareads @kiwibaekie

[littjara-mirrorlake]

The Color of Hope: Ambition, Necromancy, and Black Mana

Black is one of the most misunderstood colors in Magic: the Gathering, not least because it appears on the surface to be so straightforward. Look at the most iconic black cards of Magic and you'll see deals with demons, necromancy, mass destruction and cruelty and suffering–the trappings of classic fantasy evil. Even the color's symbol itself is a skull, a universal signifier of death and danger.

And in early Magic that seemed to be all it was. White was the color of Fantasy Good, black was the color of Fantasy Evil, and the rest of the colors were... fire magic? Elves? Whatever odd but intriguing skeleton affairs are implied by Time Walk?

Gradually, though, Magic deepened as both a game and a storytelling medium. The color pie grew into itself as a system of complementary philosophies, archetypes whose associated aesthetics were only part of the full picture. Their arrangement around the wheel, below, is highly deliberate; neighboring colors are said to be allies with a high degree of philosophical and mechanical overlap, while colors on opposite sides of the pie are known as enemies, more likely to disagree on fundamental levels.

Black stopped merely representing capital E Evil and became the color of striving for power; unlike its peers, black felt that nothing, least of all morality, could prevent it from seizing what it wanted. Mark Rosewater's 2015 article about black emphasized the color's focus on the self:

"Black's philosophy is very simple: There's no one better suited to look after your own interests than you... Many costs require the sacrifice of others for your own advancement. Because it puts itself first, black is always willing to make this trade. The weak must fall for the strong to thrive." -Mark Rosewater

At its worst, black is an exploitative, amoral color that prioritizes itself at the expense of all others, allowing the "weak" to fall and scorning the very idea of compassion. Rosewater writes that black is "always willing" to trade others for itself. And these can certainly be parts of black's philosophy, when taken to its worst possible extremes, but they're far from the entire story.

Over time, Magic's outlook on black gained nuance. Magic story introduced protagonists like the necromancer Liliana Vess, whose craving for immortality, seemingly exploitative nature, and demonic deals called back to the oldest portrayals of black–and yet she was not one-dimensionally evil. She underwent character development over the years, learning the value of reclaiming herself and standing beside others, and at no point did she become any less mono-black for it. Remember her; we will come back to Liliana and her story later.

In addition to the usual death and decay, black cards began to feature a theme of relentless devotion. On the plane of Eldraine where each color represents a virtue, black's is persistence, explicitly as important as any other color. On the plane of Ikoria, the love between bonder and beast pulls Winota back from the brink of death. Wherever this Oathsworn Vampire printing is set, its flavor text is quintessentially black. It's the same self-driven attitude as before, but cast in a different light: black is nothing if not persistent when it's got its heart set on something (or someone) it cares about. Nothing, least of all the grave, will keep it down. After all, black will always come back for its own.

These newer cards uncovered the true face of black as a color capable of both great love and harm (sometimes even the latter for the sake of the former), and suggested a tantalizing new thread: perhaps putting yourself and yours first isn't all that bad, necessarily. Black is a deeply protective color; it says you don't just have to accept what you're handed, it's okay even to be furious about it (hello, ally color red), but let that galvanize you to do something about it. 

Vraska, a gorgon who faces extreme discrimination on her home plane of Ravnica, triumphs by reclaiming herself, gorgon powers and all–and even more radically, loving herself. She displays traits often considered the purview of white and green, such as a love of home and a drive to elevate the oppressed, but they are all filtered through the lens of her black alignment. Vraska staunchly refuses to deny herself or her people, the Golgari Swarm, of their value. Nor does she allow law or propriety to prevent her from championing them by any means necessary–even if that means cold-blooded murder, or aligning herself with a villain like the Planeswalker Nicol Bolas.

"[Vraska] thought of Mazirek, of the kraul, of the rest of the Ochran assassins and the malignant Jarad who reigned with casual ruin over the most downtrodden of the downtrodden. She remembered her years of isolation, and the heinous cruelty of the Azorius, and how no group deserved to suffer as much as those who would subjugate her own. Eliminating that hell was all she ever wanted." -The Talented Captain Vraska, Alison Luhrs

Like Vraska, black loves fierce and hard, willing to break any taboo for the sake of those it cares about. And it whispers, the entire way through, you are enough. You deserve better. No matter what others may say or do, you are enough.

"If I am to be met with disrespect, then I must first love myself with a fierceness no fool can take away." -Vraska in Pride of the Kraul, Alison Luhrs

Even black's "ruthlessness" isn't as fundamentally cruel as it appears, centering a passion for problem-solving (shared by its other ally blue) instead of a blunt disregard for others.

"People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think it means 'mean.' It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it." -K. A. Applegate

All of this comes together to make a black a color not of evil but of strength, integrity, and persistence. And that's all well and good, but I'm going to take it even further and put forward a new proposition: that black is the color of hope.

Of the nine mono-black Magic cards with "hope" in their names, all but Liliana portray black as an instrument of hope's destruction. This is, once again, black's flaw taken to its extreme–crushing others to achieve its own ends–but neglects black's own relationship with hope.

Black, more than any other color, requires hope to stay alive.

For black to persist, it must believe in a light at the end of the tunnel, a future in which its goals are realized. As long as it does, it will endure any hardship, walk through fire, and turn reality itself upside down on its way there. Primal, desperate ambition is the engine of hope that burns at the heart of black, keeping it always one step ahead of stagnation. Bitter and stubborn, black believes tomorrow will come because there is no other choice. After all, for black to relinquish hope is to let itself wither, regress, and die–an unacceptable outcome. 

Thus, it is monumentally difficult to strip black of hope. That only makes it all the more crushing when it happens, when black contends with the idea that there is nothing it can do.

Black's deepest, darkest fear is helplessness.

Like any mono-black character, Liliana Vess is driven at her core by a seething, desperate hope. When Liliana first unlocks her necromantic power, it is out of a sheer refusal to allow her ill brother Josu to die, even when the esis root that would cure him is destroyed by enemy witches in an undead-raising ritual. She defies her previous training as a healer, which taught her only to take the safe path, in favor of a higher-risk and higher-reward approach: stealing life from the witches themselves to restore power to the esis root she needs. It is her knowledge that her brother needs her, and her sheer stubborn will to succeed, which allows her to defeat the witches against steep odds.

"Six foes, and Liliana stood alone. But Josu's life depended on her, and the power blossoming within her was more than enough." -Liliana's Origin: The Fourth Pact, James Wyatt

Tragically, however, Liliana's attempted cure goes horrifically wrong, transforming Josu into an undead being plagued by eternal suffering. In his pain, Josu attacks Liliana. For a while Liliana holds out hope, finding the power to fight back while she determinedly searches for a spell to reverse the harm she's done. It is when she realizes this isn't possible that her strength falters.

"All this time, she had believed… that she could turn the power of death to the service of life and health. That a healer should use every tool at her disposal. But Josu was the result, a horrible fusion of life and death, and all her spells meant to manipulate the life force of the living could do nothing to harm the dead." -The Fourth Pact

Liliana learns that even her own dark magic, fueled by determination, cannot solve the problem she's created. She discovers the hard limit of her willpower, and the despair of this discovery is what causes her Planeswalker spark to ignite.

At this time Planeswalkers are as gods, immortal and near-omnipotent. Liliana spends decades enjoying this affirmation of her capability before the Mending strips her and all her peers of their power, reducing them once again to mortal mages.

"Then the Multiverse reshaped itself, robbing her—and every other Planeswalker—of the godlike power they once had wielded. Some called it the Mending, as if something broken had been repaired, but to Liliana, it seemed the opposite. It broke her beyond any hope of repair." -The Fourth Pact

Once again, it is Liliana's fear of helplessness and her refusal to accept it that drives her to push beyond the bounds of propriety–this time, to make a pact with Nicol Bolas and four demons to maintain her immortality. It is not enough for her merely to delay death; she requires the security of knowing she is fully beyond its reach, that she will never be helpless before it again as she was with Josu.

"Holding death at arm's length for whatever years are left to me? No, that's not enough. I want to be free of its shadow." -Liliana in The Fourth Pact

Black isn't like its enemy colors white and green, which are superficially associated far more often with hope. Unlike white, it doesn't believe that conviction, justice, and community will bring about rightness. Unlike green, it doesn't trust in the wisdom of the world or the natural order. Black believes that nothing will change unless you make it change; ultimately, black's self is the only one it can trust to bring about the world it needs. In addition, black lacks its enemies' idealism. Instead, it strives to be a pragmatic realist, making a final assessment of defeat all the more definite and crushing.

While white and green are more amenable to finding hope and holding it aloft as a banner, black claws hope desperately to its chest with shredded, bloody fingernails. Every ounce of hope black has, it tore by itself from the clutches of an uncaring world.

Ironically for such a self-driven color, black's fierce hope is the greatest asset it can provide to others–on its own terms, of course. It was Liliana who turned the tide of battle against the Eldrazi titan Emrakul, defiant in the face of cosmic despair. And when Nicol Bolas made his bid to return to godhood, using Liliana's necromancy to command his undead hordes, Liliana finally turned against him. In reclaiming her power, so too did she use it to free her fellow Planeswalkers from Bolas' assault. Her fear of helplessness no longer shackled her to him; agency and autonomy were hers at last.

The triumph of black, its moment of ultimate victory, is the hard-won fulfillment of its hope.

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." -Dylan Thomas

An aetherborn, railing against the shortness of their natural lifespan, constructs a new body for themself with their own bare hands. An artificer's grief over her lost companion causes her to push invention to its limits. A young girl who loves her brother calls on the darkest of powers to save him. As it turns out, necromancy–that original thematic keystone of black–is only one of black's many, many refusals to let go of love and hope once it has them, even in the face of the ultimate end.

Time and time again, black–in love with life, ablaze with hope–looks the Grim Reaper in the eye and tells it: "Not today."

[inbarfink]

I have… so many little thoughts about Simon’s shift in the climax of ‘Prismo the Wishmaster’. He’s so ready to give up, to resign to Death By Interdimensional Beetle Cop. And the thing that pulls him out of it, gets him to see a purpose in his life again, is seeing Fionna cry.

And this moment is so important for Fionna and Cake because this is their first moment to really process the Implications and Consequences of their magical adventure. You know, it’s not just a dream you can wake up from - this is actually a matter of life and death and the fate of their entire world.

And it’s actually, also kinda the same from Simon’s perspective? Even if he was already told they are real and have been real all along a while ago - I think seeing Fionna break out in tears is really the moment where he processed her not as a manifestation of Ice King’s madness, not as yet another way the universe is kicking him when he’s down, not as a cruel joke at his expense. But really actually as people, who need his help.

And, I think about this, also in context with this moment?

Simon Petrikov is… a dad at heart. Simon’s first focus episode in F&C starts with a prologue of him and Marceline surviving in the wasteland. Showing that despite being under much more miserable circumstances

he still seemed to hold himself together far better than present-day Simon. 

Because the need to protect Marcy and keep her happy was giving him purpose and a motivation to hold himself together. 

And this desire to help and nurture and protect is clearly still deep within him. It’s just that now he feels incapable for doing so. In both body-

And spirit -

But now, suddenly, he is once again the Only Person Who Can Help this younger person in distress.

And I think that is a huge part of his motivation to keep on going right now. I mean, just look at how quickly he goes from dismissing Fionna and Cake - into basically declaring that he has to protect them. And fully willing to sacrifice his own identity and sanity to bring magic back to their world because he knows it’ll make Fionna and Cake happy. Because the moment he saw Fionna tear up, he basically decided to Adopt her.

And that’s, you know, technically a step forward - but it is a very very imperfect step. 

Like, at the very least he’s not drinking his sorrows away while waiting for death out of pure despair and spite. At least he has a sense of purpose and a reason to open up for others again and bond. And we’ve seen how much this has been a great coping mechanism for pulling himself together through difficult times.

My guess is that after two episodes of only seeing Simon Petrikov at his lowest and very worst - Fionna and Cake are finally going to get an understanding of Simon’s actual positive qualities as his dad-instincts are going to bring them up to the surface again. 

Buuuuuuuut….

You know, tying your sense of self-worth and motivation entirely to how well you can Dad is not particularly healthy in the long run either. And it’s going to cause problems both for Simon and for F&C.

Looking at it from what's best of Simon, for the sake of protecting Fionna and Cake and making them happy by bringing magic and wonder back into their world - Simon is willing to throw himself right into the suffering and trauma that he’s been fearing all this time and has been trying so hard to get away from. I mean, it’s also about how Simon has started to miss being Ice King in a weird twisted way and how he resigned himself to being miserable in general. It’s also about that, but the part that he actually says out loud is that he’s doing this to protect Fionna and Cake.

So that’s, you know, still very Not Good. Simon can’t hang his entire ability to properly function on there being Younger People who need his protection. He can't actually move forwards by trying to relive the Better Times of the Horrible Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland. That's not a sustainable coping mechanism. And it’s an incredibly unhealthy amount of self-sacrifice. 

And on Fionna’s side… she never said she wanted Simon to protect her.

She might want a useful teammate or a helping hand, she might need a friend. But I don’t think she needs a Dad. Simon is surely old enough to be her father (even just counting his age biologically and not the fact he’s 1058 years old) but Fionna’s not a Literal Child like Marcy was. Fionna Campbell is a grown-ass woman in her early 30’s (Finn is 29 years old right now and there was always kinda the implication that Fionna was a bit older than him). 

(And, heck, if she IS the daughter of a gender-flipped Minerva Campbell, she is probably not in the market for a new overprotective dad. She’s fully booked out on that.)

AND while Fionna does not possess full memories of her magical-adventuring-self, she clearly retains some of her fighting and athletic abilities.

Meanwhile Cake is clearly an adult in cat years and is just as much of an insanely powerful shapeshifter as Jake was.

So where does this middle-aged scrawny nerd get off, acting like it’s his job to sacrifice his mind in order to protect them?

And Fionna very much wants to be the hero, she wants to be at the center of the action. It is no coincidence that her own idealized version of Ice King/Simon is a Tuxedo Mask.

Someone who can give her a helping hand and words of encouragement when things get rough - 

But still lets her be the main hero of the story.

And you know, right now Fionna and Cake have not fully processed the implications of Simon choosing to become Ice King… but once they see a bit of who Simon really is at his better moments. Yeah, they’re probably gonna have some objections to the idea that he should throw his entire identity away just for their own sake. 

Back when Simon allowed the Crown to slowly consume him so he could protect Marcy, it felt like a noble sacrifice. It really seemed like he had no other options. But now he has the entire multiverse on his disposal and two serious badasses on his side. Simon has to learn to see the difference between a codependent senseless self-sacrifice and something that will actually help Fionna and Cake.

So if Simon is really going to lean too hard on his Dad aspect, it’s actually going to cause some really big problems down the line. For his own mental well-being, and for Fionna and Cake. It is in a way, a step in the right direction. And I think it’s going to lead to our main trio finally becoming closer and understanding each other - but unless Simon learns to temper himself, it’s going to cause some serious interpersonal conflicts.

At least this is my thoughts about these interactions right now. I know they’ve been really short but I think they’re really full of Meaning and Emotions. But really, we’ll just have to wait and see.

[kirosai]

❦ a shining beginning.

content warnings!: sagau, yandere themes, some ooc for the harbingers, cult au, original sagau (reader teleported into genshin), gn!reader

❥The fatui are the ones to fear. The enemy, the antagonists, but, even then you’ve always taken a liking to them. the heartbreaking stories of the harbingers, the motive of the tsaritsa and even the short world quests of the Fatui agents.

❥It was a faraway dream for you, and anyone else to meet the harbingers. They were fictional of course! So… what exactly do you do when you wake up in the shining walls of the Zapolyarny Palace?…

that doctor. dottore. he always prayed upon you in his experiments, hoping they were successful as can be. a man of ice they would call him. but naturally, he’d bow to you. How utterly ironic the man that wants to detest the seven would bow to you. though, you were the light that guided him throughout all of those tireless nights filled with despair. as did you with everyone else. so it’s only natural, right?

so if you could see under that mask you’d see nothing but amazement and respect towards you. i’d bet money on him removing his mask if you wished him to. he’d halt any experiment, any mission, all for you. technically he could say that it’s.. a way of worshiping you, yes? not even her majesty the tsaritsa deserves an ounce of the worship he gives to you on a daily.

tartaglia, or childe as we know, we’ve all met him! you understand don’t you? he’s nothing but loyal, following you around like a guard dog, taking whatever praises he could get out of you!. except. it was all through a wall. a wall he couldn’t break.. you could only think about his reaction to you here. here! right in front of him! The light that guided him through the abyss, the reason for living! you.!

all of his life, until you was pure darkness, you gave him the push he needed! the blood he sheds is all in the name of sacrifice for you. the effort, the tears, the lives, all for you! so please treat him kindly! all he wants is your love and he’ll do anything to get it! although, don’t push him too hard, won’t you grant him the mercy oh kind, enchanting creator?

pantalone. that banker with his smile, his words, sugarcoated for others, but pure sickeningly sweet honey for you. he bought the most expensive gifts for you, diamonds, sapphires, rubies, all that you could imagine. his demeanor to many is nothing but fake, sugar coated lies to make them shut up. but.. you. you were different. you had the one thing he searched for all his life; warmth from this mean, cold world.

your heart was pure gold. at least, as he saw it. nothing he’d seen before. your presence was unexpected, yes, but he secretly hoped that you wouldn’t leave. all he wishes for is to bask in your ever so divine presence. although, yes you deny any sort of yourself being a god. he brushes it off as just a simple test of loyalty, it pushes him more to keep accommodate you to the best of his abilities so you feel the need to stay. oh dear what have you gotten yourself caught into?

with his act of.. er. of trying to understand divine knowledge. scaramouche had missed your first appearance. He felt guilty, and more so angry. not at you of course, but at himself. do not fear. he’ll be back, after hearing the news about your return to teyvat, he’ll be running back like the puppet he is. afterall, you are his true creator.

he might beg for forgiveness, or he might just bow, no matter who’s he is in front of, he’s at your beck and call. and the others respect that, one thing they can all agree with is you. after all, this is just the bare minimum of what they will and can do for you. he just wants you as much as everyone else. being one of the lucky ones meeting you first in the story, he got self awareness sooner than the others. 

arlecchino, we’ve heard of her i'm sure. her loyalty to the tsaritsa is… questionable. although to you, it’s undeniable. something that the others may have a more difficult time of letting go of would be nothing but child’s play for her. she holds no true loyalty for the tsaritsa. and her majesty probably knows so, though she does nothing, because she knows how much you love arlecchino. to upset you would be a death wish.

so being able to see you in all your light and glory was eye-opening for her, looking back she never understood how she could’ve lived without you. as a child she dreamed of meeting you in person, now it’s finally happening! even a regular person could see it in her eyes. oh her eyes! how beautiful they are, she’s heard about you denying being the creator of teyvat, the god of gods, the beginning and the end, oh how she could go on and on! but, going forward, there is no reason to deny the absolute truth your grace!

“Wake up.” a gentle voice whispers.

A shame, you were having the best dream.

A bed, unknown at the least, although it was comfortable. It felt safe, oddly enough. Laying on your mattress, it was lined with white silken sheets, the soft smell of lavender filling your nose, it had the softest place you’ve ever slept on. it felt.. Unfamiliar. 

Ah well, might as well keep sleeping. Maybe your bed was just extra comfortable today..

Wait

Muffled speaking outside the door, the whispers were untranslatable. In a foreign language you guessed. Observing your space, you realized you were in a large room, palace-like, the soft crackle of the fireplace to your left seemed to be the only warmth of the room. not your own room, or even house to say so. It was cold, but beautiful.

Oh! Of course. You must still be dreaming haha. Why else would you be here? Might as well just go back to sleep and wake up. right?

Which is what you do, but the horror of finding out you couldn't, you tried everything you could.. In the span of 3 minutes you tried, going back to sleep, pinching yourself, closing your nose, then just closing your eyes really, really hard.

But, none of those worked, so it must be.. you were actually here. In real life. D-did you get kidnapped? Oh my god you got kidnapped! You have to find a way out, it’s just like those wattpad fanfictions!- holy crap your-

*creeek*

“Your grace? ah, you’re awake. Is everything alright? You gave us quite the scare there. Hmmh.” an all too familiar face.

Staring in awe, realization settles in. Wait… WAIT. That's Pantalone, from genshin impact?? this can't be real! And did he just say “your grace” is he talking about you??

“W-wait? huh? Where am I? and, what do you mean “your grace” ” you can only imagine what you look like right now.

“You’re in the Zapolyarny Palace in Snezhnaya of course. and why else would I be calling you your grace? you are the creator of Teyvat. Though, if you prefer another name, I'll be happy to oblige. ” a soft smile rises to his face. 

Gosh.. his voice is so euphonious. He walks closer to check your temperature, removing his glove and placing a hand on your temple. 

“Seems like your fever is gone.” his smile deepens. Dimples.

And before you can say anything someone else walks in.

All and behold another harbinger, Tartaglia!

“You seem to be getting comfortable. You were sent back to check on their grace, not to hog their attention.” the ginger says.

Flabbergasted, jaw probably hitting the floor, you still cannot understand what in the world is going on.

Pantalone turns to him. “Their grace’s fever has gone down. I’m just doing my duty, no need to be jealous.” his oh so perfect banker smile is put back on, but it seems a little less genuine towards Tartaglia.

“Uhm.. excuse me? But I think you have the wrong person, I'm in no way a god, just a regular person, also, what is happening??!”

the two stare at you, then each other, and back at you again, and then stare at each other.

“Ah... It seems as if the fever has contracted memory loss. Alert the second about this Tartaglia. Other than that. I will help their grace meet the others. maybe that will run their memory right.”

Tartaglia opens his mouth, but whatever he has to say never comes out, curiosity of what he was planning to say plagues you. Though he walks out before the thought can get any further. He’s most likely going to Dottore as told by the ninth.

“Now your grace, I understand your confusion, but let's go to the others. and I'm sure Her Majesty the Tsaritsa would just be delighted to know you are awake.”

a small nod comes from you, excitement spreads through your body, oh my gosh oh my gosh!! You’re going to be meeting The Harbingers and The Cryo Archon!! Although, it seems you're unable to look at the bigger picture of what your story has in store for you.

WHERE THE SAGAU FANS GO????

repost from old blog!

[coinandcandle]

Offering Ideas!

Offerings can be so difficult to keep up with, but here are a few examples of some daily--or even weekly--offering ideas! These can be used for gods, spirits, ancestors, or any entity, really!

What is an Offering?

An offering is generally something that is offered as a religious sacrifice or token of devotion. This could be a physical item, a digital item, or an action.

Non-Physical Offerings

These are often easier to do, if you can remember to do it! Personally I have to have a reminder on my self care app to tell Lugh and The Morrigan "good morning" and "good night" every day. Here are some other non-physical offerings you can do!

Greetings. Just a simple "hello" or some other pleasantry at the beginning and end of each day.

Pray. Either improvise it or use one that you recite regularly. It's a bonus if you created the prayer yourself!

Sing. Again, you could create your own song if you'd like. This also works if you'd like to play an instrument.

Dance.

Recite Poetry.

Exercise. Dedicating your exercise is a great way to incorporate offerings into a more regular routine!

Chat. Sometimes if I feel like I'm not able to do much else, I will try and chat, almost in the way one would speak to an old friend while catching up. I know some folks who make whole discord servers specifically to talk to their deities or spirit pals.

Write a digital note on your phone. This one is simple and easy and you can do it anywhere without worrying about other people overseeing/hearing.

Meditate. Meditating with the sole purpose of it being an action as an offering is a good way to not only help you feel connected, but can help you throughout your day, too!

Physical Offerings

These involve a bit more work, especially if you're trying to make sure your pets or children don't get into them! But if you have a space you can place an offering, even if it's on a countertop or the topmost part of a bookshelf, then here are some things you can do.

Or consider doing a libation instead--where you pour out a drink instead of leave it out!

Drinks. Alcohol is a pretty common offering but can be rather expensive. Try milk, juice, tea, or coffee. Hell, even your favorite energy drink or sparkling water can be an offering!

Food. Set a portion of your meal aside as an offering.

Tending to plants. If you have a dedicated plant (or multiple!) then tending to them can be an offering in an of itself.

Candles or Incense. This one is as old as...well, candles and incense, I suppose! You can also use an LED light for this if needed!

Cleaning. This is especially good if you're doing it as an offering to house spirits. Also good for deities that reign over homemaking and the sort.

Pick up litter. This is a good one if you're trying to get in touch with local nature spirits.

[babygorewhore]

His Doll

Continuing this blurb of Rafe Cameron falling for a goth girl. Opposites attract, right?

This wasn’t a request but I got a really good response when I wrote my blurb so I extended it! This is self indulgent but also hot and steamy!! Warnings! Blow job and unprotected sex! @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx helped me out on this!

“Look at little Tim Burton over there,” Rafe smirks at Topper when he sees you loitering at one of the expensive stores in Tanny Hill. You were completely out of place in the Outer banks. All black clothes, thick combat boots and dark makeup.

Rafe was prepared to approach you but he found himself a little nervous. Why was he nervous? You were some weird goth chick in a state where everyone wore bright colors and sandals. Why shouldn’t he go over there and mess with you? He had heard about goth chicks being freaks. That was it. That was all it was.

Until he found himself slipping beside you ten minutes later, selecting a black t-shirt much to Topper's surprise and side glances. He made sure you looked at him as he bought it. He wasn’t one to be intimidated by girls, he was used to them. Used to getting whatever he wanted until now. But you didn’t fawn over him as he watched you wander around the boardwalk a few days later.

“She must be new.” He muttered to himself. Why else would she not pay him attention? Rafe found her instagram later that night and saw she listed her Spotify. He started listening and cringed at the volume. He wasn't able to understand the lyrics at first but as the minutes went on…it was actually a little catchy.

When he worked out, Topper and Kelce looked at him like he was an alien as he blasted the music through his headphones as he worked out. “Bro, she’s got you pussy whipped.” Kelce smacked him on the shoulder and Rafe glared.

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was a mantra Rafe repeated when he finally went up to you after a week. You were…having a picnic in the middle of an empty park on a gloomy day with a big smile on your face as you wrote something in a notebook. He wore a black shirt with dark jeans, a really poor attempt to have some sort of common ground with you.

“Hey,” He cleared his throat and you removed your headphones, looking up at him with a surprisingly polite smile.

“Hi! Can I help you?” Your voice was soft. A little sweet and his cock twitched. Mmm. A good girl underneath all that darkness.

You were looking up at him from sitting at your table and he almost moaned the vision of what his future would look like with that black lipstick smeared all over his cock.

“Seen you around. I’m having a little fun tonight with some friends.” You quirked an eyebrow and he briefly wondered if he said the wrong thing.

“You’re inviting me to a party? Rafe Cameron himself?” He was stunned you knew his name before you gave him a little teasing smirk.

“I know who you are. Your royalty on this hell island.” Then you laughed. It was a bursting sound that almost made him smile. Something about the giddy way you expressed yourself made him feel even more attracted to you.

“Yeah. I can take you to my house early. We can leave anytime. I can bring you home whenever you wanna leave. You know, sacrifice to Satan or whatever.”

“You know, not all goths are satanists.” You replied and he lowered himself a little.

“Yeah? Come on. Prove me wrong, witchy girl.”

He almost didn’t expect you to accept but then he was driving to his house while your legs were crossed in his car. You were silent but not in a rude way. You were admiring the scene.

Rafe decided to collect this in his mind. You liked watching the outside. You enjoyed simpler things. Interesting. When he arrived at the party, people were already there and enjoying themselves, watched over by topper. Barry spotted him as Rafe walked you inside his penthouse booming with music but you paused.

“Is this…deftones?” You asked him and Rafe smirked.

“Yeah. They’re great. Perfect for a party near the beach.” You gave him a laugh as Barry approached him with a handshake.

“Hey country club, the fuck you doin in that shirt? Tryna impress the lady guest?” Rafe slung an arm over your shoulder, feeling the pattern of your shirt with his fingers.

“Are you impressed?” He looked down at you and you nodded.

“I am actually. Did you hack into my Spotify or something?” Rafe paused before he saw the smile on your face and he leaned down.

“Mhm. You like that, huh? Come on. Show me what you got.”

That’s when he found himself in his bedroom, with you on your knees. Black lipstick mixed with his cum as he fucked your throat. He moans as he thrusts into your soft mouth, his hand buried in your hair locked with hairspray and your eyes leaking with tears that make your makeup run down your cheeks.

“Pretty little witchy girl.” He grunts as he continues his movements and his cum spills all over you.

Witchy girl is one of his favorite nicknames he uses for you. But another one is monster high doll or vampire Barbie. You’re his little dark angel as he watches YouTube videos while you’re asleep on his bed late at night. He has watched in awe of your removal of your makeup. But you were still so beautiful. You didn’t need it but he wouldn’t risk the wrath of Satan if he spoke it.

He watched different content on different types of goths. Now that he had you, he had to keep you while you hung out with your…interesting friends today as he sat with you, hand on your upper thigh as you happily talked about topics he never considered to be beautiful or something to notice. The night sky. Full moon. Art. Music. Even horror movies started to become apart of his life. Even though it wasn’t his favorite, his little doll loved it and who was he to not keep her happy?

But something he loved doing most was surprising you with a gift. You didn’t grow up like he did. Into privilege. You told him that you shopped usually at second hand stores and he almost fainted.

So, he looked up the best pair of platform black boots and got them for you. Gift giving was easy for him but seeing your big smile and the way you screamed made it his favorite thing to see. Then you insisted you couldn’t accept.

Rafe decided what sort of payment he would take.

He spread you open on his bed, ripping off your favorite pair of lace panties that he promised to buy more of as your dripping pussy glistened for him as he kneeled, running the tip of his dick along your slick swollen clit. “Not so scary anymore, huh?” He said as he pushed inside to the hilt, balls slapping against you.

“God…” You whined as he thrusted harder and deeper, his hands holding his weight above you while your legs were hooked around his waist.

“Not god, doll. Me.” He growled and lightly slapped your face. “Remember that. Remember who owns you.”

Rafe wouldn’t trade his little witch girl for anything.

Or the way her eyeliner runs like a fucking porn star.

@marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @xxhellfirebunnyxx @redhead1180

[fangweaver2099]

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 3

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23 @iamtheprincess227 @haveclayeveryday @sphynxfoxslut69 @junehasnotbeenfound

PART 1 - PART 2 - CHAPTER 1

It had been almost two months since Web first messaged you. As it turned out, you liked not being the caretaker for once. Considering you grew up the eldest of your six siblings, you were the second mom, the babysitter, the caretaker . 

Being the eldest daughter was a curse. 

You still had embarrassing flashbacks while laying in your bed of your father screaming at you over getting a B in AP physics in your junior year of highschool. 

You liked not being in charge. No responsibility, no obligation, no pressure. Web gave that to you. 

He’d become a friend as much as he was a dominant. You found yourself asking him about mundane things, restaurants he liked or opinions on your going-out clothing. 

He never really broke character, or, well - what you assumed was a character. Suave, domineering with a hint of playful possessiveness... you weren’t entirely sure if you were ready to sacrifice as much clothing as he wanted to rip off you. 

Clothes were expensive and you worked too hard to let him rip apart your nice lingerie.

Still, you weren't entirely opposed to the idea of him tearing apart clothes that he bought you. You thought about suggesting it once, but chickened out as he'd already spent a decent amount on you. Asking for more felt selfish, and you would not reduce yourself to being anyone's sugar baby. 

(Even if the thought did tempt you, sometimes.) 

He had plans for you - or so he said. You got the hint that he enjoyed that you were new and that he was the one ‘teaching you the ropes’,  but he took it seriously. He made you buy an ebook and learn about your nerves and blood flow. 

He didn’t want you to risk nerve damage and went out of his way to ensure you knew to see the signs. 

You had even suggested buying your own rope and testing some self ties, but Web refused. Worried that you’d mess something up and end up losing a limb, he expressly forbade any experimentation that you’d otherwise have tried. 

He hadn’t really revealed much of himself other than he traveled occasionally for work. You had about a dozen different photos in your telegram media chat of him in different hotel bedrooms, but he never told you why he was traveling - just that he was. 

You still hadn’t gotten an answer out of him of what he did for work. He was more active when he was traveling - during the week he practically disappeared but when he was traveling, you’d get a good extra half an hour or so to chat with him. You got used to the routine and you may or may not have adjusted your sleep schedule to spend the most time with him.

Your roommates were beginning to notice, though. It was obvious, with how you started taking much better care of yourself. You dressed up more - did your makeup regularly, you always walked to work… 

You began cooking, for god’s sake, breaking out your grandmother’s precious recipes and putting them to use. 

You tried to not think about the improvement of your mental health hinged on a 36 year old man bossing you around and making you fuck yourself silly on a toy he bought you. 

Aurora had dubbed you ‘Dorm Mom’ despite the fact that the five of you didn’t live in a dorm. Technically your house was a duplex that was converted to one house for college student rentals. 

He hasn’t asked you to use the lovense yet. It was pink and had a weird wider clamp bit you assumed held it in place. You hadn’t tried to put it on, remembering Web’s words.

“No using them without my permission, understood?”  

So, obviously, you didn’t. You didn’t expect yourself to be so rule compliant - you’d convinced yourself you’d be a brat or sassy like a kitten. Now you just fantasized about sitting between Web’s legs as he called you a good pet.

You still hadn’t decided what you were - dog, kitten, bunny? No clue - so he just started calling you pet. It was kind of hard to roleplay being nonverbal online. You had sent him a few videos now - happy to take it nice and slow. 

He made it clear he was comfortable with that. He was always direct and clear with you. You found yourself adoring his communication skills and learning a thing or two. It was refreshing compared to your singular previous relationship - he… he was sure a teenager.

Clear commands were comforting in an odd way, even if said commands were some of the filthiest things you've ever had sent to you. The commands he gave were easy to understand and impossible to fuck up without distinctly trying. 

 He made you nervous, but that was from anticipation, not from anxiety of making yourself look like a total idiot.  

He'd scold you and punish you if you'd call yourself that anyways, and your hand still hurt from the first round of lines he'd made you write in a notebook he also made you go out and get. Punishments long distance were difficult, but that was a surefire way you wouldn't forget his instructions and rules anytime soon.

It was a Thursday night - Web had told you he’d be around at 9pm, so you’d been twiddling your thumbs agonizing over the wait as you stared at the clock. There were a hundred things you could be doing to pass the time, but none of them seemed particularly fun against the rising concoction of excitement and dread churning in your belly. Instead, you figured you’d clean your room - the stage in which you’d male your grand debut. 

It was hardly the first time he had seen you, of course, but it would be the first time he’d see you live. You remembered how the first video you sent accidentally included the messy pile of clothes in the corner of your bedroom that you had forgotten about for an embarrassingly long time. He must have thought you a slob. You nearly cried a day after sending it when you scrolled through your conversation and saw it in the thumbnail. 

Not again. No, your room would be fucking spotless , if you had anything to say about it. 

First thing first, the hamper. Heaving the pile into your lattice-work bin, you trucked it over to the laundry room, the half-faded writing on its handle reading your name to make sure no one accidentally swapped clothes.

Next thing was vacuuming, and not just turning on the communal roomba and letting it wander for a few minutes in your room like the last time you ‘cleaned’. Your eyes lingered on the pink disc affectionately dubbed ‘Kirby’ by the household. Not this time, old friend.

You were a mostly clean person. Mostly. Maybe it was time to get back on your anti-depressants, you mused, picking up another glass to bring to the kitchen. 

After a half hour you felt pretty satisfied, your room looking better than it had in… Probably since a week after you moved in. Maybe you were messy?

The thought was interrupted by the click of a door closing in the living room. You winced. No, this could not be happening. They were - were supposed to be out tonight! Didn’t they all have a show to be at?

You peeked your head out your door to spy who had come in, feeling a tad like a ninja without the skills or cool costume or, really, anything that would make you a ninja. 

It was Aurora - huffing as she made her way inside. As always, the strawberry blonde had that characteristic coloring, all colorful care-bear themed clothing and highwaisted jeans, a literal rainbow shaped into a person and set loose to run wild. She was scowling, but that quickly evaporated when her brown eyes met yours. 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight. The drag show ended early because one of the Queens made one too many jokes about cops and I guess some guy had a brother that was one.” She rolled her eyes, “‘Throwing bricks is assault’, he said. ‘Yeah that’s the point’, the Queen replied. You know how it is.”

“The others are bar hopping, but I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning so I have to turn in soon. Don’t mind me if you uh.. Had something special planned with all of us out, wink wink,” she said while literally winking. You wished you exploded on the spot.

“S-Something special? No-no, why would you think that?” you stammered, stepping out from your bedroom, hands growing clammy and wet.

“Because it's not often you have the apartment to yourself. You don’t maybe.. Have a boyfriend coming over or something?” She leaned forward, lips curling into a grin as she leaned closer. 

“ NO, ” you replied firmly, definitely too firm. It wasn’t a lie, he wasn’t exactly a boyfriend and he wasn’t coming over either. 

You were just going to get naked in front of him on camera and masturbate. 

Now you just had to do that with your roommate a few doors down. 

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

(everything was definitely not fine, and you could feel yourself getting paler, a bit lightheaded.)

“Suuuuure you don’t. If I hear knocking on the door - or in your room - I’ll just turn up my laptop while I watch netflix.” She hummed to herself, waltzing over to the fridge to grab a snack before she disappeared into her equally brightly colored bedroom.

This… complicated things, but of all the people to be home while this happened, you supposed Aurora was the least bad. She was a heavy sleeper and she wore earbuds when she watched stuff in her room, so it was possible that she wouldn’t notice at all. 

Your eyes darted to the clock as she left, checking the time. It was past time. You had been so busy worrying that you -

Shit. 

Rushing back to your bedroom, you snagged a towel on the way there, spreading it on the floor as you moved in. There was a risk of you needing it later, and you really, really wanted to be prepared. 

Taking a deep breath, you settled, laptop in hand, sitting cross legged on the towel. You opened your laptop, setting it down in front of you and taking a big, deep breath, losing any of the composure you’d gained all at once as you saw the notification waiting.

 9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Are you free, pet?”  

“ I am. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

 9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ve been thinking about the video you sent me a few days ago.”  

“ Oh? I just did what you asked, Sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

 9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That you did, and you looked so nice squirming with those clamps on. You have very beautiful breasts, Fawn. Are you enjoying all the toys I provided you? Which is your favorite?”  

“ Thank you. I am, but I don’t think I have a favorite yet. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

 9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How are you adjusting to the dildo? Can you take it completely to the flare yet?”  

“ Same as last photo I shared, so not quite. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “As much as I’d like to hilt myself in you when we meet, I understand that’s not always realistic. Don’t feel too bad if you reach your limit. If you do, however, I’ll need to get you something bigger to practice on.”  

“ I’m happy to keep trying with encouragement. :p ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Aside from praise, is there something I can offer as a reward?”  

“ Pics, maybe. I do quite like the praise. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Alright, how about this: You get a picture for every inch you can manage starting at four. That’s twp potential pictures total if you reach all six.”  

“ I like that. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How would you like to show me your progress live?”  

“ I can try another video, I wish we could just facetime or something. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight, actually.”  

“ Oh? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Zoom. I will be muted and you still won’t see my face.”  

“ Can I ask why? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Why do you wear your mask?”  

“ Because I’m a college aged woman posting nudes on the internet. Point taken, I guess. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:21 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We all have our reasons. Would you like to or not?”  

“ Yes, sir. ” - Fawnteeth -  9:21 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Always so polite.”  

“ I try. ” - Fawnteeth -  9:21 PM

 9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It saves me some time disciplining it into you.”  

“ We’ll see, I like the idea of being a brat, remember? Just hard to do across the web. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

9:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll try not to scare you too much the first time I show you the crop then.”  

“ So scary :p. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

9:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Let’s see what you think when you’re crying and you can’t sit for the next three days.”  

“ We’ll just have to see. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

 9:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Get your lube, lovense and dildo. Find somewhere comfortable where you won’t be interrupted. Join when you’re ready: [Zoom code]”  

“ Okay, can you see me?. ” - Fawnteeth -  9:30 PM

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “There’s my pet. Yes, I see you beautiful.”

Web’s video flashed on, bare enough to give you a generous view of his muscular frame, sculpted torso painting him like some god in human form. A pair of gray boxer-briefs were all that he wore on his bottom half, the bulge of his flaccid penis intimidatingly large. The man was a shower, not a grower. Even soft as it was now, it strained against the fabric and ran down his leg, head nearly threatening to peek out from the leg-holes. 

It was unfair how hot he was.

As always, the frame cut off before you could see his chin. Just what could a man like this have to hide, truly? So mysterious.

You found yourself staring for a moment, hunched over in your baggy t-shirt and underwear. All the confidence evaporated from your body - you didn’t realize he would have his feed on. 

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, struggling with the camera of your laptop. 

“Can you hear me?” you asked. 

The man leaned forward, the barest hint of his chin coming into frame only to be obscured by a simple medical mask. His long fingers typed something out and a moment later his message pinged into existence.

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can.”  

Your eyes rested firmly on the mask for a moment, your brow raised. 

“Same idea, but mine is easier to breathe in.” You pointed at your own mask, black cloth and far more comfortable. 

It was technically made to be worn over a medical mask, after all. You were trying so hard to play it cool, as if you couldn’t feel sweat sticking your hair to the back of your neck. You sit up and back far enough you’re in view of the camera but you can still see his text.  

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Here I thought you might ask me where I got the idea from. I hope you don’t have a copyright.”  

You grinned under your mask, eyes scrunching. “I don’t. I-I’m glad you got the idea from me.” Flinching at the stutter, you glanced around the room, one of your hands brushing over your mask and down your neck awkwardly. 

9:31 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Nervous, Fawn? It’s normal to be. This is your first time doing something like this, isn’t it?”  

Sat there, you stalled, before nodding as physically hard as you could - you didn’t want to stutter again. Your hands eventually grabbed at the edge of your shirt and twisted it together, revealing a hint of your stomach.

9:31 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We can go slow, pet. Remember our safety tools. Shall we test them?”  

“I- yeah. Sorry. I want to. Just… It feels more real, ” you admitted.  

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “This will make it easier when I meet you in person. A stepping stone. I want you to feel comfortable. Safe.”  

You know he couldn’t see you blush, but you sure felt your face warm, your eyes drifting over his hands as they disappeared to type. 

“I know. I trust you,” you finally spoke, voice a bit more sure. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color check. How are you feeling?”  

“Green,” you answered, hands moving to finally wrench your top over your body, tossing it… somewhere.

Idly, your gaze brushed over your hips, fingers touching the half-faded marks that you had written on yourself the week before at Web’s instruction. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Still not fully faded, I see. Good thing it was a compliment and not something else.”  

“What would something else be?” you asked, again cringing at your stumbling of words.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Some pets prefer degradation. ‘Whore’, ‘Slut’, ‘Stupid Bitch’. You seem like the type that works on praise.”  

Your brows furrowed, “What do you prefer?” 

Belatedly, you realized that it was probably a terrible idea to ask. You knew you’d try desperately to enjoy whatever he liked. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Depends on my mood, and how bratty they’ve been. You’re a good girl, aren’t you Fawn? Stay like that and we’ll keep doing praise.”

Slowly, Web reached down to his thigh, thick-veined hand sliding across the bulge of his member which had slowly begun to swell and harden.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve barely done anything and you’ve already started to get me hard. Your voice is beautiful, Fawn.”

You swore you felt your heart skip in your chest, shifting on your knees almost uncomfortably. You felt the urge to sit up straighter - it was hard to tell if it was to hide the rolls on your stomach or because you felt lifted by his compliment. 

He was almost inhumanly attractive. You swore a man like him couldn’t be real, but here he was. 

“I.. Uhm…,” you stumbled over your words, glancing at the toy laid out beside your hip. 

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How about you start taking off the rest of your clothes for me, Fawn? Show me your beautiful body.”

Web’s hand shifted, fingers hooking the edge of his underwear and dragging it down enough that you could begin to see the neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair leading to his manhood. It lingered there, just an inch away from revealing the base of his cock to you. 

In all honesty, how wet you already were was more than enough humiliation alone for you to squirm - he didn’t need to contribute. You reached your arms back, struggling for a moment to unclasp your bra. It was on instinct as you tossed it down and wrapped one hand over your breasts. 

You tried to not notice him typing one-handed, knowing it would be like that for the rest of the night. 

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “There they are, those pretty breasts of yours. Don’t hide them from me, pet.”

“I’m trying ,” you admitted, squirming in your kneeling position. You were hunching forward ever so slightly, eyes waiting for his next message.

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color?”

“Green,” you mumbled, forcing yourself to drop your arm and sink your fingers into your thigh. 

Part of you was thankful the AC in your room barely worked so it wasn’t freezing to be naked right now. 

Taking the initiative for the first time in weeks, you shifted, sitting back on your haunches to display the wet spot quickly spreading across the seat of your panties. 

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So wet for me already, eager little thing. Take those off too; Show me your pussy, Fawn.”

You tried… so hard to do it quickly - sexy, y’ know? Smooth. Hooking your thumbs under the waistband and tugging, just like he had, but…

Instead of a smooth descent, your underwear caught at your knees, and you froze, shifting back on your hips to try to dislodge them, but that only had you falling quickly off balance. It took both arms to catch yourself and keep you from toppling over, panties still tangled at your knees, and you whimpered, trying desperately not to look at your screen while you smoothly (read: jerkily) kicked your underwear off.

Now nude, you had to take a moment to soothe your panic. You were convinced that, to some extent, he was charmed by your awkwardness - he'd all but told you as much a few times, but it didn't stop your cheeks from burning and your mind from considering hanging up, giving up, and hiding away from the rest of the world for the next year or so.

For a moment you lingered half-laid before rolling back onto your knees, now completely nude. Eager to pretend that nothing happened, you raked your hair from your face, risking a quick glance to the screen, and - 

You swore you could see his chest rise like he was chuckling at you. It was almost enough to make you wish he could see you pout. 

Crossing your arms, you frowned, all too cognizant of how the motion propped up your breasts for him while he typed. 

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Take those tits in your hands now, squeeze them. Pinch your nipples for me. Do what you would want me to do to them. Color.”

“G-green,” you managed to get out, wiping your sweaty palms over your torso.  Taking a deep breath, you reread the order, before letting your eyes drift back up to his video. Watching the broad, built man palm his crotch, squeezing his massive cock through his pants,you couldn’t help but remember that the black dildo was two inches shorter and more than a bit thinner. 

He was massive.

Slowly, your hands uncrossed and cupped your breasts. Hesitantly, you tweaked at one of your nipples, cautious and careful. You had always been sensitive, it was hard to even sleep without a bra much less masturbate. Now Web was telling you to… oh dear. Your eyes pinched close, thumb and pointer coming together to squeeze the sensitive bundle of nerves between them. 

You massaged it gently as you felt electricity run up your spine, forcing a little gasp from your throat. You straightened your back, tensing and releasing the nipple with a whimper. Your fingers lingered again, knowing every touch would jolt through you like lightning.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You seem hesitant. Color.”

Taking in a sharp breath, you swallowed, glancing between the chat and the camera. It took effort to maintain ‘eye contact’, but you forced yourself to do it, to open your mouth and answer him. 

 “G-green.” 

A pause, and then-

“‘M sensitive ,” you managed to mumble, twisting your head away from the camera.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So it seems. Do you have the clamps I bought you nearby? Maybe it will be easier hands-free.”

You glanced back, leaning forward to read his words. On instinct - you went to type your reply, only stopping yourself at the last second

“I- yeah. I think so,” you shift on your knees and grab one of the ‘secret’ boxes from under your bed where the dildo and lube was stored. Your hips were the only thing in view to Web. 

When she turned around with the clamps in hand a new message awaited her.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So pretty. Turn around for me first, let me see your ass. Spread your cheeks and show me your pussy.”

Your cheeks burned and you were thankful for your mask, but you doubted he needed to see your blush to know how flustered you were.

“I-O-Okay,” you stammered, stumbling over your words, warring between your nervousness and excitement, hands pressing down on your floor to help you turn. Before long your rear was facing the camera, cunt on full display. As you buried your face in a pillow, your arms reached back to grab your own butt. You took a deep breath and pulled your cheeks apart, giving a teasing wiggle as your back arched for him. 

You sat there, face pressed into your pillow for maybe a minute before finally turning around, checking his response. The sight of his cock on full display greeted you, properly hard with a hand stroking it lazily as pre-cum beaded at his tip. It was one thing to see it in a picture, but on video… Your hands went up to your face, covering your masked cheeks out of pure instinct. 

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Such a nice, wet pussy. Are you eager for me to fill that hole with my cum, pet? Show me where you want my cock.”

You swallowed again, resisting the urge to roll over and squeal like you did sometimes when you two were sexting. You were not sexting - well. 

Kinda. 

Cybering? Yeah. You were cybering. 

You moved your hands down to your pubic mound, fingers lingering in your curls before sinking your fingers into the flesh, pulling upwards to expose a hint of your labia.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s it, good girl. My lovely Fawn, so obedient.”

“Thank you, sir,” you gasped out, forcing a deep breath and settling your voice. “I-I want to be a good girl.” You rolled your hips back, showing off more of your groin. You weren’t exactly soaked - but you were wet. It was getting worse as you watched him stroke himself. You wondered what it would feel like under your touch.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now put the clamps on, Fawn.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded grabbing at the clamps you had left sitting on the floor beside you. The black tweezer tips were soft to the touch, colder metal giving way to a small adjustable crank that could tighten them into place. The two clamps were held together by a string of metal link, quietly twinkling as you brought them up to yourself. .

Your nipples were already hard, small buds poking out from your breasts like they were begging to be pinched and pulled. It would be so much easier if he was here himself, you thought. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about spasming each time you brushed against them. He could make you do whatever he wanted. His hands looked strong, those arms clearly able to pin you. 

You felt saliva pool in your mouth, and you swallowed. Hard. 

You winced as the first clamp tightened onto your nipple, the sensitive flesh burning with pain as you adjusted the tightness. Too tight - you let a sigh of release loose as the pain relieved itself, more of a comfortable ache than an outright pain. You liked this sort of discomfort. 

The next one quickly followed, you biting your lip as you pressed your breasts together with the sides of your arms to show the clamps off to Web.

“How’s this, Sir?”

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good, Fawn. Now pull on that chain for me.”

You clenched your teeth, eyes shutting for a moment before nodding. Mean. He was mean . 

You really shouldn’t have liked it as much as you did. 

A hand rose, sheepishly curling a finger over the chain and pulling ever so slightly. It was enough, forcing you to gasp aloud.

“Ah! Fuck .” You couldn’t help the curse, tears beading at the edges of your eyes from the sheer sensitivity.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girls don’t curse. Do I need to punish you for that foul mouth? How about this: Again. Harder this time.”

You nodded again, pulling harder and locking your hips into place to help stifle the powerful jolt of pleasure through your spine. It still had you nearly jump, butt clenching and shoulders shuddering.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Again. Color.”

All the while, his other hand had been stroking his intimidating length, swollen veins running along his tan shaft while his dark balls hung beneath, drawing tight and high. You could almost imagine how close he was to his peak, just from watching you. 

“Green. Green,” you gasped, releasing the chain as your body shivered. 

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Sweet little Fawn. How about you start using some of that lube now, get yourself ready for your dildo? You want to show me how you’d take my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

For a moment, you sat there, glancing over at the small lube bottle and the black toy. Slowly, resisting the urge to squeeze the dildo like a stressball, you picked the thing up, staring at it. 

He was seriously bigger than this? 

Instead, you squeezed out a palm-full of lube and applied it generously to the dildo, stroking over the toy until it was coated in a layer of slickness. Next was yourself, though you gave yourself a minute to breathe before inhaling a lung-full of air and nodding. The somewhat cold liquid alerted your senses as you lathered it across your opening and slipped your fingers inside yourself.

 You were already wet, but lube could hardly hurt . It’s not like you were used to taking insertions like this, only ever really using your fingers before now - and even then, that was sparing .

You had ridden the dildo a few times by now - but only ever in short, contained clips for Web, and never in front of anybody like you now were. 

9:36 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s a good pet, prepare that pretty pussy for me. Let’s see how deep you can take it.”

Your hand shook a little as it rested on your lips, dildo in hand to tease along your seam, the slightly curved edge giving it an ever-slightly realistic shape. Teasing yourself like this was agony, you would have far preferred to lay back and let him do whatever he wanted to you, but you were eager to please.

“Oooookay. Just.. might take a minute..,” you managed as your hand lingered, nervousness freezing your muscles in place. 

You could take a few inches without much issue, you knew that mechanically. Objectively. Experimentations had proven that you could get pretty far down, if you were relaxed and tried hard enough. 

You could even film it for him, but to do it while he was watching, stroking his cock openly in front of you? Your eyes shifted back to the screen, the man’s hand tightening around the shaft of his lengthy member. He had said before he was eight inches. This dildo was six, and that was already scary. 

You swallowed hard, watching him pump out a few strokes to you, shifting your hand placement so that he would have a better view of your pussy. Slowly but surely, the lube did its work and before you even meant for it to properly slide inside there it was, an inch deep.

Your butt clenched, thighs quivering while the arm supporting your weight behind you shook faintly, an aching soreness beginning to spread.

“I want you, Sir,” you admitted, biting your lip as you half teased him, half tortured yourself. It was the most you could manage, and despite the burning at your cheeks you were proud. You could see by the way his cock twitched in his hand he was too, his massaging strokes growing more rapid.

9:36 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s right, Fawn. Put it inside. Show me how you want me to fuck you, pet.”

You inched yourself down, feeling the dull ache intermixed with pleasure as the toy pressed into your pussy. You let out a ragged gasp, pausing to lift your hips back up, slowly settling back down. You settle into a shallow rhythm, desperately trying to not play the pathetic, anxiety ridden virgin you really were. 

Right now, you were Fawn.

You stuttered for a moment in anxiety, rolling your arms to settle your hands back behind you as your legs shivered in discomfort. After a moment, you tried to force most of the dildo into you, forcing a gasp to leave your lips as the aching pressure only got worse. 

You could barely take 3/4ths of this damn thing - you sure as hell couldn’t think about trying to take Web right now. Thankfully, your furrowed brows were mostly out of view. 

Web was muted, but you swear you could hear the clap of the edge of his hand against his balls, each pump up and down his cock faster than the last. You took it as encouragement, a small smile forming on your lips despite the pain inside you. You were never too worried about pain, it so often came hand in hand with pleasure to you. 

Rolling your hips, you half-rode, half-ground against the dildo as you lifted your butt higher, desperately searching for that special nook that promised your peak. 

Eventually, a little surprisingly, you did. Your slender fingers and sensitive body could only do so much to yourself, but this was perhaps as close as you had ever gotten to a proper orgasm. You leaned into it, smile widening as you took control of your own pleasure. Up and down you bounced against the dildo, each drop sending it deep inside you. Surely you could reach a new record tonight and earn those rewards he promised, you mused to yourself. Or you would later, since your brain was quickly becoming putty in the present.

As nice as this was, it wasn’t sustainable, not forever. Your legs were quickly getting tired, aching muscles ready to give out. You had to readjust, your torso leaning forward so that you could sit on your knees and ride it that way, hands and knees holding you up.

As your weight shifted, you underestimated just how much pain your thigh would spike with. The adjustment made it kick out, foot striking the bottle of lube and knocking it into your bed frame with a loud bang. You winced, mortified, head whipping around to look at what had happened. Your second mistake. The quick motion had you collapsing on your ass, falling straight on your tailbone and sending a jolt of pain up your spine. You cursed. 

Loudly.

Your cheeks burned . You half wanted to dive for the computer and shut it, but his message popped into view just in time.

9:38 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You okay, Fawn?”

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you muttered, not even thinking about it as you lurched and grabbed your aching tailbone. Your whole body hurt now and you were pretty fucking positive Aurora would have heard that. Desperately, you sat up on your knees, looking over the laptop at your barricaded bedroom door. 

“I-I fuck. Fuck, I’m dumb. Should’ve expected, honestly,” you were just rambling to yourself at this point as you went to retrieve the slightly spilled bottle of lube, clipping the cap closed and sitting back on your knees. Eyeing the computer, you frowned, seeing that Web had paused and was leaned forward, both hands on the laptop. You glanced down at his text.

9:38 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Stop. Breathe. Don’t you dare call yourself that again, understood?”

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to say. You took a deep breath, unsure what to do at this point. Your hands basically wandered around the floor as you sat back down on your knees. Anxiety was completely eating you up at this point.

“I always fuck everything up,” you mumbled again, moving to pick up the black dildo, assuming that well - you two were done. You ruined the mood and you hated yourself for it. 

9:39 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You don’t. You’re beautiful and - fuck - I nearly came. Good girl, it usually takes me a while. Take a moment. Deep breaths.”

He had obviously stopped stroking himself at that point, but his head was slick with pre-cum, his cock twitching with sensitivity as it stood hard as a rock despite the miscalculation. You could see just a hint of it as he shifted in his seat. You couldn’t tell if it was a bed, couch or something else. 

You took a deep breath again, wiping your teary eyes. “That’s good,” you sighed. You rubbed over your arm, fingers drawing over the massive tattoo on your upper arm. The fawn’s teary eyes sure fit how you felt right now.

9:39 PM  - WebRigger2099 - “Set the dildo aside, get out the lovense.”

You remembered setting up the controls when you first got it with him, but you had been too shy to bring up trying it just yet. To do so live would be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. A simple slide of his finger on the app and the toy would start buzzing harder. 

Doing as you were told, you placed the dildo on a towel you had set on the ground nearby quickly followed by your bottle of lube. Producing the lovense, you looked it over, frowning. The big device was like a big U shaped hook, the big bulbous end seemingly meant for insertion. The site called it an egg vibrator. With the sheer amount of lube still coating you, you skipped pumping out another squirt and instead pressed the fat end against your entrance, slipping cozily inside with ease now that you had been stretched open. 

The device went deeper than you were expecting, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. What did alarm you is where the smaller hook had ended up resting, the thinner tip nestled right up against your clit. 

You got the feeling it wasn’t just for keeping it in place anymore. You swallowed hard, looking back to the camera and clearing your throat.

“I’m-I’m ready, Sir,” you said sheepishly.

9:41 PM  - WebRigger2099 - “We’ll start on a low setting. Let you get used to it.”

Nodding to show you saw the message, you hummed, eyes watching him produce his cellphone - a sleek black android without a single decoration, even the case plain and boring. You couldn’t help the snicker that almost left your lips - of course he would have an android. 

His thumb slipped across the screen and without delay you felt a vibration against your walls. 

Subconsciously, you clenched, grimacing at the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn’t bad , just strange, awkward. 

 9:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color.”

You shifted on your knees, ignoring the discomfort still in your tailbone and hip. 

“G… Green,” your voice was softer now, more nervous. Every so often, you risked a glance at the door, but nobody showed, blessedly. Maybe everyone was watching a movie together or something. 

 9:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Eyes on me. Focus, fawn.”

You saw Web raise the settings a tad without warning, a small punishment for your distracted glances. You clenched around the toy, sitting back and glancing at his feed.

His hand had returned to his cock, slow kneading strokes trailing the length of his manhood up and down while his other hand held the phone. As if simulating his own strokes, the thumb at his phone drew up and down, sending waves of vibration inside you. It had you bite down on your lip, leaning forward and placing a hand on the floor. 

Clicking a button on his phone, the vibrator returned to a constant, dull stimulation before he went to type out another message, his cock bobbing as he released it.

 9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Should I turn it up higher, pet? Color.”

“Green, please,” you gasp out, placing your other hand down on the floor to steady yourself. 

He turned the settings up bit by bit, sliding his finger slowly up the phone. The buzzing within you grew intense, almost unbearable, but it was reaching a spot you had finally discovered today after so many sessions of sheepish masturbation attempts and picture taking. You felt a deep ache within you waiting to finally be released, pent up frustration building like steam in a kettle.

 9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “More?”

“Please - fuck , please,” you begged, your fingers digging into the carpet beneath you, desperate for something to cling to.

 9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Language.” 

He scolded you, his message was dripping in the warnings of swiftly approaching punishment. Would he push the settings to max, watch you squirm uncontrollably as the vibrator made you buck?

No. Everything stopped, that blissful feeling inside you halted all at once. He had turned it off. You could scream, you wanted to snap at him for his cruelty. You were getting so close and he - he robbed you of your peak. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not particularly meaning it. It wasn’t hard to tell there was no regret in your tone, not with how petulant you sounded. 

 9:45 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll make you sorry. Turn around and spank yourself. Hard. You’ve said that word six times since we’ve been on video, so you’ll give yourself six spanks.”

You whimpered audibly at his command, begrudgingly turning around to expose your oozing cunt to him.

“ Is… Isn’t edging me enough��?” you complained like you could hear him reply.

Of course you were only speaking to the air. You had already turned around, obedient as ever to Web. You did things without fully thinking them through often times, his daily commands overriding any natural instinct or desires that usually distracted you one way or another. He kept you responsible and healthy. He was good at this. 

Your thighs were slick with arousal by now, a desperate need for his cock suffusing every thought in your brain - what thoughts were left, anyway. Your torso collapsed forward, a forearm being used as a pillow against your face while your other arm reached over to squeeze your own rear tentatively. 

You lifted your hand high, arm trembling as you tried to aim for your own cheeks without sight. This wasn’t the most humiliating thing he had asked you to do, this should have been easy… As long as no one interrupted and saw you spanking yourself in front of a computer screen, all would be fine. 

That was not a conversation you wanted to have with any of your five roommates, especially Taylor. 

She was just - judgmental sometimes. Not that she didn’t engage in stuff like this herself in person, probably. God knew she brought home enough girls to your house to convince you that she dabbled in some questionable stuff. She just… Well, you didn’t need your roommates to know what you were doing right now.

Your arm stiffened before coming down, a light clap sounding in the air. You winced in pain, the aim clearly off as you smacked against hard bone instead of soft flesh. You adjusted your aim, wrist trembling, and crack ! Another down, aim better this time. It had you hissing from the sting, surprising yourself at your own strength - or maybe your sensitivity. 

You opted to be a tad gentler for the rest, firm enough to leave a red blush but not so hard as to sound like thunder and disturb anyone. You had to be at least a little careful with the noise. You were thankful your bedroom was so far away from everyone else’s.

When you turned back around, Web’s latest message was waiting for you.

9:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re lucky you won’t have to be the one spanking you when I meet you in person. Your inexperience is showing, Fawn. Still, you did well for a beginner. Good girl.”

Web had stopped stroking himself by now, hard cock still in clear view but untouched. Almost as soon as you finished reading his message the buzz began again. It took you a fraction of a second to realize it was on max settings.

You nearly buckled then and there, your knees turning to jelly.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from cursing again. The last thing you needed was another punishment. Instead, you simply collapsed, face in view of the camera and eyes shut tight as your hands went to your sex to help rub out the swiftly approaching orgasm.

Your own touch was nervous, as if you had never masturbated before in your life. This simple little toy was a godsend, or maybe it was Web’s skilled manipulation of both the toy and you, you weren’t sure. Whatever the case, your head touched the clouds as you climbed your peak for the first time.

You were too dazed to speak when it was over, the contractions inside you clenching around the toy as your hips weakly spasmed. Tears from your hard orgasm blurred your vision, breath shot as you took in inhales with stuttering gasps.

 9:49 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good pet. So obedient. You did very well today. How did you enjoy my gifts?”

“Yes,” you croaked out, voice tired and worn, rolling your head to the side as you watched his messages. 

 9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve earned yourself some rest, Fawn. I won’t keep you. Message me when you wake up tomorrow, understood? I have much to think about. I’ll have a treat for you to wake up to.”

You took a moment to stabilize yourself, pulling the toy from your vagina with a gasp and just letting it drop to the floor. You’d clean it in the dead of night… later. Slowly you lifted yourself up onto your arms and nodded. 

“O…okay. Uhm.. goodnight,” you said, eyes still on his torso, seeing that he was breathing hard. 

 9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Goodnight, Fawn. You did very good. I’m proud of you.”

His screen clicked to black an instant later. 

 9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - Has gone offline.

So, you tossed the wet toys and lube in the small plastic tote to take out after everyone went to bed, wiped yourself off with baby wipes and redressed. You ended up checking on your roommates and found them all home from the bar, somehow and extremely invested in another Chris Chan documentary on youtube, using the projector as a TV hooked up to Taylor’s laptop. 

So, thankfully nobody noticed. You got water, you cleaned your toys and hid them back under your tiny bed. 

The first thing you did the next morning was check your messages, a hand covering your face as you smiled and blushed at the image sent. 

Web’s torso was on full display, cock angled up so she could see its undercarriage. Along his stomach and past his belly button was a pool of sticky white, stray spurts seemingly shot further up his torso before the main gush was emptied out. The text with it was simple:

 7:04 AM - WebRigger2099 - You gave me a lot to think about. 

 7:04 AM - WebRigger2099 - Message me when you wake up and we’ll discuss how everything went.

You could squeal in joy. You did that to him. You did that despite falling on your ass and nearly bruising your hip like an idiot. 

You were not in love - who could fall in love with a stranger on the internet so quickly? - but damn did it help you feel good about yourself. 

[kleopatra45]

♡ Love Asteroids Series

asteroid alkeste (124)

Asteroid Alkeste in astrology represents self-sacrifice, devotion, and the willingness to go to great lengths for love and loyalty. Named after Alcestis, a figure from Greek mythology known for her selfless love and sacrifice, this asteroid indicates how individuals express their dedication, the extent of their devotion, and their capacity for selflessness in relationships.

in the houses

Alkeste in the 1st House: Your self-sacrifice and devotion are central to your identity. You may often put others' needs before your own and find personal fulfillment in acts of selflessness. Alkeste in the 2nd House: Material resources and physical comforts are areas where you might show great generosity. You may sacrifice your own financial security to support those you care about. Alkeste in the 3rd House: Communication and intellectual connections are influenced by your selfless nature. You might go out of your way to help others learn and grow, often sacrificing your own time and energy. Alkeste in the 4th House: Family and home life are key areas where your devotion shines. You may prioritize the needs of your loved ones above your own, creating a nurturing and supportive environment. Alkeste in the 5th House: Creativity, romance, and children are where your selflessness is most evident. You might sacrifice your own desires for the happiness and well-being of your children or romantic partners. Alkeste in the 6th House: Daily routines, health, and service are impacted by your devotion. You may work tirelessly for the benefit of others, often at the expense of your own well-being. Alkeste in the 7th House: Partnerships and committed relationships are central to your self-sacrifice. You may go to great lengths to ensure the happiness and security of your partner. Alkeste in the 8th House: Transformation, shared resources, and deep emotional connections define your selflessness. You might sacrifice personal gains for the sake of profound, transformative relationships. Alkeste in the 9th House: Exploration, philosophy, and higher learning influence your devotion. You may support others in their quests for knowledge and personal growth, often prioritizing their needs over your own. Alkeste in the 10th House: Ambition, achievement, and public image are areas where your selflessness can manifest. You might sacrifice your own career goals to help others succeed or to maintain family harmony. Alkeste in the 11th House: Friendships, social causes, and group affiliations are influenced by your devotion. You may be deeply involved in social causes, often putting the collective good above your personal interests. Alkeste in the 12th House: Spirituality, hidden desires, and unconscious motivations affect your self-sacrifice. You might offer selfless support in subtle, behind-the-scenes ways, often without recognition.

in the signs

Aries: Alkeste in Aries shows self-sacrifice through bold, courageous actions. You may take the lead in helping others, often stepping into challenging situations to offer support. Taurus: Stability, sensuality, and loyalty define your devotion. You may show your selflessness through steadfast support and providing comfort to those in need. Gemini: Intellectual stimulation, curiosity, and communication shape your self-sacrifice. You might go out of your way to share knowledge and provide intellectual support. Cancer: Emotional security, nurturing, and family connections are central to your devotion. You may prioritize the needs of your family and close loved ones, often sacrificing your own comfort. Leo: Alkeste in Leo seeks admiration, romance, and dramatic expression in self-sacrifice. You might make grand gestures of devotion and support, often seeking to uplift others. Virgo: Practicality, service, and attention to detail influence your selflessness. You may offer meticulous care and support, often sacrificing your own needs to ensure others' well-being. Libra: Harmony, balance, and equality are important for your self-sacrifice. You might work tirelessly to maintain peace and fairness in your relationships, often putting others' needs first. Scorpio: Intensity, emotional depth, and transformation define your selflessness. You may go to great lengths to support deep, transformative relationships, often at a personal cost. Sagittarius: Freedom, adventure, and exploration influence your devotion. You might support others in their quests for knowledge and personal growth, often prioritizing their needs over your own. Capricorn: Ambition, responsibility, and long-term goals impact your self-sacrifice. You may work tirelessly for the success and stability of others, often at the expense of your own ambitions. Aquarius: Individuality, independence, and progressive values shape your selflessness. You might be deeply involved in social causes, often putting the collective good above your personal interests. Pisces: Alkeste in Pisces seeks compassion, empathy, and spiritual connection in self-sacrifice. You may offer selfless support in subtle, behind-the-scenes ways, often without recognition.

in aspects

→ Conjunctions A conjunction of Alkeste with another planet intensifies the influence of that planet on your approach to self-sacrifice and devotion. For example, Alkeste conjunct Venus emphasizes selfless love and support in relationships. → Sextiles and Trines Harmonious aspects indicate ease in integrating the energies of Alkeste and the other planet involved. For instance, Alkeste sextile Mars suggests dynamic and supportive actions in your relationships. → Squares and Oppositions Challenging aspects can indicate tension or conflict that needs resolution in matters of devotion and self-sacrifice. For example, Alkeste square Saturn might suggest obstacles in expressing selflessness, while Alkeste opposition Uranus could highlight a need for balancing personal freedom with devotion to others.

©️kleopatra45

[arlathvhenan]

I know it’s pointless to try and win over the people who decided ten years ago that they hate Solas and he’s the worst despite never taking the time to actually *learn* about the character or understand why he believes what he does. Despite the theme of Dragon Age having always been good people resorting to horrific extremes for what they believe wholeheartedly to be a greater good, even at the expense of all that they once valued, because they truly believe there’s no other way. If you still hate Solas, if you absolutely *cannot* accept that there is good in him, then forget Solas entirely. Put him aside for now, and think about Varric, and what this whole journey means for him.

For all his wit, and cheeky humor, and roll with the punches attitude, Varric has suffered immensely in his life. This will be the third game we spend with him. The third time Varric is being asked to let the ugliness and brutality of the world poison and destroy what he holds dear. It destroyed his culture, his home, his family, and has taken so many of his dearest friends.

His father’s greed saw the Tethras family disgraced and cast out of Orzammar before he’d even been born. They found a new home in Kirkwall, the only home he’s ever known, and tried to rebuild, but the damage was done. Despair drove his mother to alcoholism, and so great was his brother’s desire to undo the damage his father had done, it ate him alive. Varric had to put his brother down like a sick dog with his own two hands. Then watched as ignorance and hatred ravaged his beloved city. And he watched again as his friend—a man he’d come to know for his gentleness and compassion—was driven to self destruction by despair.

But he kept living. Kept going in spite if it all. Then along comes Corypheus, and The Inquisition, and The Venatori. Varric has already been displaced and separated from the people he cares about. Even those who survived Kirkwall can’t be by his side because this sick and wounded world demands everything they have to keep it from falling further apart. But he finds a new home anyway, new friends, and that’s ultimately taken from him, too. If Hawke was left in The Fade, then he’s also had to watch his best friend of ten years become another victim of despair. Of the world’s demand for suffering and sacrifice.

Now here we are with Veilguard. Yet again, he must watch as someone he cares about is crushed under the weight of their own despair. Solas is doing what he’s doing for the same reason Anders did. Or Clarel. Or Logaine. Or so many others. Just like them, his actions are driven by a sense of despair.

I can’t imagine Varric doesn’t look at Solas and see every other person the world has taken from him. All the people he couldn’t save. All the death and failure that weighs on him, because he either couldn’t help them, didn’t know how, or just didn’t make it in time. Again, he’s been asked to just accept things as they are.

“People die. It’s what they do.”

This exchange was more than a grim and fatalistic quip from Solas. It’s Varric’s own words being thrown back at him. That is the very reality Varric himself once told Solas to accept. The man on the island lost everything and everyone, but so what? That’s life. That’s the world. People die and you can’t do anything about it. Except, he can’t do it this time. He can’t just sit back and let the world keep taking and taking. He’s reached the point where it’s just too much. Too much loss. Too many sacrifices. Too many good people eaten alive, spit out as monsters, and discarded as lost causes. This time, he can’t be content to sit in the sun. He’ll save the world AND save his friend.

No more passive acceptance. No more sacrifices. No more broken heroes.

That’s what this one means to him. Hate Solas all you want, but Varric’s not letting him go without a fight, and I feel like that should mean something.

[zuhuan]

Jujutsu Kaisen men as a boyfriend ♡

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo

Summary: Headcanons about those characters (idk)

SFW

COMISSIONS -> open

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Gojo Satoru:

• He absolutely loves to provoke you

• Since Gojo is much taller than you, he likes to tease you with it

• He picks you up and carries you around in random situations (he loves it when you hang on him like a koala)

• He likes to impress you by being the strongest

• Dates at home are essential (who knows what will happen in the end)

• Gojo can easily annoy you with his sarcastic behavior. That's why when he sees that you don't find him funny anymore, he hugs you and looks at you with puppy ​​eyes. He's like "I aM sOrRy -_- "

• He can sacrifice anything for you

• He cannot accept when he is not right about something, so you can argue with him a lot

• When you kiss him teasingly and walk away, he immediately grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him and kisses you even harder

• Next to you, he lowers his infinite ability, so you can hug at any time, etc.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Geto Suguru:

• Because he has big hands, he can cup almost your entire face and give kisses everywhere

• Uncreative with presents but you love them

• His clothes = Your clothes

• He will learn your native languange just because of you (he does not like to admit that he needs help in learning that)

• He likes to take funny pictures of you or the two of you

• He often summons the curses he has absorbed and shows them to you (flex)

• Geto is serious with others, but when he's with you he's a completely different person

• He takes cues very hard

• He can only fall asleep with you, you are his sleeping plushie

• His favorite pastime with you is when you two are alone, watching movies and cuddling

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Nanami Kento:

• He is literally the softest and calmest person when you're alone with him

• A real Michelin star chef cooks for you every day, but sometimes luxury restaurants are essential

• He doesn't like it when you keep something to yourself (he'll get out of you what's wrong at any cost)

• Carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa

• Shopping together

• Cute but weird nicknames (usually yound lady/boy)

• He lets you tie his tie, and style his hair (but he's very honest)

• Randomly buys you the most expensive gifts

• He behaves like a real gentleman around you in public, but he is himself at home with you

• Gets quiet aggressive when when it comes to protecting you

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Choso Kamo:

• He worries about your safety 24/7 because he doesn't want to lose even more important people

• Loves it when you play with his hair and even allows you to make him up

• Always want to be be near you

• Choso probably doesn't sleep much or even needs sleep, but he sings you to sleep

• You two hold hands all the time

• Hugs from behind while whispering sweet things in your ear (or maybe something else)

• You fell first but he fell harder

• When he trains, he likes you to join him because he is happy to teach you self-defense techniques

• Neck kisses before you fall asleep (please)

• You are the only person who can calm him down and for that he is very grateful

You liked it? Check this out! Click

[389]

In order to be free, you simply have to be so, without asking permission of anybody. You have to have your own hypothesis about what you are called to do, and follow it, not giving in to circumstances and complying with them. But that sort of freedom demands powerful inner resources, a high degree of self-awareness, a consciousness of your responsibility to yourself and therefore to other people. Alas, the tragedy is that we do not know how to be free — we demand freedom for ourselves at the expense of others and don’t want to waive anything of our own for the sake of someone else: that would be an encroachment upon our personal rights and liberties. All of us are infected today with an extraordinary egoism. And that is not freedom; freedom means learning to demand only of oneself, not of life or of others, and knowing how to give: sacrifice in the name of love.

∆ Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in Time

[nyaskitten]

One of my favorite qualities about Lloyd is how he is so inherently self-sacrificial, and to a horrific degree. He's always putting the mission before his own life, and it really sucks, but that's kinda just how he goes about life...

In s8 he was INSISTENT on fighting Garmadon that he pushed his friends away and nearly died, but even then was still bent on being able to stop his father.

In DRs1 he's 100% willing to accept whatever may change in his life and the divine powers of a Source Dragon to free the Imperium dragons, and then in s2 you had him trying to stay behind to fight Cinder, despite Nya's insistence that they have to leave. Then later on in the season he tries fighting Nokt in the Tournament despite his poor phsyical condition after . Y'know . Having a sword shattered on him and plummetting to the ground .

To me, Lloyd's whole thing is that he willingly gave up so much and it's often at the expense of his own well-being. While yes the other ninja are extremely self-sacrificial, I think it's so interesting just HOW much sacrifice is actually baked into Lloyd as a character.

[ivanttakethis]

Inspired by @shakingparadigm’s post discussing Alien Stage outfits and their meaning. It’s interesting that Till seems to be mourning Round 1 Mizi rather than Round 5 Mizi.

You would think he would mourn her as he last saw her, especially considering how dramatic her exit was; wearing white, full of rage and covered in blood.

It's like he can't square the version of Mizi he's built up in his head (bubbly, full of life, always smiling, perfect) and Mizi as she actually was (an imperfect, grief stricken person, capable of expressing ugly emotions). So he doesn't (or can't) acknowledge that true version of Mizi.

It would destroy his entire worldview if he did. The glass is cracked, though.

I think this cracking of Till's worldview caused him to lean further into his idealized version of Mizi.

In the club scene where Till hallucinates seeing her, Mizi looks more like her child self. This version of Mizi is even more innocent and "pure" than Round 1 Mizi.

To me, innocence what Till covets about Mizi the most. She's "untouched" by the evils of the world that he knows all too well. Or, at least, she was.

Then there's Round 6 and Ivan.

There are already a lot of similarities between Round 6 and Round 5 (the choking, the round ending in a untraditional way, etc.), but I think it's notable that Ivan, like Mizi, wears white.

And Ivan, like Mizi, tests Till’s worldview again.

While we can’t say with 100% certainty what Till truly thought of Ivan, we can make some inferences based on what we’ve seen.

To Till, Ivan probably comes across as weird and annoying and somewhat emotionless. He definitely doesn’t think Ivan cares about him, let alone loves him. Does Till even consider Ivan a friend? Hard to say.

Regardless, Till’s worldview likely dictates that Ivan doesn’t care about him/takes pleasure in his misfortune.

He goes into Round 6 ready to die and doesn’t think anyone will try to stop him.

But then Ivan does.

Ivan sacrifices himself so Till can live.

Ivan shatters Till’s worldview at his own expense.

Whether Till understands what Ivan was trying to convey in that kiss or not, sacrifice is not done without care.

It is not done without at least a little bit of love for the other person, no matter what form it takes.

Till’s destruction came wearing white and exacting violence.

In the aftermath, he’s the only one who can pick up the pieces.