#aerial silks routine

[losttoliterature]

silks routines are so bloody hard because on verticals you have no way of truly letting all your weight go - so they're fine for one or two moves at a time, but unlike trapeze or hoop or sling etc, you can't sit on a bar or anything to relieve the weight fully, so for a routine, you are in the air supporting your own weight for minutes at a time and its bloody exhausting. yes the verticals are still my favourite and i always ask to do them and i love them so much and no i don't know why i do this to myself.

[ladyorlandodream]

When you switch your workout perspective from 'bikini body' to 'battle body,' everything changes LOL. My arms are getting bigger, and I love it.

I am not going to exaggerate with the training, of course, because I don't want to be too big, but I feel so much better with the change of mindset... I don't want to be thin, I want to be stronger

😊

[biteofcherry]

Sweet Thrill

mafia!Ari Levinson x female reader; mob boss Ari Levinson x female reader

summary: Many would consider your job as a dancer at Lloyd Hansen’s exclusive night club to be exciting or scary, but honestly you see it as predictable and stable. It’s mostly a routine. That’s until Ari Levinson enters the club. You draw his attention and he installs himself in your space, bringing fear and thrill along with him. 

warnings: mostly consensual, but with a peppering of faint dub-con; soft dark Ari Levinson; possessive behavior; light pet play; fear kink; light Master/pet play; bdsm undertones; power imbalance; fingering; pet names; collaring; very very subtle degradation and humiliation (nothing hardcore)

You were used to the glow of the lightened platforms and curious eyes tracing your body as you wriggled against silk scarves. You entertained patrons of Hansen’s exclusive club three nights a week - a form of aerial dance with heavy drapes of silk, just with less acrobatics.  

Lloyd knew his clientele. He knew some of them are bored and looking for typical visual entertainment, with a side of members-only high class to boost their moods. Some of his guests were more sophisticated, had less boring tastes. 

Hence Lloyd’s idea to add unique performances to spice up the classic pole dancing routines, like belly dancers, or your sensual play with silk. 

Since the performances were only that - a show no touch - you felt quite comfortable and confident. And Lloyd, for all his sociopathic ticks, paid really fucking good money. Enough for you to keep studying for your degree, without having to balance three different jobs. 

Out there on the little round stage you focused on your dance and poses, sometimes a repetitive movement, and let your thoughts swim to what you needed to do the next day, or how to crack the problem in your studies; because the club’s patrons were only staring at you and no harm would come your way. No need to be wary.

Especially, since Lloyd made it very clear that his employees weren’t to be disturbed.

If it didn’t come with extra payment, anyway.

Yes, extra payment softened Lloyd’s harsh looks. Made him smirk triumphantly and have a talk with a dancer that caught someone’s attention, convincing her of the benefits.

You never considered such an offer to come your way. Your performance with silk scarves was perhaps an interesting change of pace for some, but never a desirable show they wanted to have right between their spread legs. 

That is until Ari Levinson strolled into Lloyd’s club one night. 

You weren’t even aware of his presence, your thoughts scrambling and rewriting the thesis you were currently working on in your studies as your body twisted against silk curtains, fabric slithering between your thighs and across your torso. 

You had no idea how important, or how powerful that man was. You knew, mostly from gossip and the few observations you did yourself, that Lloyd played bigger games outside of the club. You never thought he dipped as deep to the dark side to have ties to a crime lord of Levinson’s caliber. 

As you had no idea that a dark overlord of a whole fucking coast had unique tastes. 

It was as you twisted between the silk, fingers clenched on the hanging scarves as you bent back, that your gaze landed on a tall, broad man in a dark suit who stepped so close to your podium.

Most intense blue eyes caught your gaze, making you freeze in your position. It was a look of wonder and pure hunger. A dark glint to it that made your heart race, as if you were a prey that sensed a deadly predator approaching, but it also sent a jolt straight to your core. 

Patrons usually watched you with some mild admiration or interest, or disgusting type of lust. This man looked at you with desire for more than just wetting his cock in your cunt. He took in every inch of you, seemed as if he wanted to take all your thoughts as well. 

It was more scary than leering glances, or lewd comments you heard on rare occasions.

At the end of the night, just when you were ready to slip away and drive home, Lloyd called you into his office. 

For a second you feared he was about to complain about your shows not being interesting anymore, but the grin he flashed when you entered spoke of something entirely different. 

“Cupcake!” He greeted you and with a flourish invited you over to a blue, kitsch sofa. 

You sat there stunned when he told you that you’ve caught Ari Levinson’s attention - something (judging by Lloyd’s tone) that was very hard to do - and that he demanded you be exclusively booked for him.

Your shock deepened when Lloyd explained that Ari wasn’t asking for an occasional lap dance, but that you be taken off the main stage and perform in a private room. Only for him. 

He paid Lloyd in advance, to have one of the rooms adjusted to fit your silk curtains over the little platform in the center of the room. Also offered to pay a triple wage of what a standard private dance cost. An offer Lloyd had no desire to refuse, since you unexpectedly appeared to be a golden goose. 

And since Lloyd sweetened the request with a ready annex to your contract, stating that you’d be earning more for this exclusivity, you didn’t hesitate for long.

Perhaps you should have. 

Perhaps, if you knew how out of your comfort zone you find yourself in, you’d decline and argue with Lloyd over it (though you had a feeling this one time he wouldn’t be a charming psychopath, but a manipulative and threatening bastard if you affronted his powerful client with your refusal). 

That’s how you found yourself out of the familiarity of the main stage and bland stares you would have ignored, and on a round podium in a lush, dark interior of a private VIP room. 

With Ari Levinson spread comfortably on the seats, a glass of whisky in his hand, watching you intently. 

Your first evening performing only for him went quietly, somehow calming you down. He only watched you, made no comments, nor attempts to grab you. Merely asked you, between your dances, if you wanted something to drink or eat. 

On your second evening he asked how you’ve been and nodded, pleased, when you replied with a shy smile. He extended his hand to you to help you climb up onto the platform. Then enjoyed your dancing. 

Each time, however, you were unable to simply fall back into the mindless rhythm of your performance. Your thoughts wouldn’t just switch to think of other matters, because they were focused on the predator sitting in front of you. 

Every part of you seemed to be acutely aware of his presence and attention. 

He seemed fascinated. And hungry for every inch of you, inside and outside. 

It terrified you. 

How intense his scrutiny was, how dangerous it was to have a man like Ari Levinson interested in you in any matter; and how, when you went home afterwards, you bit onto your pillow to muffle your sounds as you got yourself off. 

You read about it - how adrenaline and tension from stress can be lowered with a few orgasms.

You just weren’t quite sure if you only relieved nervousness, or if you were actually turned on.

Considering Levinson’s looks, arousal couldn’t be dismissed.

He was the hottest man you’ve ever seen. Big, easily towering over you. With muscles that strained the fabric of his clothes. His hair looked invitingly soft, his beard neatly trimmed and his lips plush and kissable. 

And he kept looking at you - undressing you with his eyes, promising dark sinful things, but also seeing right through you and able to find (and use) your weaknesses. 

When you finished your dance that evening, in a pose with the silk scarves wrapped around your arms and pulling them back as you bent forward, head bow low and ass up high, Ari slowly stood up. 

He stepped close to the little stage and with the pads of his fingers tilted your chin up so you were looking up at him. 

“Almost perfect,” he purred, leaning down a little, “all you need is for your brain to turn off completely.” 

He smirked when you blinked confused.

“All these thoughts go through your head, does your brain ever stop? Do you ever go dumb, kitten?” He chuckled as your eyes got bigger. “I noticed you became more present in the scene when you started dancing for me, but there’s still so much overthinking.”  

“Come.” He patted your cheek and motioned for you to get off the stage.

After a bit of less graceful struggling with the silk scarves - mostly due to nervousness Mr Levinson suddenly caused - you were ready to get down. 

He helped you, his hand waiting for your fingers to slip into his hold. This time, once you found yourself on the floor level, he didn’t let you go. Instead, he sat down on the velvet seat and pulled you onto his lap.

You fell forward with a gasp, which turned into a squeak when he used both hands to grab your hips and make you straddle him. 

With club patrons being fully dressed, usually in suits, and you wearing a set of lingerie, you were always exposed. However, now, being seated in Mr Levinson’s lap, you felt even more naked and vulnerable. 

“S-sir!” You exclaimed, hands resting on his broad shoulders and trying to push yourself off of him. 

“Shh, settle down, kitten.” He cooed. “Nothing bad is going to happen.” 

You were about to point out that it already was, since you never had any guest touch you like he did at the moment. Much less have you straddling them. 

“We can take things as slow as you need.” He rubbed his thumbs along the band of your white, lacy panties. “I will woo you as romantically, as you wish. But this-” Ari gripped your hips tighter and pulled you even closer, your core rubbing right over his bulge- “Is the endgame, kitten.” 

“Mr Levinson.” Your fingers clenched on his shoulders as you tried to keep your breath from hitching at the delicious sensation. “I only dance for you.”

“No, kitten. You dance only for me.” Ari corrected. 

“Dance being the key word here.” You frowned, but somehow you didn’t struggle to escape his hold.

Ari Levinson wasn’t a man whom one could escape easily. Over the weeks you learned bits and pieces, through others and your own curious research. It was all shrouded in a veil of mystery and disappearances, but you understood enough to realize he was a mobster with strict rules and lethal means. 

Trying to fight him could end badly for you. At least that’s what logic suggested. 

There was another part of you, which simply found the whole interaction thrilling. 

I’m either really stupid, or I’ve gone mad, you thought to yourself as a shiver of arousal spread through your body at the dark glint in Ari’s eyes.

“Oh, kitten, you’ll be dancing for me in every sense of the word and more.” He tilted his head to the side, his gaze trained on your face then shifting down your body and back up. 

“You’re a smart girl. I know you’re going for a degree, you have ambitious plans, extracurricular activities.” 

You gulped, realizing Levinson did a background check on you. Maybe even pried into more private and supposedly secure aspects of your life. 

“I’m sure you’ve done as much research on me as you could.” Ari continued in a calm tone. “You have a vague idea of who I am, what I deal with. And, like any smart girl, you’re probably scared. Am I right?” 

You didn’t possess enough bravado (or stupidity) to deny it, so you nodded wordlessly. 

“But it also turns you on, doesn’t it?” a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.

“No!” You denied hastily, though you felt your face heat up. 

Ari shook his head as he tsk-ed in reprimand. He squeezed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a little forcefully, but not hard enough to cause you pain. 

Your nipples hardened instantly.   

It felt as if your body was completely beyond your control. It slipped under Ari’s control. 

“Don’t lie to me, kitten.” He warned you. 

Before you managed to utter another objection, your lips parted on a gasp as you felt Ari’s other hand settle over your mound. 

He slipped a thumb beneath the fabric of your panties; glided it over your clit and a smear of wetness that slowly sipped from between your folds. 

“Not aroused, huh?” Ari snorted as he brought his hand up and sucked your glistening slick off his finger. 

Your pupils dilated as you watched him wrap his pink lips over his thumb, your mind instantly creating an image of those lips sucking on your clit. Or your nipples. Tormenting each peak until it’s swollen and pulsing unbearably and you scream for mercy. 

“Told you,” Ari sighed in mock-disappointment, “You’re thinking too much, kitten.” 

Holding your chin in his grip, Ari slid his other hand down your body - over one of your breasts, your belly, your hip, and back down between your spread thighs. 

“Thinking about what needs to be done. Thinking of what you should or shouldn’t be doing. Thinking how wrong it is to be turned on by being scared of what a dangerous bastard like me might do to a sweet, little kitten like you.”

His whole palm slid under the waistband of your panties; big fingers cupped your mound. 

“You know what I’ll do to you?” Ari whispered, leaning close enough his lips nearly brushed yours. 

“E v e r y t h i n g.” He chuckled darkly and your whole body shook. 

“I’m going to do every filthy thing that gets this pussy wet.” Slowly, he dragged his fingers up and down over your folds. “I’m going to do everything that makes you smile. Everything that makes you happy.”

“Most of all… I’m going to do everything that turns your brain off.” 

With those words, Ari slid a single digit into your hot, tingling cunt. 

Your mouth opened, a wrecked whimper falling out. Your hands fisted the fabric of Ari’s shirt as his thumb started drawing fast, tight circles over your clit. 

It quickly became a torment, having only one finger stretching your walls, but not moving, while your clit was being rubbed mercilessly, pushing you toward a climax with astonishing speed. 

You tried to push your hips down, rock yourself on Ari’s finger and tempt him to do more with his hand. He squeezed your chin harder.

“Don’t.” He growled. “Don’t think of what you want, or need. Or what you assume I want. Your job isn’t to think. You just take what I give. I decide about everything.” 

Maybe it was the way he tormented your clit, or his words that sank you into dark cushions of mindless pleasure, but you came with a force unknown to you until now. 

None of your toys, or previous partners, made your vision go white and your body clench so painfully.

And it was only on one finger and some clit rubbing, for God’ sake! 

How braindead he’d turn you, if he fucked you with his cock?! 

Your breath was ragged, colors and light slowly registering in your blurry vision as you re-opened your eyes. You were trembling, walls of your cunt fluttering around a single finger still locked inside. Your arms felt heavy and you loosened your grip on Ari’s shirt to lazily drape them around his shoulders.

Ari let go of your chin. His hand slipped into your hair, grabbing a fistful quite gently and holding your head in place as he kissed you. 

Softly at first, treating your lips with tenderness matching the afterglow consuming your lax body. Then he amped the urgency, demanding you to give in to whatever he wanted. 

As he licked over your bottom lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth, a second finger stretched your still pulsing cunt, making you keen into the kiss. 

Ari moved his fingers this time. Increased his pace, despite your futile attempts to slow him down with the motion of your hips. 

When his thumb pressed against your over-sensitive, engorged clit, you nearly wailed.

“Can’t-” you panted against Ari’s mouth. “Too much- Too-”

“Shush.” He bit your lower lip and began tracing rapid eights with his thumb. “Don’t. Fucking. Think. Just feel.” 

Well, you felt like it hurt, but at the same time wasn’t enough. You felt like screaming, but at the same time breathless. You felt overwhelmed, but at the same time light. 

You felt like you had no grip on reality. No coherent thoughts formed in your head, only scraps of your own sounds resonating in your ears. And the sound of Ari’s voice.

“That’s it, kitten.” He praised. “No overthinking, no stress. Just a good pet for her Master to use.”

The hand in your hair eased its grip on your locks and moved down your back. Ari wrapped an arm around you and tightened his hold, trapping you to his body as he pushed a third finger in and curled them in your pussy, scraping them against a sensitive spot inside. 

He knew what he was doing, choosing to hold you in place, because the moment your cunt felt the burning stretch and his fingers pounded on that spot, your body tensed like a string. 

You screamed this time, burying your face (and your sounds) in the crook of Ari’s neck as a crushing orgasm seemed to break and melt each bone in your body. 

You bucked against him, though his hold was so strong you were unable to move much. Wave after wave of bliss rocked your body and Ari’s continuous thrusting seemed to prolong it even more. 

Tiny tremors shook your body as you melted into Ari’s huge frame. When you were conscious and facing him, his size intimidated you. Now you found comfort in it.  

Your face was still hidden in his shoulder, your head filled with nothing but buzzing and echo of your increased heart rate, as Ari’s quiet voice resounded through the haze in your empty head.

Something about bringing a box in. 

He had to be talking to someone, but you didn’t register anyone entering the room. Then you felt his hand resting on your back again, which meant he took it away for a moment, but you were so out of it you didn’t even notice. It meant he probably used his phone.

A few minutes later you heard the polite, but loud knocking on the door. Ari allowed the person to enter and you tensed.

You were straddling his lap, your thighs spread and your body all sorts of wrecked. And Ari’s fingers were still deep in your dripping pussy. Quite possibly visible to whoever entered the room. 

“Shh,” Ari murmured and patted the back of your head. “Don’t worry. You’re safe.”

You seriously doubted it, considering what kind of power you basically gave Mr Levinson on a silver plate just a few minutes ago.

But at least, it seemed he wouldn’t stretch it to someone else, or cause you any truly degrading humiliation. Well, not any more than he already has. 

Besides, even if you wanted to shoot up in an outburst of outrage, your muscles were turned into jelly and the inner fire too dimmed from an intense orgasm-fest you were just given. 

With an embarrassed squeak you buried your face deeper into the crook of Ari’s neck, to hide yourself from the stranger inside the room. Whoever it was didn’t say a word and less than a few heartbeats later you heard the door closing again. 

Everything, beside the sensual music still spilling from the speakers, was quiet. Your breath slowly evened out. 

Ari caressed your hair and back in lazy strokes, humming in pleasure as if he was petting a real kitty. You were a little offended at this sort of degradation, but it also felt so nice and comforting you didn’t exactly want it to end. 

With a squelching sound, which made you shut your eyes in shame, Ari withdrew his fingers from your cunt. He left a wet print on your ass as he palmed it. 

“Come on up, kitten.” He nudged you to sit upright.

The angle of your hips repositioning made your pulsing core press against his hardened dick. He managed not to groan, but you saw the spark in his eyes and the twitch in his jaw that spoke of the pleasurable tension he felt. 

“Now, tell me-” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and traced the shell of it with his finger- “Did you like it?” 

Your gaze shifted from his face, from his incredibly piercing blue eyes. It dropped to his shoulder again, where you wanted to hide your face and pretend your body didn’t dance to the tune he played. 

“Eyes on me.” Ari tapped your cheek with his fingers. “Did you like what I did to your sweet, hot pussy? Did you like being scared of what I may do?” 

When you huffed and nodded, he tapped your cheek again. A little harder.

“Use your words, kitten. I want to hear it.” 

“I liked it.” You gritted through your teeth, annoyed that he made you say it as much as getting hot all over by admitting it. 

“Are you going to deny that you want me to do it again?” Ari smirked smugly. 

“Are you going to deny that you want to be my good pet and get spoiled and have your brain fucked out?” His dark chuckle tickled your skin as Ari nosed along your jaw and neck. 

“Mr Levinson…” Your voice wavered, as you tried to return to a more professional stance. 

It was ridiculous, really. Trying to be professional and put some distance between the two of you while dripping all over his pants like a needy slut.

“Ari.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. 

“It was hot to hear you call me Mr Levinson in your sweet voice.” He pulled away slightly and smiled. Not exactly a comforting smile, either. Rather one that meant trouble. “But I prefer you call my name. Especially when you scream it.”

“Or Master, since you’re my pretty pet.” 

You didn’t think he was joking about the last part.

Ari leaned back in his seat, but kept you sat up straight in his lap, his hands tracing the lines of your body. He wasn’t groping, simply exploring and connecting. 

“I’m serious, though.” His tone turned nearly business-like, but was less cold than you expected it to be when Ari laid down his law. 

“I consider you mine. In every sense of the word. I knew you were going to be mine the moment I saw you writhe against the silks. So sensual. So unique. So fucking beautiful.”

“And then your eyes.” Ari’s own eyes glinted with awe as he held your gaze. “Unfocused. You were so far away with your thoughts. Not even thinking about a lover as you were dancing, were you? I desired nothing more, but to have your attention on me. I wanted you to focus on me so much that you stop thinking about anything else.” 

His words stirred something hot and intriguing in you. A sort of thrill. No one has ever craved your attention. Hell, no one ever paid enough attention to you to notice when you were drifting away with your thoughts. 

Then there was the word mine.

So possessive. Scary in itself. 

The fact it was a claim of a mafia king should be terrifying. Should make you pack your things and run far, far away. It shouldn’t turn you on. 

And you probably shouldn’t be craving more of it. 

With men like him, they liked the challenge and the chase. Once that was sated they moved onto the new fascinating thing.  

You licked your lips, sliding your hands from Ari’s shoulders and placing them on your own thighs.

“Are you done now?” You asked, tilting your head in a manner mimicking Ari’s. “You got all my focus, turned off my brain. Mission accomplished.” 

“If I were done, I wouldn’t be demanding that you admit that you want me.” Now his tone did turn deeper, lower, a hint of a threat if you tried to escape him. 

“I’m not done with you.” 

You swallowed hard, suddenly fearing what more he could rip from you. 

Ari reached his arm to the side, snatching up a box that laid next to him. You forgot about the mystery box completely. 

It was rectangular and flat, with a velvet finish. When Ari opened it, your breath hitched in your lungs and a mixture of dread and excitement shot through you.

On a silky lining laid a choker made of a dozen delicate chains of white gold. It had a small, diamond encrusted golden ring in the middle, from which dropped two long, fine chains. 

Not a choker. A collar, you realized.

A collar for a pretty pet. Expensive, subtle, easily camouflaged as jewelry - but a collar nonetheless.

“Um, shouldn’t this type of commitment happen much later?” Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes glued to the shiny fate displayed in a jewelry box. “I never played like that, but don’t, uh, Masters give collars to their slaves- or pets later in the relationship?” 

“Why should I wait when I already know that I’m keeping you forever?” Ari lifted the collar from the box and put it around your neck.

Your hand shot up, fingers wrapping around one of his wrists. He paused, but didn’t move away. Didn’t slap your hand away either. But he held your gaze. His blue eyes darkening, determination shining in his eyes unrelenting. 

“What if I say no?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

Ari didn’t move an inch. His face remained as stoic as seconds before. Something in his eyes seemed to soften for you. And here you were expecting a flash of anger at meeting any resistance. 

“Then you say no.” He replied simply and his mouth quirked into a cheeky half-grin. 

“And then I take other ways to convince you to say yes. I can do sweet romance. I can lavish you with surprises and gifts. I can buy out this whole club and have Hansen dance on a pole for you. If that’s what it takes for you to give in.”

“But-” he slowly licked his lips and looked at you from beneath his long eyelashes- “I think you want to say yes, so I can keep you on the edge of that thrill. You like to be scared and used. And that’s why you’re going to let me stake that claim right now.”

Your chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, but after a long moment you dropped your hand in defeat.

It was partially surrender, knowing Ari Levinson could trap you in even without your consent. However, he was mostly right. There was a part of you that was intrigued to follow into that darkness he lured you into; to see and experience the thrilling surprises and wicked pleasures he would design for you. 

“Good girl.” Ari hummed in approval. 

He locked the collar around your neck and gently ran a finger beneath it. Then he traced his hand down along the two long chains hanging from the diamond circle.

“These-” he took each chain in each of his hands- “can simply be locked around you, serving as a sort of necklace.”

And he showed you, doing exactly that - letting them fall between your breasts and then tying them around your waist, snapping two ends together. 

“Or-” Ari’s fingers trailed along your forearms, until he reached your wrists and wrapped a hand around each. “They can be attached to cuffs.” 

As hot as the idea was, you didn’t find it practical. The golden chains were so delicate that if you trashed in orgasm, or just generally writhed as Ari tormented you, they’d snap instantly. 

Unless they were used only for presentation. As a mark of Ari’s ownership over you. 

The idea of walking somewhere public, like just strolling into your classes, or a restaurant, wearing this collar and maybe even the cuffs which would look like bracelets to a clueless eye… it mortified you. 

And accelerated your pulse in arousal.

“Wear it next time you dance for me.” Ari ran his fingers along the thin chains of the collar, then along your collarbones until he reached lacy straps of your top. 

He pulled one of the straps down your shoulder. Then the other one. Then moved his fingers over the swell of your breasts and upward, along the line of two thin chains leading to a diamond encrusted ring in your collar.

“You’ll wear nothing but this when I split your tight pussy on my cock.” His tone was a molten, dark delight.

His face glowed with triumph when you whimpered at the image of being completely naked sans the ownership jewelry, sweaty and helpless as Ari fucked you into the mattress.

“With time, we’ll get you used to wearing it all the time.”

He clamped his fingers around the front of your neck. He didn’t actually put any pressure. Just the presence of his hand wrapped around your throat the same way a collar did. It made you realize instantly, that’s how it would feel to wear the collar. 

It would be a constant reminder that you belonged to Ari.  

“For now, just wear it for me when we meet.” You were actually grateful for the small steps, but remembering Ari’s earlier words you knew he’d have it his way in the end - even if he had to take things slowly with you.

“Okay.” You nodded, fidgeting with one of the chains around your waist. You felt hot all over. And kind of suffocated. “I can do that.” 

The smile Ari flashed you in return almost made you instantly want to ask how else can you please him. It made all the hardness disappear from his face, crinkles appeared around his eyes and it felt like warmth filled your belly. 

“I knew you’d be good for me, kitten.” Ari kissed you softly. 

You started to really eagerly lean into the kiss when he broke it. He stood up, easily holding you up as he moved, then eased you down on your feet. 

Fuck, but he really towered over you. Like a beast. 

“I’ll drive you home.” Ari announced as he led you toward the door, hand on the small of your back. “When you come to the club on Friday, bring a bag with some overnight necessities. I have a meeting here, but then I’m taking you home for the weekend.” 

“A whole weekend?” You nearly froze on the spot. 

For some reason, a silly thought really, you imagined your interactions to be limited to your performances in the club only. Sure, you’d maybe wear his collar outside sometime, as a reminder to yourself that three nights a week you were bending to Ari Levinson’s whims. 

He really scrambled some of your brain cells since you didn’t consider he was putting himself in your life fully. And pulling you into his life. Possibly, into a very intense life…

“Wha-” You cleared your throat, trying to sound less shaken. “Whatever for?”

“Hmm.” Ari leaned down, his hot breath fanning your ear as he purred: “To do scary things to you, the thought of which will keep you tense and wet for me.”

[facelesssbirds]

Dancing In The Rain || Genshin

A.N. I found that some of these were longer than others, which I'm so sorry for <33 Enjoy! You dance in the rain, with, or without them. Implied F!Reader, Neuvillette, Dottore, Kaveh, Arlecchino Warning: None, though the Harbinger sections makes allusions to their "work,"

Neuvillette had never liked the rain, it was a reminder of his duty, a sick, twisted sign of his failures. He was the reason for the rain today, a court trial having just been finished when you had burst in, long after everyone else had left. Only he remained, standing in the centre of the room almost dramatically.

"Neuvillette," You spoke softly, setting down the umbrella you had been carrying to look at him.

He may've looked calm, composed even, but you could tell he was a mess, his face set in a firm frown, but his eyes softened when they met yours. You took his hand, quiet, intimate.

"Dance with me." You murmured, coming to rest your hand on his shoulder.

He frowned, looking around the court room, askew with chairs, desks and other obstacles, "We can't dance here," he said, a hint or remorse peaking into his voice, it was was hoarse from speaking all day.

You nodded in agreement, listening to the rain outside grow louder, a crack of thunder in the far off distance. Smiling, almost hesitantly you lead him out the doors, through the large, grandiose halls of the opera and out into the pouring rain, your umbrella long forgotten.

"We'll simply dance in the rain," You said, ignoring his protests, and forcing him into a ballroom waltz.

His hand slipped to your waist with little resistance, the harsh droplets of rain softening, wetting both of you to the bone. You should be miserable, standing here, dancing in the rain, and yet, a smile comes to your face, and maybe, just maybe, a hint of sunshine peaks through those dark, looming clouds.

Dottore was a man of science, cold and cynical, but the seemingly unending rain of the Sumeru Jungles bothered him more than he cared to admit. Omega had gotten some water in through his eye sockets, normally this wouldn't be an issue that he would deal with, and Omega could've just taken care of it himself, but naturally the idiot (himself) had ignored every sign of malfunction to work on the god project.

The one bright side was that he got to visit you, you oh, beautiful, perfect, you who stayed in Sumeru as a street dancer, and a scholar, despite the akademiya's terrible treatment of someone as perfect as you. That truly, was the only reason he was out in the rain, watching as you, despite being drenched in the warm rain, preformed a beautiful dance, your aerial dance had long been discarded, you hadn't wanted to ruin the silks, he assumed.

Truly, though, he was your only spectator. The only watcher of your fruitless efforts. The market had long since closed down, but you had barely seemed to notice, your eyes focused solely on completing your routine. He smirked from under his mask, watching as finally, your dance ended, your chest heaved as he offered you his umbrella, shielding you from the rain.

"Are you finished already, darling?" He questioned, watching as you glanced up at him, surprised.

"Zandik!" You gasped, your eyes widening, though you grinned, "I didn't know you were in town-"

He chuckled, "I had... matters, to attend to, and of course, I had to stop by and see you, my darling."

You giggled, giving him a look, "Well, then, I suppose you owe me a dance for being gone for so long."

"In the rain?" He mused, "Darling, perhaps we should wait, you could catch a cold--"

You hush him, patting his shoulder, "Oh it'll be fine~"

He huffs, but complies, his hands coming to your waist, watching as you revel in the feeling of water hitting your face, soaking you to the bone. He'll be there to nurse you back to help after you get sick, either way.

Kaveh was a hard worker, you knew, and sometimes, he worked a little too hard. You had stopped by his and Al haitham's house, looking for Kaveh, who had promised to go on a date with you, only to learn he had been in the library since yesterday.

Naturally, you were worried, thanking Al Haitham before running off to go look for your beloved. The rain hardly stopped you, running into the library drenched, your rain jacket soaked, and your hair a mess. The Library was empty, the lights shut off as you perused, looking for your darling little blonde.

"Kaveh," You mumbled when you saw him, rushing over to his sleeping form.

He was hunched over books and a intricate blueprint of some architectural design, it was beautiful, almost as breathtaking as him, even sleeping with ink smudged on his cheek he looked perfect. You knew he thought the same about you, his eyes lighting up when he saw you, rubbing the sleepiness away from his eyes in an instant to sit up, nuzzling into your arms for a hug.

"Darling!" He said into your arms, not minding the cold wet water drenching you, only for him to quickly turn sad, "I forgot-- shit-- I'm so sorry--"

You cut him off patting his back, "Kaveh, it's fine really, just-- rest." You said firmly, giving him a stern stare.

He grinned, looking out at the glass balcony behind him, before deviously turning to you, "Say... do you like dancing?"

You raised an unamused-- slightly confused-- brow, "It's fun, yes, but really--"

You were cut off by him practically dragging you towards the balcony, opening the door, not minding as rain wetted his clothes, his hair, his face, smudging his makeup and washing off the ink stuck to his cheek.

"Dance with me." He muttered, breathlessly, looking out at the rain, the air surrounding him, at you.

And, god, those eyes. You couldn't help but comply, spinning out as you waltzed, a night to remember for you both.

Arlecchino had always enjoyed ballroom dancing, the elegant refinery of performance. She had taught the children how to dance when they were young, cultivating dance into an art form of itself, a show that must always go on. And now, the performance they had made Fontaine was finished, only the epilogue to be enacted.

"Father." Lyney said, bowing slightly, "This performance has been finished."

Arlecchino smiled, restrained in elegance, sharp as a knife and hard as an edge, "Very good. Fetch your Mother for me, Lynette."

Lynette nodded, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared, a flurry of wind replacing her, sleight of hand at its finest. Arlecchino directed her eyes towards Fontaine, unaware of the hours that would soon await it as the sun set.

"Arlecchino, darling-" You came to stand beside her, smiling, "You called?"

She nodded, looking over at you, tracing your shoulder, "Yes, walk with me one. One last performance."

You glanced up surprised, "Of course."

And so, it was. Arlecchino's hands gripped yours as you walked through the garden, marveling at the sunset, and the looming clouds in the distance.

"Arle..." You murmured softly, "It's going to rain soon. We should head back inside."

Arlecchino's grip on your hand tightened, "Nonsense. Dance with me," She smirked, her free hand coming to play with your hair, before trailing down to your waist in slow, languid movements. You couldn't ever resist this woman.

"I suppose I must," You say, sighing through a smile, watching as rain hits the pavement around you. Soon, you too will be drenched, but happier than before, after all, dancing with your darling was something everyone wishes for.

[takenbtwind]

Stormlight Archive Circus AU! (AKA I went to the circus and wrote all this down in about 30 minutes)

Kaladin does trapeze (so does most of Bridge Four) (the circus is a great “disappointing his dad” line of work)

Lopen and cousins are the clown troupe

Teft is the human cannonball (the circus I saw had a middle aged man as their human cannonball so there)

Rlain, Dabbid, and Rock are the safety team/crew

Dalinar owns the circus (insert tragic backstory about how he used to be really reckless and ignore safety protocols until his wife died)

I have a very clear image in my head of Adolin being the guy who stands on two horses running at full speed

But also consider Adolin and Shallan looking really cool together doing couples aerial silks

Also if Adolin is doing something aerial and acrobatic that gives Renarin something very dramatic to long for that a person with epilepsy probably should not do

Anyway Renarin isn’t in the circus until he and Rlain develop a sick juggling routine

Or I think it would be cool if Shallan did design for the shows (the circus I saw had cool spinning lights that reminded me of Pattern)

Szeth is trying to sell Dalinar on his ventriloquy act (his puppet is a sword) but Dalinar keeps rejecting it because Szeth doesn’t seem to grasp that his act is supposed to be funny

Wit is the illusionist/magician that Dalinar keeps threatening to fire since he never shows up on time. Whenever he misses performances Shallan goes on (she’s not as good at it but she gets away with it by being really funny)

Lift gets to run away and join the circus like she was always meant to

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Dick was having a slow night, things were a little too quiet when he investigates a warehouse and sees Danny swinging on makeshift gymnastic bars and aerial silks. He immediately recognized the routine Danny was doing as one of the flying Graysons routines and immediately starts panicking wondering if he had a secret sibling. In reality Danny had met the Grayson parents and they've been helping Danny with his circus trauma

.

[exhausted-exho]

Thinking About Biker Pezzy

Like yes he actually owns and rides a bike. He literally just got a new one. BUT hear me out...

Imagine like stunt rider Pezzy. Like you're an acrobat in a circus and he's one of the daredevils. One of the guys who does the ramp jumps, stands on his bike as it moves around (in that move mimicking trick riders), rides around in the sphere.

Ugh like I know he said the other day he's never gonna be one to be going 100+ miles an hour because he values his life but just imagine you two being kids who grew up in the circus together. Close in age but from two different groups of practice so you never crossed all that much.

You remember first noticing him when you were 6. A few years older, already beginning to train in taking care of the bikes and learning the most basic moves. Meanwhile you were with the aerial team, beginning to learn different ground tricks.

The first time you guys interacted wasn't for years yet. You were 13 then, taking part in your first show. He'd already been in for a year or so and saw how nervous you were, wringing your hands in the wings as you waited for your cue to run on and climb the silks up to the trapeze swings.

"Hey, you'll do fine." Your eyes widened at the fact he was even talking to you. It didn't help that you'd been admiring him from afar for a while, beginning to harbor a little crush. "I was nervous my first show but it all comes down to muscle memory. Focus on that, not the crowd."

"I have to appeal to them, though." Your voice was small. Meek and anxious. "I don't have a helmet to hide behind like you do."

"True. But you've been helping with the kids parties and you do well with them. Just think of the crowd as a bunch of kids you need to entertain for a few minutes." You nodded, thanking him before hearing your cue and darting out onto the floor to begin your routine.

His advice had been helpful.

It was a few more months until you got a chance to cross paths again and it was due to being teamed up during a load out, moving crates together and packing the trucks.

It was during those long hours that you guys clicked. The two of you hanging out became commonplace after that. Every spare moment one of you had was spent around the other, even if the other was in rehearsals.

Which meant it only made sense.

The ringmaster wanted something new. Something fresh. Something that no one had ever seen before to generate larger audiences again. The circus had been dying in popularity the past few years. To keep everyone fed and on the team, he needed a new angle.

So you and Pezzy were the two he chose. The ones whose skills were to be combined for the new ending segment. The grand finale to top all else.

Who would've thought to put acrobatics on stunt riding?

Despite how insane it was, it worked out for the two of you. You got to spend most of your time together, now, and it just meant you got even closer.

He was used to the danger of stunt riding. You were used to the danger of heights and acrobatics. Combine the two and you're clinging to him for safety and he's keeping you grounded.

The most terrifying one wasn't even the dancing on the back of his bike while he rode the rings. Nor was it joining him for stunt jumps and doing your own tricks midair.

It was the sphere.

You stood planted in the center as he rode circles around you, one hand out to trace your waist as he spun, to keep track of you. A hand holding yours as you spun with him in a way reminiscent of figure skating.

It was the accident that had him making the first move. One day the ringmaster wanted you to change it up. To have a set of aerial silks halfway through a jump to grab onto. But even with all the rehearsals and successful shows, there was one day you missed the silks.

Your hands were sweaty, your arm was tired, the timing a bit off, the jump a bit too far to the side. It all combined in some cursed formation, causing you to fall twenty feet.

There were pads, but you landed just wrong, destroying your ankle.

You'd never seen Max so scared. So angry before. He just about tore the ringmaster apart for having the idea that got you hurt.

When you were finally able to get back into shows, he was anxious. Terrified it would happen again. Now that you'd gotten hurt, he had it in his mind constantly, always worried about the possibility that you could get hurt again from any little thing.

It lead to him pulling you aside before your first show back in and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, muttering into your hair as he gave you the tightest hug.

"Be careful. Promise me you'll be safe."

"I'm with you. Of course I'll be safe."

"But last time-"

"Last time was an off day for everyone." You pulled back, cupping his jaw with both hands while his landed on your hips. "I trust you. Now let's go kick ass. Together."

He nodded. "Together."

You kissed his cheek and slipped away. He followed, grabbing your wrist.

"You're not leaving my side again. Last time you did you got hurt."

"What are you, my guardian?"

"Your boyfriend." He grinned nervously at your stunned expression. "If you'll let me."

You paused for a moment before smiling as wide as possible.

"We said together, didn't we?"

[wordsbyvani]

König watches an aerial artist... that's all.

He didn’t want to be here. 

An art museum is no place for someone like König. He’s only here for some charity banquet-show with his company as a museum benefactor. Just so happens that he has a high-ranking position and was chosen to represent them for tonight’s event. Usually he can push feelings aside when it comes to work—a routine with which he’s become all too familiar—but this is different.

He likens himself to a bull in a china shop: one wrong move and delicacy shatters around him. Surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces that are the epitome of elegance and meaning. Sure, he knows the meanings and concepts behind the works, can recognize the finery. But it’s the opposite of all that he is: rough, brazen, vulgar. Somehow, pictures in frames, sleek statues, and the refined viewers gracing the halls make him feel as though he’s a laughing stock of sorts. All eyes, be they crafted or alive, are on the giant bathing in blood and souls.

Yes, there are pieces depicting violence, war, despair. But it’s too sophisticated, too dignified. The crimson doesn’t smell metallic, doesn’t pool at his feet. The figures don’t scream and wail and hurl curses, faces twisted with disdain. Perhaps scenes brought to life for the masses but dull for those who’ve lived them.

He rips himself away from the endless halls of mockery to take his seat before the show starts. The program shoved into his hands on the way in says something about an aerial artist—great, more art. An announcer beckons everyone to settle in; the show is about to begin. The lights hit, the spotlight on, and it rains red. And through a tidepool of scarlet and dramatic musical accompaniment, she is born.

Gliding on the wings of a phoenix, she turns to ashes as she spirals and twirls, only to grab the burning feathers of evanescence and propel herself up once more. A baby bird, naked and needy, morphs into a godlike inferno. Sparks, flames, colors. Determination. A cycle of death and rebirth unfolding before his very eyes, in the midst: her.

She morphs with the art around her. The dull works of elegance with which he just couldn’t resonate abandon stagnancy to dance all around; their colors, shapes, textures a tornado swirling to embody the main star of the show.

The musical accompaniment softens, and she stills—a phoenix no more. He recognizes only the underbelly of a black widow, dangling from pheromone-laced silk. Lustful eyes set a fixed gaze as she hangs, enticing him to partake readily.

If he accepted, would she strike? Paralyzed by venomous fangs, spinning, encased in the prison of her bloody trap. Or would she allow him to scale her web, ripping away the silks and traces of rivals as he climbed to reach her? Silently begging as he covers her body to let him consume, devour, before she has had her fill and disposes of him—his purpose served, a body needed no more. He would gladly accept such a fate for merely a taste.

Then she descends. Slowly, head thrown back in ecstasy, the silks creating ripples that cascade in a whirlpool around her. He restrains himself from reaching out, an arm that would tear the fabric from the rafters, waiting for her to fall into the welcome embrace of his arms and never let go.

The trance is broken when she touches the ground, the audience roaring with applause. A humble grin graces her face as she bows, waving and blowing kisses to her adoring spectators. For a brief moment, her eyes fall upon him, and something flickers. With a tilt of her head and curiosity in her eyes, her smile widens. A kiss is blown directly at him with a cheeky wink.

Perhaps he does enjoy fine art after all.

[the-raven-lady]

(Lemon russ)

Ravens court each other with arial acrobatics and dances.

Corvus takes you to his quarters, strips bare ass, and pulls out a trapeze rope-

THE SQUAWK THAT JUST LEFT MY MOUTH

You, getting led to a sequestered room: Man, he looks really nervous. I wonder what he could possibly be doing.

Corax: I have something I've been wanting to say to you, but I just haven't found the words to do it.

You: Oh that's so sweet, you don't need to worry about me. I don't bi-- where are your clothes at

Corax, completely nude, performing a routine in aerial silks while a neon sign behind him flashes on reading "Do you want to fuck?"

[gabessquishytum]

Hob would like to say that this was all because he lost a bet. Yes, he is aware that many of his stories start with him losing a bet. (Shut up!)

Still. He. Lost. A. Bet......to f'ing Constantine. And because the bet was with Joanna, and because he lost by being wrong about something (it doesn’t matter what) in his field of study -- the severity of what he has to do matches being shown up by a Constantine -- Now that all that is clear.

What?! Oh, right. So Hob needs to pole dance as his act for the faculty talent show fundraiser. Yes, Hob is aware he's never even attempted pole dancing before,,,,, and yes, he might be a little (A LITTLE) uncoordinated. (Shut Up!)

So obviously he needs a teacher, who can get him ready in 3 months. By sheer serendipity, Hob sees an ad in the campus newspaper for pole dancing classes taught by an "M". Hob is willing to pay (honestly through the absolute nose) to someone willing to help him show up Constantine. M agrees to meet Hob at an off campus coffee shop to discuss private lessons.

Hob is nervous. He knows it's silly what he's trying to do. He doesn't want M to think Hob is being at all disrespectful. He just needs some training. And then this beautiful man walks into the coffee shop and Hob forgets that he was waiting for someone. (SHUT UP!)

Dream is intrigued when Hob calls him and agrees to meet to discuss if he would be willing to help Hob fulfill his forefit. Dream understands losing a bet.

/I'm thinking Dream doesn't work clubs anymore, just teaching, but his real artistry is in aerial silks and he could teach Hob either straight pole or aerial (https://www.dreamstime.com/photos-images/aerial-dancer-man-silk.html)

This is definitely the kind of bet that Hob would get himself into.

Poor Hob is immediately discouraged when he sees Dream’s incredible lean, petite physique. Of course a guy like that is going to be able spin around in the air like it's nothing. Hob just feels like he's going to be so clumsy and he'll make a total fool of himself in front of Dream AND everyone else.

But Dream shows him a few videos of guys who have a body type more like Hob’s, and he feels a tiny bit more confident. It's not like he needs to become an expert, he just needs to perfect a simple routine. And Dream is a tough teacher. He's got Hob coming in to his home studio twice every week to practice. His voice makes Hob weak at the knees (NOT convenient when he's trying to spin around a pole!) and Hob is totally wishing that this beautiful man would just dom him for real. Every night in the shower he helplessly fingers himself, imagining that it's Dream giving him the orders...

Fortunately Dream’s teaching also pays off and Hob becomes quite comfortable with his routine. Dream even comes shopping with him to find the perfect outfit to perform in! He nearly cums in the dressing room as he's trying on all these revealing semi lingerie type outfits while Dream waits outside and critiques each one.

Dream seems determined that Hob should not only perform well but actually WIN the talent show. Which is presumably why he turns up and sits in the front row... and mouths "Good boy." at Hob when he finishes his routine flawlessly.

And since he's not Hob’s teacher anymore, there's no reason why he can't go back stage and jerk Hob off through the silky fabric of his nearly see-through bodysuit. Good boys get rewards...

[wolftozier]

uh. circus au 2024 edition bc I reread stepping stones and I miss them

richie: I'm sticking with hand balancer richie bc I don't care if it's boring. I'm giving him good shoulders. he trained in gymnastics before circus so his handstands are super pretty. when he's on his feet he has almost no control over his body but put him on his hands and he can balance on anything. can walk on his hands for minutes on end.

I also think he'd be a pretty good puppeteer!! bev helps him make new puppets :)

eddie: anything aerial for eddie. trapeze, silks, hoops, tight rope walking. that boy needs to be up high and flying. really flexible. his favourite thing to do is probably silks (and it's richies favourite too, because eddies costumes are always super short bc he likes having bare skin to help grip the silk)

mikey: dog trainer... bc the thought of him and mr chips having a silly little circus routine keeps me up at night. mr chips can balance on one paw. he can jump through hoops. he can walk a tightrope with mikey. they're so cute. best jugglar out of everyone

bill: ringmaster sorry I don't take criticisms. he also does tightrope and he even has a little tightrope routine with georgie!!! he taught georgie how to tightrope when they were little babies 🥺

stan: magician. he even has a couple of doves as pets that join in the routine sometimes. they're very well behaved and love sitting on his shoulders when they're not performing

bev: trapeze with eddie...... I also think she def helps design and make everyone's costumes. she also puppets with Richie sometimes, and her voices are always terrible and over the top but it makes the kids laugh.

ben: he's the one in charge of building everyone's sets and props and making sure everything is secure !!! he loves designing new things for Eddie to do aerial work with and weird little walkways for Richie to hand walk across and builds puppet theatres for rich n bev!!! he makes mr chips a kennel!! he helps make platforms for stans disappearing acts.... he is seriously the backbone of all their performances !!!!

[expatesque]

Monthly Recap

Doing this mainly to hold myself accountable, under the cut

Last Month's Goals

☑️Use all class pass classes: Reformer Pilates - Not for me, Barre - Okay, F45 - Loved, Aerial Silks - Fun but very hard, Mat Pilates - Nice, Qigong Flow - Loved

☑️Read a book: Ninth House, Leigh Bardugo - Fun! V appropriate for the season.

☑️New Recipes x4: Hassleback tofu - Good but needs adjustments, Chicken Shwarma - Meh, limited improvement on normal chicken method and longer, White Chilli - Yum and freezes well, Spinach and Artichoke Dip - Yum.

☑️Go to a new museum: Leighton House - very good, lovely space, interesting ideas for interiors.

❌Go to an Exhibition: Fail, will do two next month. Will be going to Silk Roads at the BM soon. Note: This one means a major exhibition at a museum I've been to before.

☑️Go to the theater: Giselle at Saddler's Wells, excellent. Got last minute tickets after seeing @therepublicofletters love it, thanks Em. Also the Lehman Trilogy, overall very good but a little fast at the end.

����Crochet: This gets a half tick, I did get back into crocheting but want it to largely replace scrolling in the evenings, haven't quite gotten there yet.

❌Write More: Nowhere near the amount I wanted to, key goal for next month.

❌Lay morning foundation: Carrying over to next month, need to get a phone-free routine in place.

☑️Budget: Very happy to tick this one, set a quite aggressive budget and managed it, even with the absolute right antique bedside tables popping up and a last minute trip to Paris. Thank god for freezer meals.

❌Memorize a poem: Fail, will do two next month.

Next Month's

Carrying Over

Use all class pass passes (I've carried on after my free trial)

Four new recipes

Read a book

Visit a new musuem

Go to an exhibition (x2)

Go to a show

Crochet

Write more

Morning foundation

Budget

Memorize a poem (x2)

New

Russian flashcards (memorize)

Screentime

Job/interview prep (getting back into the news, refreshing concepts)

[spqcebunsforever]

Hello! May i request a reader who is an aerial silkest? (A person who does aerial silk routines..dont know if thats the term)  and Like buggy is dating them and kinda gets hot under the collar watching their routines cuz its so graceful and pretty but also dangerous? Maybe a bit of him getting mad at cabaji for looking at the reader for a bit to long? (Either looking lustfully or not up to you) could be smutty, its ok if not though!

Take your time, drink water, take care of yourself to the best of your ability <3

Best wishes!

Hello! Thank you so much for the request hopefully you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Pairing: LA Buggy x Aerialist Reader

WARNING: a little mention of NSFW

Buggy's Pov

Somedays I swear I hired complete idiots. It was almost a week before we performed in front of a live audience but for some reason, my freaks were acting like we hadn't done any rehearsals. I had to shout at so many of them for just standing about and not doing anything. And then the others were just fucking up forgetting the middle of their acts and I am not having these idiots make me look bad. I have made myself very clear that if on the big day, someone fucks up and makes me look like an idiot I will murder them. In my eyes, everyone is replaceable well everyone except for one person.

Before I could even turn around to see where she was I heard everyone let out a gasp. And there she was my Y/n doing her aerialist routine. She was amazing almost every time she performed she made everyone look up at her with amazement especially me. I just couldn't help it the way she looked so graceful like a bird up there but she didn't just do graceful she could also do dangerous. My girl could do anything and wasn't scared of anything she was the reason that I knew even if these other twats ruined everything on opening night Y/n would go out and make everything better just like she always did.

She must have felt me staring because she looked right down at me and winked. When she does that routine it always makes me red in the face the way her body moves and those stupid but sexy revealing costumes she always wears she knew what she was doing to me and I knew she liked seeing me blush like an idiot because of her. Quickly pulling myself out of my little trance I looked over and saw Cabaji staring at Y/n and practically drooling. I unattached my hand and hit him right in the back of the head he looked behind him saw my hand and looked right at me looking scared as he should be.

" I would like to remind you Cabaji that Y/n is my girl so you shouldn't be staring at your captain's girlfriend like she is a piece of meat that you can sink your teeth in because believe me Cabaji I don't think she would leave me for you let's just say I don't think you would be able to please a girl like Y/n like I can so kindly fuck off before I have to do something nasty that I'm sure you wouldn't like". Cabaji's face turned red and he tried to stutter out an apology but I just pushed right past him noticing y/n walking towards us. I put my arm around her and kissed her cheek making sure that Cabaji definitely saw "You looked amazing today babe honestly you get better every time I see you perform". Y/n just giggled "Oh shush you you're just trying to get me to blush".

As we walked past I gave Cabaji a look and Y/n noticed it. "What was that about did Cabaji do something?" I shook my head leaned in and put my head on her shoulder looking up at her "Oh it's nothing doll hey how about we continue this conversation in the bedroom you know how I get after your routines". Y/n again just giggled and started walking towards our bedroom and for the last time, I turned around looked at Cabaji, and gave him the biggest grin I could. "Sorry if you hear any noise from our room but what can I say I know how to please her unlike other guys that's why she's my girl".

[yvmoveon]

My aerial instructor told me that I can now consider myself an aerialist now... Do you know how happy that made me?!? Aerial silks is what keeps me sane. 🥹 My core strength is insaneee now and I can do complex stunts now. Now I just gotta get into the rhythm of creating flowy routines. 🥰

[yellowcakeuf6]

After reading chapter 5 of the brilliant fic Deliverence in Deep Space by @spookyshoosh the image of the OC doing an aerial silks routine for Lore has been stuck in my head. So I thrashed this out in 20 minutes today. For some reason I headcanon that the reader has short hair, and I don't know if this move is in the fic or not but I thought it fitted the grace and elegance of the workout...

[tumbleinthenet]

this is apropos of nothing but my thoughts on mirtala (my precious daughter my darling girl) include:

she's always trying her hardest, so she doesnt get why anybody wouldnt want to be like. the most authentic and best they are at what they do (ive touched on this with sonja im sorrryyy i dont know why i ship them i need to explore my avenues more)

she might be psychic. she might not be. if she is she might not know (i imagine its very weak zoolepathy mostly, raz and frazie seem to understand sugarcube just fine so she thought everyone else could too). either way i dont think it matters to her. shes just not really interested in the psychic stuff because she loves the circus so much, but she might like thinking up ways to incorporate powers into routines with her papa.

i think of dion as being more technically skilled and perfect with his tricks and frazie as being better at making her moves artful. i think tala is weighted more towards dion's style in that she wants to make everything perfect but i also think shes also always wanting to do something bigger and better and more interesting.

absolutely does aerial silks are you KIDDDIIIING.

i dont have any thoughts on this but mirtala is a better tracker than you is such a crazy line to me. what do you mean by that how often do you have her tracking. is she in the woods nose down like a bloodhound. i need to think more on this

a little uppity! a little uppity. i dont know why i just feel like shes got this perfectionist streak and she thinks shes kind of at her full potential and like yeah right now shes a baby but i can see her being this high femme teenager who knows shes better than everyone else and gets such an ego about it and has to be humbled.

she's not above being messy and being a kid but i also think she would mostly be messy and kidlike just. around her family. like around strangers shed really rather prove herself as someone worth respecting. she's the golden child the little princess she makes the oohs and aahs happen at shows and she wants everyone to know that.