#And it almost cost him his life

[dykealloy]

ripple effect legacy // my tears are becoming a sea, M83

[kanene-yaaay]

Warm, Soft and all the other things that I can only be with you

Kanene's notes: Ok, I just had NO IDEA that I would come to like Jiang Cheng as much as I do when I first watched mdzs. Maybe I should've realized when his first apparition is LITERALLY coming right when Jin Ling is being defeated by Wei Wuxian and calls him saying that >:[[ his jiujiu will kill him and aaaaaa Wei Wuxian asks who his uncle is and then KJHGFDEFGH JIANG CHENG LITERALLY APPEARS FROM NOTHING SAYING "I'm his uncle. Any last words?" BRUHH. He just breaks me. aughhh ALL OF THEM MAKE ME GO INSANE!!!

Anyway this story isn't about any of this. It's about Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen being absurdly in love and playful and cute and silly <3 All the thanks and applause and hugs for @squeaky-n-blushy for spending literally HOURS screaming about mdzs+tickle scenarios with lil ol me because it helped me so much to brainstorm kjhgfdfghjk

Warnings: This is a bit of more intense story than the usual that I write, so be warned. There's angst and lots of fluff. Also a suggestive joke (LOOKING AT YOU WEI WUXIAN) and some making out in the fic but it's really not the main focus here and a quick thing. Lots of teases, tickles, kisses and more teases. Especially about losing control. Romantic setting. Around 13.000 words. Mainly Ler!Jiang Cheng and Lee!Lan Xichen.

[~*~]

Jiang Cheng was not jealous. 

He was fine. Great, even.

He was just... curious.

There were a plentiful of words that could be used to describe Wei Wuxian.

Insufferable. (Strong). Troublesome. (Joyful). Annoying. (Smart). Stupid. (Traitor). Stubborn. (Sacrificial). Careless. (Mischievous). Impulsive. (Brillant). (Genius). (Caring). (Important). (Family). (Stupid). (Stupid). (Stupid).

(Brother).

And, if needed, Jiang Cheng had all of those and much more that he used on a regular basis every time they got stuck in one of their usual bickering matches, both of them still learning how to tip toe the lines between hurt and healing, family and enemies. 

It was hard. Confusing. Good. Exhausting. Raw. They would fight and punch each other across the bonds during a heated match - that were actually growing less and less frequent, thankfully - or extend an olive branch in each other’s direction and not comment on how small it looked in the ocean between them. 

But both of them grew up in the Lotus Pier and no water body could ever scare them. Bandages and cuts decorating their hands as they kept building the bridges and boats to forgive and find each other someday. 

Day after day.

Jiang Cheng shook his head, dissipating those overly sensitive thoughts. All of that was irrelevant and not at all where he wanted to get. Unfortunately, by doing so there wasn’t anything else left to distract him from the little lightheaded, annoyed (flustered) feeling that was taking over all his senses after what happened.

(What just happened?)

He clenched his jaw and huffed, still confused, still annoyed. His steps sounded firm and clear as he kept his determined stride to the room he already knew so well, not even glancing at the young cultivators that knew better than to interrupt him when he looked like this, even if they seemed much more relaxed with his presence at the Cloud Recess after seeing it so often.

Never, ever Jiang Cheng could describe Wei Wuxian, the Patriarch Yilling, one of the most feared cultivators across all the sects, the black spot in Lan Quiren's golden record, the most irresponsible uncle and brother this world had ever seen, as embarrassed.

The scene had hit him like a brick and Jiang Cheng didn’t even mean to see it in the first place! He could pretty much actually go on with the rest of his entire life without ever picturing for a single second what Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan liked to do in their freetime together.

Nowadays, however, both of them spend more time over each other than away, absolutely shamelessly, with no care about who was watching or where they were. With Wei Wuxian drapping himself over his husband's lap during dinners and conferences and Lan Zhan spending every night when the other is away in a hunt or a visit to the Yunmeng sect playing his guqin melancholically through the night and the early hours of the morning to express his deep feeling of longing and pining.

(Thanks everything that Jiang Cheng was never actually there to witness the last one, being an information that Lan Huan shared with him recently with an amused smile on his lips. Because he was pretty sure that if he was living in Gusu Lan and had to endure their constant show of unyielding affection for each other he would end up breaking that damn instrument into pieces.)

So, it was no surprise that Jiang Cheng was forced to witness his brother’s love life first hand again. Because he had been a fool who accepted to have a tea over Wei Wuxian’s house and even more of a fool to believe that his brother, the very one who called him in the first place, would be actually prepared to receive him on the time he himself choose and perhaps be there to show him at least a hint of respect and hospitality that the leader of Yunmeng Jiang Sect deserved and open that goddamn door at once!

(And, yes, maybe he was still jittery about Wei Wuxian’s death. Maybe when he heard the cultivator of resentful energy shout - even though loud noises are forbidden in the Cloud Recess - and the sound of something heavy falling following suit his mind got somehow clogged and his knocking louder and more incisive the longer no one answered him. Maybe he forgot for a moment that they were in the Gusu Lan Sect and, for the first time in a long while, it was only him and Wei Wuxian against the world again. This time he would not run the fuck away.) 

However, when the door opened - a better description would be “was forcefully ripped away from his path, but that was irrelevant - the scene that greeted him had absolutely nothing to do with blood or pain or any kind of danger.

(Not one that Wei Wuxian wasn’t more than used with, at least.)

“What” his voice trembled, no longer with a jittery feeling, but with a barely concealed annoyance. The electricity cracking from Zidian danced now in his arm for an entire different reason than getting ready for a fight. “Is happening here?”

Wei Wuxian squealed on the floor, squirming on the ground like a worm on a rainy day as his husband’s hands danced dedicatedly on his torso at a tickly pace.

“Punishment.” Lan Zhan answered, stoic and direct as ever, totally impassive under Cheng’s blasting glare. Especially because he didn't see it, not even bothering to look up from his position, gaze clued on Wei Wuxian’s face almost hypnotized, as if it was the only image that could ever matter in the world.

(Urgh.)

“A-Cheng!” 

It was ridiculous, really, how only that (and who knew he still had in him to call Jiang Cheng in such an affectionate form) was enough to make his eyes immediately snap into Wei Wuxian’s direction, something relaxing in him when he acknowledged the usual playful tune he already knew too well.

“What.”

“Hehehelp me!”

Jiang Cheng could feel an artery pulsating in his forehead, they both falling easily in their usual push and dance. “Stop being dramatic, he is barely touching you. Get up and use your hands!”

“No, I can't!” His whine was quickly taken over by more giggles, his entire body contorting in protest at the playful attack as he kept his dramatic wailing. “I will rip Lan Zhan's forehead ribbon! Please, A-Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng almost had a whiplash at how quickly his head turned to look at Lan Zhan’s naked forehead and then at Wei Wuxian's hands, seeing that they were in fact bonded by the delicate, white band that the Lan Sect was known for. 

The forehead ribbon. A sacred symbol of resilience and restraint, an extension of yourself that could only be touched and freed by your close family and your significant other, being used as an illusion of a bondage in a meaningless punishment of a childish game.

Lan Zhan’s expression continued just the same as it always did, impassive and serious. Yet, he managed to look extremely smug all the same. He was fully aware of the trap he just put his husband into, knowing Wei Wuxian would rather endure far worse tortures than tickling instead of giving the ribbon left in his care a single strain or tear.

Shameless.

He scoffed. 

(Jiang Cheng ignored how he himself felt when Lan Huan let him touch his own forehead ribbon. He took the ends of the white fabric and freely gave them to Jiang Cheng in one of their quiet evenings, only so they could be woven into the braids of the Yumneng Sect he was occupied in replicating, eyes focused and movements certain as he styled the other’s long, beautiful black hair. How soft and small it felt in his palms. The meaning of that act. How reverent and careful Jiang Cheng was during the entire process, holding the white fabric into his calloused hands while his fingertips and soul trembled with emotion.)

And then those two were just playing around with theirs. They really have no shame!

“Always asking me to clean up your messes, fight for this one yourself! Don’t you remember that you called me here to have tea in the first place? Have you really lost all the sense of respect?”

Wei Wuxian only giggled harder. Whether it was because he always thought it was fun how upright Jiang Cheng was about both of their reputations and how easy it had always been to rile him up about it or because Lan Zhan now changed his absolute nonsense of a tickle attack to focus on his sides, it was uncertain.

“Don’t be so grumpy, A-Cheng!” He squeaked loudly when Lan Zhan tweaked his lowest rib (of course he discovered about that specially ticklish spot, Wei Wuxian had always been so obvious about it, crackling and squirming like crazy when Jiang Cheng did no much than just glaze over it). It didn’t take long before the new sound was completely engulfed by a new round of even more uncontrollable snickers, his legs kicking desperately with energy. “Your face will get stuck in a frown forever! Like a sour plum!”

And, of course he would use his every ounce of oxygen to tease him. Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to replicate.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan interrupted. (Was that an agreement?!) “You’re early.”

The leader from the Yumeng sect crossed his arms defensively, refusing to look too much into the meaning of the other’s words. Another scowl formed in his face. “Of course I am early. Like an actual adult that has more responsibilities and matters to attend to than to get into childish games like tickle fights.”

If that could even be considered a tickle fight at all. It was nothing like the wars he and Wei Wuxian used to get when they were kids, far away from their parents and with too much energy, time and laughter to spare. More often than not they would be rolling on the soft soil or giving the other a surprise ambush in the middle of the piers, squeezing, digging and tickling anywhere they could reach. Teasing, taunting and threatening each other with every sound and laughter. Using all the tricks and pages on the book to get the upper hand for at least a few giddy, breathless seconds. Big smiles, warm hearts and adrenaline running freely in their bones for hours with no end until they both laid exhaustively on the ground, accidentally rolled into one of the lakes or Shiejie came to call them for dinner.

Jiang Cheng watched as the delicate hands rested on the other’s sides and continued to softly scribble non stop on the lowest ribs over and over again, taking turns before quickening their pace and making We Wuxian trash from a side to another with a high pitched ‘eee’ sound until it slowed the rhythm to a light plucking of strings, lightly pressing each spot and barely vibrating there before jumping away.

“Not a tickle fight.” The Lan enlightened. “Punishment.”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! No! Please, have mercy. Take pity on your poor husband!”

It was like Jiang Cheng couldn’t pry his eyes away, watching as Lan Wangji calmly run the tip of his fingers up and down the others’ ticklish sides, repeating the cycle for a couple more of times, like a boat letting itself being dragged by the slow pace of the river in a calm day, completely unfazed by his husband’s increasing maddened snickers, his tune starting to border on hysterical.

For a moment, the fingers curled into claws and Jiang Cheng thought that he would actually use an efficient, honest and true tickle attack, finally kneading on the skin and letting the crackles and squeals fill the air with their cacophony. 

His hopes, however, seemed unfounded when the Lan just continued his soft touches, now using more of his nails to create an unbearable, ticklish feeling than only his fingertips and successfully pull more squeals and squeaks with such a move.

(And, if his own ticklish sides tingled in sympathy that was literally nobody's business and a secret that will die and be buried with him.)

Jiang Cheng finally snapped.

“That is not even the proper way you do it!” He did not get close and demonstrated his point, of course. Because he… (surely wouldn’t be welcomed to) he wasn’t a kid anymore and knew he was right. 

Yet, his hands still gesticulated around, antsy.

(Wanting to grab, wanting to dig, wanting to squeeze, to attack and win and listen and never let go again. To feel the taste of the victory of a brawl that is meaningless and only in playful fun, again. To hear screams of laughter and not of fear, to perform with the crackles and shrieks and giggles as the only instrument he was ever actually skilled. An especial melody of affection that needed no words and even he could learn how to play.)

Jiang Cheng pushed those thoughts deep down and continued.

“You’re not even giving any attention to his hips! It’s his most ticklish, weak, defenseless and easy spot ever!” He ignored the protesting, giggly shout from Wei Wuxian and continued, forcing himself to focus on his words and not on the natural answering smirk trying to take over the corner of his lips. “You just need to knead there for a few minutes and then he will be gone. Besides, when you add raspberries to it he’ll laughs so much that you will actually be able to shut him up for once. That is a proper tickle attack. With this, you’re just being lazy!” 

Purposely, he pointed to Lan Zhan’s administrations that now consisted in sweetly rubbing his thumbs on Wei Ying’s highest ribs, happily following his torso as it shook with the barely concealed chuckles and tried to wiggle away from the touch. A lazy job indeed. “You’re barely even touching him at all! That is not even tickling!”

“Oh, it tickles!” Wei Wuxian whined, words were almost completely lost with how much he was giggling. His arms trembled with the force to not slam down when Lan Zhan used a single finger to calmly poke and scratch his armpits, more than unfazed at both of the Yunmeng siblings' outburst. 

Actually, if Jiang Cheng squinted his eyes, he could actually imagine a challenging glint when those golden eyes quickly stared at him for a second. 

“It really tickles! It tickles so, so much!”

For a flash Jiang Cheng saw himself marching determinately at him, sitting on the ground and then diving to dig on Wei Wuxian’s hips non stop. Remind him what is actually a tickle attack so he would actually agree with his point and not poke fun at him just this once. Use the techniques that he took years to perfect and his muscles still remembered perfectly even when his mind refused to. Watch as that smug air in Lan Wangji changed to surprise when he got Wei Wuxian to really laugh and show all of them how right he was.

He crossed his arms even tighter around himself, growling harder and looking in another direction. His feet continued locked on the ground.

Unfortunately, Lan Zhang took the silence as an opportunity.

“Wei Ying is very cute and beautiful like this. Red and happy.”

“Lan Zhan! Warnings! You can’t say things like that without warning me first.” 

Jiang Cheng stopped right in his tracks and slowly turned to look at Wei Wuxian, time slowing as he realized what Lan Wangji had just said, barely processing the rest of their conversation. 

“Besides, I can think of something else that makes me very red and happy- Lan Zhan, no!”

“Shameless.”

“Husband, please, you’re killing meee!”

“Wei Ying.”

“Wait, wait, not there!”

It was true.

Jiang Cheng's eyes widened, but the image in front of him didn’t change. The other was right. 

Wei Wuxian was blushing in embarrassment. 

The color was not a fruit of his loud, unrestrained laughter, because for the last minutes all he did was giggle and snicker non stop, with plenty of oxygen and teases filling his lungs. It was not the result of any kind of flirt because Wei Wuxian took those as a challenge that he knew he would always win. It was not a make up he tried with Shijie. A natural consequence of spending an entire day under the sun training with his sword. It was nothing else. No other explanation besides the fact that, after thirty years, Jiang Cheng finally saw his brother get flustered. 

Embarrassed. 

Shy, even.

For the second time in his life, Jiang Cheng found Lan Wangji leaving him without words.

With a whoosh, he was out of the room.

[~*~]

“Good afternoon, Jiang Cheng.”

As it always did, a pleasant shiver ran on his body when Lan Xichen called him. All of his previous thoughts disappearing immediately from his head, his usual frown naturally losing the heat and annoyance as he looked at the other. 

Lan Huan looked as ethereal and beautiful as ever, the white robes and blue hues pooling like waves at his feet and around his straight posture as he wrote on his desk, probably answering letters from other sects and solving administration matters. His hair was slightly messed and he was only in his inner robes, completely comfortable and domestic, not batting a single eye when Jiang Wanyin barged right in.

Even after being together so long, the scene still looked gorgeous as it always did. Like it came right out a scenery painted in a fan that you hid in your robes and carried close to your heart. A picture drawn straight from the purest jade. He had seen it plenty of times before and hoped to continue to do so for much more.

It left Jiang Cheng breathless.

“I see you’re back early.”

And just like that, his breath and frown were back again. The one in purple robes scoffed and closed the door. He headed to the bed, sitting there with a grunt. 

“Not in the mood to watch Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji declare their undying love for each other for the hundredth time of the day.”

Lan Huan chuckled. It rang sweet like the bells the Yunmeng sect used to expurge curses and clean the mind. “I see. Perhaps it’s time to start closing your eyes, then?”

But the light tease didn’t actually register for him, because for a moment he looked at the other and another scene appeared in his mind as a flash. 

Lan Xichen’s smile growing bigger, wobbling at the corners as his controlled chuckles were transformed into bubbly giggles and loud snickers, his entire face covered by a layer of red that spread in a beautiful hue from his cheeks to the tip of his ears, his eyes - teary and brilliant and so full of love and feelings - watching him in excitement, protests that held no true meaning falling freely from his lips and locking Jiang Cheng’s gaze forever on him with how melodious it was.

As it was usual, his body and mouth were already acting even before his own mind catched up with it.

“I want to try something new.” He listened his own voice saying. Steps steady and determined carried him to the sect leader Lan and pulled him to his feet, basically dragging him back to his bed.

Lan Xichen didn’t yelp, but let out a tiny surprised sound when Jiang Cheng shoved (much gentler than anyone could ever believe him of being) him on the mattress, quickly straddling him and sitting on his thighs, storming gray eyes looking at him intensely, watching his every twitch and expression in search for any kind of discomfort. 

Of course, realizing that only made Lan Xichen melt, following the other’s lead easily.

(Not blindly, of course. )

(He sometimes wonders if he will ever be able to do so, ever again, but those are thoughts for other moments.) 

So he tilted his head and questioned to those brilliant eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want…” And his face morphed, never losing its lines of determination and decision, but now being tinted in red as Jiang Cheng looked away from him, a very lovely blush taking over his face. His jaw locked and words quieter, as if they were being pushed through his teeth. There was shyness in his tune. “To tickle you.”

“Oh.” 

Lan Xichen tried to not sound too teasy, but he couldn’t really hide the playful amusement taking over his tune, his expression, his gaze, his everything after such an adorable admission. 

He didn’t really know what sputtered his lover’s mood all of sudden, but interacting with Wei Wuxian and his own brother always left Jiang Wanyin’s emotions all over the place. If what his beloved needed after this afternoon was to have him laughing hysterically until he was a mess, completely putty and willing under his strong and trustworthy hands, Lan Xichen hardly had any opposition to this.

(Which wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t look into some sweet… justice, later. Revenge is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, afterall.)

Tickling was always a concept that interested him immensely. The laughter full of joy and the touches that were both incredibly warm and completely unbearable, together with the playfulness of the teases and the care intertwined in every note of those steps made his heart softer and his stomach flutter pleasantly everytime such bonding activity was involved. Especially when it came to Jiang Cheng.

“Alright.” He said. “I won’t hold back, then.”

“You better not.” The one in purple bit back, but his words held no heat and there was a grateful line softening all of the hard edges in his body. He positioned his hands on Lan Huan’s ribs - a good starting point, not too ticklish so he would lose all his energy right in the beginning and yet effective enough that just with a few moments of drilling his laughter would already be bubbling out of his lips. 

Jiang Cheng felt how Lan Xichen tensed instinctively under him and he curled his fingers close, just enough for his nails would graze on his skin, actually giving him a reason to tense up this time and successfully pulling a squirm out of the Lan.

Perfect. He just needed to keep going like that. Soft and light. See for himself what is so special about this technique that it’s worth giving up the adrenaline of seeing someone become undone with only a few touches, to watch them get hysterical, loud, free with the more effective and energetic tickly ministrations. See how long would it take for his lover to become a total mess, to completely lose the battle against the sensations and just let himself be lost in a sea of giggles and blushes. 

Exactly. Just like that. 

Soft and light. 

Simple and clear as water.

His fingers didn’t want to move.

That was the thing, wasn’t it? 

Jiang Cheng wasn’t gentle. Nothing about him was soft, or light, or caring. His fingers were calloused and his skin thick after years of handling Zidian and its electricity, of carrying oars and rowing around the countless rivers in Lotus Pier and holding his weight in fights since he was a child, not at all skilled in the finest arts such as playing instruments skillfully like Lan Huan or painting beautiful landscapes as Nie Huaisang. 

His hands were the reason of more pain and tears than laughter and happiness. He was Sandu Shengshou and he carried that mantle with pride. It's what made him survive after the Wen’s massacre of his clan. It's what brought his entire sect rising back again, strong and new from the ashes and fire as he maintained every building, every alliance, every battle to prove their worth with his own sweat and blood, clawing, tearing and snarling his way up, up, up. Until Yunmeng was back to be one of the four most powerful and influential sects again. Until him, A-Ling and the entire world of cultivation had more than smoke and destruction to remember his family by. Until the other’s pity became respect and fear. It was what had been necessary at the time. He did what he had to.  

(It was what destroyed one of the last remnants of his family and pushed his brother far and away. What left him angry and frustrated behind, hitting back at anything that got too close, completely alone in the world except for a nephew that he had to raise, too young to even remember his parents. It was what consumed his every action and every thought and every lashing until there was nothing left except hope and resentment. 

And yet… He was still here. Trying. His nephew was now the leader of his own sect. Yet, he was blessed with Lan Xichen. Yet, his sect respects and grows under his direction and the rivers continue to flow and the lotus to bloom totally uncaring for the tribulations of his mind. Yet, his brother is finally back and they are still trying to fix all of that.)

(Trying.)

A hand pulled him right out of his merciless thoughts, smothering the hard lines of his frown. Lan Xichen’s eyes immediately found his own, staring at his surprised face for some seconds before lifting his torso and placing gentle kisses on his front, following the path of warmth and electricity that his touch had already started. 

The care and intimacy made Jiang Cheng scoff and frown again but now for an entirely different reason, momentarily rendered unable to move to hide his flaming face until the other decided that all the lines of his expression had been thoroughly kissed and smothered enough, no more darkness or doubt filling his gaze.

Clear enough from his previous thoughts, that only made him get even more determined about his decision, not shying away from the leader from Gusu Lan’s sect when those brown eyes focused on him, plenty comfortable to just lay there and exchange silences until Jiang Cheng could gather and organize his thoughts. 

“I want to be gentle.” He finally spit, words tumbling out of his lips before he could take them back. 

The eyes crinkled on the corners and seemed to shine brighter in understanding and then something else, so strong that made it impossible for him to keep holding his gaze, feeling strangely bashful under it. The feared Sandu Shengsou humphed and turned away his gaze, again.

…That wouldn’t work. He had to be able to watch and analyze his Lan Huan’s every tiny reaction, every quiet sound and every hint of movement to map all his best spots and what tickling worked best, with this new technique. He may not be totally sold to this entire idea of “soft touches” yet, but that was no excuse to not do a decent job. 

Jiang Cheng had never half assed any of the things he set his mind to do and he isn’t about to start doing that now.

He wasn’t sure of how successful he would be in that, however, when Lan Huan’s gaze kept capturing and rendering him defenseless with those beautiful stares again and again.

“Close your eyes.”

Lan Xichen arched an eyebrow, more amused than questioning, but he hesitated for half of a second. It was enough to make Jiang Cheng’s brain disconnect from his lips and words fall, blunt and true, from his mouth before he could stop them. 

“I can’t do it with you looking. It’s frustrating and distracting.” (Mesmerizing. Beautiful. The only thing I could look at for hours and hours at the time.)

Once more, the other’s brown eyes got filled with fun and something before he complied.

“Alright. I will be sure to give you my oral report in the most detailed and thorough manner as possible afterwards, of course.”

“Shut it.” Jiang Cheng digged on his ribs momentarily, a hot flush of pride spreading on his soul at how that made Lan Huan immediately jump, a surprised squeak filling the air and almost convincing the one in purple to throw away everything else and just dig more and more until those and other delightful sounds ran loud and free across the room.

But, no. Now, he had another objective.

He stopped pressing so firmly on the skin, leaving his fingers only resting on the spot before slowly running them up and down on his ribcage. 

Holding his breath, Lan Xichen waited. When no other attack came besides the soothing rubbing, his body inevitably relaxed little by little, melting with the ministrations. 

“That is very nice.” His words came out less jokingly than before, shining with genuinity. Of course, lying was forbidden in the Clouds Recesses, however, a direct honesty was a rare threat that Wanyin was more than happy to enjoy. “Mm.”

Jiang Cheng hummed in acknowledgement and continued with his touch. 

With no hurry, he took his time to let his fingers wander, lower enough to caress the dip of the other’s hips and then back up, deviating from his torso to massage his arms and shoulders and slightly press his thumbs in circling motions on the base of his neck. 

For a moment he mused letting his hands go even higher to cup his face so he could kiss it. That idea was fastly discarded, though, since Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he could quickly be dissuaded from his new experiment if they were to follow this path. Lan Xichen knew how to be very distracting when he wanted to.

His hands continued to wander on that very same path for a few more minutes and soon enough Lan Xichen felt himself even more relaxed, as if floating in clouds, not even bothered by the small sounds that kept being fished from his lips again and again as the soft touch kept slipping and brushing on every sensitive part of his body before continuing with its path. 

It was like Jiang Wanyin was mapping every single weak spot on his torso and purposely focusing on them with tiny scribbles and light scratches more and more. 

With each new repetition, Lan Huan could only feel the tingles spreading further across his nerves, teasing and tickling them for seconds after the caring, a tad unbearable touch of the other went away, only barely starting to subside before those playful fingers were back to alight them once more, making the tickly sensations grow stronger and never really end.

Therefore, his relaxed sounds quickly began being interrupted by huffs of laughter and tiny notes on the back of his throat that were starting to sound too much like high pitched giggles to be ignored or pushed away.

Lan Xichen was so lost in those thoughts that he barely registered as the hands came to a stop on his ribcage, spreading across his ribs and on those awfully sensitive places in between them. Not until small, extremely controlled and tiny sparks of electricity made him jump, pulling a surprised, and uncharacteristically loud shriek from him, his mind and body falling too quickly from the clouds for him to try to stop its escape.

Jiang Cheng chuckled darkly. 

“Oi, what was that?”

When he pressed his lips and didn’t answer, another spark of electricity teased the spot, and then another and another and another. Lan Huan felt himself grow giddier, not being able to help but squeak and yelp at each new attack on his poor ribs. 

“To think that only Zidian could have so much effect on the very own Zewu Jun. Maybe I should have tried to use it earlier if I knew it could make you squeal like that.” The feeling of giggles in the back of his throat came back with full force. He bit them back. “Tell me, Xichen, how much longer do you think you could take it before descending into madness? You’re barely surviving those few sparks as it is. What if I decided to wrap the Zidian around you and unleash all this new power. How much time do you think you would be able to hold your laughter back, then?”

His eyes were closed but Lan Xichen could feel the other’s gaze on him, staring unblinking and attentively, drinking up his every reaction. He knew he could see how the light burn of blush started to take over his ears and spread lower in his neck, how his torso squirmed instinctively with each word. In a desperate attempt of defense, he scrambled for anything before his brain, who was trying really, really hard to not think about Jiang Wanyin’s words or otherwise he would die, caught up into a cute, very special detail about this new tactic of his.

“Have,” he gulped, taking a few tries before his words could come out with just a slight tremble on them, hiding the persistent joyful energy that kept trying to take over. By the way that Jiang Cheng’s fingers digged on his ribcage and began vibrating in a low, warning pace, he wasn’t very satisfied with this. 

Still, no one could overcome a Lan in a battle of self control, even the most stubborn of their lovers. He continued.

“Have you been training harmless ways to use your Zidian lately, Sandu Shengshou?”

The fingers on his ribcage froze, and a very pointed silence followed his question. As a result, his smile got even bigger, making him want to open his eyes just to see the delightful effect of his words on his beloved. 

Lan Huan decided to push his luck a tad further, putting all the fondness and warmth he was feeling in his words and tune until it spilled in every syllable and letter. 

“To think my dear Jiang Wanyin could be so attentive and cute. Must have taken a lot of time and practice to achieve a fine skill like this one.” Then, with a more innocent tune. “I would love to hear all about how you accomplished such a dangerous feat to perfection all by yourself. How much restraint it must have taken.”

The implications were clear, even if he didn’t say anything else out loud, pulling his sleeved hand up to cover his playful grin. 

Jiang Cheng felt his entire body, from his tip of his nose to the end of his fingers, burn, flustered, when he remembered all those times he had to test the technique on himself, learning how to control the power he could use in each attack. It took weeks until he had perfected the new tactics and made those tiny sparks spread a maddening, tickling feeling across every sense and a giggle sprouted in his mouth. 

Only then he allowed himself to try it on others. Sneaking a few electric pokes and jabs to hit his disciples once or twice while correcting their forms during the training and watching them or jump away surprisingly or try to hide their initial squeaky reaction, especially under his usual frowning, serious gaze. It was the only way to be sure that it worked, of course. 

So much work only so he could surprise his family in a future tickle fight, having now a new trick under his sleeve to put in good use.

Jiang Cheng growled in answer to the tease and his fingers crawled higher, filled with electricity while poking and prodding all their way up the other’s torso until it stopped just a few inches from his armpits. He watched with satisfaction the way that just the hint of his hands there made Lan Xichen wiggle like a worm from one side to another. Plenty of poorly concealed snickery titters filled the room the entire time, his hand shooting down again, showing his smile once more.

(Really, who did Lan Xichen think he could fool with this? Hadn’t he been the one to say he wouldn’t hold back? And yet he kept concealing smiles and holding up his laughter in every way. Hmph.)

(Nevertheless, Jiang Cheng couldn’t really say that the prospect of breaking his barriers bit by bit until he could no longer hold back his every giggle, chuckle, crackle and squeal didn’t fill him with new fierce, unwavering determination to keep going.)

“You want to talk about restraint, then?” Jiang Wanyin snarked, getting closer and feeling incredibly smug when that succeeded in turning Lan Xichen’s grin much wobblier and shakier.

His smirk shone, taking over his entire expression, sharp enough for the other to feel it without needing to see. 

“I have a challenge. To see how much of your giant and stubborn self control will save you when you’re completely at my mercy.” 

His words were taunting and, still, Lan Xichen couldn’t even pretend to feel truly threatened by them. 

Somehow, his thoughts must have shown on his face because Jiang Wanyin let out those fond huffs he always did when he thought someone was being too cute for no reason and his tune got into a mix of soft and exasperated. 

“But, if you’re already giddy and giggling like this-” to highlight his words he suddenly pressed on the pits, making a snort explode from him, his bubbly snickers that the other just described jumping on his throat and begging to be set free. The burn of his ears was back. “When I have barely even done anything? Maybe it won’t be a challenge at all. I didn’t even get to start with the real tickling and you already look so close to losing.”

Maybe it was the playfulness. Maybe it was how at ease and safe he felt around the other. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the new game. The joy of seeing how much fun Jiang Cheng was having, how vocal he was being about it. However, for once, Lan Huan didn’t even think twice about the words that were falling from his mouth.

“I am still not laughing right now, though. Am I, Jiang Cheng?”

There was a quick, sharp intake of breath and some seconds of dangerous silence. Lan Xichen felt the hair on the nape of his neck standing and a small hum of electricity charged the air.

A low, raspy chuckle that sounded so close to him made a kind of energy that had nothing to do with the Zidian run like crazy across his spine, sending all his nerves into a frenzy and his mind to tip the abyss of incoherency. Two hands laid on his wrists and started to pull them upwards until they rested nicely above his head, leaving his entire torso free from any form of defense.

His voice was really, really close.

“Don’t you dare to put them down or I won’t hold back.”

Having already played too much with fire, Lan Huan only nodded, letting the other concentrate once again in his attack. He took a deep breath and buried his reactions and snickers deep inside, relaxing his muscles and reining his expression and soul back into a calm and serene appearance, as if he was just getting ready for another afternoon of meditating.

Very well, if this was a challenge, he might as well give his best.

(No one could overcome a Lan in a battle of self control, afterall.)

Jiang Wanyin went back to a more upright position and stopped for a few seconds, eying the arms in front of him with a concentrated consideration. 

Unexpectedly, he remembered a game that his Shiejie used to play with him when he was being too grumpy as a kid, which was, non-surprisingly, more often than not. The pang on his chest that always came when he thought about her didn’t feel as painful as it normally did, not when he was surrounded by Lan Xichen’s warmth and presence, when there was too much joy and happiness going around. It did, though, gave him an idea.

He laid one finger on the center of the other’s slender palm, and slowly started to swirl his digit over its lines and curves. The muscles under it trembled and his sharp attention was quick to capture how it made Lan Huan’s breath hitch for a moment before it went back to normal, face as calm as ever. 

Jiang Cheng felt like a predator, slowly backing his prey into a corner. 

Carefully, he continued drawing spirals on the skin, doing a couple of them before going up to lightly scribble at each finger, being careful to keep the touches light and soft as he went descending to the wrist. Every single inch of it got a good skittering and a few more swirls, dancing fingers continuing to follow their path. 

Getting to the forearm, Jiang Wanyin changed the pace of his fingers and the pressure of his touch, now focusing and curling more his fingers and letting his nails drag themselves freely across his skin. Goosebumps follows his tickles, especially as he decided to take a break on the inner part of Lan Xichen’s elbow and dance, scratch and scribble on the most sensitive spots he found until now, quiet as ever as he used every ounce of his attention to catch and internally cherish every surprised, barely audible huff and puff of snickers from his lover with the breakeaned pattern.

The path across his biceps was even slower, with him doing everything to drag the moment for as long as he could before arriving at his primer destination: the armpit. His hand rested there, not even twitching as he saw Lan Huan hold his breath, waiting in expectation for his next move.

Because it would be foolish to think he wouldn’t have another one prepared. That he wasn’t as expectant as Lan Xichen himself for the moment that the dam would finally break and his usual merciless and energetic tickle attack would be unleashed upon every single tickle spot. 

But Jiang Cheng was feeling mischievous. The game had barely begun, afterall. 

So, with his other free hand, he started repeating the same tickly treatment on his other palm, and thinking that was it, Lan Xichen allowed himself to exhale, gathering his strength to keep up with the challenge, feeling a bit more confident for it, since now he already had an idea of what was going to happen.

That was until the leader of Yunmeng sect began pinching his armpit and a sharp gasp was suddenly ripped from him. His arms twitched downwards and his head turned just half of an inch to the side, cheeks puffing just the tiniest bit with barely concealed sounds before it all turned back to normal, his face going back to a serene, unbothered mask. 

Still, no small details escaped Jiang Cheng’s attentive gaze: the way that his fingers curled every time he hit a sweet spot, how the skin around his eyes crinkled when a playful poke hit his pit, and, especially, how red his ears were getting, the color starting to spill to his neck with each passing second. 

This was fine. 

Jiang Wanyin could be patient. Precise. Unwavering. 

There was one yet to be born who was able to win against him when it came to stubbornness.

Therefore, he continued his double attack, assaulting the defenseless armpit with gentle, quick pinches that felt like tiny kisses on his skin at the same time that his other hand concentrated all the skittering and dancing on the other ticklish arm. 

The longer he went, the more his tranquil façade began to slip, each and every single occasion being followed by way too smug chuckles that made Lan Huan both want to kiss his lover, let everything go and let himself giggle non stop or even worse: whine in protest. 

The thing that Lan Xichen failed to consider when accepting this challenge was a very simple one: he did not realize how absolutely maddening and unbearably quiet this all would be. 

Silence had never bothered him, of course. Yet, right now it only left him with no other option but to concentrate on everything happening around him: on the way his lover kept scribbling, pinching and poking his tickle spots calmly without ever, ever moving away. On the soft tingling touches following his every twitch. In those attentive eyes that kept watching his every reaction, every move and smile. All of his sharky intakes of breath, gasps, yelps and quiet snickers seemed to resonate in his ears and across the room like they were being amplified. There was only one thing that interrupted them:

Jiang Wanyin’s teases.

“What?” Said one taunted as he finally, finally decided to move on from his poor armpits. His relief, though, was very short when he pressed on his higher ribs and vibrated. Lan Huan’s back arched and a snort almost broke his barriers. “You thought it was over? Not so soon, I still have much, much more places to explore. Is the challenge getting too hard for you already?”

He didn’t answer, too much concentrated in keeping his composure as those horrible, unfair and worming fingers quickly scrambled to wiggle on the base of his spine, their light scratches making him want to jump from his skin. His body tried to move both far away and much closer from the sensation. 

“I can see your arms coming down, Lan Huan. Keep them up, I said. Have you forgotten about my promise that quickly or are you testing me? Do you really want me to destroy you with tickles that bad?”

Lan Xichen held his breath and squirmed lightly in the same place. Usually Jiang Wanyin’s merciless teasing was accompanied by an equally ruthless tickling that would leave him laughing hysterically, too occupied with his own inelegant and extremely loud crackling to even think too much about his words. As they were right now, however, he was just unable to tune every provocation and every tickle out. 

Even if he stopped pressing his lips so tightly and let his control crumble, the leader of Lan Sect was pretty sure that his bubbly giggles and childish squeaks wouldn’t even come close to subdue his lover’s sentences. No one could ever dream of being able to outshout the very own Sandu Shengshou, afterall.

Those hands crept higher, jumping from his spine to press on each and every rib on its way for so quickly, so, so fast that the touch only lasted a few seconds before the fingers scrambled away as if his skin was made of fire. The pokes came one after the other in a rapid succession that teased and left more ticklish sparks across every nerve. At this point he couldn’t even distinguish if Jiang Cheng was using the Zidian or if all the anticipation and gentle scribbles made him infinitely more ticklish, muscles tensing and trembling with every touch.

Lan Xichen found himself on the brick of letting his control go and his snickers and chuckles free. His arms and armpits still tingled from the previous attack and every instinctive twitch of his torso made a new wave of phantom tickles tease them, his entire body feeling just like a giant, ticklish spot. 

His lips were wobbly and a smile was finally able to blossom on them.

His arms went down.

“Lan Huan,” Jiang Wanyin warned once more. 

A single finger began scribbling and prodding at his spine, way too close from his shoulderblades too be a coincidence and Lan Xichen wanted to kick out the pent up energy that didn’t stop flooding his veins. His back once more arched a piece of time longer than the previous time. Lan Huan caught himself and forced it to relax again into the laying position, bringing it right back to the assaulting finger. It was quite counterproductive, since it made him want to squirm away all over again. “Put your arms back up.”

Lan Xichen felt like he had all the reason for the pout he showed the other, still he hid it all the same behind one of his sleeves. 

There was simply no warning before the hand on his spine pressed on and drummed in a full attack on the spot, making his entire body spasm with the force of the crackle he had to hold, torso squirming away but unable to truly escape from the tickles.

Jiang Cheng’s previous other free hand latched on his side and began squeezing. His entire body now bounced, cheeks puffed out with all the laughing being held inside. Still, no sound left him. Thoughts and feeling zig zagged in his mind in a totally undignified frenetic manner that would certainly make his uncle and the elders of the clan go into qi deviation if they knew.

“I told you, didn’t I? Arms up, Lan Huan.”

Lan Xichen kicked, pressed his hand firmly on his mouth and squirmed on the same place, feeling like laughter was about to break and fill the entire room in any second now. He managed to endure a total of half of a minute before his arms were shooting upwards again and, just as fast, the hands there were just now mercilessly assaulting his ticklish with all the kneading and drilling of an energetic tickle attack, went back to caressing softly at his skin. 

He quietly muffled a tiny, surprised squeak. Somehow the light, sweet scratches felt even more awfully tickly now than before and Lan Huan barely had any willpower left to keep his bubbly, high pitched reactions inside as he tried to take his breath back.

“I can see your barrier cracking.” Jiang Cheng’s voice was suddenly horribly close and he hummed in response to the teasy words. No matter how giggly and silly he sounded now or how fireflies batted their wings like crazy in his belly or how his lips couldn’t stop curling upwards and his face started getting redder than ever. It was only a hum. “I can see how your eyes crinkle and how your smile grows bigger and bigger with every tiny, smallest move of my fingers. I can feel how your muscles tremble under them, before you regain your control and force them to relax. I can hear your giddiness and how you hold your breath every time I find a new defenseless, sensitive spot. I know how it’s taking longer and longer for you to gather your restrain and hide all of these little details.”

At that, he purposely focuses his attention in prodding and wiggling his fingers in the place where Lan Huan’s stomach and side meet, pulling another loud snort from him. 

“And,” Jiang Cheng continues, his usual rough tune coming out like a pleased purring of a predator that circles his prey. “Above it all, I can see how you try to move your face away from me, Lan Huan. But you’re not getting away. No. Not after all the effort I used here and not until I get to see how much of a laughing, blushing mess I can make our elegant Zewu Jun to be. Until you won’t be able to look at me without feeling giggles filling your throat and a smile taking over your face. Until I get to hear every squeal, every snicker, every delightful, uncontrollable reaction you have to offer.”

Lan Xichen felt like he was going to explode. The gentle tickling continued as slow and as light as always, sweet and lovely as if nothing had happened at all, in a total contrast from the absolutely unmerciful and on point that it was every tease. Each word seemed to hit his sensitive ears and coax him closer to giving up from a challenge that he never really cared about in the first place. 

Jiang Wanyin seemed very aware of all of this. The leader of the Lan Sect wondered when did they become so crystal clear to each other.

“And then, when all of your barriers break, when your self control and restraint can no longer save you from me, I will keep on tickling, keep on teasing and keep on getting all of your smiles, squirms and giggles, over and over and over again.”

A quick pinch kissed his hips and Lan Huan let a giggle escape from his lips.

And then another and another and another. Suddenly, the room was filled by a high pitched, quick and loud giggling fit that he hardly indulged in his daily life, making his ears feel like they were on fire when, with each passing second, they only continued to grow more uncontrollable and ring louder, being interrupted only by a couple of snorts before continuing their song and dance.

A white flash suddenly appeared in Jiang Wanyin’s field of vision and in a blink those long sleeves were concealing his lover’s smile again. 

Jiang Cheng huffed, rolling his eyes at the sudden bashfulness of the other and Lan Xichen didn’t need to open his to see the fondly exasperated grin that always accompanied those moments. 

After a few pieces of second when he saw that the other wouldn’t really move, the one in purple robes tried to take his arms away from his face. However, the Lan simply dodged from his grip, giving Jiang Cheng only a glimpse of that full dazzling smile before it was gone again, sleeves fluttering skillfully in and out of his hold when he kept trying to push them out of the way.    

"Stop hiding your face!" For once his exclamation didn’t even pretend to sound annoyed, the threat hidden in his words losing any and every heat as it got mixed with a bark of laughter. “Wasn’t you the one who was all about not holding back just minutes ago?”

Lan Xichen merely chuckled. Jiang Cheng kept fighting to pin, once more, his energetic arms.

In the end, he was successful, of course. 

His lover had been barely trying, afterall.

Still, he felt a tad breathless, little from the quick roughhousing and much more because he was suddenly hit by the full image of Lan Huan’s handsome, gorgeous face. He could feel his own skin heat up as he momentarily froze in the same place.

Lan Xichen lightly pulled his arms in protest, unaware of the other’s struggles. "It's stronger than me!" He giggled a defense and the way that it sounded like it was only two seconds from becoming a screech broke Jiang Wanyin out of it.

Once again, a huff left his mouth.

The hands stopped their dance on his hips. It took three heartbeats, but Lan Xichen felt his pinned wrists being pressed a bit stronger on the mattress and the weight on his thighs shifted forward. If that hadn’t indicated that the Yumeng sect leader moved closer, the voice hitting his absurdly red ear certainly would. 

“You know who else is stronger than you?”

There was a hint of a growling in his tune that made bells ring in alarm in his mind, nerves getting alight with electricity. 

For a moment he almost gave up and opened his eyes, wanting to see what was happening, but the anticipation on the air was already stronger and Xichen wanted to hear where it would go if he didn’t tip it any further. The hands on his wrists gave them a squeeze that was both too much of a warning to be a purely comforting touch and way too soft to match the threatening tune that fell from Jiang Wanyin's lips. 

“Me.” 

His breath now teased the skin of his neck, making electricity to fly across the tickle spots to his mouth, expanding his smile. "So I will repeat myself just this last time: keep your arms here, nice and far away from that pretty face, or I will do it for you. Deal?" 

Lan Xichen’s snickering now had less to do with the tickles and, just for the fun of it, he tipped his head to the side, as if thinking about his answer. 

(If that opened the path of his neck for more attacks, it was simply a coincidence. He hummed a not-so-controlled giggle when his lover caved to the cute sign and laid a quick kiss on the base of his jaw. Good, he was starting to think he would have to pout for it.) 

He could feel those gray eyes glued on him as the silence stretched and the squeezing of his hands quickly changed to a firmer hold of his wrists in an answer of a question that hadn’t even been voiced in the first place. 

"Oi, I am going to break your legs!” This time, Lan Huan really couldn’t help the playful tilt of his tune as the snickers grew to full chuckling, his reactions being totally unleashed and all over the place. They sounded just the tiniest bit hysterical, but the teasingness of it couldn’t really be ignored. Jiang Wanyin made it too easy. “Tsk. I thought it was against the great Gusu Lan's rules to be impolite. Disrespecting and leaving another Sect Leader without an answer is an offense that is not taken lightly." 

Truly, the words had slipped from Lan Xichen’s lips even before he could truly ponder about them.

"Maybe some people just like to think before answering, Wanyin." 

(Lan Xichen ignored the irony.)

Before the other's growl could become stronger and his hands got free for the only purpose of absolutely destroying him with tickles until he took every single syllable back, Lan Xichen quickly lifted his torso and planted a giggly, placating kiss on his cheek, opening his eyes just about time to see that lovely red blossoming across Jiang Wanyin’s entire face. 

With his expression completely relaxed, the surprise and fluster successfully whipped away the frown that naturally appeared anytime he was provoked. 

With this, truly, Lan Huan couldn't really be blamed for the other couple of pecks he stole before the feared Sandu Shengsou came back from the surprise and turned away, hair falling in front of his face in a poor attempt to hide it while his hands continued to rend him immobile. 

"I will keep my arms up." He chipped, because even with his pokes of fun, the feeling that he would never be able to see Jiang Cheng’s hands getting close again without breaking into a sea of crackling snickers and the phantom tingling that kept playing with his nerves like a guqin, he was still having too much fun playing with this new side of his lover and he would actually hate to take the teases too far. 

"Feeling very confident today, aren’t you?" Lan Xichen felt his eyes widen. There was simply no other way to describe it, but when the other’s gaze fell on him, it could only describe them as hungry. 

"Let's see how much breath you'll have to tease me when we're done." 

Just like that, those hands were back, making him want to curl into a ball when, even after everything, no energetic, quick and destroying tickle attack assaulted his hips in a kneading, clawing and drilling dance that he knew so well and prepared for. A kind of attack that would have him lose control and laugh immediately, not caring at all about rules or pretenses for minutes at time.

Instead, this touch was light, traveling across his sides. It wiggled and scratched at any and every inch of skin, careful to not forget a single spot. 

Remembering Jiang Wanyin's first request, he closed his eyes, trying his best to not take the other's example and try to hide his own blushing face behind the curtains of his own hair. The tiny, unusual giggles flooding and spilling from his lips hysterically were back. 

They continued like that for a couple of minutes, Jiang Cheng actually feeling impressed with how Lan Xichen kept his arms - shaking in a far image from the how composed they were in the beginning of the game - up the entire time, especially as his pokes and pinches now deliberately focused on the most ticklish spots, wiggling and skittering more and more frequently as the seconds ticked by.

It didn’t take too long before he started feeling antsy. With all his lover’s most sensitive and weak spots being successfully mapped out so he could focus entirely on them and with the challenge no longer running there wasn’t a lot to focus besides the extremely cute reactions of his beloved, which was something he could indeed watch forever, but also something that he knew he could make it become even more adorable. That nagging feeling that he just needed to do something kept him agitated.

Usually, with his usual ruthless attacks, that would be the moment he would find himself spilling how precious and important Lan Huan was to him. How his presence warmed the coldest of the nights and his smiles brightened the greyest of his days. In those moments, though, his words were accompanied by a loud crackling or hysterical laughter, making it impossible for the other to even see how much vulnerable he decided to be. 

It was easier this way, when he was sure that his beloved wouldn’t take the chance to start praising him and make him freeze, or even worse, stutter over his words, quickly turning the tables about who the blushing mess was. 

(Gods, Huan was simply merciless when he stuttered, throwing one praise after another in a quick succession before he could even think of getting his footing again, refusing to not let the full extension of his own affection to show with his, as well.)

Jiang Cheng was definitely not a fool to even think to start, in that sweet, calm pace of the melodious giggling fit, a battle he knew he would not win.

Technically, he knew that Lan Xichen in no way minded the silence, he was the brother of Lan Wangji, after all. Yet, he found himself thinking about some other tease, a game or anything he could say or do to see which more reactions he could get.

At the sudden thought of his brother in law, an idea appeared in his mind. A kind of… provocation he saw him using earlier, if he could even call it that. 

It was silly, but it was worth a try.

He lowered his voice in a tune he knew that it affected the other immensely, raspy and paused. 

“Lan Huan.”

“Yes?”

The answer was as quick and eager as ever, no tilt of playfulness of flustering falling from it. Embarrassedly, Jiang Cheng felt his face get on fire.

(How would he know that this wouldn’t work! When he himself still felt as defenseless and soft as the first time Sect Leader Lan used his given name when he continued using it every single day?)

“Wanyin?” Lan Xichen tried again when no answer came, opening his eyes only to see the other quickly deviate his gaze, blush deep in his face, a giant pout resting on his lips. It only made him laugh harder, albeit confusedly.

“Nothing.” He grumbled. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not important.”

Lan Huan opened his mouth to disagree that there wasn’t anything unimportant when it came to Jiang Cheng when the assaulting hand decided that this was the perfect moment to claw on his belly, drumming and scratching fingers way too close to his bellybutton to be a coincidence. A shriek cut his thought process and opened the gates for all the high pitched series of squeaks that left his lips, snickery fit growing up a notch.

“Jiang Wanyin!” He protested at the clear attempt of distraction, refusing to break contact and close his eyes again. 

That is how he managed to see the exact moment Jiang Cheng faltered for a second with his words. Suddenly the redness of his face was painting from the tip of his ears to the tip of his nose and a shudder clearly went through him. Tiny pinches, much quicker and persistent than before, as if demanding his attention, began traveling all across his stomach.

He giggled hysterically. Yet refusing to stop until he discovered what was that about.

“Jiang Cheng!”

His eyebrows furrowed in pure concentration, which gave the Lan a fun contrast with the giant smile plastered in his expression. 

“Sush. It was nothing.”

Why was he reacting like this? Nothing had happened in those last moments and all Lan Xichen did was…

Wait. Could it be…

“Jiang Cheng?” He pushed the words through his high pitched giggles again, not caring how each syllable was completely consumed by his giddy, bubbly and quite silly reactions.

Jiang Wanyin couldn’t stop the way that his blush worsened at this crawling to his neck. His lover’s entire face brightened in understanding.

“Jiang Cheng!” Lan Huan looked like a kid being presented with his favorite toy as a gift. His voice was absolutely delighted, joyful and completely unbothered about how adorable and sweet he made Jiang Cheng’s name sound like this. His tittering and chuckling painted every syllable and sound in a maddening manner that made Jiang Cheng feel like he could keep tickling and listening to it forever. 

It was a dangerous weapon. 

He sticked his finger on his bellybutton in retaliation, scratching the walls and prodding the spot in a way that he knew would make the other go insane with ticklish sensations.

Those chuckles quickly evolved to a loud, belly laughter. 

Lan Huan’s back arched with the new attack and slammed back on the mattress, legs kicking uncontrollably at the sensations. In an alarming sign, Jiang Cheng saw him opening his mouth and quickly sent his other free hand to dig and drum on the rest of his stomach, spidering, squeezing and kneading everywhere he could touch in hopes of making him lose his breath. 

And still… 

“Jiang Wanyin! Jiang Cheng! Cute Cheng!”

Each word was shouted in joy, nothing like the usual calm and proper way Lan Xichen usually held himself. With his heart melting and his chest feeling just like it would explode, Jiang Cheng decided, he has no other option, truly. 

In a swift and quick movement, he freed his hands and turned around, latching on his knees and squeezing.

The sound that came out of the other’s mouth cut across the entire mountain chain, a mix of a shriek and loud crackling filling the air immediately. Jiang Cheng almost stopped right on his tracks with the sheer volume and force of it, quickly turning back to see Lan Xichen completely boneless on the mattress, head thrown back, mouth open wide and eyes crinkling in the corners as squeals and chortles mingled with his unstoppable laughing fit.

It did nothing to stop the warmth filling his soul.

Lan Huan could barely think about anything else but the tickles, how they demanded every ounce of his attention, took over his every thought and danced in every nerve, especially when those playful hands decided to wiggle their way to under his knees and scribble on the horrible, awfully sensitive soft skin there as if their lives depended on it, drumming and scratching non stop.

Well, he had quite asked for this.

Still, when a couple of curious tickly sparkles touched his knees and made all of his senses explode in tingles and laughter and tickles and snorts and tickles, his body automatically jumped to a sitting position and his arms engulfed the other, face immediately hiding on his back in a poor attempt to muffle a loud screech. 

The sparkles, squeezing and drumming continued for gods know how long. Lan Xichen could feel his entire body bounce with the force of each one of his crackles, giggling and squeaks. Jiang Cheng’s own amused chuckles accompanied his, even if the Lan wasn’t really able to make out the teasing words he uttered from time to time and made his back rumble, too occupied in feeling like he was going mad with tickling.

His body moved before his mind, once more. In a blink he was crackling too much to keep himself upwards and in the other he was smashing his lips against Jiang Cheng’s and muffling his laughter until the assault of his worst spot stopped and his reactions lowered to a string of non-stop snickers.

Jiang Cheng scoffed, but turned himself around and adjusted his pose so they could continue the new activity more comfortably.

Lan Xichen jolted and grinned in a truly ungraceful manner when those two hands came to rest on his sides, but they only rubbed firmly on the skin, the new giggles created by the scare being quickly kissed away as the other refused to let Lan Xichen be distracted by anything else that wasn’t him.

It didn’t take long before he melted completely again, his arms coming to rest on Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders and the blush painting his ears now for a completely different reason.

They separated to take a few gulps of air, lingering smiles and shining gazes focused on each other for a few moments. Already recovered, Lan Xichen found himself diving right back in, locking their lips together and pressing closer and closer.

That is, until the traitors, lying hands on his sides, digged on the sensitive spot with all their might. His arms came crashing down and his body tried to curl in a defensive ball, but it was already too late. A new round of loud laughter spilled from his lungs and jumped excitedly from his tongue, filling the room once more in a high pitched tune.

He couldn’t really help the squeal and trashing when Wanyin made sure to whisper the teasing growl next to his ear, again, voice still breathless from all their kissing. “You really thought that that would work, huh? That it would be so easy to distract me? Just a few pecks, then I would forget everything and you would be free to go and be a teasing bastard all over again.” He chuckled and rested his mouth on the base of his neck, every word rumbling and tickling. “I told you before, didn’t I? You will be at my mercy until you have no more breath left to provoke me ever again. I never go back on my word.”

And then he promptly began delivering a giant, unending raspberry on his neck.

Lan Xichen laughed and laughed and laughed for some more minutes until there were tears prickling the corner of his eyes and hiccups began ringing together with his giggles.

The very moment those appeared, though, the playful hands immediately stopped their playful assault to massage and rub softly until the leftover tingles disappeared. The raspberries metamorphosed to pecks and kisses all over his face that got him melting on the spot in no more than a couple of seconds, shoulders still lightly bouncing with the ligering tittering that followed them.

Silence stretched across them like dogs and bunnies usually do, on their lazy days.

“Jiang Cheng.” 

“Hm?”

Lan Xichen waited until those gray eyes were on him and let his smile shine unashamedly. His lover huffed, fond.

“Should this one give you the report now, Sandu Shengshou?”

“Oh, shut up.”

The sect leader Lan chuckled.

That was the only warning Jiang Cheng had before, in an elegant flash of white, he found his entire world spinning until his back hit the mattress and his hands were firmly held above his head. A weight settled on his thighs, pinning him on the spot. Those brown, crinkling eyes were now just inches from his face.

He tried to squirm and pull his arms down, but the grip was as moving as the mountains that surrounded the Cloud Recesses.

“Since my report won’t be necessary, maybe I can explore other… techniques to show you my observations and feelings?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened with understanding. He tried harder to free his arms to at least have a lieu of a shield to protect his currently defenseless tickle spots. His mouth was already betraying him, his lips wobbly turning upwards.

Lan Xichen kept watching him, serene, no hurry at all. 

“They do say that there is no stronger way to bond than to share similar experiences and I would be happy to assist in yours .”

“Lan Huan! Don’t! Do not dare!”

He trashed and buckled, squashing as much as he could the already bubbling titters filling his chest, the kind face above him seeing right through his frown - in the way that he called Lan Xichen by his birth name, how the Zidian didn’t crackle or activate like it did when his master was in danger, in the softness still lingering on him, the excited glint in his gaze, in the very same way that they already had this song and dance plenty of times before - and so effortlessly continued to pin him on the mattress, winking before starting to lower his face, bit by bit.

“Lan Huan, I’m warning you! I will-”

“I love your smile.” The sentence was calm and playful, but Jiang Cheng’s voice still got caught in his throat, frozen. Both because of his words and the tiny, careful and light nibble that hit the ticklish back of his ear, barely pecking the skin over and over again. “I love how beautiful and cute it is, when it’s tiny or big,” Another nibble. “When it’s soft or determined.” Another one. “When you’re aware of it or not.” Another. Another. Another.

“Shuhuhut up!”

Amidst his demand Jiang Cheng let out an uncharacteristic snort.

An answering chuckle rang like a bell and set his cheeks ablaze, stretching his grin wider as he turned his face to press it firmly on his shoulder. The other’s breath made him lift his shoulder in an attempt of defense, only for the ministrations to change to his other ear, more praises and loving teases pouring like rain and making him feel more and more silly, tickly, shy.

(Loved). 

He endured exactly three more compliments (he had to put a stop when Lan Xichen started to point out how he went out of the way to take care and make little nice gestures that should go unnoticed because they’re not a big deal at all!) before snapping, again, with no heat.

“Why don’t you stop saying nonsense,” he tried squirming and scrunching his neck, but the other only hummed dangerously in warning, making tingles and tickly shocks spread like flames on his nerves. He attempted to control the snicker painting his words, unsuccessfully. “And put your mouth to good use?”

“So demanding…”

Still, Lan Xichen acquiesced and took a deep breath. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes, preparing for the killer raspberry that would come and finally put him out of his suffering.

Only for a continued, light gush of air hit his skin, pulling those low, anticipatory giggles from him.

“Soon, Wanyin. First, I must tell you all the endearing, lovely things about you that keep making me swoon and fall in love all over again while I watch this blush take over your beautiful, adorable face. Then, after I’m done, you're going to tell me all of your favorite spots for the day and I will tickle every single one of them, maybe using that delightful technique you just spent so long teaching me all about today, maybe testing how loud and carefree I can make you sound. What do you think?"

Lan Xichen yelped and jolted away when harmless sparks hit both of his hands, making them tingle and automatically let go of the other, which was enough for him to dislodge the Lan from his spot with a hard buckle, throwing him back on the mattress and quickly turning around to run away from the bed.

Before he succeeded, however, Lan Huan jumped and locked his hand on his wrist, maintaining his grip even when Jiang Cheng twisted it left and right and pulling him closer and making the one in purple robes lose his footing.

He then quickly adjusted himself on the bed so the other would fall right on his side and Lan Xichen could quickly finish this game of cat and mouse. 

However, Jiang Cheng used the impulse to turn around and barrel him on the mattress, limbs getting entangled as both of them get lost in giggles, playful growls and some non heated pushing and pulling each other around.

It took a few minutes until he finally had the opening he was waiting for. Brown eyes shone when Jiang Cheng got distracted, too proud of managing to get on top of him during the brawl. With a fast swipe, one of his hands captured the other’s wrist and pulled upwards. His legs did a quick word in locking themselves around the other’s one pair. Unbalanced, Jiang Cheng fell on his chest with a shout and his free hand held his waist close, body rolling and putting Lan Xichen right on top, again. 

Hair fell on his face in a mess of untamed strands as his erratic breath matched Wanyin’s, smiles shining bright. He could feel the way that his ribbon was crooked on his forehead and his usual pristine robes got wrinkles. None of those details went unnoticed by Jiang Cheng, who smirked at him with a sharp smugness, even if his general state was just as bad.

Lan Xichen almost kissed him again.

Instead, though, he took a deep breath, reigning the joyful smile in his face and the childish snickers playing in his throat. 

When he opened his eyes, there was now a honed resolutioness on them, his smile became a smirk and his face got closer to the other. 

"Do that again and I will have to put my sect’s ribbon and spells to a good use.” As always, his voice rang light and sweet, but with an undertone of something low and dangerous that made the very own Sandu Shengshou shiver. “Alright?”

It was not a question.

Lan Xichen nuzzled his neck sweetly. “Thank you for expanding my collection even more with all your wonderful reactions.” 

Oh, gods, Jiang Cheng realized with wide, excited eyes. He was going to die, wasn’t he?

“Shall we begin?”

[~*~]

Random Thoughts:

Jiang Cheng, watching Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan: urg, look at them, so head over the heels for each other, absolutely shameless, no respect at all for anyone who is near. It’s like they have no sense of self preservation at all

Lan Xichen: a

Jiang Cheng: Oh my goddd it’s Lan Xichen hi hi hiiiii <3 <3 :3 <3

~~

Jiang Cheng to me is just aaaaa! The fact that he hates Wei Wuxian and keeps guarding his flute even after 13 years. The way that he follows Jin Ling in his every night hunt. How he was the only one to not chase Wei Wuxian when his identy was revealed. He handing Jin Ling the Zidian just like his mother did to him

I keep thinking about a continuation where, while they're still starting to get closer, Wei Wuxian start having more tickle fights in front of Jiang Cheng - both attacking Lan Yuan, Lan Jingyi or his own husband - until he finally has enough of him looking so gloom and doom everytime he does so and decides to take the matter into his own hands <3

Look, I'm going to be honest, I just need more of everyone in mdzs laughing, playing and being silly, okay? I need more of that happiness and if for that I need to write my own content and spend hours daydreaming about them in cute tickle scenarios so be it <3 <3 peace and love on planet earth

Maybe I will write something with the juniors in the future? Add some pure, playful and joyful fluff in the story. They are just way too precious and def deserve some more laughing in their lives. And Wei Wuxian just have such perfect, amazing tickle monster vibes iugtfrdefrgyu

Also, enjoy this amazing video of Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen that I can't stop thinking about.

[verymuchsoyes]

Upon rewatching, it's clear that RayV is the saddest, wettest creature, but he doesn't behave in that pathetic way Fraser and RayK do, so his suffering gets overlooked

[lisbonsteresa]

[through gritted teeth] i am so normal about this

[endbeginning]

and if i said.... pet.er peve.nsie.....

[unproduciblesmackdown]

thinking about how of course billions is about people trapped in eternal battle world, and trapped because they won't ever exit, and don't want to because that's the only way they can define their idea of themself or like move through life, to the degree they have to just create or find another battle if one ends or they don't have enough going on at once or they're unhappy about anything & can only respond to that the only way they'll respond to anything: finding someone to consider a target to Defeat & being like nice, i'm so competent & active as a person, so with any other issues in my life, i'm sure it's not my fault at least

and it's been clear that to be someone at the Center of the show means needing to be inflexible enough to never leave that life, which also probably means never engaging in genuine self-reflection besides like, fuming in distress for 5 sec & then immediately searching for blame for someone else, or calling up your designated moral supporter who'll tell you you're upset b/c you're very complex & sympathetic & maybe if you do [xyz] you'll be able to Keep Winning, so like, don't worry, we'll never get too off track here. you have someone like connerty who cares so much about playing by the rules ft. ethics, but he was also someone completely inflexible who would give a shit like "ha ha you broke the law" and be Defeated b/c like yeah damn you do got him in that situation. he may then have gained the flexibility to throw a punch when he's already imprisoned but he's still just gotta retire & pursue some completely different goals

this in contrast with like, what a coincidence (surely not) that the more flexible characters are the ones who also do introspect & reflect & genuinely think about & question themselves ever, & how even beyond that, being in this world of people who overwhelmingly are thee opposite & aiming for a static sense of self & thus strategy for navigating life & all interactions & situations, the more reflective parties also tend to accept both Blame & the fruitlessness of pushing for more/different/better from the people & relationships & situations they're amongst. those willing to take on responsibility at all surrounded by people casting all of it off, always, w/the former already primed to take blame & the latter primed to be looking to find the blame in anyone else, a powerful mismatch....which allows the flexible parties to also put up with shit for longer lol like if they got fed up that quickly or recognized the dead-end here they'd just leave the show lol. like wow can't believe taylor spent their whole life already stuck having to deal with someone who's so very much like these bullshit central men & those trying to emulate them, & perhaps also then have a lifetime of experience extending endless patience & sympathy with little to no expectations for more from people who put up with such a bullshit man & his effects on everything around him, like, what do you mean taylor's mom hasn't seen them b/c douglas didn't want to see them b/c he wasn't yet motivated enough to have to exercise begrudging shows of basic respect. whilest sure seems like taylor felt more concern & basically stated their responsibility re: trying to make their relationship with their dad work / basically take on the task of making his life work for him according to his sense of himself (genius! who deserves the recognition thusly!) and doesn't seem to take on this role re: their mom, who nevertheless is just presumed to move closer to them along w/douglas. and here's taylor never truly putting their foot down re: wendy, no matter what, able to have no real positive expectations in how wendy treats them or thinks of them, but also always able to extend sympathy / decent treatment themself

thinking of like team ben out here as the Nicer axe cap or mpc people who also happen to be people absorbing the L's, blaming themselves for being at the bottom of the hierarchy & being subjected to the always negative treatment doled out to them accordingly, and, winstonesquely, still generally like extending genuine gestures of amicability, efforts of constructive actual communication, etc, & this being shut down & likely punished by all the people around them who won't handle that kind of thing. that Of Course nobody's actually supported around here, like, at best they'll get some kind of "well you're actually talented & valuable :)...." (so why aren't they already treated in a way such that they're aware of this?) "....so just have more confidence already god!" wherein (a) again that just means it's Their Fault that they're having a miserable time at the hands of others & (b) their having "confidence" doesn't really mean like, an emotional buffer between their sense of self-esteem & the message of inferiority in how they're treated, it has to mean externally acting different in some ways, more like A Winner, more like everyone else. the limits of ben trying to sometimes be a buffer for tuk as that kind of friend/mentor role, where either it simply fails or ben's Help is more unilateral "correction." that generally only any increase in aggressive hostility gets them anywhere, and really not that far.

the way dollar bill could always act however he wanted & they could always clean up his messes / save him from himself / just flatout blame other people for what dollar bill did to them or someone else; success in being a mini axe in that way for sure. dollar bill going off the rails over his literal dollar bill & that's not a problem, he's validated b/c he's upset, & b/c rudy knew he'd be upset it's really all rudy's fault....who just so happens to be more of a loser, what with his glasses & possible masturbation ever and all. whilest even when dollar bill is like every season being shit at his job & life, well, just find a loser to trounce while everyone ignores this, cheers you on, takes on responsibility for fixing things for you, blames the person targeted probably. dollar bill couldn't even do in office transphobic hate crime physical attacks, or that but while yelling the r word at the autistic guy he's already harrassing & threatening, without it being really basically the target's fault, & hey, as long as no investors are watching. and we're still dragging dollar bill back to the office b/c uhhh yeah!!

& then of course there's winston, who, like a loser, says things in real efforts for real communication with others, that they winningly can only bring themselves to respond to as "he's not allowed to talk, that's out of line, i have to punish/deny this to reassert our respective status" except for, sometimes, taylor actually communicating in turn, or even simply receiving the information. winston in a duo with the very winning & worthy rian, being something of a quasirival for 5 seconds but even during then, and since, trying to be amicable to establish an actually positive dynamic, trying for actual communication, engaging flexibly & actively based on her feedback & her terms & etc to try to find some more success; versus rian completely inflexible, unwilling to respond to efforts to communicate, unwilling to have an actual relationship with any flexibility & genuineness in turn, or see winston as a person of course, and engage with real emotions. which is hardly an exclusive response of hers, like, everyone else is just the same, she's just also the one interacting with him more often and personally bullying him & standing next to him & immediately responding with clear contempt when he tries things like earnest expressions of "hey rian could you not do what you just did b/c it makes me feel like shit, probably b/c that's what you're trying to do" and "hey that was cool what you just did b/c it makes me feel like—" b/c like, what a loser. real winners cannot handle engaging with another person as a person. when you can just make up & stick to a narrative about "oh but i don't hate winston, who i feel is inherently beneath me. i wouldn't wanna feel bad about killing him, not when i could feel fine about administering more of a death by a thousand cuts with some other people helping out & hey maybe it was their cut that did it after all....but also if you're like 'pwease' then eh sure" or that winston's got a lesser inner existence anyways, some classic dehumanization, no complexity there, & hurting him isn't real, & it'd never be you in his position anyways! especially the more you're buying into "yeah i'm more of a person / more deserving / more real & sympathetic & correct than him :)" & being cheered on as you act that out. pretty cringe of winston to be earnest, flexible, openly trying & wanting & needing things, sounds bad & silly. unlike the winners around him who really cannot handle him or any of these things about him. of course near equivalent in loserness, tuk, is the person with the realest most amicable relationship with him. both of them too incompetent to realize their mutual failings in this, ha ha, real winners are repulsed & fleeing & can't handle a basic exchange with either of them. and the imbalance re: how little others are willing to give them in interest, consideration, time, words, etc, while they're always trying Too Much re: the disinterested others, totally proves their unworthiness

winston and tuk always having to stay at the bottom of the hierarchy, winston only able to be shitted on even as he extricates himself, ending up surrounded by people who will only act "correctly" according to their superior roles & this mf wags only processing anything as "did that reinforce my being a correct/winning person???" & only responding by trying to reassert to others how much of a winner they are, which requires establishing a loser, and crushing them. winston having recognized / gotten fed up with a bullshit scenario & had realistic expectations of those around them & spent those years being treated like shit yet never crushing an enemy to restore his ego & also spent those years trying to communicate and work with others and share actual info and make actual connections & now independently choosing to make a big shift in his life so that things can be different? is definitely the contemptible loser here while everyone else looks very good faffing around for an episode getting some temporary ego boosts & being very "correct" in every response to winston, even pointing out that rian even noticing something genuine & positive from winston in the absence of it anywhere is first & foremost incorrect, which rian will Also immediately drop in the face of that "well yeah it's more correct to prioritize Anything else. like that he's pathetic & mpc 5ever" like wuh oh rian being doomed from 5x08 "time to embrace acting more correct now" & being truly inflexible from that point on, never had a moment of conflict not resolved by [ignoring that] &/or again just getting someone more correct to declare how it'll be answered. taylor at their most flexible and Taylorest and most juxtaposed with central men & static ossified "winners" when they are also at their best in engaging with winston. taylor Like winston & vice versa in so many substantial & interesting ways, despite their relating to / sympathizing with / devoting much more effort & interest to people more like the central men. that here we are, when taylor might have to give up on Being A Winner, someone who'll walk away with status & resources & a seamless transition into some established business foundation, to really get the wins that matter, against pince, &/or to clock out of a sunk cost factory, &/or to not have strangled every part of themself that can be in conflict with this general situation into eternal dormancy. don't You dare blame latency lol, the taylor who gets to exist outside the conditional "well i guess you're a winner who's very useful to me, like dumping work on you & blaming you if it goes awry. and you can act like a Real winner in the ways that really matter (crushing people)"....is also a taylor who can be rejected & shut down & shut out & have their value denied & be treated shittily despite even knowing they'd be / are good at this shit, superlatively even, & could never feel okay just being regarded as a tool stashed away at someone's disposal. & Has been treated shittly & is liable to accept blame, unilateral responsibility for other's selves & feelings & actions & lives, & marinate in self-loathing. while people who refuse any introspection, questioning, responsibility, awareness, etc, & refuse to handle the least of genuine interactions/relationships with others as real people, are glad to scoff at them & dismiss them & imply or assert their superiority, like, wow have You got a lot to learn, or maybe you can't b/c you're inherently inferior. all just like re: winston!

tl;dr shoutout to the flexible characters who like can & do reflect & change things up actually, just so happening to always be Losing for this in the [only way to win is not to play] arena of fake winners seeing if they can consider themselves superior to everyone else & only even possibly correct always & forever, in the pyramid scheme of social hierarchy & also capitalism

[borom1r]

I have thoughts abt Beanix but they are NOT coherent ooooargh!!!! HIM!!!!!!!

[citizen-zero]

WIBTA for taking advantage of my boss’ possible manic episode?

I know this already sounds bad but hear me out.

So I (30M) am the sole employee of this guy (62M) who’s honestly just a miserable boss and an even more miserable person. It sucks so bad working for him—the pay is horrendous, he’s verbally abusive, and the working conditions are awful (in the winter I literally have to stay bundled up the whole work day because he refuses to put the heat on in the office). He wouldn’t even give me holidays off if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s basically nothing to do those days because everywhere else is closed. I’m almost positive he unironically thinks poor people should die if they can’t work. His nephew (aka his only living relative and just the nicest guy) came by yesterday to invite him to Christmas dinner and he told him he’d see him in hell.

I cannot stress this enough—it’s BAD. I’d quit, but it’s been hard finding a better job and I’ve got four kids at home, including one with special needs.

Anyway, so here’s where I’m wondering if I’d be the asshole. Today was Christmas Day and he showed up at my house out of nowhere (huge red flag, I know). At first I thought he’d forgotten I had the day off and he was here to chew me out, which was worrying enough, but then his whole demeanor changed and he was super happy and excited and talking about how he was going to raise my salary. He even mentioned possibly making me a partner in the firm.

Now if that was it, I’d feel a little weird about the suddenness of it but it’d be fine. I’m not going to complain about having more money to feed my family. But then he started talking about how he wanted to pay our mortgage off. He talked about wanting to pay for our son to get the very expensive medical care that’s probably going to save his life. He mentioned at one point that he was going to be donating a huge amount of money to charity too—I knew he was rich but it staggered me. All this from a guy who doesn’t (didn’t?) even want to turn on the heat or the lights because it costs too much money.

It was such a sudden and drastic change that happened very literally overnight and now I’m kind of concerned he’s having a manic episode or something. I really, really want to accept his sudden generosity (I probably will; my wife is all for it and thinks he owes it to us), and I would love to believe that he’s truly had a sudden change of heart (an actual Christmas miracle lol) but I’m just worried about the possible consequences of accepting huge financial gifts like this from someone who I believe might be experiencing some kind of break from reality. Even if there’s nothing legally wrong with it, I’m worried about the ethics of it.

TLDR, my asshole boss might be in the middle of a mental breakdown. WIBTA if I accepted his offer to pay off my mortgage and my son’s medical expenses?

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?” He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[kisssukuna33]

HusbandSukuna! Who's never been the one to understand today's relationships. 50/50? No, his woman will never touch a single bill with her delicate fingers as long as he's alive and well.

HusbandSukuna! Who never understood the whole "giving your relationship time before proposing" thing. You aren't a real man if you drag out your relationship and take what you have for granted, Atleast that must have been what he was thinking when he put a big rock on your finger after dating for only 7 months.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes his role as your fiancé VERY seriously. He asked you to move in with him just right after he proposed. He does everything he can to make sure you feel comfortable in his house. He even went as far to renovate half of the house to your liking despite your much protesting that it's not needed.

HusbandSukuna! Who checks everyday to see if you are wearing the ring he put on you. it almost become a habbit for him to kiss the ring in your finger every single morning. Not just in the morning, whenever you two hangout in the public he intentionally kisses it to give other people the signal that his girl is strictly taken.

HusbandSukuna! Who wants to get married as soon as possible but he respect your time and choices. He doesn't want you to get overwhelmed by this at all, so he waits patiently ( had to restraint himself from asking like 5 times)

HusbandSukuna! Who gets so freaking happy when you finally confront him about being ready for marriage. The moment those words slip from your mouth his hands instantly go to your waist to pull you closer, closer till your foreheads are touching, He places a warm kiss on your temple and the next thing you hear makes your heart warm and fuzzy.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, I promise to be the best husband and I swear on my life I will take care of you and protect you till I die, I love you"

HusbandSukuna! Who jumps straight into the wedding planning. He hears from his married friends how stressful wedding planning was to them and he determines to not make you experience any bit of the stress, He tries everything in his power to make things go smooth as possible.

HusbandSukuna! Who breakdown in tears the moment he saw you walking the aisle to everyone's shock. The grumpy tatted 6'4 scary big guy who has given them nothing but attitude crying over seeing the love of his life walking down aisle? Who would have thought.

HusbandSukuna! Who immediately intertwine your fingers with his as he looks into your eyes like he sees nothing but the whole world in them and wait no minute to whisper "The prettiest, mine"

HusbandSukuna! who finally breaks free from his staring as the wedding officiant clears his throat to let him know that there's a whole wedding left to finish.

Everyone expect him to do a short vow and get done with it. Sukuna isn't known as the most expressive guy after all, but to everyone's surprise the vow lasted whole 15 minutes!! It was filled with nothing but love and appreciation for you and the little grin plastered in his mouth at the end of the vow makes it obvious how proud he was of himself ( I mean practicing this costed him a years worth friend too, after he suggested Sukuna to add some dirty degrading sex joke about you in the vows he ended up punching the guy as a result, so hell yeah he's proud of this!)

HusbandSukuna! Who keeps the honeymoon destination as a surprise till last minute, and your heart fills with joy as you realize he took you back to the beach you two first met, a place special to you both.

He booked the hotel room with the best view to the beach as expected.

HusbandSukuna! Who's heart feel warm all of a sudden, it's only a year ago he believed himself to be someone who's unable to be loved. Oh how much have changed since then.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes your hand and drags you to the balcony for a dance.

The smell of the beach, evening lightening, sounds of the ocean..All adds to the atmosphere as you two get lost in yourselves.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes a glance at the beach and sees a young family, not much older than both of you playing in the sand with their little girl.

HusbandSukuna! Who has a small smile tugged at his lips as he mentally promises to himself that he will return here again after you two finally complete your own little family.

No grammar checks, forgive me I'm too lazy

What do we think about part 2?

[choerypetal]

Love at first sight. / Squid Games!Men

summary; a little prompt for each men in squid game x reader.

also my english isn't my first language so i do apologize for a few errors! enjoys x

including; in-ho, thanos, myung-gi, dae-ho & gi-hun

In-ho: 

Praise yourself for catching In-ho’s attention amidst the chaos of the games. Not only did he manage to maintain his composure, but he also came to terms with the truth—it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, but his heart betraying him. He had been ensnared in a dangerous blend of love and death. And no matter the cost, he was determined to ensure your survival, even if it meant faking your death and arranging for the guards to escort you to his shelter.

At first, his actions were subtle—a few fleeting glances, quiet assurances that you weren’t alone. He took it upon himself to ensure someone capable stood between you and danger. This resolve led him to seek out Gi-hun, cornering him with a whispered plea. “I’m not asking for much,” In-ho murmured, his voice low and firm. Gi-hun’s brows knit together as he glanced at you, understanding little of the request but sensing its weight. Though the urge to question why In-ho couldn’t protect you himself lingered, Gi-hun ultimately accepted—he, too, had his own plans to carry out.

Yet, watching Gi-hun hover near you ignited something unexpected in In-ho—a simmering, unanticipated jealousy. His blood boiled harder than he cared to admit.

It was Gi-hun’s proximity to you that set him on edge.

While 001 had extended a friendly hand, In-ho never anticipated him stealing you away entirely. The realization unsettled him, and during the chaos of the Carousel games, panic began to creep in. When he noticed you were nowhere to be found in the room, it nearly consumed him. The thought of losing you made his fists clench, and for a brief, irrational moment, he contemplated throwing a punch at Gi-hun. But it wasn’t until the final elimination, when the doors unlocked, that relief washed over him. There you were—your silhouette unmistakable behind Dae-ho.

In that instant, he didn’t hesitate. Rushing toward you, his breath hitched, words failing him. A shaky exhale escaped his lips, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. He almost laughed—a scoff of incredulity—before pulling you close, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head. Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips pressing a firm but tender kiss to your forehead.

“Silly,” he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. “I never should’ve trusted Gi-hun to keep you safe. Damn it, I thought I’d lost you.” The panic in his voice caught you off guard, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t expected such raw vulnerability from him—not now, not like this. A soft chuckle escaped you, an attempt to lighten the moment. “It’s okay,” you reassured him gently. “Dae-ho found me right away and made sure I was safe.”

That revelation gave In-ho pause, but he filed it away for later. For now, none of it mattered. You were alive and unharmed, and that was everything.

The kiss on your forehead wasn’t just a gesture of relief—it was a silent declaration. You were his, and no one—not Gi-hun, not Dae-ho, not anyone—would ever take you from him again.

Thanos: 

Once a retired rapper, Thanos now found himself thrust into a life-and-death struggle. Among his generation, it was no surprise that some idolized him—his presence commanding a respect so intense, it bordered on worship. To them, he was pristine, untouchable. But this adoration didn’t sit well with everyone, especially loners like you, who preferred to navigate the chaos without attachments.

Ironically, that aloofness was one of the many reasons Thanos found himself drawn to you.

In the early days on the island, Thanos made no effort to reveal his interest. If anything, he mirrored your indifference, matching your cold detachment with his own. But when you began spending time with Myung-gi, the dynamic shifted. Thanos hadn’t expected it, nor did he like it. Watching you bond with someone else left a bitter taste in his mouth, awakening a tension he couldn’t ignore. The loner mindset had been his strategy for survival—a simple equation: fewer people, fewer complications. But your presence complicated everything, especially when it came to your effortlessly beautiful face, which he found himself stealing glances at far too often.

It didn’t take long for his resolve to crack.

Thanos had made himself a promise: to keep his distance, to ignore you as you ignored him. But that promise shattered the moment Nam-Gyu let slip a confession Thanos had sworn him to secrecy about. That little fucker, Thanos thought bitterly, though his anger was tempered by necessity—he needed Nam-Gyu to survive. Yet, when the truth reached you, it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Instead of drawing you closer, the revelation pushed you further away. Your avoidance became more deliberate, more pronounced than ever before. It stung more than Thanos cared to admit. For the first time in a long time, he was unprepared—for your reaction, for the way it tightened a knot of frustration and longing deep inside him.

Which only added more tension between the two of you.

The final games loomed, a trial where survival would demand more than just cunning—it called for a kind of ruthless cleansing. Thanos knew, without hesitation, that when the moment came, he’d be the first to grab your hand and shield you. Even if it meant overreacting, even if it jeopardized his own chances, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Certainly not to Myung-gi, if it came down to that.

“You know...” he murmured late that night, his voice low and almost hesitant. Your back was turned to him, your body stiff on the thin mattress. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t even steal a glance. Not after everything. The weight of his breath lingered against the back of your neck, and you flinched slightly, betraying your nerves. His presence, so close and unyielding, was suffocating yet magnetic.

“Tomorrow is... big,” he continued, his words faltering as his gaze shifted across the dimly lit dormitory. For a moment, his eyes locked on Player 333, who sat sharpening a weapon in the corner—a stark reminder of the danger waiting ahead. Thanos clenched his jaw, then turned his focus back to you.

“If we’re not careful...” he trailed off, his voice softening, almost breaking. “Who knows if I’ll ever get to see your beautiful face again?”He exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself, as if admitting even that much was a risk. “I know it’s—” 

Your head snapped toward him, your brows furrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. For a moment, silence hung in the air, charged and heavy. Then, your voice broke it, calm yet biting. “If you keep this up, you might be the one ending up with a bullet in the face,” you said, your tone so nonchalant it bordered on cute—a contrast that left Thanos momentarily stunned. He blinked, almost scoffing in disbelief, one hand pressing dramatically against his chest.

“Ouch,” he drawled, his lips curling into a grin. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Do. Not. Call me sweetheart.”

Before you could say more, Nam-Gyu chimed in from his corner, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. “I bet she’s in love,” he teased, his words practically dripping with mockery.

Thanos’s cocky grin widened at that, his eyes gleaming with a maddening mix of pride and amusement. The sheer arrogance in his expression made your fingers twitch, itching to slap that smug look right off his face. But instead, you gave him one final glare—a death wish in your eyes, though to Thanos, it looked like the beginning of a love story.

“I bet she is,” he echoed, his voice soft but certain, the words carrying a weight of truth that made your chest tighten. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and walked away, but his gaze lingered, following every step you took. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your finger without even realizing it. A wimp for you, and you alone.

Myung-gi: 

Everyone knew who Player 333 was—you included. Unlike many in this room who were desperate to claw their way out of debt, you knew Myung-gi only by name. You’d heard the rumors: how he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant, how his past was littered with mistakes and secrets. But something in you—a stubborn spark of hope, perhaps—whispered that he wasn’t as bad as everyone wanted him to be. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the stories let on.

Myung-gi had noticed you, though. He’d seen the way you were with Jun-hee—the way your smile seemed to ease her fears, how your arms would wrap gently around her petite frame after every game, grounding her, giving her the space to breathe. The quiet strength and warmth you brought to her felt almost unreal, a motherly presence in a place devoid of comfort.

It was that tenderness, that undeniable light, that struck him like a blow to the chest.

Myung-gi was in love.

And he hated every single moment of it.

Why? Because he knew himself. He knew what he’d done to Jun-hee—how he’d left her while she was pregnant with his child, drowning in debt and fear. He’d been a coward, an asshole, and he knew it. That self-loathing festered, a constant reminder of his failures. And yet, it was exactly why he didn’t expect you to see him as anything other than the man he despised.

But fate had other plans.

Your first real interaction with him came after he saved you—something neither of you had anticipated.

It happened during the Bathroom games, where survival left no room for personal grudges. Confronting Thanos wasn’t at the forefront of Myung-gi’s mind, but then he heard it—your name, slipping from Thanos’s lips with such filth that it ignited a rage Myung-gi didn’t know he was capable of.

Everyone knew your past as an escort within the crypto community. Your name wasn’t hard to find, whispered in private conversations and occasionally tied to scandalous wallets. But Myung-gi knew better than to judge. Still, hearing Thanos—the retired rapper—speak of you like that, as though you were nothing more than a commodity, was the last straw.

“She was good for a foreigner. Not many—”

That was as far as Thanos got before Myung-gi’s fist collided with his jaw, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sickening crack of impact echoed through the grimy bathroom, followed by a faint splatter of blood. Myung-gi emerged from the stall alive but seething, his knuckles raw and his breath ragged. As he stepped out, his gaze immediately locked with yours. Jun-hee stood beside you, clinging to your arm for reassurance, but the look on your face was unreadable—a mix of surprise, understanding, and something softer.

A small, almost imperceptible smile crept across Myung-gi’s lips.

In that moment, he made a silent promise: no matter what it took, he’d make sure both of you got out of this alive.

Dae-ho: 

Dae-ho never believed in love at first sight. With everything he’d endured in his life—the trials, the sacrifices, the relentless pursuit of strength—he saw himself as a knight in shining armor, bound by duty but never destined for romance. That belief held firm until he met you.

It happened during the Carousel game. Like In-ho, he’d noticed you before—your stoic demeanor during Green Light, Red Light had left him quietly impressed. The way you moved, swift yet calculated, managing to evade the statue’s unrelenting gaze with precision, was nothing short of remarkable. It was then that something shifted in him. Against all reason, Dae-ho found himself believing in love at first sight.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. He even considered pinching himself, blinking twice to dispel the notion. But the feeling persisted, undeniable and maddening. It wasn’t until later, when you tended to his wounds after one of the brutal games, that he finally saw you up close—and the full weight of your beauty struck him like a blow. Your lashes fluttered delicately as you focused on your task, your fingers gentle but firm as you dabbed rubbing alcohol onto his injuries. He hissed at the sting, his lips parting in a soft groan of pain.

“Be still, please,” you murmured, your tone calm but commanding. Something about the way you said it—the quiet strength in your voice—silenced his protests. He nodded, his muscles relaxing under your care, though the tension in his chest was harder to soothe.

For the first time, Dae-ho felt vulnerable—not because of his wounds, but because of you.

“You know…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was a softness to it that made you pause. You could’ve sworn his lips curved into the faintest smile. “I never would’ve thought I’d see you like this—healing me. Back at the Carousel, I swore to myself I’d keep you close, that we’d find the door as quickly as anyone else. But then… the next thing I knew, Thanos had taken you before I could…”

He trailed off, his words tinged with shame. The vulnerability in his voice made you glance up at him, your fingers stilling as you finished securing the bandage. His eyes widened at your sudden attention, and he immediately began to stammer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

You interrupted him with a soft sigh, sliding the remaining bandage back into your pocket. “Don’t apologize. We just weren’t lucky, that’s all. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it—that I wasn’t just someone who had to count on others.” Your gaze softened as you added, almost reluctantly, “But… I have to admit, not having you there in that room—it was horrible.”

Your quiet confession was enough to undo him. Without a word, Dae-ho wrapped his arms around you, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. Still, he didn’t let go. His embrace was warm, protective, and when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, it felt like a promise.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance, “I’m just glad we made it through. That you’re here with me.” His lips quirked into a small grin as he added, with a teasing lilt, “And that I get to cuddle with you for another night.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, the tension between you easing for a moment. For now, at least, you both had each other.

Gi-hun: 

Unlike the others, you weren’t a player. But you knew Gi-hun from the previous game he was in. He was so certain you had died right in front of his eyes back then that when he saw the mask ripped off your face—revealing you as one of the Guards—his shock was palpable. Another Guard had been taken hostage by the remaining candidates, and though you could have cursed every word that came to mind, you found yourself frozen, your voice stolen by the chaos.

In-ho was the first to recognize you. He knew you were on shift at this hour, but what he hadn’t expected was the look of sheer horror that crossed Gi-hun’s face when your name escaped his lips.

“Y/N...?” Gi-hun’s voice trembled, disbelief heavy in the air as though he was trying to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

“You know them?” one of the players sneered, their stolen gun now aimed squarely at Gi-hun. Bodies of your co-workers—faces you barely had time to register—lay scattered across the floor, lifeless, just feet away. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

But this time, Gi-hun wasn’t about to let anyone lay a finger on you. He remembered the vow you both had made:

"We belong to each other. And I will get you home."

With those words etched into his resolve, Gi-hun made his move. Chaos erupted as the gun exchanged hands, bullets flying. The air was filled with deafening roars of defiance and the sickening splatter of blood.

In the end, In-ho stood back, his heart cold and unyielding, as he watched Gi-hun fall. The final shot rang out, and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Blood speckled your cheek, and you stared in stunned silence at the empty shell of a man you had once loved.

From the shadows, a familiar voice cut through the carnage, low and mocking.

“Welcome back home, love.”

You turned toward the source, and there he was Gi-hun—his gruesome smile sending chills down your spine.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ playing dangerous ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ player 177. your assigned number. the three digits stitched in stark white thread on the coarse forest-green tracksuit now clinging to your body. you didn’t remember putting it on. you didn’t remember anything between falling asleep in your cramped apartment and waking up in this sterile, alabaster void. the tracksuit was loose in some places, tight in others, the fabric rough against your skin, a similar sensation for the discomfort that had settled deep into your bones.

˚ ༘♡ the air here was heavy, oppressive. tension hung over the room like a storm cloud, pressing down on everyone in its path. you sat on the thin mattress of your cot, the iron bars of the bedframe biting into your back as you leaned against them. your throat was dry, your lips chapped, and a faint crust of dried blood clung to the edge of your mouth, an unpleasant reminder of the chaos you’d barely survived. in your lap rested a cold metal bento box, unopened. the thought of eating its contents of rubbery eggs and starchy rice, made your stomach churn. it wasn’t hunger gnawing at you but dread. eating felt like acknowledging the possibility of another day here, in this place where death lingered so close you could almost taste it.

˚ ༘♡ death. it wasn’t something you’d ever had to think about seriously before. you were young, healthy enough, aside from the occasional winter flu. life’s struggles had been mundane, bills, work, nothing quite noteworthy. you’d thought financial trouble was the worst of your problems. how naive that seemed now. the sharp crack of gunfire still rang in your ears, and the memory of bodies crumpling mid-run played in an endless loop in your mind. every scream, every desperate gasp for air as life left someone’s body, was etched into your mind.

˚ ༘♡ this wasn’t life. it was survival, twisted into something grotesque. children’s games weaponized against desperate people for the amusement of others, with the promise of money as bait. one hundred million won for every life taken. your own life, reduced to a figure on a balance sheet. you’d survived the first game, the horrifying version of red light, green light, but at what cost? surely, after witnessing such carnage, the others would have voted to leave. you’d been certain of it. but the desperation was stronger. greed was stronger. most players had chosen to stay, ignoring the horrors of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ “the next game,” player 456 had said, “will be cutting shapes out of dalgona candy. pick the triangle. it’s the easiest.” his voice had carried a strange conviction, and he claimed to know these games intimately, even to have won before. but how could you trust him? maybe he was lying, or maybe it didn’t matter. maybe none of you were meant to leave this place alive.

˚ ༘♡ “hey, 177!” the crude voice shattered your thoughts, dragging you back to the present.

˚ ༘♡ you glanced up to see player 230, “thanos,” as he called himself, sauntering toward you. his garish purple hair stood out like a bruise against the sterile backdrop, and his brightly colored nails flashed as he gestured. he’d painted them to match the infinity stones, leaning fully into the nickname he’d given himself. behind him, player 124 followed, all sharp angles and slicked-back hair, his grin as eager and sly as ever.

˚ ༘♡ “why didn’t you vote for one more game, huh?” thanos sneered, his voice laced with mockery. “you had no problem playing foul last round.”

˚ ༘♡ you frowned, rising slowly to your feet. “you and i both know it was an accident,” you replied steadily. “everyone was running for their lives. i didn’t block your way on purpose. we both finished in time, didn’t we? no harm done.”

˚ ༘♡ he rolled his eyes, his expression exaggerated and spontaneous. “yeah, sure, whatever. typical cold-hearted bitch behavior.”

˚ ༘♡ player 124 cackled at the insult, his laughter harsh and grating. “that’s right. cold, stuck-up bitch,” he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn.

˚ ༘♡ their taunts were designed to provoke you, but you refused to give them the satisfaction. your hands curled into fists, but you forced yourself to relax them, forced yourself to breathe. these two thrived on conflict, and the best thing you could do was walk away. you turned on your heel, ignoring their shouts, and started to move toward the far corner of the room.

˚ ༘♡ “hey! i’m talking to you!” thanos barked, stumbling after you with heavy, uncoordinated steps. he didn’t get far. player 001 stepped into his path, his expression stoic and unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t you boys have any respect?” player 001 asked, his voice quiet but firm. there was something about him, an emanation of authority that made everyone within earshot pause.

˚ ༘♡ thanos bristled, his arrogance faltering for just a moment. “mind your own damn business, old man,” he snapped, jerking forward.

˚ ༘♡ player 001 didn’t flinch. when thanos lunged at him, the older man moved with startling precision, sidestepping the punch with ease. he grabbed thanos by the wrist mid-swing and twisted sharply, forcing a guttural yelp from the younger man as his knees buckled. with a swift motion, player 001 yanked him forward and drove an elbow into his chest, the dull, cracking impact echoing in the room. thanos collapsed onto the floor, clutching his ribs and coughing violently.

˚ ༘♡ player 124 scrambled forward, his face twisted in fury. “bastard!” he yelled, charging with reckless abandon. player 001 turned just in time, catching the younger man by the collar and using his momentum against him. a sharp twist and a well-placed shove sent player 124 sprawling into the edge of a nearby cot, the metal frame rattling as he hit it with a thud.

˚ ༘♡ the fight wasn’t over. thanos struggled to his feet, his face contorted in pain and rage. “you’re gonna regret that, old man,” he spat, lunging again. this time, player 001’s response was more deliberate. he ducked under thanos’s wild swing, stepped inside his reach, and delivered a devastating blow to his lower torso. the younger man doubled over, gasping, before player 001 swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor once more.

˚ ༘♡ not finished, player 124 staggered up again, charging at player 001 with fists raised. the older man sidestepped and grabbed player 124 by the arm, wrenching it behind his back and forcing him to the ground with a hoarse cry of pain. he planted a knee firmly against player 124’s spine, holding him there as the younger man squirmed and cursed.

˚ ༘♡ thanos, blood now trickling from his nose, crawled toward his friend, wheezing apologies and swearing obscenities all at once. player 001 released player 124 with a shove, stepping back as the two younger men lay crumpled together on the floor.

˚ ༘♡ the room was silent, every player watching in stunned awe. then, slowly, the silence broke into cheers and clapping. player 001 straightened his posture, his expression as calm and inscrutable as ever. without a word, he turned and walked back to where player 456 and a few others were gathered, leaving the two troublemakers to nurse their wounds.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, then followed him. when you reached his side, you spoke softly. “i wanted to thank you, sir. if you hadn’t stepped in, they wouldn’t have stopped harassing me and disturbing the peace. you’ve done us all a favor.”

˚ ༘♡ player 001 turned to look at you, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before he nodded. he said nothing, his expression unreadable. there was something deeply weary about him, a weight that seemed to press down on his shoulders. his posture was rigid, his face lined with exhaustion, and though he was relatively handsome, it was the kind of masculine appeal eroded by time and hardship.

˚ ༘♡ you wondered what had brought him here, what had led him to the point where he’d chosen, or been pushed into, to enter this place. you didn’t ask. prying into his past would be an impolite gesture and an indignity for what he had done for you.

a/n: my first squid game fanfiction! i definitely want to write more for hwang in-ho in the future so let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[northgazaupdates]

If you broke a bone or had a serious injury, did you have to do physical therapy? I know I did when I broke my wrist. For me, physical therapy was annoying and a little painful, but I was fortunate to be able to receive it.

Mohammed Al-Habil is not so fortunate.

While searching for firewood with his older brother Omar, Mohammed was bombed by the occupation. Omar, a young nurse whose wife was expecting a baby, was martyred. Mohammed received a severe leg wound that left him immobile. He spent months in the hospital, and lost all function in his left leg due to being unable to move it.

Mohammed was prescribed physical therapy, which medical staff in north Gaza continue to do their best to provide. But physical therapy can be very expensive, even in peacetime. For a family with no income due to an ongoing genocidal invasion, it is impossible to pay the required fees.

Without paying these fees, Mohammed will be unable to receive physical therapy. This means his leg will not heal properly, and his ability to walk may be impaired or destroyed for the rest of his life. It is very urgent that he receives this treatment!

He was prescribed therapy almost every day. Each session costs about $50 USD. That’s $50 USD EVERY DAY. This is an enormous burden for Mohammed, as it would be for any of us as well.

Any support you can provide will go toward helping Mohammed regain his mobility, and will be greatly appreciated.

Thank you❤️

NOTE:

the fundraiser is in EUR, but costs in Gaza are mostly paid in USD. The conversion rate is about $1 USD = €0.95 EUR.

So for example, if you want to send $20 USD, please donate €19 EUR. Additionally,

$5 USD = about €5 EUR

$10 USD = about €9.50 EUR

$20 USD = about €19 EUR

$50 USD = about €48 EUR

[nunyabznsbabes]

Katniss is like Lucy Gray this, Katniss is like Sejanus that, and yes fine that's all good and true and lovely but Katniss Everdeen is also a direct parallel to Coriolanus Snow and people NEED to start talking about this because it's driving me crazy.

Think about it: they both grew up poor and deeply vulnerable, losing parents at a very young age, with a matriarchal adult (Katniss' mother and Coriolanus' Grandma'am) who fails to provide for them emotionally and physically. They intimately understand the threat of starvation, even developing with stunted growth because of it, and their narrations in the books share a fixation on food. Throughout their childhoods, both experienced constant fear and suffered a fundamental lack of control over their circumstances. Because of this, they're inherently suspicious of the people around them. They resent feeling indebted to others, especially those who have saved their lives. They're motivated almost entirely by family and deeply connected to their communities. Both are used and manipulated by the Capitol, both are forced to perform to survive and despise every inch of it, both are thrown into the Arena and made to kill. Both have a self-sacrificial, genuinely sweet sister figure acting as their conscience. Peeta and Lucy Gray - performers and love interests with a fundamental kindness and sense of hope about them - fulfill markedly similar roles in their narrative. Both contribute to the development of the future Hunger Games, Snow throughout tbosas and Katniss towards the end of Mockingjay.

It's easy to ignore these similarities because, as mirrors of each other, they are exact opposites. Katniss is from District 12, viewed and treated as less than human; Snow is the cream of the Capitol crop, given the privilege of a name with social weight, an ancestral home, and the opportunity of the Academy despite having no more money than a miner from 12. Katniss has no agency over her life, and responds by being kind whenever she's able, while Snow justifies horrendous evils in order to continue his quest for complete control. Katniss does everything she can to protect her family; Snow does everything he can to protect his family's image as an extension of his own ego. Katniss loves her District and connects with its inhabitants on a meaningful level, but Snow is indifferent at best to his peers - the apparent "superior people" - and only engages with his community for personal gain. Katniss emerges from the Arena horrified at herself and the system, but Snow takes his trauma and turns it into an excuse to perpetuate the violence with himself at the top. Katniss cares for Prim until her death and then snaps at the loss of her little sister, while Snow survives on Tigris' blood, sweat, and tears and then torments and abandons her, presumably because she calls him out on his insanity. Snow actively adds to and popularizes the Hunger Games because of his vendetta against the Districts following his childhood wartime trauma - Katniss briefly agrees to a new Hunger Games in the pursuit of vengeance, but later stops them from happening by killing Coin and choosing a life of peace and privacy. Snow is obsessed with revenge, but Katniss empathizes with the Capitolites and does what she can to keep them from suffering. He exists in a cruel system and selfishly upholds it; she exists in a cruel system and works to dismantle it for the good of her family and community, at great personal cost. And Peeta and Lucy Gray are incredibly similar, but Katniss and Peeta forge a relationship of genuine love and understanding that shines in comparison to Coriolanus' obsessive projection onto Lucy Gray.

So, yeah, Katniss is Lucy Gray haunting Coriolanus. But I bet you anything that eighty-something year old President Snow looks at her, the girl on fire, bright and young and brilliant, emerging from a childhood of starvation with a relentless hunger for success, a talented and charming performer helping her win the Games, and he sees the ghost of his own past. And that's why he's so afraid of her! Because if he sees himself in her, then he's up against his own cunning, his own talent for manipulation, his own charisma, his own genius. He's up against the version of himself that he once wished to be, with the nightmare army of his childhood at her back and her star-crossed lover at her side, spewing Sejanus' truths in his own voice. This isn't to say that Katniss ever achieved the level of power and agency that Coriolanus did during her time with the rebellion, but it is to say that Snow was taken down by what truly terrified him - his own morality, come to finish the job.