#aerials aerial silks body positive

[51voices]

Tangled In Bliss

Kinkvember Day 11: Suspension Play/Stuck

Le Sserafim Nakamura Kazuha x Male reader

AN: A little later than when I normally upload, I'm still recovering 😅

“And… finished.” The soft murmur of satisfaction filled the tranquil yoga room as Kazuha stepped back to admire her setup. The aerial yoga hammock hung from the ceiling, swaying gently, as though eagerly awaiting her first move. The silky fabric, a rich teal that shimmered in the afternoon light, looked both delicate and strong—inviting her to stretch and soar. She felt a surge of pride at how smoothly everything had come together, the setup a small victory of her own making.

Although this wasn’t her first experience with aerial yoga, Kazuha felt a renewed sense of excitement bubbling up inside. As a former ballerina, she’d always been curious about practices that allowed her to blend strength with grace. She’d tried aerial yoga a few times before but now had her own space to explore her incredible flexibility and strength. Today felt special, charged even—she had the entire afternoon to herself, with no one around but the soft hum of the house and the silky fabric swaying before her.

There was something thrilling, almost rebellious, about using the silks alone. You were at work, and the idea of surprising you with a new skill filled her with warmth. After all, it was your mutual love of fitness that brought you together. She wanted you to see this side of her—a little daring, unrestrained, pushing her limits in the privacy of her own space.

With a slight smile, Kazuha tied her hair back and glanced at her phone, where she’d queued up a progression of aerial yoga poses, each one more challenging than the last. Taking a steadying breath, she positioned herself on the soft mat, hands reaching for the silk. Her fingers brushed the cool, smooth fabric, and she allowed herself to pause for a moment, savoring the anticipation building in her chest.

In one fluid motion, she lifted herself into the hammock, her muscles tensing and releasing as she rose, letting her body find its center of gravity. Her abs tightened, her legs wrapped around the silk, and she hung in a graceful inversion, her body suspended in a beautiful arc. Her arms extended, fingertips barely grazing the air as she floated in silence, the room holding its breath alongside her.

Kazuha caught her reflection in the mirror across the room—a flash of her toned legs, toes perfectly pointed, abs taut and defined. The vibrant pink of her yoga pants hugged her curves, emphasizing the elegant lines of her body. She shifted gracefully into a split, her legs stretching outward, the silks framing her in an effortless display of flexibility. She felt strong and empowered, her body weightless, movements held by the silks that supported her like an invisible dance partner.

Feeling a surge of confidence, she moved to the next level. She consulted her phone, noting the series of poses that lay ahead, each promising to test her balance and strength. She twisted her torso, lifting one leg while keeping the other wrapped securely. Her muscles tensed as she held the position, a soft sigh of exertion escaping her lips. The strain was real, but she relished the challenge, her body responding eagerly to the test.

Glancing down at her phone, she saw the final, more advanced pose displayed—a daring inversion requiring a deep backbend with her legs pulled high above her head. Kazuha paused, her heart pounding with both excitement and nerves, but her determination won out. Carefully, she shifted her weight and positioned her legs. Her abs tightened, arms supporting her as she brought her legs up and over, stretching her torso into a breathtaking arch. The silks wound securely around her thighs, but just as she settled into the pose, something went wrong.

Her foot slipped from the silk, and before she could react, the hammock tightened abruptly around her thighs, pulling her legs higher. Her body jerked as the fabric constricted around her, her legs now awkwardly bent above her head. She tried to reposition, but the silks only seemed to tighten further, locking her in place.

“Wait… what?” she gasped, heat flooding her cheeks. She struggled, twisting and wriggling, but the more she moved, the more the silks seemed to bind her, trapping her in a suspended split. Her arms hung helplessly at her sides, unable to reach for leverage. She let out a frustrated sigh, her gaze falling to her phone just out of reach on the floor. If she could only swing herself closer, maybe she could grab it. Determined, she rocked her body, fingers stretching, trying to build momentum, but the hammock refused to budge, keeping her immobilized in an elegant, albeit precarious, pose.

As she swung slightly, her mind began to wander. The thought of you finding her like this—stuck and vulnerable—sent a strange thrill down her spine. Her cheeks warmed as she imagined your reaction. Part of her was frustrated, but another part, one she didn’t often acknowledge, felt a curious excitement.

Minutes ticked by, but to her, it felt like an eternity. With each passing second, her frustration grew, mingling with the anticipation she couldn’t quite shake. Her gaze drifted back to the door, half hoping, half dreading the moment you’d walk in.

Then, just as she was resigning herself to a lengthy wait, the sound of the front door opening shattered the quiet. Her heart leapt, caught between relief and sudden embarrassment, as your voice echoed through the house, warm and familiar.

“Zuha? My love, I’m home!”

She bit her lip, hesitating as she fought down the blush that threatened to rise again. Finally, she called out, her voice a little shaky, “Baaabe? Could you… come to my yoga room?”

As you entered the room, the scene before you was enough to make you pause, taking in every detail. There she was—suspended in the air, her legs folded above her head, arms helplessly dangling at her sides. Her cheeks were flushed, a hint of vulnerability in her usually confident gaze. Her body was wrapped in silk, held by the taut fabric, and despite her embarrassment, she looked breathtaking.

For a moment, your concern was visible, but as the situation fully registered, a grin crept across your face. Leaning against the doorway, you crossed your arms, unable to resist the teasing. “Well, well... what do we have here?” you murmured, eyebrow raised. “Zuha, how exactly did you manage this?”

Kazuha squirmed slightly, her face burning even brighter as she looked away, mumbling under her breath. “I was… trying a new position, and I lost my balance,” she muttered defensively. “Now I’m stuck. Could you just help me get down?”

You chuckled, stepping closer with a glint of mischief in your eye. Slowly, you traced a finger along the edge of the silks wrapped tightly around her thighs. She shivered at the soft touch, her breath catching as it quickened slightly. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" you asked, letting your voice dip, a note of seriousness slipping through.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “No, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice wavering just slightly. “Just… stuck and incredibly embarrassed.”

A soft smirk played at your lips as you leaned closer, your face just inches from hers. “Good,” you whispered, your breath grazing her ear. “Because you look surprisingly comfortable up there.” Her blush deepened, and you could see a flicker of something more in her eyes—an unspoken thrill.

Before she could respond, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then brushing her lips with yours. She melted into the kiss, her shoulders relaxing as her breathing steadied, a subtle warmth spreading over her cheeks.

With a quiet chuckle, you took a step back, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm going to freshen up. Long day at work, you know?" You added a playful push to the hammock, setting it into a gentle sway, and her gaze softened as she watched you move toward the hallway.

"Just hang tight," you called over your shoulder with a grin, leaving her nestled and content in the gentle sway.

“What?! Babe, don’t you dare—” she started, her voice rising in disbelief, but it was too late. You’d already disappeared down the hall, and the soft sound of the bathroom door closing echoed through the quiet house.

Suspended in the air, Kazuha let out an exasperated sigh, her face flushed with both frustration and something else she couldn’t quite define. She wriggled again, hoping to somehow loosen the silks, but the hammock’s hold remained firm. Her legs were trapped in an elevated split, the silks gripping her tightly, leaving her completely immobilized. Her phone was tantalizingly close on the floor below, but there was nothing she could do but wait.

A mix of emotions swirled inside her—embarrassment, irritation, and a spark of anticipation she hadn’t expected. She couldn’t help but wonder what you’d do when you returned. Being at your mercy, bound in the hammock and unable to move, filled her with a thrill she hadn’t felt before. Her mind raced, and despite herself, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

When you finally returned, your casual grin grew wider at the sight of her still suspended and completely helpless. “How's it hanging...Still stuck?” you teased, stepping closer, your eyes tracing the lines of her toned body. She glared at you, though her flustered expression and pink cheeks betrayed her mixed feelings. “Obviously,” she muttered, trying to sound irritated. “Are you going to help me down now?”

You held her gaze, your fingers lightly trailing up the silks that bound her thighs. “You look so graceful up there,” you mused, voice soft as your fingers traced the line of her legs, moving higher with tantalizing slowness. You stopped just shy of the waistband of her yoga pants, eyes darkening with a playful glint.

“I mean, I could let you down now,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that she could feel your breath on her skin, “but where’s the fun in that?”

Kazuha’s heart raced as she felt your touch move higher, stopping just shy of the waistband of her yoga pants. Your voice was low and teasing with eyes dark with playful intent.

"Tell me, How much did there cost you?" you murmured, your voice a low, sultry purr that seemed to resonate with the intimacy of the moment. Your fingers continued their dance along the fabric, each touch sending a ripple of anticipation through Kazuha's body.

Kazuha blinked, her long lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she processed your question. "Uh... eighty dollars?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, a hint of confusion mingling with the growing desire in her eyes.

Your hand paused, and for a moment, your expression shifted to one of thoughtful contemplation. Then, as if a delightful idea had struck you, a mischievous grin spread across your face, transforming it into a portrait of playful intentions.

"Eighty dollars, huh?" You shrugged nonchalantly, the picture of confidence and control. "I can afford that."

Before Kazuha could utter another word, you gripped the fabric of her pants with a determined hand, right at the point where it covered her wet, eager folds. With a swift, forceful motion, you tore the pants open, the sound of the fabric ripping echoing through the room like a sharp, tantalizing prelude to the symphony of pleasure that was to come.

Kazuha gasped, the cool air rushing against her newly exposed skin, sending a shiver of delight mixed with shock coursing through her body. "B-Baby!" she stammered, her body tensing, her heart racing as she realized just how vulnerable and exposed she was to you in that moment.

Your smirk deepened, your eyes darkening with desire as you leaned in closer, your hand now trailing down to explore the slickness of her folds. "You're already soaked," you murmured, your voice low and teasing, the vibrations of your words adding to the sensation of your fingers as they grazed her wetness. "Were you hoping this would happen?"

Kazuha whimpered softly, her body trembling at your touch, her legs still suspended above her, held in place by the hammock's gentle embrace. She was completely at your mercy, her body aching with anticipation and need.

"You're the perfect height for this," you growled, the animalistic edge to your voice betraying your excitement. You positioned yourself between her legs, your eyes lingering on the sight before you—Kazuha, open and vulnerable, her body a canvas of desire. "I think I'm going to enjoy this."

With a wicked grin, you knelt on the thin yoga matt that covered the floor, placing yourself perfectly between Kazuha's legs. You began by kissing her inner thighs gently, your lips leaving a trail of warmth as you worked your way up slowly, teasing her with your breath, your intention clear. Kazuha squirmed slightly, her body aching with anticipation, but the hammock kept her perfectly still, leaving her completely exposed to your ministrations.

Your lips hovered just inches from her core, your breath hot against her sensitive skin. Kazuha's body trembled in response, a silent plea for more. You pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her pussy, a promise of the pleasure to come. Looking up at her with a teasing smirk, you held her gaze, the connection between you electric and unbreakable.

"You're so perfect, I'm the luckiest man in the world." you murmured, your voice low and filled with a longing that resonated in the stillness. "I could do this all day."

Kazuha's breath hitched, a staccato rhythm against the symphony of nature's chorus. Your words, a balm to her soul, sent shivers cascading through her body, electrifying every nerve ending. She had always reveled in the appreciation of her figure—a testament to her dedication and discipline. But when those words of adoration came from you, they pierced through her defenses, reaching depths she hadn't known existed within her.

Your gaze was a physical touch, locked onto her trembling form with an intensity that heightened her arousal to near-unbearable heights. You drank in the sight of her, the rise and fall of her chest, the flush that painted her skin, and the way her body responded to the timbre of your voice. She could feel herself throbbing, her core reacting with involuntary clenches, a silent plea for more. A soft whimper escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the very air around you.

You smiled, a knowing, predatory grin that acknowledged her body's betrayal of its own need. "You love that, don't you? The way I talk about you... I can see you your pussy quiver from every word." Your words were a velvet caress, wrapping around her, pulling her deeper into the web of your shared desire.

With a deliberate slowness that bordered on cruelty, your tongue flicked out, teasing her clit with a light touch that promised more. Then, with a feral hunger, you pressed your mouth fully against her, devouring her with deep, slow licks that sent shockwaves of pleasure through her suspended form. Kazuha gasped, her legs trembling within the silken embrace of the hammock as the pleasure shot through her core like a starburst. Her hips instinctively tried to buck, to meet the rhythm of your mouth, but the silks held her firmly in place, leaving her suspended and completely at your mercy.

You licked her deliberately, tracing her slick folds with your tongue as you worked her closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your hands, strong and sure, gripped her thighs, holding her in place as your mouth moved against her with expert precision. You kissed and sucked on her clit, each movement building her up, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Kazuha's breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling as the pleasure intensified. Her abs, already flexed from the effort of maintaining balance within the hammock, tightened even more with every movement of your tongue. She could feel her muscles contracting, every inch of her body reacting to the sensations you were giving her, a dance of ecstasy that left her teetering on the edge.

"God, you taste so good," you groaned between kisses, your voice rough with lust. "I can't believe how beautiful and sexy you are. Your body’s amazing, baby." The compliments made Kazuha's core tighten even more, a coil winding ever tighter within her. Every word you spoke seemed to drive her wild, her pussy clenching involuntarily in response to your praise. She could feel her climax building, a tide that threatened to sweep her away. Her legs quivered in the hammock, her body tensing in delicious anticipation of the release that was sure to come.

You weren’t holding back. You pressed your mouth harder against her, your tongue flicking rapidly over her clit as you pushed her closer to the edge. You let go of her legs and pushed forward with your face, using gravity to press her pussy deeper into your mouth. The hammock’s tension added to the sensation, her own body weight pushing her harder against your lips and tongue, making every movement more intense.

Kazuha's voice, tremulous with need, pierced the air. "Oh god, You feel so fucking good!" she cried out, her desperation palpable. Her abdominal muscles contracted with such force that it bordered on pain, the tension in her core coiling like a spring as her body quivered on the brink of ecstasy.

Your voice, a dark melody of seduction, teased her mercilessly. "You're close, aren't you?" you murmured, looking up to meet her gaze, your eyes alight with mischief and desire. "I can feel how much you're throbbing. Cum for me, baby, I know you want to."

Her response was a whimper, a sound that seemed to be torn from the very depths of her being. Her legs, ensnared by the hammock's embrace, trembled as her climax loomed ever closer. You were relentless, your mouth working tirelessly to push her over the edge. The pleasure was building, a crescendo that threatened to consume her entirely.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly, your lips leaving her clit for just a moment before your hand came down in a sharp slap against her pussy.

Kazuha’s entire body jolted at the sudden sting, her back arching as the pain and pleasure mixed together. Her breath hitched, her abs contracting violently as her pussy throbbed in response. Before she could recover, you slapped her again, the sharp sensation sending her spiraling.

“Come on, Zuha,” you growled, your voice thick with desire. “I know, you love getting spanked.”

With one final, powerful slap, Kazuha’s body shattered.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing in the hammock as her pussy clenched and pulsed uncontrollably. Her abs flexed so hard that every muscle in her core stood out, looking like it was chiseled from stone, her thighs trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. The force of her climax left her breathless, her cries filling the room as she came harder than ever before.

But you were not finished. You leaned forward once more, your mouth finding her again, your tongue laving her through the aftershocks. Your relentless attention to her overstimulated clit elicited another chorus of cries from Kazuha, her body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her once more.

"Fuck, you truly are one of a kind, baby," you groaned against her, your own arousal evident in your voice. Your tongue continued to worship her sensitive flesh, each flick timed perfectly with the erratic beating of her heart. Her pussy responded in kind, clenching and releasing as her body rode the waves of her orgasm.

Spent and sated, Kazuha could only whimper softly, her body a boneless, contented weight in the hammock. Her legs, still gently swaying, twitched with the remnants of her climax as she struggled to catch her breath. 

You finally pulled back, your lips brushing softly over her trembling core one last time before you looked up at her. Your eyes, filled with satisfaction, met hers, which were clouded with the aftermath of her climax. "You're gorgeous," you whispered, your voice a symphony of admiration. "I could watch you cum all day."

Kazuha's body continued to shudder, her mind a haze of pleasure as she struggled to draw breath. Her toned abdomen still flexed, quivering from the intensity of her release, and her sensitive flesh throbbed with the sweet ache of overstimulation, her body twitching with every lingering touch.

You stood slowly, your hands tracing a path along her silken thighs before leaning in to press a soft, possessive kiss to her abdomen. "I'm not done with you yet," you murmured against her skin, a playful intent lacing your words.

Kazuha whimpered softly, her body deliciously spent yet still eager for more. She was completely at your mercy, surrendering to the vulnerability and reveling in every moment of it.

You took a step back, your gaze darkening with desire as it roamed over her trembling form. Your hands gripped her hips, adjusting her position in the hammock, pulling her just high enough that your hips aligned perfectly. You positioned yourself between her legs, the tip of your arousal brushing against her slick folds, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," you growled, your voice rough with anticipation as you locked eyes with her. "Look at you, dripping and so ready for me."

Without further ado, you thrust into her, your length filling her completely in one powerful motion. Kazuha gasped, her back arching as the hammock swayed beneath her, enhancing every movement. The gentle rocking, combined with the slow, deliberate rhythm of your thrusts, made every sensation more exquisite.

The angle was perfection—your hands gripping her hips tightly as you drove into her, each thrust deeper than the last. The hammock cradled her suspended at just the right height, her legs spread wide above her, offering herself to you entirely.

"Baby," you whispered against her ear, your voice thick with lust. "You feel so fucking good like this."

Kazuha could only moan in response, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pleasure mounted rapidly. Her body trembled beneath you, every thrust propelling her closer to the precipice of another shattering release. The way you manipulated the hammock to control her movements, adjusting her height and angle, made each plunge feel impossibly deep.

Your grip on her hips tightened, pulling her down onto you with every motion. "You're mine," you asserted, your thrusts growing harder, more intense as you watched her body react to yours. "Completely mine."

Kazuha whimpered, her legs quivering in the hammock as the pleasure spiraled faster and faster. She could feel herself teetering on the edge of another orgasm, her entire being trembling as you relentlessly drove her toward the brink.

"I... I can't...hold on, I need to cum" Kazuha moaned, her voice shaky with the effort to articulate the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

You smirked down at Kazuha, your eyes dark with the intensity of your longing. "Not yet," you growled, your thrusts slowing down just enough to keep her hanging on the brink. "Hold on longer for me." The playful yet commanding tone in your voice sent a shiver down her spine.

With a playful grin, you suddenly pushed her away slightly in the hammock, the fabric rocking her gently backwards. The momentum of the swing brought her body crashing back into yours, your length driving deeper inside her as the force of the motion sent shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Kazuha gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the hammock swung her back again, only to bring her crashing into your hips once more. Every swing sent you deeper, every impact more intense than the last, leaving her trembling and breathless.

Your hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as you repeated the motion, pushing her away and letting her swing back into you, the hammock amplifying the force of every thrust. Kazuha's entire body trembled beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure became too much to bear.

"Oh god—please," she whimpered, her body swinging back into you again. The rhythm of the hammock and your powerful thrusts left her breathless, the force of each movement driving you deeper into her.

You grinned darkly, watching her unravel beneath you. "You feel that, Zuha?" you growled, your eyes dark with lust. "You're taking every inch of me."

As her body swung back into you again, your thrusts became harder, stronger, each one meeting her with an overwhelming intensity. Kazuha's breath came in ragged gasps, her entire body trembling in the silks as she was rocked back and forth, every movement sending you deeper inside her.

But then, Kazuha instinctively leaned forward slightly, using her weight to move toward you as she swung back into your hips. Your eyes glinted with desire as you took the opportunity, grabbing her weightless body mid-swing and slamming her back into you with even more force.

Kazuha's body jolted violently with the impact, her eyes fluttering closed as you began pounding into her harder and harder, your thrusts driving her deeper with each movement. You weren't holding back anymore, your hands gripping her hips tightly as you met each swing with a powerful thrust that sent you even impossibly deep inside her.

Kazuha gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the pleasure became overwhelming. Her legs trembled, her entire body quivering uncontrollably in the hammock as you drove into her relentlessly. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her core, the sensation so intense that she could barely breathe.

"You're mine," you growled, your voice rough with desire. "All mine, Zuha, say it."

"I-I'm yours," she panted, "all yours, every part of me is claimed by you."

The force of your thrusts, combined with the swinging motion of the hammock, left Kazuha on the verge of collapse. Her vision blurred, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure consumed her. She could feel herself losing control, her body trembling violently as you pounded into her with unrelenting force.

"Please, can I cum, it's so deep," Kazuha whimpered, her voice trembling as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. Her legs were shaking, her entire body quivering as the intense pleasure pushed her closer and closer to the breaking point.

In response to her desperate plea, you reached out, your hands finding purchase on her weightless, hanging body. With a surge of strength, you brought her hips to meet yours with an unbelievable pace, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The hammock swayed wildly, a pendulum of passion, as you drove her further into the abyss of pleasure.

The world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you locked in a dance as old as time. The rhythm of your bodies moving in harmony, the crescendo building with each passionate stroke, was all that mattered. Kazuha's body arched, her muscles tensing as she finally surrendered to the overwhelming force within her.

You could feel it too—her body trembling, her warmth clenching around you as you drove into her faster and harder. You leaned down, your breath hot against her skin as you groaned, "Cum for me, baby." and with a cervix kissing thrust, you buried yourself deep inside her, holding Kazuha in place as her body convulsed in your arms.

She let out an ear piercing scream, her entire body shuddering as another orgasm tore through her, even more intense than the previous. Her legs quivered, her pussy clenching and pulsing around you as the waves of pleasure overtook her. It was a sight to behold—her body, a temple of ecstasy, responding to your touch with such unbridled intensity.

You weren’t far behind. You groaned loudly, resuming the rhythmic jerking of your hips as your own climax hit you hard. You released her hips and let go completely, pulling out of her just in time to finish. The force of your release sent streams of your hot, creamy seed spraying across Kazuha’s trembling body.

Thick streams of your essence splattered onto her slick, trembling pussy, coating her toned abs. even slightly reaching her flushed face. Kazuha gasped softly as she felt the warm sensation spread across her skin, her entire body still quivering from the intensity of her second orgasm.

Her abs flexed involuntarily with each aftershock, her muscles taut and trembling as you stood above her, panting heavily. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you watched the last drops of your release drip down her body, mixing with the sheen of sweat on her skin. For a moment, you couldn’t move, mesmerized by the sight of Kazuha’s limp, weightless form hanging in the air, her body gently swinging back and forth as she lay dazed and spent.

Kazuha’s legs twitched slightly, her eyes half-lidded as she floated in and out of consciousness, the aftershocks still rippling through her core. Her entire body quivered, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the hammock continued to sway gently beneath her. Her skin glistened in the low light, her muscles still trembling from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

Your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath, leaning over her slightly, captivated by the sight of her completely undone, quivering and dazed in the silks. You reached out, your fingers brushing softly over her slick abs, feeling the way her body twitched beneath your touch.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice still rough from the exertion. “That was incredible.”

Kazuha let out a soft, tired moan, her head rolling slightly as her body swung gently, still too weak to move. She was completely spent, her body trembling uncontrollably as the last waves of pleasure washed over her. Your touch lingered on her skin, the weight of your hand grounding her as she floated in a haze of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You watched her carefully, your heart pounding as you took in the sight of her—dazed, quivering, and utterly at your mercy. You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her sweat-slicked forehead before pulling back, letting her swing gently in the hammock, her body still pulsing from the intensity of what you’d shared.

The room was filled with the soft creaking of the hammock and the quiet sound of your ragged breathing. Kazuha’s body still quivered, her legs trembling as she hung limply in the silks, completely spent and overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that had just happened. Her head tilted back, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but her eyes, wide and filled with emotion, glistened with unshed tears.

Her lips parted as she tried to speak, her voice shaky and fragmented. “I... I love you...” she whispered, her breath catching as tears welled up in her eyes. “I... can’t... believe... it... was so...good”

Kazuha, her body still resonating with the aftershocks of an intense climax, lay in the hammock, its soft sway a mere whisper against the tumultuous feelings coursing through her. The tears that welled in her eyes were not born of sorrow but of an overwhelming sense of love and awe, a testament to the profound connection that had just been shared.

Your heart, as the observer of her vulnerability, swelled with a tender affection. Seeing her so exposed, her body quivering and her eyes brimming with love, triggered an instinctive desire within you to care for her, to ensure her well-being amidst the emotional tempest.

"Shh, Zuha," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm as you drew nearer, your words infused with warmth and concern. "I've got you, love. I know... I know it was a lot."

Her breath caught as she attempted once more to voice her feelings, her words barely audible through the tears that escaped down her cheeks. "I... I love you... so much," she whispered, her voice fractured by the intensity of her emotions. "I've never... felt anything like that..."

Your heart ached with the love you held for her, prompting you to gently brush away the tears that threatened to overshadow her beauty. Aware of her delicate state, you leaned in, your voice soft and reassuring as you spoke words of love and admiration.

"You're amazing, Zuha," you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of her face with a featherlight touch. "You did so well. You're perfect, and I love you so much."

The depth of her experience was etched in every tremble of her body, in every shaky breath she took. You remained by her side, your hands resting gently on her thighs, grounding her with your presence and steady voice.

Kazuha stirred, trying to sit up, her hands tugging slightly at the binds as if testing her strength, but her body, still tender and drained, struggled to obey. Determination flickered in her gaze, mingling with the vulnerability that softened her expression. Her movements were slight, every attempt revealing just how spent she truly was.

A gentle smile played across your lips as you reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder to soothe her, grounding her in your warmth and presence. "Shh, don’t rush it, Kazuha," you murmured, your tone calm and soft, laced with love and assurance. "I’ll help you down once you’re ready. Just rest for a little while longer, okay?"

She looked up at you, her breath still coming in soft, uneven waves, as she relaxed back into the hammock, her body trusting your support. She nodded slowly, her gaze melting into yours, comforted by your words, letting go of the need to rise too soon.

"It's okay," you soothed, your thumb making slow, comforting circles on her leg. "Just relax now, love, let me know when your ready"

As time passed, her breathing slowed, the tremors subsiding as her muscles relaxed and the tension melted away. You continued your soft-spoken assurances, allowing her the space and time she needed to find her equilibrium once more, your presence steady and unwavering, giving her the peace to simply be.

Her eyelids fluttered, a sign that the intensity was waning, and her breath found a steadier rhythm, though the evidence of her tears still clung to her lashes. A tender smile graced your lips as you watched her, her body finally still, the remnants of her trembling fading with each peaceful breath.

The hammock’s gentle rocking gradually ceased, and in the newfound stillness, you whispered her name, a note of concern lacing your voice. “Zuha?”

There was no reply. Her body, once wracked with the power of her emotions, now lay completely at ease. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, her breathing soft and regular.

“Zuha?” you called again, this time more softly, as you leaned in to check on her. It was then you realized she had succumbed to the overwhelming intensity of your shared experience, her body and mind surrendering to a state of unconsciousness.

For a moment, you simply watched her in the hammock, her body still weightless and suspended in the silks. Her legs, still folded above her, swayed ever so slightly, while her chest rose and fell with the soft rhythm of sleep. The sight of her, so completely at ease, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection. You couldn’t help but wear a tender smile, recognizing the profound journey you’d taken her on—a place of such intensity that it had left her completely spent, needing the solace of sleep to recuperate.

With a reverence that bordered on the sacred, you reached up to free her from the silks. Your hands moved with deliberate care, untangling her limbs with a gentleness that left her repose undisturbed. Kazuha’s body remained pliant in your hands, her breathing a steady lullaby as you unraveled her from the hammock’s embrace. Once she was free, you carefully gathered her into your arms. She was a dead weight, her energy sapped by the evening’s events, yet even in sleep, a serene smile lingered on her lips—a silent acknowledgment of the trust and comfort she found in your presence.

You carried her to the bedroom, a sanctuary where you could care for her further. As you laid her on the bed, you noticed the torn fabric of her yoga leggings, a lingering reminder of the night’s passion. With a gentle touch, you peeled the material away, revealing the marks of your shared intensity. Her skin, still glistening with the evidence of your release, told a story of pleasure and surrender.

Taking a soft cloth, you began to clean her, your touch as light as a whisper. You wiped her abs, her inner thighs, and finally, her face, tenderly removing the physical traces of your lovemaking. As you carefully slid off her sports bra, revealing her completely, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty that lay before you, still adorned with the subtle glow of shared ecstasy.

With the task complete, you set the cloth aside and slipped into bed beside her. Gently, you pulled the covers over both of you, then wrapped your arms around her, drawing her close. Instinctively, she curled into you, her head finding its natural resting place on your chest. In her sleep, she sought your warmth, her body molding to yours as she sighed in contentment.

Looking down at her, your heart brimmed with love and a fierce sense of protection. “I love you so much.” you whispered, your words a gentle benediction.

She remained in a deep, peaceful sleep, her body in a state of perfect repose, but your words hung in the air, a silent vow that enveloped the room. You held her, a guardian in the quietude, feeling the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing as it matched your own. This moment, so intimate and tender, carried its own weight, its own significance, a quiet testament to the depth of your relationship.

As you lay together, the silence of the bedroom wrapped around you like a cocoon. The love you felt for her, magnified by the vulnerability and trust you’d both embraced, filled you with a profound sense of gratitude. The experiences you’d shared had woven your lives even closer, deepening a connection that felt boundless.

With Kazuha nestled safely in your arms, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of your shared love settle around you. In this quiet, contented space, you drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that what you shared was rare and precious. And in the sanctity of the night, the two of you rested, wrapped in the certainty of your love.

[juneyjubilation]

Childhood Friends to Lovers - Dick Grayson x Reader

Dick Grayson and you, childhood friends who grew up together as circus performers, finding yourselves in a secret relationship. The road to love was not an easy one, but the two of you finally took the leap and admitted your feelings for each other. Now, you both have to navigate the challenges of keeping your relationship a secret, all while trying to protect each other from the dangers that come with being a part of the superhero world.

Oh boy this one got long. I hope you all enjoy :) 

. . .

You were a child when you first met Dick Grayson, the only son of John and Mary Grayson, the Flying Graysons, a family of trapeze artists who performed in a traveling circus. You were a member of the Aerial Silks act, and it was there that you first laid eyes on the young Dick, swinging through the air with a grace and skill that left you in awe.

Dick was a few years older than you, but as the years went by, you found yourself spending more and more time with him. The two of you would often sneak off during performances to explore the circus grounds, and you both shared a love for the thrill of the spotlight.

As you grew older, your relationship blossomed into something more, and you both found yourselves falling in love. You were the aerial silks performer, and he was the trapeze artist, and together, you were unstoppable. You were the perfect couple, the childhood sweethearts who had grown up together and found love in the most unexpected of places.

The day Dick Grayson was supposed to debut for the crowd was one that would forever be etched in your memory. It was a day of excitement and anticipation, as the circus crew of Haly's Circus prepared for the night's performance. You could feel the energy in the air, everyone buzzing with excitement for Dick's big moment.

You watched from the side of the stage as the Flying Graysons took their positions. Dick's parents, John and Mary, were in their element, the trapeze swinging gently between them. The crowd roared with approval as the music started and the act began, the Graysons' movements fluid and precise.

But then, in a heartbeat, everything changed. A sickening snap echoed through the tent, and the trapeze jerked violently, sending John and Mary plummeting towards the ground. You couldn't move, frozen in horror as you watched Dick's parents fall, their hands desperately reaching for anything to save them.

The silence that followed was deafening, and in the chaos that ensued, you frantically searched for Dick. You found him sitting on the ground, his face buried in his hands, sobs wracking his small body. Cops and CPS workers swarmed around him, their voices a blur as they tried to make sense of the tragedy.

In the midst of the chaos, you saw Bruce Wayne, the billionaire owner of the circus, standing off to the side. He looked devastated, his eyes fixed on Dick as he approached the boy. You watched, your heart breaking, as Bruce took Dick into his care, promising to look after him, to give him a home and a family.

You didn't know what the future held for Dick that night, but you knew that your lives had been forever altered by the cruel hand of fate. All you could do was hope that Bruce Wayne would take care of the boy you held so close to your heart.

. . .

And the world spun on, despite the loss of Mary and John Grayson. The days kept going, even without the sunshine that Dick Grayson had become for you. For a long time after that night, the world seemed bleak and colorless.

That was until you began to paint, desperate to try and mimic the vibrancy of the circus you once knew.

It was a surreal moment, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you looked at your creations. They were a far cry from the aerial silks you used to perform with, but they were just as beautiful in their own way.

The art gallery was abuzz with activity, the chatter of people mingling with the soft strains of classical music. The room was filled with an eclectic mix of people, dressed in their finest, all gathered to witness the unveiling of your art.

Your paintings were the centerpiece of the event, displayed on the walls in a tasteful arrangement. The room was dimly lit, spotlights highlighting each piece, allowing the vibrant colors to pop and draw the eye. A mix of abstract and realistic, your art told stories of love, loss, and the beauty of the world.

You stood by the entrance, greeting guests as they arrived, your smile warm and inviting. Your hair was styled in loose curls, framing your face, and you wore a dress that matched the vibrancy of your art.

Servers moved through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, while in the corner, a jazz quartet played softly, the music adding to the festive atmosphere.

The buzz of conversation grew louder as the night wore on, the room filled with the sounds of people enjoying themselves, appreciating the art that you had poured your heart and soul into. It was a night of pride and accomplishment, a testament to the journey you had taken from a child performing in a circus to a renowned artist.

Amidst the sea of people, a familiar person stood out, his tall frame and sharp features making it easy to pick him out from the crowd. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized who he was. Dick Grayson, your Flying Grayson, the boy who had once been your everything - now grown. His dark hair was neatly styled, and he wore a well-tailored suit that hugged his lean, muscular frame.

He looked different now, older and more worn, but there was still that spark in his eyes that you remembered so well.

As you watched him, you were struck by the familiarity of his movements, the way he carried himself with an air of confidence and purpose. Even after all these years, there was something about him that drew your gaze, a spark that still lingered in your heart.

Dick's expression was serious as he moved through the crowd, talking to people with the ease of someone who was comfortable in any situation. A part of you ached, knowing that this was the man you once shared your dreams with, the boy who had lost so much, yet still managed to stand tall.

In that moment, as your eyes met from across the room, a jolt of recognition coursed through you, a reminder of the connection that still lingered between the two of you. Dick's eyes widened slightly, as if he recognized you too, and then he smiled, a genuine and warm expression that sent a shiver down your spine.

You found yourself drawn to him, making your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. As you approached, you could see the relief and happiness in Dick's eyes, and for a moment, it was as if no time had passed between the two of you.

As you approached Dick, you couldn't help but smile, your nerves settling as he greeted you with a warm hug. "It's been too long," he murmured, his voice a familiar comfort.

You laughed, your eyes meeting his as you pulled back, taking in the sight of him. "It has been," you agreed, your heart fluttering at the closeness. "But it's good to see you."

Dick nodded, his expression turning serious for a moment. "I've missed you," he admitted, his voice low. "I never got to say goodbye, after... everything."

Your heart clenched, the memories of that fateful night coming back to haunt you. "I missed you too," you whispered, your hand reaching out to touch his. "I never stopped thinking of you, wondering if you were okay."

Dick's eyes softened, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I'm okay," he reassured you. "I've had a lot to deal with, but I'm okay."

You nodded, understanding the weight of the words. "I'm glad," you said, your voice sincere. "I'm glad you're okay."

Dick's smile grew, and he released your hand, gesturing to the art around you. "This is amazing. I'm not surprised, though, you've always had a talent for bringing stories to life."

You beamed, proud of your work and grateful for the compliment. "Thank you, Dick. It's something I've always loved, and now, I get to share it with the world."

He nodded, his gaze taking in the art around you. "You're making your mark, just like you always said you would."

"And you've done the same," you pointed out, nodding to his suit. "You're a successful businessman, and I've heard whispers of an up-and-coming philanthropist in Blüdhaven?"

Dick's smile turned wry, and he looked away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. 

"Yeah, well, some things change, and some things stay the same, I guess." Dick replied, his voice holding a hint of nostalgia. "And now, here you are, the rising star of the art world."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I never thought I'd be standing here, in a fancy gallery, with my paintings on the walls," you admitted, gesturing around the room.

Dick's eyes sparkled with admiration. "You've come a long way. I'm not surprised, though. You always had the drive, the passion."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thanks, Dick. It's good to see you again, to know that you're still out there, doing your own thing."

He nodded, leaning in closer. "I've missed you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "And I'm glad I ran into you tonight."

You felt your heart skip a beat, the intensity of those words making your breath catch in your throat. "I'm glad too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The two of you stood there for a moment, lost in each other's gaze, the years that had passed seemingly melting away.

Dick's hand reached out, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "Let's catch up," he suggested, his smile drawing you in. "There's a lot to talk about, a lot of time to make up for."

You nodded, your heart pounding as you took his hand. "Yes," you agreed, the promise of rekindling your friendship and exploring the newfound feelings between you both filling you with excitement and anticipation. "Let's catch up."

The two of you stood there for a moment, the connection between you palpable. Then, Dick glanced at his watch, his expression turning apologetic. "I should get going," he murmured. "I have somewhere I need to be."

Your heart sank at the thought of him leaving, but you nodded understandingly. "Oh…" you said, your voice soft, trying to not let on how tightly disappointment gripped your heart.

Dick's smile was apologetic as he turned to leave, his hand lingering on your arm before releasing it. "I'm sorry. I really wanted to stay and catch up, but duty calls," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, understanding that he had responsibilities he couldn't ignore. "It's okay," you reassured him, your heart aching at the thought of him leaving. "I'm glad you were able to come, though."

Dick's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something there, something that made your breath catch in your throat. Then, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd without another word.

You had thought you’d gotten over your silly childhood crush on Dick Grayson, but you couldn't help but watch him go, your heart aching with a mix of love and longing.

As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin, leaving you to mingle with the remaining guests and art critics. The soft strains of jazz continued to play, the room bathed in the warm glow of the spotlights, highlighting your artwork.

Suddenly, the mood shifted, the atmosphere growing tense as a group of thugs, armed with guns, burst through the doors. The room erupted into chaos as people scrambled for safety. You found yourself pushed against a wall, your heart pounding in your chest as the thugs rounded up the remaining guests, including you and five others.

The leader of the group, a burly man with a scowl, approached you, his gun pressing against your temple. "Don't move, or your friends die," he growled, his voice laced with menace.

You didn’t know these people, but that didn’t matter. You weren’t going to condemn these people to death over your art.

The other thugs herded the rest of the hostages into the center of the room, their weapons trained on the group. The once-festive atmosphere had been replaced with the heavy scent of fear and adrenaline.

One of the thugs approached the art, his eyes gleaming as he studied the pieces. "Let's see what kind of loot we have here," he said, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

As the heist unfolded, you could do nothing but watch, your mind racing as you tried to think of a way to escape the dangerous situation. The once-celebratory event had turned into a nightmare, and all you could do was hope for a swift resolution.

Just as the thugs began to load your artwork onto a waiting truck, the sound of a zip line echoed through the gallery. A dark figure swooped down, landing gracefully in the middle of the chaos.

Nightwing.

The thugs' eyes widened in surprise as he disarmed one of them, sending him stumbling backward. The other thugs, realizing they were in over their heads, started to panic, their guns wavering.

Nightwing moved with preternatural speed, his batons flying through the air, striking his targets with precision. The hostages, including you, watched in awe as he took down the thugs one by one.

The leader, sensing defeat, made a desperate move towards you, his gun raised. Nightwing was quicker, his escrima stick connecting with the man's wrist, sending the gun skittering across the floor.

The thug was subdued, and Nightwing turned to the others, his eyes dark with determination. "Everyone, stay down," he ordered, his voice firm but calm.

As the thugs were rounded up, Nightwing made his way to the hostages, helping them up. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, you felt a spark of recognition.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

You nodded, still shaken by the ordeal. "Yeah, thanks to you," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

Nightwing offered you a reassuring smile, his eyes never leaving yours. "Glad to be of service," he said, his voice brimming with the same intensity you remembered from your childhood.

As Nightwing helped the other hostages, your thoughts raced, piecing together the evidence from the encounter. The smile, so familiar and warm, the way he moved, with the grace and agility you remembered, and the way he had flown in on a zip line - the very same way you'd seen him do tricks in the circus.

Your heart began to race, the realization dawning on you. It couldn't be. But as he turned back to you, his eyes meeting yours once more, there was no denying it.

Nightwing was Dick Grayson.

The boy you'd once shared your dreams with, the man you'd reconnected with earlier that evening, was now standing before you in his crime-fighting persona. The shock and delight mingled, leaving you reeling.

As the last of the thugs were subdued and the night grew quiet, Dick's gaze returned to you, his expression softening as he noticed your trembling form. He approached you, his hands gentle as he guided you away from the chaos.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "That was quite a scare."

You nodded, still trying to process the events that had just unfolded. As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but notice how familiar they seemed, how much they reminded you of the boy you once knew.

You glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot. As you were sure the coast was clear, you leaned in closer to him, your voice dropping to a murmur.

"Dick," you said, your words barely audible. "That's you under that mask, right...?"

Dick's eyes widened slightly at your whispered question, a flicker of surprise and a brief flicker of panic crossing his features. He hesitated for a moment, before nodding begrudgingly, his voice dropping to match yours in volume. "Guilty as charged," he replied, his voice low and incredulous, "how’d you know?"

You smiled, your heart pounding with excitement. "Because I know you, Dick Grayson," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of awe and amusement. "And I know that only you could pull off a stunt like that."

Dick's smile grew, his eyes softening as he looked at you, the tension he'd been holding on to dissipating. "I guess I can't keep everything a secret from you," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of nostalgia.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a sense of pride and affection. "No, I guess not," you agreed, your hand reaching out to touch his arm.

The two of you stood there, lost in each other's gaze, the chaos of the night fading away. The reunion of old friends, turned into something more, as you realized that the bond between you transcended time and circumstances.

Dick's hand reached out, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek, just like it had earlier that evening. "Let's catch up," he suggested, his smile drawing you in. "There's a lot to talk about, a lot of time to make up for."

. . .

Days after the heist, you found yourself sitting in a small, dimly-lit café, the warmth of a steaming cup of coffee enveloping your hands. The room was filled with the soothing sounds of a jazz quartet playing in the background.

You glanced up as Dick entered, his dark eyes meeting yours across the room. He approached your table, his smile brightening the space around him.

"Hey," he said, taking a seat opposite you. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"About last week?" you asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Dick chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, that too. But there's something else I need to discuss with you."

You nodded, your curiosity piqued.

"Look," Dick began, his voice low and serious, "this life, it's dangerous. I can't have anyone I care about getting hurt because of me."

Your heart clenched at his words, understanding the weight of his responsibility. "I understand," you replied, your voice soft. "But what about us?"

“We need to keep… this a secret, at least for now. It's for your safety," Dick hesitated, his expression pained. "I know. It's a lot to process."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I'm scared," you admitted. "Scared of what this means, of what it could put you through."

Dick's expression softened, his hand reaching out to brush against your cheek once more. "I know," he said. "And I'm scared too. But I don't regret a moment of that night. I don't regret being here with you."

"The connection we share means too much to me, you mean too much to me," Dick continued, his voice filled with conviction. "And I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. But for now, we need to keep this between us."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected there. A lump formed in your throat as you nodded, accepting the reality of the situation.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice wavering. "Let's do this."

Dick's smile was tender, his thumb brushing against your cheek once more. "Thank you," he said, his voice low and filled with gratitude. 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, your hands brushing against each other, a silent promise of the love and commitment you shared, despite the secrets that bound you. Together, you'd face the challenges that lay ahead, trusting in the bond that had brought you back together, stronger than ever.

. . .

You sat in a bustling café, your eyes scanning the room as you sipped your coffee. Your heart raced with anticipation, knowing that Dick would be joining you soon. The coded message had been clear: "Meet me at the park with the red bench, our table will be the one with the most books."

A few minutes later, you spotted Dick entering the park, his eyes scanning the area as he approached. He took a seat at the designated table, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he pretended to leaf through one of the books.

You made your way over, your heart pounding in your chest. "Mind if I join you?" you asked, feigning innocence.

Dick looked up, his eyes brightening. "Not at all," he replied, his voice low and filled with mirth. "Unless you're here for one of these literary masterpieces."

You laughed, taking a seat opposite him. "No, I'm afraid not," you said, your voice just as low. "I was just looking for a nice, quiet place to read."

You both settled into your roles, chatting casually about books while your hands brushed against each other under the table. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the sweet thrill of secrecy.

As the afternoon turned into evening, you and Dick continued to share stolen moments, laughing and reminiscing about old times. The park's red bench was now a symbol of your forbidden love, a beacon of warmth amidst the chaos of your lives.

In this public, yet private, space, the two of you could be free, if only for a little while. The coded messages and secret rendezvous were a testament to the depth of your feelings, a shared secret that only you and Dick knew.

. . .

You stood in the kitchen of your modest apartment, the scent of garlic and rosemary wafting through the air. The meal you were preparing was simple, yet hearty, perfect for a quiet evening at home.

The doorbell rang, and you quickly made your way to answer it. Dick stood on the other side, his smile warm as he stepped in. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble," he said, his voice low and filled with gratitude.

"Oh, come on," you replied, playfully swatting his arm. "I enjoy cooking. Plus, it's not every day I get to have a superhero over for dinner."

Dick chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'll try not to disappoint," he said, helping you carry the dishes to the table.

The two of you settled in, the silence in the room punctuated by the sounds of cutlery clinking against plates and the occasional sip of wine. As you ate, you found yourselves slipping back into easy conversation, the familiarity between you like a comforting blanket.

After dinner, you moved to the living room, curling up on the couch together. You watched a movie, your legs intertwined and your heads resting against each other, the world outside fading away.

Later, as you lay in your bed, your arms wrapped around each other, you felt safe and content. The intimacy of the evening provided a stark contrast to the danger and excitement that defined Dick's life as Nightwing.

In these moments, the two of you could simply be, enjoying the simple pleasures of being together. The quiet moments, the stolen kisses, the whispers of love and affection that passed between you.

The private dinners, the intimate nights shared in each other's homes, were a balm for your souls, a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounded you.

. . .

You sat in front of your laptop, the screen glowing as you opened up the encrypted messaging app. You had to be careful, you couldn't let anyone see your communication with Dick. It was a risk, but one you had to take if you wanted to keep your relationship safe.

You typed out a message, your fingers flying across the keys. "Hey, I miss you. When can we meet up next?" you asked, your heart pounding with anticipation.

A few minutes later, a response popped up on your screen. "I miss you too. I can make it tonight at 7 pm. Meet me at the usual spot," Dick wrote, his words a promise of the love and passion that you both shared.

You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness. You couldn't wait to see him, to be in his arms again. You quickly typed out a response, your words filled with longing. "I'll be there. Can't wait to see you."

The two of you continued to communicate, your words flowing back and forth between you. You talked about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other's company. The encrypted messaging app provided a safe space for you to express your love and affection for each other, without fear of unwanted surveillance.

As the night wore on, you found yourself getting ready for your meeting with Dick. You put on your best outfit, your heart fluttering with excitement. You knew that you had to be careful, that the world around you was dangerous and unpredictable.

But in this moment, you didn't care. You just wanted to be with Dick, to enjoy each other's company. The world could wait, but your love for each other couldn't. You knew that you would do anything to keep your relationship safe, to protect it from those who would try to tear you apart.

. . .

You and Dick sat in a dimly lit corner of a crowded restaurant, your eyes locked on each other as you whispered. "So, what do you think?" Dick asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I think it's perfect," you replied, your smile brightening the space between you. "We'll say we met through work, that I'm a consultant for Wayne Enterprises."

Dick's eyes widened, and you could see the gears turning in his head. "And I'm pretty high up in the ranks," he added, his voice filled with mirth. "Everyone knows how I'm always looking for new talent."

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Exactly. It'll be believable, and it'll explain our frequent meetings."

A waiter approached, and you both ordered your meals, your hands brushing against each other for a brief moment. The world around you blurred, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of your secret.

After the waiter left, you continued to discuss the finer details of your cover story. You decided that you would occasionally be seen working late hours at Wayne Enterprises, giving the appearance that your professional relationship was genuine.

Dick, always the strategic planner, suggested that you could be seen at charity events and fundraisers, further solidifying the façade. You agreed, your heart swelling with gratitude for his thoughtfulness.

As the night wore on, the two of you continued to enjoy each other's company, always mindful of the world around you. You knew that you had to be cautious, that the truth of your relationship couldn't be revealed.

. . .

The opulent ballroom was filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft strains of a string quartet. You and Dick stood together, your eyes locked on each other as you navigated the sea of people.

Dick's arm rested lightly on your waist, a gesture that was both protective and casual. It was a perfect display of your professional relationship, one that you had worked diligently to craft.

As you chatted with a group of people, you noticed a man eyeing you with interest. He approached, his smile charming and disarming. "Excuse me, miss, but I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. You're simply stunning," he said, his voice smooth and seductive.

Your gaze flicked to Dick, and you could see the trust and understanding in his eyes. You knew that you had to handle this situation with discretion, without revealing anything about your true relationship.

"Thank you," you replied, your smile warm but distant. "Unfortunately, I'm with someone tonight. But perhaps another time?"

The man's smile faltered for a moment before he recovered. "Of course, another time. It was a pleasure to meet you," he said, bowing slightly before moving on.

You turned back to the group, your heart beating with gratitude for Dick's unspoken support. The trust and discretion that you both shared were the backbone of your relationship, allowing you to navigate the complex world around you.

Throughout the evening, you and Dick continued to mingle, always mindful of each other's whereabouts. You exchanged subtle glances, your eyes filled with love and understanding.

You and Dick stood side by side, watching the crowd as you sipped your champagne. "I thought for sure he was going to try to hit on you," you said, your voice low and filled with amusement.

Dick's eyebrows shot up, and he let out a deep laugh. "Really? Why would you think that?" he asked, his voice equally as low.

You shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Well, you're the one who's usually surrounded by women," you said, your voice light and teasing. "I thought you were just taking a break from all the attention tonight."

Dick's laughter filled the air, his eyes sparkling with humor. "Oh, I'm always getting attention," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "But I guess I'm just too used to it to notice."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Well, it's a good thing I'm here to help you fend them off," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Dick chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I'll definitely take all the help I can get," he replied, his voice filled with mock seriousness.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man who stood before you. "Well, you'll always have my attention," you said, your voice soft and filled with emotion.

Dick's expression softened, and he lowered his champagne glass. "I know," he whispered, his eyes filled with love and adoration. "And you'll always have mine."

The two of you continued to talk, your conversation peppered with quiet humor and playful jabs. You reveled in the simple pleasure of being together, the world around you fading away as you basked in each other's company.

. . .

Outside of Dick's inner circle and your closest friends, very few people would know about your relationship. You both took great care to maintain your cover story, ensuring that your interactions appeared professional and casual.

Dick's staff at Wayne Enterprises would know you as a consultant, a frequent visitor to the offices, and an occasional guest at charity events. They'd see you working late hours or having meetings in Dick's office but would assume it was all part of your professional relationship.

Similarly, your friends might notice that you often hang out with Dick but would be told about your professional connection.

Both Dick and you were careful to avoid any actions that could be misconstrued as intimate or compromising. You would always have a plausible explanation for your whereabouts and interactions.

The only people aware of your true relationship would be those you trust explicitly, such as Dick's closest confidants or your dearest friends. They would understand the importance of keeping your relationship a secret and would respect your desire for privacy.

In essence, you had created a web of intricate lies and half-truths to protect your love. It was a delicate dance, but one that the two of you had mastered, ensuring that your relationship remained a secret, shielded from prying eyes.

[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.”

[izzabela]

i beg thee… more cod stuff.. specifically kyle gaz garrick hitting it from the back.. or the front.. or the side..

PLEASE WOMEAS EOKEAS ELEMA SE PLEASE

Acrobat - Gaz x f!reader

in which Gaz is quite flexible

a/n: i was so convinced lewis hamilton was his CGI face...

ship[s]: kyle "gaz" garrick x fem!reader

warning(s): MDNI- graphic descriptions of sex, mirror fucking, spanking, little dirty talk, multiple positions, semi-aerial fucking, bondage, fluff in the beginning, oh gaz...

You really wish you could shut up sometimes.

Birds chirp the loudest in the morning, but where nature seeks reprimand with apex predators and hunters, your punishment is a man named Kyle fucking Garrick.

"You've quite the bend, soldier," you teased him that morning. "Back's killin' me now..."

And when Gaz replied with a sickeningly sweet "I can help"? You should've realized you stepped in a bear trap.

It started with the yoga lessons. He brought you to the studio he frequents whenever on a day off or leave, a pretty nice studio on the busy streets of London. It wasn't all that bad either, especially with how slow Gaz was going with you.

Despite him being in the hardest difficulty of this yoga studio, he took the time to join the beginner classes with you. He made sure to push your limits when he saw you were about to master a skill, or he helped you out with some poses with kind, yet firm, pointers and demonstration.

And when you didn't have time to go out? He was your personal yoga instructor.

Back arched beyond human flexibility, Gaz kisses the tip of his head to your cervix, bruising it over and over again with how deep he's punching in. Between the perverted slapping of his thighs on the fat of your bum, to the little hiccups of your broken sobs, and the hoarse moaning from your pretty little beak... it was music to Kyle's ears.

"Aw, bird," he coos as he squeezes the supple fat of your ass, "Downward doggy shouldn't be so hard to do..."

You felt like a dumb dog, falling victim to a trappers cruel antics. You couldn't respond to him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the rhythmic pounding of his hips into your ass made you drool and moan for more.

"Got me a dumb mutt..." he spanks your ass again, and again, and again.

And you couldn't be mad at him, because the yoga lessons were really helping! If you had a pretty pence for every time you felt the aches of night time acrobatics leave, you'd be a fucking millionaire. But flexibility lessons didn't stop there.

Gaz took you to a silks studio next. A graduate from the basics of flexibility and mobility, you were moving on to the next parts of Gaz's torture.

It's hard for you to imagine a man to do silks, it's even harder when a man of Gaz's stature and history does silks. Then again, Gaz has always been somewhat lean compared to his comrades. Yes, he still has meaty and round bulbed flesh he calls "muscles", but he was rather lean, a little smaller, and moved a little quicker than the others.

When seeing Gaz lift himself effortlessly on the fabric, wrapping himself up in different patterns and movements, falling- practically floating- gracefully from the ceiling to the ground- you wanted to be that man.

Unfortunately, it would take a lot more for you to be at his level. For now, you stuck with twirls, core-stimulating moves, and full-body poses using all of the fabric. And just like the yoga studio, Gaz would always help you out.

Even at home! Gaz sets up a mirror, takes out his silks from the closet, and unhooks the hanging light from the hook in the ceiling (since when was that there?). Making sure the rope is tight up top, you begin to practice your moves learned from the studio.

Although, "practice" should've had fine print with Gaz. The minute you get into position in the silks, belly facing up, you're stuck (fucking wonderful). Spread like a flayed fish (or a Michelin-starred meal), Gaz takes this opportunity to rip your leggings off, one hand on your back while the other gripping your ass.

You're trying to wriggle out of the silks, but a quick pinch and the vibrations of his "tsk tsk tsk", you're stuck for real. Reluctantly accepting (embracing, he'd argue), Gaz lapped your juices up like a starving animal. Ravished on your folds, digging his tongue inside of you while he moves his hand from your arse to your clit. Pinching, lightly pulling, rubbing- the sensation from his talented tongue and his fingers made you cum not once... not twice...

three times before he gently caught you from the air. Carrying you to the bed to be cleaned up by him and the same hands that made you peak so many times.

And as much as you wanted to be angry with him, the knots that disappeared from your back told you to sit down.

You stopped talking back when Gaz took you to a pilates class. There's no shock anymore, just pure and unbridled confusion watching Gaz not break a damn sweat while on that whole... thingy-majigger... in the most uncomfortable positions.

You try your damn-dest too, but you haven't been in a gym proper since grade school- and since when did these gyms have these fancy workout machines?

Still, Gaz helps you out like the rotten peach he is. Holding your hands when you're visibly shaking on the platform. Hand pressed on the small of your back as his other hand is resting on your tummy.

And speaking of your tummy, Gaz is pressing on the lower part of your belly as he pistons right in your gummy walls. So tight and wet, and the fact you're squeezing with his mating press is making him go insane.

While his hand is there, the other holds your leg up and out, like one of those pilates poses. Though, you're on the bed- still, it doesn't take away from the stimulation of your cunt being abused, and your core burning from holding position.

"K-kyl- Ga-" you stutter the multiple identities this man has, and he chuckles at your indecisiveness.

"Hold fo' a bi' longer..." he grits out, hips slamming into your tight cunt as your core twists and you climax. Doesn't matter though, not when Gaz hasn't reached his limit.

"A bi' longer dove... c'mon, fo' me," he tries to hide the slight falter in his voice, but it's no use as you squeezes again (despite the overstim of your cunt).

After this, you don't whine or complain since the aches have disappeared completely. He really is an acrobat, flexible fucker.

And as all great acrobats do, they can't go without practice- and thank goodness you're up to the task now.

=====================

guys i just had the fattest meal and i'm about to clock out for the night (i live in the US)

see yall in the next fic!

[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.

[amalthea-felsblood]

｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ｡｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ｡Basics｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ｡｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ｡

Name ◦ Marian Varlineau

✦Nicknames✦

Mari ◦ Only people she's close with can call her this. *trust don't try it.

MarMar ◦ The orphan children of Ishgard call her this; she considers them all her own.

Roaring Wind ◦ Given to her by her father, Strong Wave *she was a force to be reckoned with as a child.

Age ◦ 35

Nameday ◦ 10th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race ◦ Hyur

Gender ◦ Female she/they

Orientation ◦ Pan

Profession ◦ Ishgardian Knight/The Blood Dragoon, Blacksmith/Goldsmith in training

✦Physical Aspects✦

Hair ∘ Raven black at birth but is now drained to grey and blue from plunging into the void far too often.

Eyes ∘ Blue at birth also drained to gray; her eyesight wasn't affected.

Skin ∘ Fair-skinned at birth, drained to more of that of a corpse.

Tattoos/Scars ∘ No tattoos, but her body holds many scars, cuts from blades to deep bites marks from fiends.

✦Family✦

Strong Wave Father, former Limsa guardsmen 

Currently ∘ Alive and enjoying retirement as a fisherman.

Ovort Drudaut Father, former Ishgardian chocobo trainer

Currently ∘ Alive and is also enjoying retirement with his beloved.

Siblings ∘ None to speak of.

Grandparents ∘ Her parents spoke of them but never had the urge to ever go see them.

✦In-laws and Others✦

Alberic Bale Estinien's adoptive father and mentor. When Marian is on patrol, she always takes the time to visit him. She keeps him informed about Estinien, so he'll never have to worry.

Gethwine Cherrier She was an elderly neighbor to her parents when they had a home in Ul'dah together. When Marian was a baby, she was left on her doorstep. Her parents stepped in, noticing Mrs.Cherrier struggling to care for Marian on her own, and they've loved her as their own ever since.

Pets ∘ None at the moment, but she has an affinity for birds.

✦Skills✦

Ground lancer ∘ Strong thrusts and stabs

Aerial lancer/Dragoon ∘ High jumps and piercing

Hunter ∘ Be it man or fiend, she will find it.

Hobbies ∘ Learning Ishgardian customs and cuisines, keeping gear and weapons maintained, growing flowers, and making toys for children.

✦Traits✦

Most Positive Trait ∘ Determination No matter how hopeless something may seem, she will go on, even if it means her end.

Most Negative Trait ∘ Self-righteousness She will sometimes put herself upon a pedestal, only to be humbled later. *she never learns.

✦Likes✦

Colors ∘ Dusty blue, blood red, black, royal blue

Smells ∘ Mountain air, seaside, patchouli, smoke, old steel, dried blood

Textures ∘ Flower petals, cold steel, rough leather, silk sheets

Drinks ∘ Hot chocolate and any strong ales or wines

✦Other Details✦

Smokes ∘ When stressed or traveling, she will use the kiseru.

Drinks ∘ Heavily *she doesn't want to talk about it.

Drugs ∘ She messed around with a few things in her youth, but nothing crazy.

Mount Issuance ∘ Lir is her faithful chocobo, and since her father was a skilled chocobo trainer, he became her mentor, sharing with her all the secrets for the perfect bond.

Been Arrested ∘ Yes, penalty of tavern fights. *she never starts it; she only finishes it.

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Thank you for tagging me @ubejamjar@avampyone@idalenn ❤

@starrysnowdrop@notarchonzachlol@izayoiri@captainqster@damian-elero@madalyn-maeve

Please feel free to make one!

[bullet-prooflove]

Hii! Could I please ask for No. 11 on the Thursday ‘Queen of the Night’ Radio Prompt List "Fight so dirty, but you love so sweet" with Porthos from The Musketeers? Thank you! 💗

Thank you so much for requesting this man! This one got away from me completely.

References to Ruin (NSFW) - Where Aramis's partner Evangline owns Eden, which showcases alternative forms of entertainment for the upperclasses.

You always fight dirty when it comes to Porthos and the worst part is he knows it. It always starts with a slip, something to get his blood pumping, his heart racing as he watches you on those aerial silks during your practice sessions.

You initiate a drop and adrenaline surges because he’s positive this is going to be the time you don’t catch yourself, this is going to be the time you fall.

But you don’t, you never do.

And he thanks the Lord every single time.

“You scare the hell out of me.” He tells you in the aftermath, his lips chasing up the curve of your throat. He has you pressed against the door of the practice room, his body flush against yours.

There’s a sensuality to what you do, he thinks it’s to do with the way the silk drapes across your skin, the fluidity of the movements. Your performances are always intimate, invitations issued to a small set of patrons. It creates a relationship between you and the audience, a connection. Your shows, they always sell out.

You’re Eden’s most sought after performer, he’s lost count of the amount of men who’ve tried to woo you, who’ve tried to buy you for a night.

“Sorry that one is not for sale.” Evangeline always tells them and he relishes the disappointment in their faces because there’s one man you have eyes for and it will never be any of them.

“I thought you liked a little adventure.” You tease him, your fingers tangling in his curls as his hands begin to wander underneath the fitted white cotton shirt you wear for practice.

“I do.” He mumbles against your jaw, his hips slotting perfectly against yours as he draws your thighs up around his waist. “I just like it more in the bedroom when you use those silks to…”

You silence him with a kiss, and he moans into your mouth, thrusting up against your molten core. He’s been hard since the boat trick, the one where you balance between the two silks and arch your spine just right, your head had tipped back as your arm reaches out. It had reminded him of the other night, the sight of you in the throes of ecstasy, body taut as you climaxed on his cock.

He couldn’t help but kiss you in that moment and you had laughed, chiding him for interrupting your practice before gracefully untangling yourself. Everything after that has been a blissful torture, every single motion, every movement making his dick leak within the confines of his breeches.

“Tell me you’re coming tonight.” You whisper against his lips and he smiles as his calloused palms begin to draw down the light cotton breeches you’re wearing.

“Not until I’ve made you come first.”

Tagging: @pansexualhailstorm @missyhoneybee @kmc1989 sweetpeaswife imherenowkk angelnyx��reader6898 missflutterlhamaa magic-multicolored-miracle  keyweegirlie

[mariamermaid]

Joelle, Chapter 3

Summary: Joelle Coleman lived, since she could remember, in the circus. In the year 1936 there was a time, where the circus la d'or rosé came to New York, where it pitched its tents and planned on staying there over the winter break. For exactly three months Jo would stay in New York and go hunt her little adventures. The winter of 1936 in New York changes everything and her fate becomes entangled with that of the so-called Winter Soldier.

Words: 1.3k

Warning: Swearing, Alcohol

Masterlist

30th November, 1936

"Hey is..." 

Gustav interrupted him before he was able to even finish his question. 

"She is in there." He said, his voice deep and rough as always. He nodded and followed the showed direction. He slipped through the curtains of the tent and entered a big room. Many wooden boxes laid around. Props and costumes formed a jungle and, in the middle, a large area to move freely. The floor was wooden as well, and the beams held the heavy tent. One headlight enlightened the room and the air was filled with dust. From a beam hung an aerial silk. There she was. Just as magical as on the first evening he had seen her. With delicate and swift movements, she glided through the air. The dust around her, seemed to change into light shadows flowing around her. The motion seemed feathery and with ease she pulled herself up, then spinning again. But there was strength in her movement. 

Bucky knew she made it seem easy, but a lot of work went into it. He didn't even think of interrupting and just stood there, watching. Watching her finger play in the air, watching her hair flow, watching her body move into complicated poses. She sat in the silks, then leaned back. Her feet intertwined with the aerials and her upper body and arms hung loose. Her eyes met his.

 "You don't have to come to every show, you know that?" He smiled, leaning against a beam. 

"I know. But I like watching you." She laughed quietly. She turned so her chest pointed towards the ground, one leg was still intertwined with the silk, the other was stretched out. With one hand she held herself, the other reached towards Bucky. He came closer, now only standing a few feet away. But Joelle was still higher up. Then suddenly she spun and began to fall down. Bucky had seen her do the trick before, but now in close-up it was even more impressive. When she reached his height, her right hand was caught up in the aerial silk and her body stretched down in a fluent motion. When her tiptoes touched the floor, she let go and finally stood normal in front of him. She walked past him and took a bottle of water from a box. 

"Why are you here?" She took a sip and watched Bucky awkwardly scratch his neck. 

"I just... I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out or something." She didn't smile and his heart sunk. 

"I actually wanted to train some more..." She explained and he nodded understanding. He had already turned around, ready to leave when her voice caught him off. 

"You wanna help me?" 

"How can I help you?" From a dusty corner she pulled out a thick mattress. 

"I wanted to practice some tricks, it would be great if I had someone to hold me." He immediately nodded, even though he was unsure. She changed the Arial silk into a hoop and hung him up quite high. 

"Do you think you can lift me on your hands?" 

"Um... how exactly?" She smiled and helped him position. He stood, slightly bent down, hands resting on his upper thighs. 

"I'm gonna take a few steps to lunge, then I'll step onto your hands. If you can, you will push me up, until your hands lay on your shoulders." 

"Then what's the plan?" 

"If it works you'll throw me." 

"Throw you?" 

"Yes, I want to jump through the hoop and catch myself in the last second. I'll spin a few times around the hoop to balance my speed." 

"What if you don't catch yourself?" 

"I'll fall." 

"How ensuring." She smiled at him. 

"Don't worry, I believe in you." She took a few steps back, Buckys heart pounded in his chest. "Are you ready?" She asked, he nodded. One last time he rubbed his already sweaty hands on his pants, then she lunged forwards. Her feet landed perfectly onto his hands and slowly, but surely, he lifted her up until his hands, and so her feet as well, laid onto his shoulder. Her arms were stretched out to keep balanced, but she laughed jubilant. 

"Great! I count to three." Bucky tried to stay as steady as possibly. 

"One." He tried to focus and imagine throwing her. 

"Two." She glanced down at him and nodded. 

"Three." He pushed out his arms and threw her. His eyes did not once leave her body. She flew and reach the hoop. She didn't jump through though, but her hands gabbed the hoop and she pulled herself up. 

"Great! That was so good already, Buck." He sighed relieved and at the same time, his body began to search the adrenalin that has sped through his blood seconds before. It was like a drug. She was like a drug to him, that he couldn't get enough of. 

"You think we could repeat this?" She asked, jumped down and made a roll to balance the power from the collision. He smiled and nodded.

They tried it again, and every time Jo came close to him and he could smell her, he wanted more. Every time their skin touched, he craved more. They had tried it two more times and Joelle was getting closer to perfectly jumping through the hoop. 

"One last time." She exclaimed. 

"I will get it right this time." She promised, more to herself than Bucky. She jumped onto his hands and got pushed up and thrown immediately. Bucky's blue eyes watched her in amaze. She jumped through the hoop perfectly. But then her hands grasped at nothing. She flew right through the hoop and the moment she realized she was falling, she closed her eyes. She waited, but no collision came. Two strong arms had wrapped around her in the very last second and caught her. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked right into icy blue ones. Hers just as his breathing was unsteady and for what felt like eternity, they stared into each other's eyes. Then someone cleared his throat. Joelle and Bucky jumped at the sudden sound and her warmth left his body. Steve stood there, grinning at the two. 

"What are you doing here, Steve?" Jo asked, skillful hiding the awkwardness. 

"I could ask you the same." Jo scuffed, rolling her eyes and casually she strolled over to drink something. 

"I was training and James helped me. That's all. And what were you doing here?" Steve gave Bucky one last grin, which Bucky replied with a deadly glare. 

"Oh I was just wondering if you two wanted to join me in this party I got invited." Steve took at a piece of paper and the other two looked at it interested. "How did you get an invitation?" Bucky asked surprised. It was a rather fancy party with all kinds of rich people. It wasn't a party they usually got invited to. 

"My dad knew the owner." Steve simply explained. Jo thought for a moment, then she nodded. "I have a show, so I'll be coming a little later. How fancy do I have to dress?" 

"Very fancy." Steve exclaimed and Bucky agreed with a simple nod. She laughed at the two. 

"You talk to me like I don't know how to dress. Do you guys have something to wear for an occasion like this?" Steve frowned, but Bucky already patted him on the shoulder. "I'll organize something."

"Maman?" Jo asked her mother, who just stormed out her trailer. "Is there something wrong?" Her mother didn't look anything like Joelle. She wore her hair always tight and her facial expressions often seemed critical and harsh. But now the wrinkles on her forehead had grown and, in her eyes, laid unease. But just like her daughter, she was excellent in covering her anxiety and other kinds of secrets. 

"Oh it's nothing, ma cocotte. Me and your father just had a little disagreement." Joelle furrowed in confusion, but her mother had already rushed passed her. Jo looked at the trailer, for a few seconds she considered knocking, but her father probably wanted to be left alone, so she scrapped the idea. She shook her head and returned to her own trailer...

[orithyiaeleven]

UC Fanwork Celebration Day 1 (The early access version)

Day 1 was Favourite Arc / Roll for AU. My favourite Arc is Arc 3, and I rolled Class Swap, so I let the dice decide what each Arc 3 character's new class should be. I then re-imagined their first meeting with their new classes. This is shortly pre-Arc 3 Flashback.

However, I am not quite happy with the story yet, and will take the time to work on it before uploading it to AO3. Because today is the day, though, and technically the story is finished, I will post the current version of it under the cut here on Tumblr instead, and update you once I am happy and have uploaded it.

It doesn't even have a fixed name yet, but my working title would be "A different group of heroes". I hope you enjoy, and the finished piece will hopefully come soon.

The crackling sound of pyromagic mixes with the cheers of people, carried over to Lathe by a helpful little breeze gossiping in his ear. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to taste the caramel popcorn in the air. With a little smile, he quickens his step: Festivities are happening in the centre of Tyle, and he must know more.

Nimbly, he finds his way past the little shops and side alleys. A crowd of people is currently pushing towards the town centre, following the same siren’s call of laughter, fireworks, applause and cotton candy that he is tracking, but he knows the quickest ways around, and how to avoid getting stuck in the slowly moving mass of bodies. He sprints past the little bookstore with a “Good morning, Mx. Shinebearer”, through the backyard of a house that has been empty for ages, past a few spell component stores and the academy students gathered in front of them, until finally, he reaches the town centre. A man dressed in the borderline gaudy garb of a circus director stands on a small makeshift stage built up in front of the gigantic magician’s statue, addressing the gathered crowd with big movements.

“Come, come, one and all! Young and old, people of all shapes and sizes, come and gather to witness the magic and wonders of the Cinderbloom Circus!” More fireworks pop up, displaying flaming flowers in all colours of the rainbow.

“Now, people of Tyle and beyond, witness one of our audience favourites, our star, who has come all the way from frosty Glaceria to present her talents, our ice princess! And remember to come visit our full show and program in Maevir-Eirik-Park, from tomorrow until next week!”

With more cheers, the announcer clears the temporary stage they have set up for a young woman dressed in glittering pastel purple silks. She has a thin, but athletic build, and although she carries herself with the poise befitting her stage name, Lathe recognises the way her chin is slightly drawn forward, and the way her eyes seem to search the crows for someone daring to challenge her position.

Three circus assistants jog up to the statue and quickly arrange some silks to drape around the arms and the wand of the stone wizard, while the acrobat takes out a little flute from a pocket hidden in her garments. She bows to the crowd, looks to the assistants for a quick sign that they’re done, and grabs one of the aerial silks. Within moments, she is up on the statue’s shoulder, dangling her feet, and gives him a coquettish little kiss on the cheek before sliding down again to the tune of her own melody, seemingly falling. Just inches above the ground, she catches herself again, and climbs up the way she came. Her movements are fluid and seem entirely effortless, coming to her as easy as breathing, and all the while she still continues playing the flute as if to underline how little mind she has to pay her motion. Even the way her pastel purple hair falls seems to be choreographed and trained to perfection. She moves through the silks with ease, somehow finding grip on the smooth fabric. All of it seems so in sync, it’s captivating.

Her performance is only a few minutes, but the crowd explodes with cheers for her as she is finished. She gives a smile, together with a head movement that seems to say “see, I told you I could do it”. It fits her stage name, but again, Lathe recognises the signs of someone who had to prove herself all her life. While the announcer reminds the crowd again to visit the full show, the purple performer is already going backstage again, and Lathe follows. Instead of an actual backstage area, the circus has rented an empty store as their dressing room. Before the young woman enters, Lathe manages to get her attention.

“Excuse me, Miss! Can I talk to you for just a second?”

“A second, sure, how can I help you?”

“Lathe Nightrym, my pleasure, truly, what a wonderful performance-“

“Oh thank you, sir, I am always happy to inspire people.”

“You have definitely done that today, my dear. Could I ask you, would you be willing to join a little adventuring party?”

“Ah. Right. I, uhm, I am very honoured by your request, but I must say no. As the circus is travelling around quite a lot, it is simply not possible for me to take up any other obligations. But thank you, I always enjoy talking to fans.”

“Please, just think about it.” He hands her one of his flyers. “A small group of friends travelling through all of Hyranor, defeating monsters, saving the world – have you never dreamed of that? Of not having to prove your worth, but having the stories about your heroic deeds precede you?” She breaks eye contact and looks to the side. “Take the flyer, just consider it, for a moment. The adventures we could go on. The stories they would tell. Being invited to court by the Queen, mere hours after defeating a monster. I am currently trying to form such a group, and I just know that you would make the perfect addition. I have handed out and put up flyers all over town, and in two days, we will meet at the Brewster’s Potions for brunch to meet up. No strings attached yet, absolutely no requirements, just to get a feel for the people, do some brainstorming… And if you don’t like it, you can just leave and go back to this life here.”

She sighs and lets her fingers wander over the flyer. He really did his best to draw the dragon, but maybe in this case it’s not bad that it is reminiscent of children’s drawings. “Alright. I will consider it”, she finally says.

Lathe can’t help but grin. “Amazing. See you in two days, then!” He turns to leave.

“I said I will consider it!”

“Brewster’s Potions, right next to the Gilded Quill!”

Brewster’s Potion, right next to the Gilded Quill, is not empty, but also not bustling with patrons two days later. There is a pleasant drizzle of conversation from the surrounding nooks and tables as Lathe Nightrym sits at the back of the room, waiting for people to show up.

“Are you ordering, or still waiting?”, the server asks again.

“Still waiting, thanks, dear”, he answers with a smile.

“Alright love, you just call when you want anything.” For a moment, Lathe believes to see pity in her eyes. But people will show up, he was just early. He handed the flyers out to at least fifteen people, and put them up in places all around town, someone has to show up.

Mere moments later, they do. The big guy he met at the Academy enters the tavern, and Lathe waves excitedly to get his attention. Carefully, the Firbolg makes his way over to him, the greyish hair on his head scraping the ceiling, his Academy uniform neat, but not freshly ironed. Only when he is already standing in front of the table, Lathe sees that he has brought a friend, a young Halfling woman who seems even smaller, near comically tiny next to him, but dressed in full armour. Eagerly, Lathe puts out a hand, and the big guy shakes it.

“Hello, hello, so glad you decided to come! You’re the first here, and I see you brought a friend as well?”

“Annie Wintersummer”, the young woman answers, putting out a hand as well to greet Lathe.

“Delighted to meet you, Annie Wintersummer. Sorry, friend, your name was?”, he asks, turning towards the Firbolg again.

“Aldrum.”

“Right, right! I’ve met you during the Open Day at the Arcane Academy, truly, what a glorious performance of arcane work you did. And you, Annie – I hope it’s alright if I just call you Annie? – are you a student at the Academy as well?”

“No”, she answers, and Lathe can see Aldrum make the “delicate topic” face. “No, the Arcane Academy did not think my magical talent was… worth cultivating at their esteemed institution. So instead I decided to hone my skills with weapons. I spend my time with technique instead of theory. And my magical gifts can influence my blade as well.”

“That sounds incredibly interesting, would you care to show me?”

“Not inside here, but later outside I can absolutely show you what I can do.”

Lathe smiles with excitement to see what the young woman would show him. Having someone of her size who would be able to run through enemy lines and legs and stab them from behind could be very beneficial, and she seems determined enough.

His smile widens even more as he sees the woman with the pastel purple hair enter the tavern, her eyes searching around. He stands up and waves to get her attention, and she floats towards them.

“You really came! How wonderful, please, take a seat. This is Aldrum, a wizard from the Arcane Academy, who has recently presented a very interesting project on some new protective spells he is working on, and his friend Annie Wintersummer, who apparently is a very skilled fighter.”

“Fighter and warlock. I can do some magic. Even if the academy cannot appreciate it.”

The purple woman smiles and shakes their hands each. “Happy to meet you, my name is Fey Moss.”

It is only then that Lathe realises he never actually heard her say her real name before. “And Fey Moss here is an acrobat with an incredible skill set, truly, I have never seen anyone move that nimbly before, what a performance!”

She nods her head down, as if to indicate a bow. “You might have heard of me as the ice princess.”

“I haven’t, actually”, Annie says.

Fey looks a bit taken aback, although she catches herself with ease. “Well, I am also quite skilled at martial arts, if it is necessary. I would love to see you fight as well, Annie, I think it would be very interesting to see your skillset.”

“Surely, yes. I would appreciate that. I always like to broaden my horizon and learn new styles and techniques.”

“How wonderful!”, Lathe exclaims and claps his hands. “Truly, I am so glad you are getting along already. Let’s get some brunch, and we will get this party going! Excuse me, Miss- we would like to order, please!”

Right as the server brings them their milkshakes and sandwiches, the tavern door opens again. At first, it seems no one entered, until Lathe sits up straighter to be able to see down, where he can track the long ponytail of an elderly Halfling man move towards their table.

“Lathe Nightrym?”, the man asks, looking at him. “I believe you were looking for people with the mind and skillset for adventures?”

Lathe quickly scans the man. He doesn’t seem particularly strong or dextrous, but not frail, either. He wears sun-coloured robes, and there is a certain glint to his eyes that seems almost animalistic.

“Yes, absolutely, take a seat here with us. What’s your name, friend?”

The man gives a polite smile and takes the offered seat. “Diarmad. I saw your flyers around the city.”

“Oh perfect, so they did work, then! May I ask, what kind of skills do you bring to this group? Your robes seem religious, but I cannot see any symbol on them?”

“Right, no, I am a magician, but not the divine sort. The robes are just the kind of garments we wear at my commune. But I was, let’s say born with magic.”

“Why do you say ‘let’s say born’? Were you born with it or not?”, Annie asks, trying her best to cover a probably not too kind remark about sorcerers and nepotism from Aldrum.

Diarmad throws a quick glance over at the Firbolg in his shirt and cloak with the Academy logo, raising a brow, and then turns towards Annie with a much nicer expression on his face, nearly mischievous. “It’s not my first time around. My people have found a way to basically concentrate weak flows of magic in a person through a ritual of reincarnation, so… The weak magical potential of my previous life has been focused into a pretty mean set of magical skills.”

Aldrum doesn’t seem convinced. “And… how exactly is magical talent enhanced through reincarnation? That sounds like it contradicts most current theories on magic.”

“You tell me, you’re the scholar. It worked for me, and that’s all that matters. But you academy people prefer to keep the magic to yourselves anyways, right?”

Annie puts a hand on the hilt of her sword, glaring at the elderly Halfling. “Please don’t talk to my friend like that,” she says in a tone that isn’t a request.

Lathe decides to steer this conversation around as fast as possible. “Alright, friends, I think that’s enough of that, we’re supposed to become a party after all!”

“A party?” A tall person with brown skin and some suspiciously alive and worm-like looking accessories in her hair leans over the half-high room divider between the table they apparently sat at alone, and the table Lathe had ordered. “I love parties, can I come as well?”

“Oh, not that kind of party, we’re trying to go adventuring-“

“Adventures are fun, I love adventures, too!” She smiles, climbs over the wall instead of going around it, despite wearing breastplate armour, and squeezes in between Fey and Annie around the table. Fey looks at the, oh yes, definitely worms, with a mixture of morbid fascination and absolute horror.

“Alright, hi then,” Lathe begins, not too sorry about the distraction from the magic discourse, “and you are?”

“A friend! And a new party member for your group. Six is a much better number than five, anyways.” They smile at all of them.

“…And your name is?”

“Oh! Right! Bombyx Mori. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she says slowly, tasting out every word in her mouth.

Annie continues the questions. “And you do adventures?”

“Absolutely! All the time! The forest is filled with adventures.”

Now, Diarmad seems intrigued. “You’re a forest kind of person?”

“Yes, definitely, that. I met some very nice trees some time ago, and they asked me for help against disrespectful woodcutters. So I helped them, and then I swore to help all the trees, and protect all the forests, and apparently, when you make an oath, that is really meaningful in this world. So now I have to protect the forests, and I haven’t really figured out what exactly that means, yet, but I have already fought some monsters and that has gone really well for me so far, so I think I might just have become invincible.”

“For sure, for sure”, Lathe says, trying to not show his disbelief too much. A paladin is something their party could use. Whether Bombyx Mori is the perfect addition or the last missing piece for a perfect disaster, or possibly even both, he isn’t as sure of, yet. But it’s worth a shot. Especially if they actually have some experience already. “Alright then, let’s order some more milkshakes for the two of you, and then I can already tell you about a potential first adventure.”

[yvmoveon]

i did my first aerial silks yesterday and when i tell you i didnt know my body would hurt that bad??? Like WHAT!! but everyone was so nice tho. i felt like it was a positive sisterhood. Nobody judged you. And apparently i was doing moves and tricks that took my classmates 2 months to do. So it was fun. I went to zumba after too and i barelt could dance right cause i was so sore.

[memurfevur-archive]

Rutaci can aerial silk dance and pole dance and all that related stuff. He can for a while, it was a skill he learned how to do when he was still "training" to become a seat in Government because, well, ya gotta impress the Highbloods. after his escape he started working with circuses and such and found actual joy in it.

he can still do it now, but because he's gained weight he's insecure about it and thus demotivates him to dance.

maybe someone should encourage him :3c more body positivity for pole dancing please

[snipertrifle]

As someone who DOES like exercise... there IS a lot of play based exercise out there! There's a lot of types that do their best to be fun and a little silly. It exists! And you should go find it! I think it's amazing to find something that's fun and go with it. A lot of times if you can find a gateway it will lead you into doing the 'vegetables' because it will suddenly have an actual point and goal you're reaching for. (i.e. I don't mind doing strength training so much when it gives me the upper body strength to do cool aerial yoga stuff)

If you want to do cardio I suggest the app Zombies Run!/ZRX. It's a semi-immersive running/walking experience where you are a zombie apocalypse survivor going on rescue missions. There's a great plot and fantastic voice acting. There's 10 plus seasons worth of the Zombie stuff. And they've recently joined with Marvel to do similar things with Superheroes. (The app is extremely customizable so you can do it outdoors, on a treadmill, rowing machine, or whatever floats your boat.)

Parkrun is a global free weekly 5K run/walk event that's all volunteer run. Every Saturday people get together and go for a run (or walk) in the park and have a chat after. It's an extremely welcoming and encouraging environment. (One of the volunteer positions is literally to be the last person. So no matter how slow you go, you CANNOT be last or left behind)

If you miss monkey bars and jungle gyms, look for Parkour, Aerial Silks, or Pole Dancing.

Bungee Fitness is a little gimmicky but it is also unbelievably fucking FUN. And it can be a great way to do cardio if you're heavier since it takes some of the load off, and is generally gentler on your joints (though I have jammed a wrist landing funny)

Cardio Drumming is also a blast. Any Dance-y cardio class is fun - if you have coordination, which I don't.

Martial Arts! Do I have to say more?

There's team sports for adults - Pickleball, Pickup leagues and things. Keep a lookout in your area.

OCR (Obstacle Course Race)/Mud Runs are sometimes a little extreme, but many are just excuses to get dirty and play on an extended jungle gym.

The main thing you have to keep in mind is that if you haven't done exercise/play in a long time, you're going to suck at first. And that's ok, please do not give up! It's part of the process. I'm not going to say there's no condescending assholes out there. But they're rarer than you think. For the most part fitness circles are another form of fandom and people are SO excited for someone new to talk about their blorbos with. It's just that their blorbo is an upcoming half marathon.

[threeunrelateddescriptors]

Landing is a skill

In my adventures of minor injury, yesterday I landed poorly. I'm fine, in case anyone stops here. Sore, but fine.

Context: I do aerial arts (trapeze, silks, etc), and I practice skills in the air (you might have guessed). These skills, by dint of being in the air, often require me to fall and less often require me to land.

Falling is not the problem. If you can find a way to fall without ever landing, you're golden.

But the physics of the human body in Earth gravity does not allow for that, outside of very specific circumstances. And so, landing is an important skill to cultivate.

I have a ton of practice at both falling and landing. I've been landing for years.

Usually I land very well. I've had some bad ones but mostly fine/good ones.

Since one cannot count on good/fine landings, one should work over a mat or with safety devices in place.

I do in fact work over a mat.

Onto the landing in question:

I was working on a release skill on my trapeze. Release skills, as the category name suggestions, require some sort of release from the apparatus.

Sometimes it's a partial release (e.g., let go of one hand to regrip that hand in another position or to allow another limb to move around it), or a full release (e.g., both hands release to regrab, usually involving a full change in body attitude/position).

I was doing a full release (seriously kids, always have safety measures in place when practicing skills but especially full-release moves, you are *not* guaranteed to make your catch). Specifically I was doing a sort-of backflip that went from my hands holding the trapeze bar to catching in a kneehang (i.e., my knee pits hitting the bar and holding on so I was uspidedown hanging by my knees).

My knees hit the bar, as intended, and held on. Somewhat unfortunately. I mean, yay for success. But, it was a partial success in that my knees couldn't keep on. This led to a very unfortunate setup for falling and landing. Had my knees pinged off the bar, as usually happens, my fall position would've been in motion. I would've had momentum, one way or another, and been turning in the air.

As it happened this time, the dead time in my kneehang meant all my momentum stopped right before I fell. I fell off the bar such that I was jack-knifed with my hips perfectly situated over my chest (everything centered and plumb, & leaving plumb would've required twisting/rotation/something that I could not produce in the seconds I had) and the back of my neck being the first object on a collision course with the ground (mat, thank you mat!).

I fell from 9ft (~2.7m) high and landed in an incredibly dynamic and forceful yoga plow pose. My teeth clacked together, my neck asked me WTF I thought I was doing landing on it, and I am incredibly grateful I did not knee myself in the face at high speed.

It could've gone so soooo much more poorly than it did. Had I landed not on a mat, I do think I'd have, at a minimum, herniated discs in my cervical spine or fractured them.

I immediately got back on my trapeze to try again. Rarely can I be accused of intelligence/wisdom. The next try went much better and I landed much better.

Bonus for me is that both those tries, poor landing included, represented a ton of progress in the skill. Very pleased, 11/10 will try again (with fewer plow pose landings).

Image below of plow pose (aka the position I both fell and landed in):

As a side note: If I had been higher up, say 10-12ft (3-3.7m), that would've *helped*. I tell me students constantly, "height is your friend"

It sounds counter-intuitive, but if I'm 2in (5cm) off the ground, and I'm in a crown-of-head-down position and everything goes to shit & I fall 2in/5cm onto the top of my head, there is a very good chance I'm looking at crushed cervical discs. Crushed, from a 2in/5cm drop.

Why? Because there is NO time to change the trajectory of the force of the fall. It goes into the top of the head, the neck accordions closed at the initial impact (so no more space is available to cushion), and THEN the entirety of the rest of the body topples onto the already accordion-closed neck. Now add into that this is a dynamic load, and the force is going to multiply the body weight.

If I'm higher up, yes this means a greater amount of force when I impact, but it also means I can change the trajectory of my fall to give myself a better landing. THIS is the skill part of falling/landing.

If I'm too high, all the trajectory changing in the world isn't going to help. But if I'm at just-high-enough, I have time to change how I'm going to land.

In the case of the fall above, I had neither the height (read: time), nor presence of mind to enact a plan. (´。＿。｀) Oh well.

[slythepuffle]

Dungeons&Digimon Concept: Pied Piper Circus

Expanding on the cast of the "Pied Piper Circus" that I mentioned in another post for a Digimon DnD plot I made

Maximillian + Piedmon: The Ringmasters of the lovely circus! They are the ones who call the shots, though they just want everyone to have a fun time while performing. Maximillian is always seen doing acts with Piedmon, mostly as his "wonderful assistant". Out of the two, Piedmon is surprisingly strict, leading to the rest jokingly referring to him as "their circus dad".

Angemon + Angewomon: The most popular act of the circus. The two of them are a pair of siblings who fly above the others on a trapeze, performing amazing feats. They made the decision to bind their wings to prevent actual flying and because they'd get in the way. Both originally suggested they perform without a net, but Piedmon quickly put the idea out of their heads.

FlameWizardmon + Tiana: Partners who have different acts, though they do help each other's acts when they can. FlameWizardmon is (rather obviously) a fire performer, while Tiana dances in the sky using aerial silks. Sometimes, they even combine their acts, although Maximillian is hesitant on it (silks and flames don't sound like a good combination).

Leomon + Ogremon: A pair of rivaling performers, whose act is basically fighting with one another. They are close, trading blows and quips with one another in front of the audience. They usually decide the winner based on whoever's name is cheered loudest in the crowd. Usually, it is Leomon, as he stars as the 'hero' of the group, but Ogremon has been the champion of a few of their fights.

Corey: Ogremon's human partner. They're the Daredevil, riding around the circus grounds on a motorcycle. They perform death-defying tricks, flying through rings of fire (that FlameWizardmon makes) or over the heads of animals. They also help out with some of the special effects, lighting up the center with an array of colorful lights and fires.

Laura: Leomon's human partner. She's the Animal Tamer, performing tricks with them on stage or taking care of them backstage. Her favorite animals are the lions (go figure), but she loves them all equally. If anyone needs animals for an act, they usually go to her first. She then helps them practice so that no one - Human, animal, or Digimon - gets hurt and that they all have fun.

Arthur: The only odd one in the whole circus. He is a contortionist, able to bend his body in unusual positions without breaking any of his bones (it freaks out some of the Digimon). He usually only appears in some of the opening acts Piedmon does. Rarely does he interact with anyone outside of acts, preferring his own company. He doesn't seem to like the Digimon much.

[spamlets-blog]

hey guys its time for my weekly “try aerial silks” propaganda:

do you like lying in weird positions and the feeling of falling? do your ankles hurt when you work out so you avoid doing it because almost all exercise involves putting a lot of weight on your ankles? do you hate normal exercise and how boring it is? then i have the thing for you! aerial silks is fun, a conversation starter, and works out your whole body—including muscles you didnt even know existed!

aerial silks is for all body types (as someone who is plus sized and has been doing it for months), and, in my personal experience, it’s quite easy on the joints and can be adjusted very easily to conform to any skill level.

try aerial silks today!

[heybute]

Aerial Yoga: Elevate Your Practice with Safety, Benefits, and 5 Must-Try Poses

Aerial yoga, a fusion of traditional yoga and acrobatics, has soared in popularity for its unique approach to fitness and mindfulness. Suspended from silk hammocks, practitioners experience a new dimension of yoga, challenging both body and mind. However, as with any physical activity, safety should be a top priority. In this blog post, we'll explore essential safety tips, delve into the numerous benefits of aerial yoga, and introduce five captivating poses to enhance your practice.

Safety First: Navigating Aerial Yoga with Confidence

Professional Instruction: Before attempting aerial yoga, seek guidance from a certified instructor. Proper training ensures you learn the basics, understand equipment usage, and master essential techniques to prevent injuries.

Secure Setup: Check the rigging and equipment before each session. Ensure the ceiling anchor points and silk hammocks are secure, and inspect for any signs of wear and tear. A safe setup is crucial for a worry-free practice.

Physical Readiness: Assess your physical condition before taking flight. Aerial yoga demands strength, flexibility, and balance. Gradually build your skills, listen to your body, and avoid pushing yourself too hard, especially if you're a beginner.

Comfortable Attire: Wear fitted clothing that covers the back of your knees and underarms to prevent chafing. Avoid jewelry or clothing with zippers that may damage the silk hammocks. Comfortable attire enhances your overall experience and ensures a smooth practice.

Health Considerations: Consult with your healthcare provider if you have any pre-existing health conditions or concerns. Aerial yoga may not be suitable for everyone, and it's crucial to ensure it aligns with your individual health needs.

Elevating Mind and Body: The Benefits of Aerial Yoga

Enhanced Flexibility: Aerial yoga encourages a deeper stretch, promoting flexibility by allowing practitioners to explore a wider range of motion. The suspended poses facilitate lengthening and stretching, helping to improve overall flexibility over time.

Increased Strength: Maneuvering through aerial poses engages various muscle groups, building strength in both the upper and lower body. Core strength, in particular, is significantly improved as it stabilizes and supports the body during aerial movements.

Spinal Decompression: Inversions and hanging poses in aerial yoga can alleviate spinal compression. This gentle traction on the spine helps to relieve pressure between vertebrae, promoting better spinal health and reducing back pain.

Mindful Relaxation: The gentle swaying and hanging sensations experienced in aerial yoga create a unique environment for mindfulness and relaxation. As practitioners focus on breath and movement, stress levels decrease, leading to a heightened sense of tranquility.

Improved Circulation: Aerial yoga's inverted poses aid in blood circulation throughout the body. This can be particularly beneficial for reducing swelling, enhancing oxygen flow to tissues, and promoting overall cardiovascular health.

Take Flight with These 5 Aerial Yoga Poses

Floating Forward Fold: Begin in a seated position on the hammock, gently lift your feet off the ground, and lean forward into a floating forward fold. This pose provides a deep stretch for the spine and hamstrings while cultivating balance.

Aerial Warrior: Transform the traditional warrior pose by using the hammock for support. This dynamic pose challenges both strength and balance, offering a unique twist to the classic yoga stance.

Cocoon Pose: Wrap yourself securely in the hammock, allowing the body to hang freely. This restorative pose provides a sense of security and relaxation, stretching the spine and releasing tension.

Upside-Down Dog: Transition into an inverted downward dog by placing your hands on the ground and lifting your hips towards the ceiling. The aerial variation intensifies the stretch in the shoulders and spine while enhancing core engagement.

Aerial Shavasana: Elevate your final relaxation by reclining in the hammock for a floating shavasana. This blissful pose promotes complete relaxation, allowing the body and mind to unwind in a suspended state.

In conclusion, aerial yoga offers a thrilling and transformative approach to traditional yoga practice. By prioritizing safety, exploring its myriad benefits, and incorporating these five enticing poses, practitioners can elevate their physical and mental well-being. Embrace the journey of aerial yoga, and let your practice take flight!